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sunnami · 8 months ago

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❝we can't be friends (wait for your love.)❞

[credits to @artofpan for the lovely art! title is taken from ariana grande's song, we can't be friends.]

summary. fortune favours the bold, so they say. but you're an awkward ravenclaw in yearning.

pairing/s. poly!marauders x reader (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

word count. 11.4k

tags. childhood friends to ex-friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like remus and tonks, also a bit of spice ;3

note. asdhjf while im working on the last part of the time traveller au pls enjoy this fluffy piecee ueueue

‘TIS THE SEASON OF raucous jeering and gaudy paraphernalia in the corridors, the unmistakable scent of overly-polished brooms, mud trekking through the cobblestone floors, and jerseys soaked in sweat, rain, and grime after hours of vigorous training. The dreaded second week of school where arrogant fledglings end up in the infirmary on account of broken noses, dislocated shoulders, or sprained wrists.

In other words: Quidditch tryouts.

You’re just not fond of the havoc wreaked in every corner and alcove of the castle. But to your relief, the library remains untouched through it all.

Needless to say, you absolutely hate Quidditch.

It is a fact you simply will not elaborate on. The skies are blue, the grass blades are green; you and the Marauders are as different as night and day.

On your way to the library, the last bastion of academia, you weave past the crowd in the courtyard corridor, ears ringing from the shouting match earlier in the Great Hall for breakfast—something about the Cannons versus the Magpies. There’s a pile of books shoved inside your leather satchel, painfully bumping into your hip with each step you take. You traverse through the Romanesque architecture, blissfully unaware of the misfortune to come.

“If I study for Charms now, I can take a nap for the rest of the day,” You say to yourself, pensively tapping at your chin.

“Watch out!”

You barely have any time to react before a Quaffle comes crashing straight into your face.

“Merlin’s hairy arsehole—fuck!” There’s a sicky sound of bones cracking, a dizzying flash of white before your eyes, and something viscous trickling from your nose down to your lips. Your hands fly to your face—instantly flinching when you catch a glimpse of your fingers dipped in blood. Your eyes grow wide in panic, chest rapidly heaving—it’s only now that you realize that you’re sitting on the ground, textbooks laying haphazardly around you, shoulders quivering from the adrenaline. The crowd’s concerned murmurs are lost in the cacophony of hysteria.

“Move!”

To your rescue, is Alice Fortescue, a fellow prefect. She cuts through the onlookers of petrified first-years and nosey fifth-years. You have no doubt this incident will grace the school’s gossip column for the next few days. She grabs your arm and wraps it around her shoulder with ease. You’d write poetry of her gallant display, but you were too busy moaning in agony. She utters a few incantations to stop your nosebleed from worsening, though there’s not much she can do to help with the possible concussion.

“Did you know Bludgers used to be called blooders?” You mumble languidly, nearly crashing into one of the knight statues.

“I do now,” replies Alice, tightening her hold on your waist, the ghost of a fond smile on her face. (She’s missed you, actually—three and a half years of radio silence. There used to be a time where running into you in the Gryffindor common rooms was an everyday occurrence. Even the Ravenclaw prefects knew where to look first if they wanted to find you.)

After what feels like an eternity of trudging through the castle, you finally reach the infirmary. The matron, Poppy Pomfrey, shrieks in alarm at the sight of your soiled blouse and blood stained lips. She gently ushers you into her hold, guiding you to a vacant bed. Alice hangs back, awkwardly shuffling her feet, gaze worriedly trained on you.

“You may return to your classes, Miss Fortescue, thank you,” says Madam Pomfrey, tipping your head upwards and grimacing. “Oh, good heavens, what happened?”

Your head droops in her palms, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth—you must have bit your tongue earlier. You blubber pathetically, “Got hit by a stray quaffle.”

Wordlessly, Madam Pomfrey summons a vial from her stash in the cupboards. She hands the small bottle to you, uttering various healing spells under her breath with a deft expertise of someone who’s been doing this for years upon years now. “There,” says Madam Pomfrey, lips firmly pursed. “That should help with the fractured cheekbones.”

With—what?

As your eyes bulge out of your head, Madam Pomfrey looks over you once more, a floating quill at her side hastily scribbling on a parchment. “Concussion, mild blood loss, fracture in the cheekbones, broken nose cartilage.” She illuminates the tip of her wand, and moves it left and right in front of you. “Hmm. Any nausea at all, dear?”

“There’s a six point four chance I’m going to get amnesia,” You whisper solemnly, head hanging low as your voice cracks from the unbearable pain. “I don’t want to get amnesia.”

“There’s no need for you to worry about that while you’re under my care.” Madam Pomfrey gently nudges you to lay on the pillow. She hands you a folded blanket. “Rest now. We’ll keep you here until the morning in case your condition worsens.”

“I can’t.” You groan, sitting upright—Madam Pomfrey pushes you back onto the bed with a stern glare. “I’ve got to study.”

“And I’ve got three other students to tend to. Mister Lockhart has been dealing with food poisoning all week.” Madam Pomfrey places her hands on her hips, sighing sharply. She jerks her thumb behind her back—that’s when you notice that three certain people are staring back at you. Sirius Black and James Potter squeezing together in one chair—and miserably failing—and Remus Lupin, resting cozily on the infirmary bed with bandages around his arms and head. “And don’t even get me started on this one.”

“You love him, Poppy, don’t lie.” Sirius grins wolfishly at the matron. You make out the sunken bags underneath his gray eyes, pale lips and his unkempt heap of dark curls.

Pomfrey huffs exasperatedly. “It would be easier to wrangle a hoard of Hippogriffs than to keep you three out of the infirmary past visiting hours.” She spares you one last glance, nodding when she deems you safe and healthy—as can be, anyway. Gilderoy Lockhart rolls out of his bed, his cries echoing around the room, threatening to barf up his entire breakfast, and Madam Pomfrey is gone in an instant.

There is an awkward silence that envelops your side of the room—you roll over on your left, desperately ignoring the three of stares burning intensely into your back.

THE STORY GOES like this:

You know their names more than you know your own. Each morning finds them at the Ravenclaw common room’s doorstep—while waiting, Lily, Sirius and Remus try to figure out the password as James attempts to brute force his way in. (He had actually figured out the riddle minutes ago, James would just rather play along with his friends.) The blue-tied prefects watch endearingly as one of their first-years rush out of the tower, squealing deafeningly, and jumps right into the lion cubs’ embrace. (It’s not that Inter-House friendships are rare, it’s more common than one would think; usually, it just takes more time for the eaglets to break out of their shell.)

“I got a hundred and twelve!” You exclaim merrily, hair in disarray and eyes puffy from having just woken up. Lily grabs your hands; together, the both of you jump up and down, excitedly giggling in celebration of the success of your History of Magic essay. (You had ignored them for a day to focus on your homework—Sirius did not like that at all. It wasn’t as fun to play if one of their friends were missing. Gone off to study, of all things.)

The tale of your friendship may be an unsolved mystery to some, but to you, it’s like finding jigsaw pieces that perfectly fit together. Magic isn’t only centaurs in forbidden forests, or ceilings bewitched to look like the night sky—sometimes it’s stumbling into a random train compartment and shyly offering your bag of assorted treats. Next thing you know, Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon are constantly with you in the library, oohing and aahing over pages of the fantasy novels Lily had brought from the muggle world.

There’s rarely a day where you aren’t spotted in a sea of red and gold. Except when you’ve studied yourself sick—and the Marauders are never fond of that.

(“I’m sorry, she can’t come down today,” says one of the fifth-year prefects, Lalita Burman, a rather tall girl with intricate curls, brown skin, and eyes that stare into one’s soul. She wakes up to banging on the tower entrance, not even eight o’clock in the morning yet—on a Saturday. It doesn’t come off as a surprise anymore when she opens the door to five red-faced children. “She’s come down with the flu. Most of the firsties have, actually. Madam Pomfrey says they’ll get better by tomorrow but Alex and I have been running ourselves ragged looking after them.”

James Potter narrows his eyes at her. “Okay. Then we’ll go inside.”

“Maybe we can help,” says Remus.

Lalita holds up her hand to stop them from barging in. “That’s really sweet, but we can’t risk any of you getting sick as well.”

Sirius stands on his toes to spy past Lalita’s shoulder, frowning when he finds nothing of importance—or really, when he can’t find you. He couldn’t wait to call you stupid for getting yourself sick—you just missed out on frog hunting. “That’s alright.” He huffs, shoulders slumping dejectedly. “Our immune system can take it. Will you let us in now?”

Her eye twitches. “Come back tomorrow.”

With that, she slams the door in their faces.

The Marauders then declare you are never, ever allowed to get sick again.)

Your second year in the castle creeps up on you without you noticing.

“Remus Lupin, I am going to kill you!”

No one bats an eyelash when you stalk up to the Gryffindor table, twelve years old and on a mission, fresh from the summer holidays. You slam your hands down onto the table, eyes ablaze as Remus stares at you, head resting on his palms, shaggy blond hair falling over his brows—no thoughts, head empty, just sheer adoration.

“Hello there, stranger,” Remus says, grinning fiendishly. “You look rather lovely—did you have a good holiday?”

You scoff, pointing an accusatory finger at him—Peter watches at the scene with wide eyes, slowly chomping on his shepherd’s pie, not an inkling as to what was going on. “Don’t try me, Lupin!” You exclaim sternly. “That book you gave me—you said it would have a happy ending! Tell me why I stayed up until bloody five o’clock in the morning crying me eyes out! You. . . you—!”

“Wanker, dingbat, berk, git,” Lily supplies helpfully with an innocent smile, pulling you down to sit with her. “And my personal favorite—toerag.”

You gape at the pretty redhead, jaw falling to the floor. “How do you even know these words?”

She hums nonchalantly, spreading blueberry jam onto her buttered toast. “A lady must arm herself with the necessary ammunition.” Lily points to a certain pair of boys—James and Sirius are currently engaged in an eating contest, shoveling pancakes after pancakes inside their mouths; so far it looks like Sirius is winning. Lily sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, “Especially if she wants to survive that kind of company.”

“Him, even more,” says Lily, gesturing to Remus. “He may be Professor McGonagall’s golden boy but I see right through him.”

“What can I say?” Remus smirks, helplessly shrugging his shoulders. “I’m a monster.”

Lily glares at him.

Then, you turn thirteen—the dreaded age. Suddenly, you’re dealing with oily skin, acne, body odor, hair growing out of places you didn’t even know could grow hair, hormones messing up the way you look at everyone else—something awakens in you the day you see Dorcas Meadowes in the Quidditch pitch wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck—and hormones messing up the way you look at yourself.

Everything is starting to change.

You usually never blink twice when James wraps his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder. Except this time, he’s gone from a gangly bean sprout, to a heartthrob with perfectly messy hair, newly defined muscles from his countless hours of Quidditch training, charming smile, eyes that one could get lost into for hours, and a tantalizing scent of mint and bergamot.

“Are you really not going to our game this Saturday?” James whispers in your ear—the five of you had been hanging out in the library.

You sigh. “Can‘t. Sorry.”

“Scared your House is going to lose to us, pet?” Sirius teases from where he’s sitting backwards on the chair next to you, engrossed in twirling locks of your hair around his finger.

You bristle at the nickname—they have been brazen with the endearments lately, you’ve noticed. “It’s not like we’re going to win anyway,” You mumble, tapping your quill on the empty parchment—there’s never any work done while they’re around. “There’s only a sixteen point seven percent chance of Ravenclaw winning against Gryffindor.”

James wrinkles his nose, now sitting on the edge of the table. “Percent, shmercent. What matters is how everyone plays that day.”

He kicks his legs against yours, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “So, will you come watch?”

“We have that History of Magic project, remember,” You say defeatedly. “I need to get started on it this week otherwise I’ll be behind all the electives I signed up for this year.”

Lily frowns, looking up from her own homework to glance at you in concern. “How many did you even pick?”

“All of them.”

“What?” Lily screeches in terror, suddenly rising from her seat to lean over the table. “How is that even possible? How did McGonagall even allow that?”

“Professor Flitwick,” You correct, wincing when Lily and Sirius glare at you. “It took a lot of convincing, but eventually I wore him down. All I had to do was rework some of my class schedules and promise him over a thousand times that my wellbeing wouldn’t ever be compromised by my studies. Otherwise he’d take back his decision.”

Remus doesn’t seem all too happy. “No wonder we don’t see you at Transfiguration anymore.”

“Or in Kettleburn’s class,” Peter pipes in.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be taking that many classes at once?” Remus grimaces, sharing a worried look with James. “The limit is three, and even that is too much to handle.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

(Peter knows a lie when he hears one.)

James tenses up, jaw tightening. “So you’re saying you’re going to miss a game because of school? Like all the other times? That’s bullcrap!”

Remus hisses his name in warning.

Tears prick your eyes instantly—you’ve heard him speak like this when quarreling with Slytherins, but never to your face. “That bullcrap means a lot to me, Potter. You’d understand that if you took your studies seriously more than just going around and playing silly pranks on everyone!”

James scoffs. “Like how you take us seriously? Did you know that Lily is the youngest ever to be invited to Slughorn’s club? Yeah, she got the invitation last week. Did you congratulate her for that when she was staying up late with you to revise for your practical test in Herbology?”

“I—” You stammer, guilt pooling in your stomach.

“No, you didn’t.” James sneers. “You only see yourself. Do you know what Remus has been going through? Do you even care?”

“That’s enough, James,” Lily says vehemently.

“Well, if you think like that, maybe we all should just stop being friends!” You retort.

Before anyone else can reply, Madam Pince comes around the corner, and everyone falls silent—a tense atmosphere that threatens to choke you. With a heavy heart, you gather your belongings and run out of the library.

The months pass by, and Frank Longbottom wonders why he doesn’t wake up at midnight anymore to find five students having a sleepover in the common room with a certain eagle, each of them trying to contain their giggles and failing. (One time, the Prewett twins had run down the stairs in panic, only to find you and Peter screaming from Remus’s theatrics in telling his ghost stories during an awful thunderstorm.) You no longer visit the Gryffindor table at breakfast, and they no longer wait for you after your classes.

“It’s probably just a tiff,” says Alice to Mary Macdonald. “They’ll make up—they always do.”

Mary nods, though unsure—while Peter is gut-wrenched about it all, the other four in particular seem like heartbroken puppies when you enter the Great Hall and barely acknowledge their presence.

The snow melts and time catches everyone unaware.

“I can’t believe I’m going to graduate and you idiots haven’t made up yet,” Lalita sighs as she pulls you in for a hug. In a few weeks, she and the other seventh-years are due to leave; you’ve grown real close with her over the past few terms. Her departure is going to be truly difficult for you to handle. “Just talk it out with them, okay?”

You sniffle, holding onto her robes. “I’m trying, but they’ve been ignoring me, too.”

Lalita squeezes you tighter. “Don’t worry. These kinds of things have a way of sorting themselves out.”

At the end of the term, you present your final project to Professor Binns. The ghost nearly returns to life. It was a research study on the Evolutionary Analysis of Magical RNA Manipulation in the Catalonian Fireball. Days after your paper is published, you’re featured on the Daily Prophet; dragon tamers and professors from Spain are owling you letters of praise and congratulations. It goes without saying that such a feat had naturally catapulted Ravenclaw to the top, ultimately winning the House Cup.

(But what you don’t tell everyone is that you’re so severely burnt out after that—to the point where you didn’t want to ever pick up a textbook again. For the first time in forever, learning had become a chore, not a passion. You’d been puking out of anxiety, hands trembling as you forced yourself to write on the parchment, the sides of your fingers constantly swollen and raw. You’d study until four o’clock in the morning, and wake up an hour later to complete all of your homework. You’ve begun to masquerade as the ghosts of Ravenclaw Tower; lifeless and indifferent. Xenophilius and Pandora fuss over you, but you just lock yourself in your room and say: “I’m tired.”

Perhaps, it is why Professor Flitwick isn’t surprised when you withdraw from most of your electives.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a rewarding journey,” says Professor Flitwick on the day you visit his classroom—hours away from needing to be on the train platform. He sighs and sets his spectacles on the table. “But it is a perilous one, too. I trust that you have understood the consequences of your actions. As a teacher, I can only offer guidance when it is needed. The other professors may disagree, but I find the best learning method to be, what is it the kids say—fuck around and find out.”

You snort.

Professor Flitwick chuckles, quite pleased with himself. “If I may be so bold as to leave you with another piece of homework, I would like to ask you to truly enjoy the holidays. I hear the summer is a time for discovering new things about oneself, for new beginnings and growth. After all, learning does not happen only within the castle grounds.”)

Later that day, you board the express, purposefully choosing the farthest compartment where you know they’ll be staying in. You share the cabin with two people whose names are Regulus and Narcissa Black—this is the first time you’ve ever met them. Narcissa shares her green tea flavored candy with you. Afterwards, you spend the rest of the ride back to King’s Cross asleep.

(Right before the train arrives, Remus is nervously searching for you in the crowd of people.

“We’ve got to say goodbye, at least.” Lily nibbles on her lower lip uneasily. She once joked that she could find you anywhere—as if you two had a red string tied around both your pinky fingers. Now, it seems you’re too far away for her voice to reach you.

James drops his head down in shame. “I never got the chance to apologize.”

“She’ll appear somewhere,” says Sirius unwaveringly with a nod, taking Lily’s heavy suitcase from her as steam whistles are heard in the distance. “She could be in our special compartment, waiting for us right now.”

“Are you sure?” Peter questions dubiously.

“Of course I am, she’s my best friend,” Sirius counters resolutely. “She’s there, I can feel it.”)

You’re fourteen when you return back to the castle—you hadn’t touched a single book throughout the summer, but you find yourself well-rested; you learn how to swim from your mother; staying up all night to accompany your family dog as she gives birth to seven beautiful puppies, and scratching yourself on the bark of sycamore trees with your poor attempts at climbing.

You find out that you don’t like Arithmancy at all, strongly preferring Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. You’ve also garnered a curiosity for Ornithomancy, the oracle reading of birds.

This year, you signed up for the Gobstone club, despite your unfamiliarity with the game. It’s led by a Slytherin girl named Haerin Seong. (It’s properly read as Seong Hae-rin.) She has pin-straight hair, a sharp nose, and the mouth of a drunken sailor.

You also decide that you want to become a professor after Hogwarts. The groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, belly laughs when you declare this to him one afternoon, right in the doorway of his hut.

“Well, go on then!” Hagrid bellows, patting you on the head. “Anyone who tries ter stop yeh has got ter go through me!”

On the dawn of your fifth-year, an owl delivers a prefect badge to your doorstep. Your father, born and raised as a Muggle, doesn’t understand the significance of this, but he cries harder than you on that Sunday morning. (“My child is a prefect!” He sobs into the telephone after dialing your aunt’s number.)

The fresh batch of Ravenclaw firsties aren’t the only new additions to the castle. According to the gossip mill, James and Lily are finally dating, so are Sirius and Remus apparently. (Then, months later, everyone would be shrieking about how they’re all dating. )

You hear of the news as you guide the first-year eaglets to their next class. You’re climbing up the spiral staircase when you see the Quidditch pitch through the window. They look like flying ants from this distance. You can imagine the wind in their hair, the tense muscles as they chase after the Quaffles, the crowd roaring in their ears, victory within their reach if they just fly fast enough.

You hate the way you envy them—how easily they soar up in the skies while you watch from below, much like a flightless eagle, shackled by your own shortcomings.

You hate Quidditch.

It’s bound by no rules, unpredictable and barbaric. Most of all, it looks down on the cowardly.

In your sixth year, you have your first kiss with a boy named Augustine Fenberry. It’s extremely short-lived and awkward. You date for three months until it’s unanimously agreed that you two are better off as friends—until you catch him laughing about you with his mates in an empty corridor, saying that you were clingy, too much, and needed to learn how to shut up. (You wonder if that’s why they grew tired of you, too.)

You handle him with a quick, “Entomorphis.”

It’s probably one of the more cruel jinxes; Augustine bawls piercingly as he grows antennas atop his head, the spell forcing him to get on his hands and knees; his friends hover around him in panic, but all Augustine can do is chirp like a grasshopper in the night. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, but Haerin tells you that’s exactly what Augustine is—vermin.

You also, with great satisfaction, deduct thirty points from his House—which happens to be Ravenclaw.

(Nobody knows this about Peter, but he’s nimble on his feet, a bit of a wallflower—and he is now the newest editor of Hogwarts’s newspaper column, The Golden Snidget. By the next day, everyone knows what he’s done. Argus Filch, who’s in charge of his month-long detention, should be the last of his worries. Peter sympathizes with the wizard—but only for a fraction of a second. Because it’s not even the werewolf Augustine has to be scared of, not the pureblood heir who could ruin anyone with just a lift of his finger; not the Quidditch prodigy with a sharp mind, knowing a thousand ways to seek revenge.

It’s Lily Evans.

“Go near her again and I’ll rip your balls off!” Marlene flips the bird to the group of cowering boys. “Matter of fact, if you treat anyone like that again, I will come for your bloodline.”

“Fucking toerag!” Lily wildly swings the Beater’s bat she had stolen from the Quidditch changing room. “If you even look at her, I’ll hunt you down and shove this up your arse—until you feel it in your throat!”

Peter shivers in fear. He didn’t ever want to be on the receiving side of Lily’s wrath.

“This is the same girl who cried for an hour when she saw the ducklings in the Great Lake separated from their mother,” says Remus, horrified.

“Honestly, I feel so, so conflicted whether to find this terrifying. . . or attractive,” James whispers to Sirius.

“Attractive. Definitely attractive,” Sirius responds breathlessly, all eyes on Lily.)

Gryffindor wins the House Cup that year, to no one’s surprise. You find yourself clapping along with everyone else, but can’t help it when your gaze drifts to the left-side of the Gryffindor table. You watch as Sirius lifts Lily in the air, her giggles somehow louder than the thunderous cheering, pressing a loving kiss to her lips. James stands on the table, encouraging everyone to sing more of his praises—there’s a split second where his eyes find yours, you look away immediately—as Remus covers his face with his palms, flushed from all the attention. After James, Remus had won the most points for their House.

They seem complete—a puzzle that never really needed another piece. (You miss them, heartachingly so.) Maybe it was for the best that all of you drifted further and further apart. You now forget the way they call your name.

And so, the story ends just like that.

YOU HAVE FOUND yourself in a very tricky position.

It’s past midnight when you wake up—you nearly scream bloody murder when James, Lily and Sirius materialize out of thin air. They stare back at you, frozen in place, unblinking for the last twenty seconds.

“Oh God, I’m hallucinating.” You cry to yourself, wrapping your arms around your waist. “I hit my head and now I’m seeing things.”

“No, no, no, no,” James stammers, shaking his head. “It’s an invisibility cloak—see?” He wears the cape, then abruptly takes the cloak off—his body disappearing and reappearing in time with his actions. “Not hallucinating, I promise.”

“That’s even worse,” You say hoarsely, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Y-You’re out past curfew—visiting hours are over. Someone could catch you. Madam Pomfrey will have your heads.”

Remus chuckles—he had missed your voice so bloody much. He barely contains his grin when you glare at him. (Finally, after three years, you look his way again.)

“We snuck in here to see you all the time,” Sirius tells you, the corner of his lips tipping into an overfond smile. “At some point, Poppy just stopped trying to keep us out.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your gaze falls to the floor as you mousily toy with your fingers. The infirmary falls painfully silent. Again. You clear your throat. “Anyway, I–I should get going.”

“Oh.” Lily’s expression turns crestfallen, words cracking from the thick lump wedged in her throat. (This is the first conversation she’s had with you in years—one that isn’t awkwardly bumping into one another with shallow, hesitant greetings, before you scurry off like a timid squirrel.) “R-Right. But why don’t you have dinner first? We brought some from the feast and—”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” You rasp, slipping into your shoes and throwing your cardigan over your shoulders. (More than anything, you want to hug Lily and congratulate her for making Head Girl—but you have to wonder if it’s too little, too late; if the distance between you and her is too great to try and cross.)

You toss Remus a wary glance. There used to be a time where you could say anything to him, and now it feels like ice-cold hands are stapled over your mouth. “F–Feel better soon.”

“Thanks.” Remus coughs.

Sirius’s eyes bounce from you to Remus, mentally ripping his hair out from exasperation—this whole thing is going nowhere.

You sprint out of the infirmary without a word, hands trembling from the nerve-wracking encounter inside. You take a moment to catch your breath, to shove your heart back inside your ribcage, as you lean sideways on the wall. It’s like running into a pack of wild chimeras in the mountains bare-handed.

“That was so scary.” You breathe out deeply, clutching the front of your shirt tightly.

The loud call of your name slices through the hallway and you jump in fright.

Luckily, it’s just James—but just James sets your heart aflutter and your knees wobbly even after all this time. He bridges the gap between you in quick, long strides; murmuring your name once more like a prayer. “Hey,” James says quietly, as if afraid to spook you off.

You gnaw on your bottom lip anxiously, tucking your hands inside your pockets. “Hey.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say—back in the library, all those years ago. I’m sorry. Really bloody sorry. Sirius decked me in the face that day, which I definitely deserved.” James nervously scratches the back of his head. “It was stupid of me—and I never should have said any of those things. I know it’s been years since then, you don’t even have to forgive me. But I just wanted you to know—”

“It’s fine, James.” You cut into his rambling, having already forgiven him for that day. “Really. Water under the bridge.”

In fact, some of what he had said made you realize how much you isolated yourself without even knowing. “And, I—uhm.” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too.”

James widens his eyes, then instantly shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A dark red blush spreads from his neck to his prettily carved cheeks. “So. . . uh. . . are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” You say and he exhales deeply in relief. “And James, I. . . I. . .”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he takes one more step towards you—achingly patient, but there’s a sense of urgency and desperation.

“I—” You look away and the words fizzle out in your throat. “Never mind.”

I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said that day. I miss you more than life. Thank you for staying by my side all those years—for being one of my best friends. You make me feel safe, James Potter. You are one of the most intelligent and caring wizards I know. How anyone can think otherwise is baffling to me. I’m sorry if I don’t let you know that more often.

“See you around, James.” With that, you turn and leave.

Perhaps, some things are better left unsaid.

(So why is your heart shattering into a million pieces?)

“TODAY, WE ARE GOING TO be interpreting messages from the divine!”

On a lovely Friday morning, Professor Nasenyana drags the class out to the grounds for a hands-on Divination lecture, the groundskeeper’s hut within sight. He unlocks the barn nearby, where flocks of various bird species take to the skies instantly. He’s a rather eccentric fellow with one of the friendliest smiles you’ve ever seen. Most of the Ravenclaws are also star-struck, hanging onto his every word. As it turns out, Nasenyana is a graduate from Uagadou, the top school for Astronomy and Divination.

“Ornithomancy—!” He proclaims, flashy cloak billowing, startling some of the Gryffindors from their sleep. “It is a form of divination that looks into the behavior of birds—celestial creatures blessed with the ability to traverse through the heavens and the earth. But, you see, it is more than that. It requires utmost concentration and mastery. To pass this class, you will need to—”

“I told you we didn’t miss anything important!”

“Pads, shut up.”

Sirius and Remus come rolling down the hill. Remus’s robes are disheveled, whereas Sirius’s tie is loosely hanging around his shirt, sleeves folded up. They nearly crash into Professor Nasenyana—who doesn’t appear to be pleased with their tardiness. You notice Remus’s flushed cheeks, the sweat running down the sides of his forehead, and the pinkish bruises on the column of Sirius’s neck.

Lily chortles.

Oh.

You blush deeply—that is so none of your business.

“Mister Black! Mister Lupin! So nice of you to finally join us.” Professor Nasenyana exclaims. “I trust that it won’t take you thirty more minutes to find a place to sit?” He gestures to the assembly of students sitting down on the grass, some shielding the sunlight from their face with the Divination textbook, and others transfiguring their school robes into a picnic mat. “Take your seats, gentlemen.”

“And that is five points from Gryffindor. Each.” Professor Nasenyana declares just as Remus and Sirius plop down on the closest patch of grass to them.

Which happens to be right beside you.

You pour all your attention on the teacher, and not how warm Sirius feels next to you.

“As I was saying,” Professor Nasenyana continues, hands folded behind his back, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “In order to pass this class, you will form groups of three where your task is to read each other’s fortune based on the information presented to you and document your findings. Everything you need for interpretation is in your textbooks. You will hand this assignment in after the winter holidays. I expect excellence from each and every one of you. Failure to comply will result in a Dreadful.”

Gilderoy’s arm shoots up in the air.

“Shall I guess your question, Mister Lockhart?” Nasenyana grins blindingly. “Your groups will be determined by fate—those closest to you will read your fortune, and you theirs.”

He lowers his arm with a bright blush.

You, however, are frozen in place, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a robe strewn over your lap—you even hold your breath from the shock. Fate must be mocking you right now. Spending the next few weeks in close proximity with the boys who held your fragile, little heart in their hands.

How fun.

Not.

FOR THE FIRST TIME in forever, you don’t pay attention in Charms.

The thought of working with Remus and Sirius haunts you so much that you burrow your head in your arms for the entirety of Professor Flitwick’s lesson. Your seatmate, Xenophilius, watches in horror as you flub the enunciation for Ascendio. Thankfully, no one is accidentally flung into the air—except for Gilderoy who is unfortunately blown away from his chair.

“Sorry.” You twinge empathetically as he climbs back onto his chair, glaring at you.

Xenophilius nudges your shoulder, whispering, “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” You respond hurriedly, almost choking on your spit. “What ever gave you the idea that I was not fine? I’m bloody fantastic even. The sun is shining, fishes are swimming, and there’s not a single thing out of the ordinary in my life.”

“It’s cloudy outside,” Xenophilius says impassively. “And Lockhart is looking at you like you’ve just attempted murder.”

“Lockhart always looks like that.” You brush him off with a wave, busying yourself with flipping the pages of your Charms textbook.

Xenophilius pokes you in the side. “You are avoiding the subject. Is it because of Lup—”

“Ascendio!”

This time, it’s too perfect of an incantation that even Merlin weeps from his grave.

At the end of class, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. Just as you leave the classroom, you find Sirius and Remus standing in the corridor, so absorbed in conversation that they don’t notice the sixth-year girls giggling as they walk by—either that, or they have had plenty of practice when it comes to ignoring attention from the entire student body. It’s not like you can blame everyone else—they’re a duo carved by heaven’s finest.

Sirius realizes instantly when you walk out of the doors. He smiles blazingly at you, instantly rising to his feet, hands shoved inside the pockets of his trousers. You can’t believe this is the same boy who’d give you piggyback rides down the hallway. Dark layered curls tumble messily past his shoulders, a smidge of dark liner around his eyes, multiple piercings in his left ear. He’s grown taller, certainly more confident, too.

“Ready to go, pet?” He asks, as if casually inquiring about the weather.

“Go?” You echo, nonplussed. “Go where?”

“Birdwatching, obviously.” Sirius grins devilishly before grabbing your hand and leading you to the courtyard, Remus hot on your heels—who, for some reason, now has your bag hanging from his shoulders.

“D-Do I even get a say in this?” Truthfully, you had thought that you could finish the project without meeting up. Ever. You even think of collaborating with them via owl; staying far, far away from one another. So that none of you get hurt again, and you don’t risk another heartbreak.

“Not one bit, darling.” Sirius looks back at you and winks—this cheeky bastard!

You’re in a daze by the time the three of you reach the middle courtyard. Sirius happily plonks down under a tree, further unbuttoning his shirt until a hint of a tattoo peeks out—you gape. Remus chuckles before urging you to sit as well, before he settles on your other side.

“This is nice,” says Sirius as he leans his head against the tree trunk, eyes closed. “Bloody missed this.”

“Missed what?” You dare to ask, heart hammering in your chest.

He opens one eye, cheek dimple flashing. “Being by your side.”

“Oh.”

One does not respond to that, actually. One just simply passes out and fades away.

And as you typically do when facing hardships in life, you ramble about homework. Clearing your throat and staring straight at the earthworms crawling out of the mud, you say, “So, about our project. . .”

“I was thinking we could get started on it next Saturday,” You splutter, fiddling with your fingers. “Or I could start on everyone’s reading and we’d put it on paper sometime next month—but I could do that myself, too. I-If you wanted. Just so that it’s easier for everyone. We really don’t have to rush, honestly.”

“Procrastinating on schoolwork?” Remus laughs heartily with a slow shake of his head, stretching his long legs on the ground. “Who are you and what have you done to our best fr—”

The word falters on his tongue, and his smile fades into a somber line.

To save everyone from the awkward tension, you carry on, ignoring the way Sirius stiffens, “If you want to start early, I can head to the library after lunch to find some books on Ornithomancy. The more references we have—”

“What happened to us?” Sirius interjects gravelly.

You let out a deep sigh.

You suppose this conversation has been a long time coming, given lions and their stubbornness.

“It’s simple,” You say gingerly. “After that. . . that day, the distance kept growing and growing until we went our own separate ways without looking back.”

A single teardrop slides down your cheek before you can stop it. “You changed. I changed, too. The difference was, you all had each other while I had no one.”

(Though Pandora and Xenophilius were the truest and most honest friends one could ask for, they didn’t hold your soul captive the way they did.)

Sirius stares at you as if you had just spit acid; a thunderstorm forming within his gray eyes, his jaw locking painfully.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Remus asks softly, leaning forward to offer you his handkerchief. His voice sounds strangled—as though your words physically torment him. He pulls away just as your gaze falls on his.

“That’s what happened, though. But I suppose it doesn’t really even matter anymore.” You flinch away, electrocuted from his touch.

There’s a stretched silence that blankets the three of you. It carries on for a few minutes, the breeze flowing by, and the slow, clamorous bell chiming in the distance. You’re about to speak up when Sirius breaks the quietude first.

“Be ready,” He says decidedly, looking straight ahead.

“For what?” You ask in disbelief.

Sirius drags a hand through his hair with a loud exhale. He rests his elbows on his knees, chin carelessly set on his palm, eyeing you intensely. “We’re going to prove you wrong from now on.”

“What exactly are you going to prove?”

Sirius chuckles, coiling a strand of your hair around his finger. “That it’s always been you and us for life, princess.”

Merlin’s saggy balls.

THE GRYFFINDOR TABLE descends into a coalescence of wide eyes and rapid, hushed whispers when you arrive sometime during dinner. It’s not out of your own volition, of course, but your own duty and responsibility as prefect to return the handkerchief that Remus had lent you earlier this afternoon. You hoped it would be a quick in-and-out; dishing out more forced smiles, and some half-baked banter until you could finally run away, tail tucked between your legs. Like most things in your life, it does not go the way you want.

“You could keep it, if you want,” says Remus, hesitantly taking the embroidered cloth from you.

If the world knew how many trinkets Remus Lupin had gifted you during your friendship, you would be swimming in gold—and cursed letters from his devoted fangirls.

“That’s alright. Thank you.” You placate him with a crooked grin, the words spilling from your lips like a jumbled mess. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gideon and Fabian Prewett nudging each other’s shoulders whilst pointing at you, keeping their heads low. You have no idea what that’s about.

“Well. That is all. E-Enjoy your dinner.” You nod, mentally patting yourself on the back for not passing out in the den of lions. “Goodbye.”

Though the Ravenclaw table is placed next to Gryffindor’s, you have the bright idea of sitting with your backs to them, lest you engage in a round of cloddish staring contests with the Marauders. Just as you pivot on your heels, ready to make it to Pandora’s side, an achingly familiar voice calls for your name.

“Wait!” Marlene is partially out of her seat, bright blonde hair in a loose, messy braid; hand outstretched, as if reaching out to you. Her pale cheeks blossom with shades of scarlet as she receives miffed glares from the students nearby—such is the curse of a Gryffindor; if this were a fantasy novel, they would be the perfect protagonist. “Why don’t you eat with us? F-For old time’s sake. It’s been so long and I really would like to catch up with you.”

Your resolve nearly crumbles. This is the same girl who would bring sweet candies in her pocket in case you got hungry during class. But, if this were a fantasy novel, you would only be an extra; fated to walk a path so different from the likes of James Potter and Lily Evans.

“Maybe next time,” You say, unconvincing to even your own ears.

FROM ACROSS the Great Hall, another conversation is taking place.

“I am telling you, Minerva, I caught them talking again in the infirmary,” says Poppy Pomfrey to her fellow teacher, a spry grin on her kind face.

“Poppy, as I’ve told you, I do not make a habit out of discussing my students’ personal lives,” McGonagall replies tiredly, slicing into her dinner plate of steak and kidney pie. She pauses for a few moments, before pushing up her spectacles with a wrinkly smile. “But, perhaps, I’ll let this slide just this once. Tell me all about it. I’ve also heard that—”

“ACTA NON VERBA.”

Deeds, not words.

Truly a befitting password for the House of bravery and recklessness. The Fat Lady’s portrait gasps in delight, raising her champagne glass to you. Seconds later, the Gryffindor common room is revealed to you. (Most of the Ravenclaw prefects have the House passwords memorized, in case they encounter a lost student outside the dormitories who has forgotten the passcode. It happens more often than one would like. Although it isn’t just first-years who are often stuck outside. You’ve stumbled upon Frank Longbottom many times before in a heated argument with the Fat Lady.)

“Oh!” Alice, bundled up in a red scarf and a wooly jumper, is startled to find you at the entrance. She breathily says your name, eyes crinkling as she smiles widely. “What a pleasant surprise! Oh my Gods—it’s so nice to see you again. How’s the head? Last time I saw you, you were bleeding everywhere.”

“I didn’t get amnesia. So that was good.” You head inside the room, instantly enveloped in a familiar warmth, a welcoming hug as if you had never strayed far. “Thank you. For that day, I mean. For bringing me to Madam Pomfrey.”

She waves you off. “Don’t mention it.”

“But. . .” Alice cocks her head with a conniving smile. “Don’t tell anyone else this, but when James found out it had been the Gryffindor team’s co-captain who hit the Quaffle your way, I heard James put him through some intense training. He must’ve had to run a hundred laps around the pitch for a week straight. Poor guy even had to wash everyone’s jerseys without magic.”

“What?” You shriek. “But it was just an accident. Surely, James wouldn’t—”

Alice tweaks your nose with a chuckle. “Oh, for you? He would.”

You have the strangest urge to throw yourself out of the tower.

You cough into your first, desperate to shift the conversation topic otherwise you’d spontaneously combust. “S-So, where’s Remus? We agreed to work on our Divination project here—if that’s alright with you and the others, of course.”

“Ha!” Alice exclaims, palming her forehead. “So that’s why the tower stinks of flipping perfume.” She snickers at your bewildered expression, before engulfing you in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you. You’re welcome here anytime, you know that.”

“Thank you, Alice.” You squeeze her back, giving yourself just this one time because you really did miss her.

Alice takes a step backwards before roaring loud enough to shake the ceiling. “Remus!”

“Get down here! Your girlfriend is waiting!”

You break out in a coughing fit. “I am not his girlfriend.”

“Not yet.” Alice winks at you, patting your cheek before skipping out the common room.

You hear the heavy footfalls of someone coming down the stairs. Moments later, you see Remus Lupin beaming at you, casually dressed, hair damp and tousled over his brows, broad shoulders stretching his white top, and fluffy, mismatched socks over his feet. He walks over to you in record speed.

“You came,” He says huskily.

“I did.”

“You look beautiful today.” Remus grins wolfishly, dimples poking out of his cheeks, flecks of light in his hazel eyes.

You blink owlishly, dumbfounded. You peer at your clothes—nothing fancy or experimental. “This is how I normally dress, though.”

“I know.”

Remus smiles, swiftly taking your bookbag from you. (Alice was right. He smells like a basket of green apples, old leather tomes, and sandalwood. Not that you mind.) You follow him to the couches by the fireplace.

“Where’s Sirius?” You look around the common room as you sink into the red sofa. There’s a pair of third-years playing chess, a young girl feathering her hand across the bookcase; sunlight streaming in from the tall windows.

But no sign of Sirius Black.

“Miss me, did you, love?”

Sirius chuckles into your ear—you jump out of your skin, clutching at your knees in fright.

“Merlin’s tits—!”

You gasp for air while Sirius and Remus laugh at your expense. “You fucking wanker!” You grab one of the quilted pillows as Sirius jumps over the back of the couch. “You’re an idiot, Sirius Orion.”

“There.” Sirius flops right down on the sofa; his hair tied up in a low bun, silver rings around his fingers. “Now you don’t look so bloody scared and nervous around us. We don’t bite, you know.” He pauses, then grins devilishly at you. “Unless you ask.”

You slap your palms against your lap. “Anyways—!”

Nostrils flaring as you take a deep breath—this is going to be a long day. You begin setting the parchments, feather quills, and Divination textbooks on the coffee table, along with a notebook where you had written some observations during the week. “When we were out—erm—birdwatching the other day, I noted down the birds that flew by for our readings. For Remus, it was a flock of Firecrests. And—”

“I’m very sorry, loveliest love, but none of this makes any bloody sense to me.” Sirius goes through the Divination volumes you had checked out from the library, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Tea reading, I can tolerate. But studying bird droppings really isn’t my thing.”

You glare heatedly at him, oddly defensive about the subject. “We’re not studying bird droppings, you plonker. There’s so much more to Ornithomancy than what meets the eyes. You see, nature connects everything. From the number of birds you encounter, to which direction they fly, their pattern of flight, down to the colors of their wings.”

You point to the glaring page from Snallygasters and Omens: Vol. 1 where a picture of a Jobberknoll jumps out. “This bird flies to the east because the east governs new beginnings and warm springs after winter. Blue wings symbolize reliability. One day in the future you’ll be tasked with a huge responsibility. A family could entrust their godson to you, who knows? You have to be clear-headed, Sirius. Your emotions can get the best of you if you’re not careful.”

Without even pausing to breathe, you say, “Remus. The firecrest. Smallest bird in the wizarding world, but will dare to fly higher than any other creature, even the king of birds. The firecrest and its flock were flying to the south that day, Remus. To the place of passion and life. Love. Beauty.”

“So it’s. . . it’s more than just bird droppings!”

By the end of it all, your chest is heaving, fingers trembling with adrenaline; Remus and Sirius gazing at you with stars in their eyes, devotion pouring from their growing smiles. (Oh, how their hearts beat for you.)

Sirius tips your chin with his knuckle, leaning closer until you feel his breath on your nose. “Welcome back, princess.”

NIGHT FALLS WITHOUT anyone’s permission. James, Lily, and Peter make their way back to the Gryffindor tower, patches of sunburn on their nose after spending the entire day outside observing bird flight patterns. Like Sirius, Lily has her mind firmly set against the philosophies of Divination; the mumbo jumbo not really all that comprehensible to her. As they enter the common room, her hand in James’s, they’re greeted by a rare sight—one that Lily didn’t think she would see again.

Sirius is sitting on the floor by the fireplace, wand tucked behind his ear, a pile of books at his side, his brows contorted in frustration as he drowns in the pages of When Fortunes Turn Fowl. He presses his finger to his lips when his silvery eyes fall on Lily and James, jerking his head to the scene across him.

Lily fails to bury her smile when she sees you snoring away at Remus’s lap, his fingers absentmindedly knitting through strands of your hair. The space is bedecked in loose pages with scribbled notes on them and ink stains on the carpet.

“I take it you three got further along than we did,” Lily whispers as she kneels beside Remus, softly nudging his chin as she captures him in a fond kiss.

Remus smiles into her lips. “A month’s worth of progress, at least. Thanks to this one here. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a bird the same way again.”

“Who knew our little eagle had a knack for Divination?” Lily chuckles, gaze softening as she delicately drags her knuckle down your cheek. “It’s getting pretty late. Should we wake her up?”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Let her sleep a bit more.”

Selfishly, Lily agrees. She traces the tip of your nose, the pillows of your lips, before retracting her hand with a long sigh. “We used to talk about anything and everything until the sun rose. Now, it seems like I can never catch up to her no matter how fast I run.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t worry,” says Lily. “I am nothing if not stubborn. She’ll know my wrath soon.”

Sirius snickers. “How charming.”

The fire crackles and you mumble something, deep in slumber, shifting in Remus’s hold, “Only one percent. . . of the world’s population is . . . is naturally redheaded.”

“Is that right?” Lily grins from ear to ear.

Just you wait, Lily is going to sweep you off your feet.

(Something she should have done years ago.)

“IS THAT A new jumper?”

Pandora simpers knowingly, heterochromatic eyes uncovering your every secret—the beads in her long braids click as she keeps in time with your brisk pace. She teasingly pulls at the oversized sweater. “It looks good on you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, watchfully twisting your arms around your waist. “It was cold this morning, alright? Remus lent it to me. It’s not a big deal. It’s what friends do, right?”

“So, you’re friends now?” Pandora muses. “Well, thank the Gods, because it has been excruciating watching you tiptoe around one another. It only took you lot three years, but it’s better than never, eh?”

“Wilderwood! No magic in the corridors! That’s five points from Slytherin!” You bark at the stubborn fifth-year who grins sheepishly at you, before you reply to Pandora, an ache forming at the back of your head. “It’s complicated. Everything was sort of awkward in the beginning.”

You think of last night, how Sirius was especially keen on making you laugh every few seconds; Remus would inch closer to you, head nearly on your shoulder as he peeks at the notes you’ve jotted down. You could barely think straight in their presence. Then, you remember waking up earlier this morning, James sprawled all over Sirius and Lily on the couch; Remus’s nose fully buried in his drawing book.

“But. . .” You trail off, remembering Remus’s arms around you as he sent you off, careful not to wake the others. (“I am a selfish bastard, pet,” He whispers into your hair, “I’m sorry, but let me steal this morning from them.”)

“It’s like coming home after a long day.”

“Brilliant!” Pandora exclaims, roughly laying her hands on your shoulders as she ushers you past the cobblestone walkway and into the grassfield, where the Quidditch Pitch rests in the near distance. You hadn’t even realized that you were a little ways from the castle already. “Tell them that!”

“What?” You squawk. “Are you mad, woman?”

You hear the sound of brooms zipping by at an unimaginable speed. The crowd clamors over the announcer’s intense commentary. Your legs feel like they’ve been jinxed to feel like jelly. You hate Quidditch.

“GRYFFINDOR SCORES! — That’s one-hundred and twenty in all! — Still no snitch yet! Hurry on, Potter! Mulciber’s got nothing on you– Ow! Professor! — Fawley heads for the goal! — Great deflect by Black! — Bletchley misses! — Another point for Gryffindor! We might as well end the game now!”

“Mr. Prewett!” You hear McGonagall scold into the charmed megaphone.

“Sorry, Minnie! Anyway! — Mulciber and Potter race for the Snitch! Potter reaches out! — Surprisingly good manoeuvre from Mulciber! — Come on, James! — He’s almost got it! — It’s right there!”

You wait with a bated breath.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

“Potter’s got it! — GRYFFINDOR HAS WON!”

“Go on now, treasure. Before the Wrackspurts get inside your head again.” Pandora urges you forward, dusting the invisible creatures off your shoulders. As you take one step into the field, fireworks of gold and scarlet light up the sky, the Gryffindor teams’ cries of victory shake the ground; you hear Fabian screaming into the megaphone. Your fingers go numb. “Don’t let another day go by without expressing your heart,” says Pandora into your ear, almost a gust of wind if you hadn’t been paying attention. “Go to them. They are waiting for you.”

“But what if they aren’t?” You watch as the sun descends on the Gryffindor team lifting James in the air, Golden Snitch in his gloved hand. Sirius catches Lily by the waist, twirling her up high; her smile more dazzling than any other gem you’ve seen. As James is set back down on the ground, he snatches Remus unaware and bends him down for a fervent kiss.

“Dora, what if I’m the only one who feels this way? I can’t do that to them. What are the chances that I’ll ruin everything? That would hurt more than anything.”

Pandora cups your cheeks and lays her forehead on yours. “You won’t ever know unless you go out there.”

With that, she pushes you into the Quidditch pitch.

You swallow the lump in your throat, ears ringing from the crowd chanting James’s name, and your heart pounding in fear.

“J-James. . .” You call out weakly as he drowns in the sea of students.

Perhaps it’s a sign.

This really wasn’t a good idea.

Love is a fool’s game.

Don’t you get it? They don’t need you in the picture at all.

“N-No!” You shout, chest heaving. If everything happens for a reason, maybe you were meant to meet in that train compartment all those years ago. You’ve lost three years with them already.

If you don’t go to them right now, you could lose a lifetime.

If bravery is for the reckless and arrogant, you’re prepared to be the most depraved witch in the castle just to stay by their side.

“James—!”

“Go, go, Gryffindor!”

You bite your lip in frustration—but you can’t just give up. Not now.

Once more.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!”

Please.

Time stops as you stand at the edge of the field; James whips his head around and finds you instantly. The glow of having just won a match doesn’t even compare when his eyes land on you. He pushes past his team members and some of the Gryffindor students, his gaze unwavering, some of them call out his name but he doesn’t bother looking back. Before you even know it, he stands in front of you, breathing heavily—but not from the rush of the game.

“You’re here,” He says, eyes disappearing into his smile. “But you hate Quidditch.”

“I do.” You grin wearily. “But I love you more.”

Without even giving James the chance to speak, you ramble on, hurricanes whirling in your stomach, “You’re a bloody brilliant wizard, James Potter. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before. I see you. I see all of you. How could I not? I love you. I think I’ve loved all of you before I knew it was even love. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same w—”

James grabs the back of your legs and hoists you up, tendrils of hair falling over his glasses as he beams at you. The sun can’t even dream of competing with him.

“Put me down, James, I am going to hurl—!”

He spins you one more time for good measure before placing you on the ground. James barely gives you a second to gather your bearings as he seizes your lips with his own, hand cradling the back of your neck.

“You’re here,” He says, unable to believe his very eyes, gently chasing after your lips, breaths mingling until you don’t remember where either begins or ends. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t. I won’t.” You promise breathlessly as James pecks the tip of your nose, the arch of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Beautiful.” He kisses you until you’re gasping for air. “And all ours.”

There’s not a moment where you don’t feel loved, not even when he lets you go, and it’s Lily who encompasses you in her arms, bright hair filling your vision; you willingly burn in the warmth of her body. The mellow scent of pomegranates and red roses fill your nose. You see a never-ending horizon of kindness in her emerald eyes. (How could you have stayed away for so long?) It’s like finding a missing piece of your soul that you never knew that was lost.

Lily laughs—it sounds like an orchestral symphony. Her gaze cascades to your lips, the prettiest of smiles on her face; she cradles the curve of your jaw with utmost sincerity, a few drops of tears shimmering against her freckled skin. “May I?”

“Please.” You feel her breath tickling your lips, deftly pulling you in for a kiss until all you can feel is her. She consumes every inch of you, and you are happy to surrender, heart and soul.

“You must be the thickest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met,” says Lily, giggling as she kisses you once, twice—thrice.

“And that means?” You scoff lightheartedly.

She steals another kiss from you. “That means: I hope you know that we have loved you ever since, you daft witch. That I’ve loved you all this time. And now that you’re ours, we are going to make sure you remember that. Every single day for the rest of our lives.”

You smile, holding onto her hand, dizzy with a hundred emotions. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

(Your Divination project is a point lower than Lily, Peter and James’s, but you find that it’s the luckiest fortune you’ve ever had.)

EPILOGUE:

“I LOVE QUIDDITCH!”

You are twenty-two years old, nose bitten from the chilly air, lounging in the best seating area the Quidditch World Cup has to offer; an unobstructed view of the players. The match is between the Brazilian and Japanese National Quidditch teams. Much to Sirius and James’s chagrin, your cheek is painted in yellow and green stripes, the vibrant flag around your shoulders.

You scream along with the crowd, nearly spilling your Butterbeer popcorn, as the Brazilian players enter the vast stadium. You ardently shake Lily’s shoulders. “That’s him! That’s him! Lily, it’s Brazil’s youngest ever Seeker! Vinícius Silva! I watched a replay of his matches and he’s got a seventy-eight percent win rate!”

“Watch out, love, you’ll fall off the edge if you aren’t careful,” Lily says worriedly.

“His fastest record for catching the Golden Snitch is ten minutes and thirty seconds! He’s won Most Outstanding Player in the Junior Division twice! I’ve got a good feeling about this team—I knew those auguries were a lucky sign.”

“The only Seeker you should be obsessing over is me.” You hear James grumbling behind your back, stealing a kiss from Lily’s lips before pressing his mouth to your cheek. “And you bloody well know that Japan’s Chaser, Kurosawa, is going to steal the limelight in this match. An average possession time of thirty seconds per play. A beast, that one.”

You wave him off, more confident in your statistics. “Did you place my bets? I’m telling you, we’re going to be rich.”

“Yes, darling,” He says, utterly loving his role as the dutiful husband.

Moments later, Sirius appears at his side, fussing over your scarf, and kissing you just because. “Can we take off your bloody hat now? I think you just blinded Malfoy and his little blonde gremlin.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You simper fiendishly before smacking his arm. “And don’t call your nephew that.”

Sirius grins.

You pull at one of his curls. “Besides, if you’re good you can take off everything later tonight.”

He pulls you in for a deep kiss, hand at your waist, nose brushing each other’s. “And that is why I love you, dear wife.”

You pout, albeit seeing right through his white, little jape. “Truly?”

Sirius lands another kiss to your forehead. “Are you doubting me, loveliest love of my life? The lighthouse in my ocean storms. The apple of my eye. Fire in my loins—”

You slap a hand over his mouth. “I get it, thank you, my love.”

Sirius beams from ear to ear. “Glad to have eased your doubts, darling.”

Thirty minutes into the match, Remus arrives, dressed in a muted gray suit, light brown hair flopping over his eyes. He greets everyone with a tired kiss.

You immediately wrap him in a hug, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He had a particularly difficult full moon some nights ago. You press a tender kiss to the scar right below his jaw. “How was work? Did you bring my binder? It has my lesson plan for next week, I don’t want to return to the castle unprepared, and—”

The newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor squeezes your waist. “Work was fine, pet. And no, I didn’t bring the papers because right now we are not working. We are going to watch Brazil win the bloody match and get right home to Harry after.”

You, the newest Divination teacher of Hogwarts, tug him by his necktie, smiling coyly. “Sounds like a wonderful plan to me.”

BONUS:

“REMUS!”

The empty classroom is filled with soft, fervid moans—two professors especially drunk on the taste of each other’s lips. You’re seated on the desk, Remus wedged between your thighs, his hand inching dangerously higher and higher; the other hand slipping under your shirt and thumbing the bare skin underneath. He captures your whispers and mewls with his lips. Jackets and ties are tossed carelessly to the side.

“So fucking beautiful.” He nips at your lower lip.

“Rem. . .” You whimper, tugging at the strands of his hair. “Remus—please!”

The door to the DADA classroom slams open and you two detangle from each other’s embrace in record speed. As you pat down your hair, Remus draping his blazer over your shoulders, you watch Lily and Harry stalk over to you in lengthy strides, reaching the both of you within seconds. You clear your throat, awkwardly averting your gaze from your son’s precious eyes; Lily, a moment away from throwing her head back in laughter.

Harry, fourteen, and not at all ignorant to what couples do in the castle alcoves, sees the ruffled hair, the lipstick over his father’s cheeks and neck, and his parent’s misbuttoned blouse.

He grimaces. “You two are disgusting, you know that right?”

You guffaw, pinching his cheek. “Now, is that any way to greet the person who’s changed your diapers since you were a baby?”

Lily cackles from Remus’s side, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Harry’s got a bit of a problem. Go on, tell them, my love.”

Harry immediately throws his hands in the air, groaning frustratedly. “It’s Ron! He thinks I put my name in the bloody Goblet—!”

“Which, I will still be having a word with Dumbledore about,” You say decisively. You’re not about to endanger your son. The Minister of Magic and the Headmaster be damned. They can also take it up with your husband, James, Head Auror of the Magical Law Enforcement department.

“And now Ron’s not talking to me, Hermione’s not talking to me because I’m not talking to Ron—Colin’s following me around everywhere I go! I’m going mad, mum!” Harry slumps on one of the empty chairs, huffing. “Stupid bloody tournament.”

You chuckle as you walk over to him, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. “Take it from me.” You press a warm kiss to his forehead. “Talk to them, otherwise you’ll lose time that was meant to be spent together. It doesn’t matter who was wrong or who was right. It’s important that you have the courage to reach out. They’re your friends. They will understand your heart soon enough.”

Harry blinks. “Thanks.”

He exits the classroom in a daze, heavily pondering on your words.

The door clicks shut, and Lily wordlessly locks the entrance. She turns to you and Remus, a sultry grin on her ruby red lips. “What are the chances we Floo home, and invite Sirius and James to join us?”

You take her outstretched hand. “A hundred and twelve.”

a/n. i wasn't satisfied with the angst here.. so expect a hufflepuff!reader and enemies to lovers next time (i promise to do better in the next fic aaakfsh) tell me what u thought of this one EUEUEU HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC!! heart heart

#poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #hp imagine #hp fluff #hp angst #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders angst #marauders fanfiction #sunny's hp fics #poly marauders #marauders x reader #james potter x reader

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f14fun · 3 months ago

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A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C1)

synopsis: in which case y/n, a bold African American country singer, crosses paths with Daniel, a charming Australian Formula 1 driver, both tipsy and unwound by the night.

prose + smau (20.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: i desperately had to write a daniel ff, because a) the austin grand prix is nearing and b) i'm terribly sad about his sudden departure. daniel, we all love you so much and wish the best for you! remember to #fea (f' 'em all) <3

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Austin, Texas had nothing on me.

The dingy little bar — well, to me it was dingy because it was the family bar — was dimly lit, with neon signs casting a faint, almost ghostly glow across the weathered wooden walls. The low hum of chatter mixed with the clink of glasses, and even though it was nearing midnight, the place had only gotten busier. Crowds swayed to the twang of a fiddle in the background, boots stomping across the sticky floor. Outside, the summer heat still clung to the air, making the inside feel close and hazy, like the walls were holding in the laughter and stories of the night.

I’d played more shows here than I could count, my boots leaving their mark on the same stage where my granddaddy used to strum his guitar. Most nights felt predictable, but this one felt different, like the air was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I wasn’t much for Formula 1 — Texas rodeos and horse racing were more my speed — but I knew every year when the race came through Austin, our little bar saw a wave of tourists eager for a taste of country. And tonight, as I leaned against the bar nursing my bourbon, the buzz of unfamiliar accents swirled around me, a reminder that the city had filled up with people from all over the world, looking for thrills in the dust and heat of Texas.

"Y/N, baby, why don’t you get up there and play a few songs?" my mom said, wiping her hands on a towel as she leaned over the bar. Her voice was soft, but that familiar nudge was behind it — the kind that never really left room for much argument.

I hesitated, swirling the last bit of bourbon in my glass. “I don’t know, Mama... it’s packed tonight,” I replied, glancing around at the sea of faces — mostly tourists, loud and unfamiliar. “Besides, they’re not here for me. Just here for a taste of Texas, right? A rodeo queen, not a country girl with a guitar.”

Mama raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’ve got more than a taste of Texas in you. Those folks would be lucky to hear what you can do. You know that.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle in. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play — hell, I’d been singing since I could talk and playing guitar since I was old enough to hold one. But growing up Black in a part of Texas where faces like ours weren’t the norm? That always added a little extra pressure.

Even though our family had earned our place here, built up the bar and our name through years of hard work and music passed down through generations, it never really felt like the eyes watching me were just listening to the music. They were measuring us.

But over the years, we’d carved out a space for ourselves. This bar wasn’t just another honky-tonk; it was ours, The Dusty Rose, and people knew us for more than the color of our skin. Mama’s voice, my granddaddy’s songs, and the family’s grit had earned us some respect in this town. Enough that people came back, year after year, to hear us sing, drink our whiskey, and pretend for a while that we were all part of the same big Texas story.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, with so many new faces and voices in the crowd, I wasn’t sure I had the courage to step up. I glanced down at my guitar leaning against the wall, its strings worn and familiar, waiting for me like it always did.

Mama’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Y/N, you’ve got the talent and the heart. Don’t let anyone else tell you different. You’re gonna get up there and remind them why they keep coming back.”

I wanted to believe her, I really did. But I wasn’t sure if tonight was the night to take on the weight of all those eyes.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers along the worn edge of my glass before setting it down with a soft clink. “Alright, Mama,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Guess it’s time to remind these folks why The Dusty Rose has lasted this long.”

Mama smiled, that proud, knowing smile she always gave me. I stood up, the familiar click of my cowboy boots echoing on the wooden floor, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Without another word, I slung my guitar over my shoulder, the weight of it settling comfortably against my back, like an old friend. The crowd was a blur of faces as I walked toward the stage, my pulse steadying with every step.

As I stepped up, I saw Orville already seated behind his drum kit, twirling a stick between his fingers with that lazy confidence of his. His bright blonde hair stuck out in every direction, his face splashed with freckles that made him look like a mischievous kid, though he was older than me by a good ten years. He looked up, grinning wide. “Well, I’ll be damned, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence. You plannin’ on singin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ pretty, Y/N?” he teased, tapping his snare for effect.

“Could do both, Orville,” I shot back, my nerves melting a little under the familiar banter.

To the right of him, Clyde was leaning over the keys, his cowboy hat tipped low over his brow. With a name like Clyde and a deep Southern drawl that stretched out his words for days, he was about as country as they came. He looked up at me with a slow nod. “Ain’t no time like midnight for a little serenadin’, huh?” he drawled, cracking a toothy grin. “Folks gonna think you’re singin’ ‘em to bed.”

Then there was Gus, seated on the stool, strumming a lazy rhythm on the bass. He had a scruffy beard, worn jeans, and the kind of build that said he spent just as much time on a ranch as he did on stage. Gus tilted his head and gave me a half-smile. “Late night’s when the magic happens, darlin’. ‘Sides, these tourists don’t know country music 'til they hear it this time of night.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The boys had been with me long enough to know my patterns, and teasing me for wanting to sing so late was their way of easing my nerves. We’d known each other since grade school — back when Orville was the kid who drummed on lunch tables, Clyde would belt out country tunes during recess, and Gus would pluck at strings made of rubber bands, pretending he had a bass in his hands. Now that we were twenty-two, somehow, we still hadn’t split up. Through all the ups and downs, we stuck together, always finding our way back to this stage.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, strumming a few soft chords to tune my guitar, “you all just wait. We’re about to remind this bar why they keep coming back.”

Orville gave his drums a little roll, Clyde’s fingers hovered over the keys, and Gus plucked the bass with a steady beat, all of them waiting on me to start. It was like second nature, this rhythm we shared, a connection built over years of shared songs and late-night jams.

I took one more deep breath, feeling the energy of the room shift toward the stage, my nerves steadying under the soft glow of the spotlight. Time to show them what The Dusty Rose was really about — and remind myself why we never gave up on this.

I stomped my boots on the worn wooden floor, the solid thud cutting through the clamor of the bar. A few heads turned first, followed by more, until the low murmur of voices quieted down after a couple of cheerful whistles and claps from the regulars.

I stepped up to the mic, adjusting the strap of my guitar on my shoulder. “Hey y’all,” I started, my voice carrying over the room. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Y/N. I’m a small singer-songwriter, born and raised right here in Austin.”

Before I could say another word, Gus chuckled from his spot behind me. “Small, my ass. She’s an enigma, and she’s selling herself short, y’all!”

The room rumbled with a few laughs, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I blushed, turning around to swat him gently on the shoulder. “Gus, you’re lucky I don’t throw my boot at you,” I teased, shaking my head before turning back to the crowd.

“Alright, alright, don’t listen to him,” I said with a smile. “I wanted to play a song tonight that’s a little personal. One I wrote not too long ago... when I found my boyfriend — who, funny enough, was also in the band — cheating on me with my best friend, who used to sing backup vocals.”

A few sympathetic murmurs rose from the crowd, and I could see people shift in their seats, intrigued. “Yeah, it was a mess,” I continued, smiling despite the sting of the memory. “Johnny and Carrie — yeah, those are their real names, y’all — are long gone now. They didn’t just break my heart, they broke the band up too.”

I glanced at Orville, Clyde, and Gus, the ones who’d stuck around. We’d been through hell and back, but we never let anyone tear us down. “But we bounced back. And so did I,” I added with a grin. “This song’s about all that, and how you pick yourself up when the people you trust let you down.”

The room was still, eyes fixed on me as I raised my guitar, fingers poised over the strings. “So, here’s one I like to call Blue.” I stomped my boots once more, giving the boys the cue to kick in. The first slow, mournful chords filled the air, and as I started to sing, the bar held its breath, waiting for the heartache in my voice to tell the rest of the story.

I took a deep breath and let the first notes roll off my tongue, the familiar melody filling the room as my fingers danced across the strings.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

My voice lingered in the air, soft yet steady, as the boys followed in perfect harmony. The crowd had settled into the mood, quiet and still, as if they, too, were feeling the heartache threaded through the lyrics.

"Tears fill my eyes 'til I can't see Three o'clock in the mornin' Here am I, sittin' all alone..."

As I poured myself into the song, my gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when I spotted him. A ruggedly handsome man leaning against the far corner of the bar, his stubble-covered jaw catching the dim light just right, giving him an air of mystery. He had a full head of curls peeking out from under a cowboy hat that didn’t quite fit the way a Texan’s would. He might have been trying to blend in, but it was obvious he wasn’t from around here.

The way he carried himself — that casual yet calculated way of sitting, like he was at ease but somehow apart from it all — made me wonder who the hell he was. Something about him tugged at my attention, even as I sang the words that had been pulling at my heart for months.

"Now that it's over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

My fingers faltered for the briefest second, but I recovered quickly, shaking off the distraction and forcing myself back into the song. Whoever he was, I wasn’t about to let some handsome stranger throw me off my game. Not tonight.

I kept going, but the thought of him lingered at the back of my mind, the heat of his presence warming the room just a little more than it had been before.

The gentle rhythm of Gus’s bass hummed through the room, a steady heartbeat that matched the soulful sway of the song. Each note he plucked seemed to cradle the sadness in my voice, grounding it in something deeper, something raw. Clyde’s fingers danced over the keys, soft and mournful, adding a kind of sweetness to the pain, like the last lingering memory of something you loved but had to let go. Orville’s light taps on the drums gave the song its slow, steady pulse, holding everything together in a rhythm that felt like the ticking of time, dragging me back through memories I’d rather forget.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

The melody wrapped itself around the room, and I could feel the audience sinking into the sadness with me, the song casting a spell over the bar. I was in the zone, letting the music take over, but that rugged stranger in the corner was like a stubborn note I couldn’t shake. His presence tugged at me, even with the sweet sorrow of the keys flowing through the air. He wasn’t watching me like the others; he was studying me, eyes dark under the brim of that cowboy hat that didn’t quite belong.

As my voice rose for the next line, I couldn’t help but glance his way again. His stubbled jaw was clenched like he was thinking hard about something, but there was a glint of something else — maybe curiosity — in his eyes. It unnerved me and fascinated me all at once, the way he didn’t quite fit in, even though he was trying to. And those curls, barely contained by the hat, told me he wasn’t used to this kind of scene. Not here, not in Texas. Not in my bar.

"Now that it’s over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

The bass thudded low, pulling me back into the music. Gus knew just when to make it heavy, the vibrations running through my chest like the ache of an old wound. The keys lifted the sorrow just enough to make it bearable, Clyde’s touch delicate but deliberate. Together, we made the heartache sound beautiful.

But no matter how much I tried to drown myself in the song, I kept catching glimpses of him. The stranger, leaning back casually, his body language saying he was here for the ride, but his eyes telling me there was more to him than that easy posture.

The lyrics fell from my lips, but my mind kept wandering to the question burning in the back of my head: Who was he?

As the final chords of the song rang out, the bar was quiet for a moment, letting the last notes settle before a soft wave of applause rippled through the crowd. I smiled, feeling a strange mix of relief and adrenaline, my heart still thudding in my chest. The boys gave me a few approving nods — Clyde even tipped his hat — and I turned back to the mic, clearing my throat.

“Well, uh, that was a little somethin’ I wrote not too long ago,” I said, feeling the warmth of the stage lights on my face. “If y’all liked it — or if you’re just in the mood to be sad for a bit — it’s out on Spotify, Apple Music, SoundCloud, or whatever platform folks are using these days,” I added with a grin. “I promise, I’ve got some happier stuff too. Probably should’ve started the night off with one of those, huh?”

A few chuckles broke out from the crowd, but one laugh stood out — low and warm, rolling through the room like a wave that hit me square in the chest. It wasn’t like the others. It had weight, something that settled in my stomach and made it twist in a way I wasn’t used to. Almost instinctively, I looked toward the sound, and there he was — the stranger in the corner. His cowboy hat was still tipped low, hiding just enough of his face to make him even more intriguing, but it was the way his eyes locked on mine that made me freeze.

His grin was lazy, like he had all the time in the world, and there was something about the ease of it that made my heart skip a beat. In the soft glow of the bar, it felt like the entire place faded into the background. For a split second, there was nothing but me and him, his gaze holding mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that he was watching me; it was like he saw me, past the stage, past the song, and right into that vulnerable place I tried so hard to guard.

And then, just like that, I became a complete mess. Heat rushed to my face, my skin prickling under the spotlight, and I felt my grip on my guitar falter. “Uh, yeah… so, anyway... that’s me,” I stammered, my voice coming out shaky, the words tumbling over each other as I tried to make a coherent sentence. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, no matter how hard I willed it to stop, and I quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

But it was too late. The boys behind me noticed — of course they did. I could practically feel Gus grinning at my awkwardness, and Clyde was trying to suppress a chuckle. Orville tapped out a light rhythm on the edge of his drum, clearly enjoying my flustered state. I fumbled with the strap of my guitar, my hands suddenly too shaky to be of any use, my mind still stuck on the way that stranger had looked at me.

I’d performed hundreds of times, faced crowds far bigger than this one, but something about that single moment — that one look from him — had knocked me off balance. My pulse was still racing, and the heat in my cheeks refused to fade. He was just a man, I reminded myself, a guy sitting in the corner of a bar. But it didn’t feel that simple. It felt like he’d peeled back a layer of me in that one glance, leaving me bare under his eyes.

And as I fumbled my way off the stage, trying to get my act together, one thought kept running through my mind: Who the hell is this guy, and why is he making me feel like this?

I cleared my throat and leaned back into the mic with a grin, letting go of the last song’s weight. “Alright, y’all,” I started, flashing a playful smile, “that last one was for all the folks who like to sit and think about their exes at 2 AM — you know who you are,” I added, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

“But this next one? It’s a little different. We’re gonna turn things up a notch. It’s got a bit of rock in it, so feel free to sing, cry, scream, yell—whatever your heart needs. And if you wanna dance, well, don’t hold back. Just don’t blame me if you’re out of breath by the end!”

The crowd laughed, and I winked. “This one’s called Indifferent, but don’t let the name fool you—it’s anything but.”

I strummed the first few chords, letting the energy shift in the room, and the boys picked up right behind me, Orville giving the drums a little more punch, Clyde leaning into the keys with a rock edge, and Gus keeping the rhythm solid with his bass. I was about to really get into the groove when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

The stranger — cowboy hat and all — stood up from his seat, shaking his curls free as he made his way toward a group of people who had started to sway with the beat. And then he started dancing. And I mean really dancing, not just swaying but full-on, carefree moves, like he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

I couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I almost missed a chord as I watched him. He was good, I had to give him that, but there was something about the way he moved that told me he was trying to get my attention. The way he’d glance over every so often, like he wanted to see if I was watching — and yeah, I was watching.

The more he danced, the more I giggled, barely keeping my voice steady as I kept singing. His cowboy hat bobbed up and down as he spun around, clapping along with the beat, and I could tell he was putting on a show, just for me. My eyes met his again, and he shot me a grin, all cocky and playful, making my heart skip a beat.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the song, but the sight of him — carefree, handsome, and definitely showing off — made it hard to keep my cool. My voice caught just a little as I sang the next line, and I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, I was more amused than flustered.

Oh, he’s trying to impress me, I thought with a smirk. And I couldn’t lie, it was kinda working.

I leaned into the mic, my voice steady as I sang the next line, feeling the shift in energy from the crowd.

"I see your truck and I don't give a—"

Before I could even finish, the crowd roared in unison, screaming out the word I didn’t have to sing. “FUCK!” Their voices echoed off the walls, a mix of laughter and rebellion, and I grinned wide.

But the loudest voice? That came from him.

“FUCK!” he yelled, right along with the crowd, his grin even wider now as he danced like no one was watching — except everyone was. His cowboy hat tipped back as he threw his arms up, and I swear, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

I couldn’t help it — I laughed, nearly missing the next line as I watched him throw himself into the moment. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard, but I kept going, feeding off the energy around me.

"And it don't make my heart skip a beat," I sang, almost giggling through the words, but his eyes were on me again, catching mine as he clapped along with the beat. His dancing had turned into full-on jumping now, and I could see a few others joining in, all feeding off his wild, carefree energy. He was having a blast, and even though I was up on stage, I felt like I was right there with him, swept up in the fun.

I saw him glance at me again, this time with a playful wink, like he knew exactly what he was doing. My heart did that weird little flip again, and I almost tripped over the next verse, the heat creeping up my face once more.

He’s definitely showing off now, I thought, trying to keep my focus on the music. But I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped as I strummed through the chorus. His dance moves might’ve been reckless, but they were working. The crowd was loving him, and so, apparently, was I.

I sang the next line, my voice steady but my heart racing a little faster as his grin widened, his eyes locked on mine. I wasn’t sure what got into me, maybe it was the way he looked so carefree, so unbothered by the world around him, or maybe it was just the thrill of the moment — but before I could stop myself, I tilted my head toward the stage, beckoning him with a playful nod.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but that grin of his never wavered. The crowd cheered him on as he took a few exaggerated, swaggering steps toward the stage, his cowboy hat tipped back and curls bouncing with every step. I laughed, my own confidence rising, and held out my hand as he made his way up.

He took it, and in an instant, we were standing side by side, the crowd going wild as we started to sway together in time with the music. His hand found its way to the small of my back, and I could feel the warmth of it even through my shirt.

The moment felt... electric.

We kept swaying, his towering frame almost comical next to mine, but somehow it worked. His eyes never left mine, and for a split second, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The music kept going, but everything else seemed to blur into the background. I could see the playful glint in his eyes, the way he seemed to be daring me to look away — but I didn’t.

He leaned down just a bit, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Not bad for a country girl,” he said with a wink.

I giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl as I tried to keep my cool. “Not bad for a guy who’s clearly not from around here,” I shot back, but my voice wavered just a little, betraying how much his presence was throwing me off.

We kept swaying, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the lights catching the gleam in his eyes as we held each other's gaze. He towered over me, but I didn’t feel small — not with him, not in this moment. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away, and all that was left was the two of us, swaying together under the soft glow of the stage lights.

I took a deep breath, trying to refocus as the music carried me back into the song, but it wasn’t easy. His presence behind me was impossible to ignore, like he was right there, even though we weren’t touching anymore. My skin tingled with awareness, and I could feel the heat rising to my neck, warming me from the inside out. We were both tipsy, the drinks and the night making everything feel a little looser, a little more charged. But the way he was standing so close—his warmth practically wrapping around me—made it harder to concentrate.

"I'm indifferent, I'm just livin' When your mama calls, I'm reminded you exist And I wish that she didn't 'Cause all my 'give-a-damns', they've already been given..."

My voice stayed steady, but I could feel my heart thudding faster with every word. The crowd was clapping along, some of them singing the lyrics back to me, but all I could think about was him. I knew he was still behind me, standing tall, his presence so strong I could almost feel it on my skin.

As I sang, my breath caught just a little when I felt him shift closer, the slightest brush of his arm near my shoulder. It was nothing, really, just a subtle movement, but it sent a rush of heat up the back of my neck, making my pulse race. My voice wavered for just a second, and I bit my lip, hoping no one noticed how distracted I was.

But I knew he did. I could feel his gaze on me, even though I couldn’t see him.

I played a few more songs, each one building on the last, the energy in the room rising with every note. The crowd was alive now, swaying, clapping, and singing along. I felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through me, the nerves from earlier completely gone, replaced by this wild confidence I hadn’t felt in a long time. The music was in my veins, lifting me up, and for the first time all night, I felt completely at ease on stage.

But even with the thrill of the crowd, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I could feel his presence in the room, like a constant hum just below the surface, and every time I caught a glimpse of his curls or that easy grin from across the bar, my pulse quickened.

As the final chord of my last song rang out, I stepped away from the mic, feeling a surge of applause wash over me. I grinned, tipping my hat to the crowd, but my eyes were searching for him. And then, there he was, standing near the bar, his gaze locked on mine. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, everything else becoming a blur as I zeroed in on him.

Before I could even believe it, my feet started moving. It was like my body had a mind of its own, dragging me toward him before my brain could even catch up. Each step felt like I was crossing some invisible line, the adrenaline still coursing through me, making me feel bold, invincible.

I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the way his eyes held mine, steady and sure, as I made my way across the room. It was like gravity was pulling me toward him, and I wasn’t about to fight it. Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of cologne and the hint of whiskey on his breath.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again, but I wasn’t about to turn back. Not now. He gave me that same lazy grin, tipping his hat just slightly as his eyes twinkled with amusement, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. All I knew was that I wasn’t leaving this bar without knowing who the hell this guy was.

He looked down at me, that lazy grin spreading wider as he tipped his hat back just a bit, giving me a full view of those mischievous eyes. “Well, if I knew your singing was that good, I would’ve pretended to break my heart a long time ago,” he said, his voice low and teasing, with just a hint of an accent that wasn’t from around here.

I blinked, caught completely off guard, and then burst into a laugh I hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get a song out of me,” I shot back, still feeling the heat in my cheeks but trying to keep my cool.

He chuckled, leaning in just a little, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him. “Lucky for you, I’m not lookin’ to break any hearts tonight — just thought I’d make an impression.”

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met again, and before I could help it, I smiled. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of that,” I muttered, trying not to trip over my own words.

He straightened up, giving me a playful wink. “Well, I aim to please, darlin’.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling bolder than I had all night, and shot him a smirk. “You look like you love me,” I teased, the words slipping out with more confidence than I thought I had. The line from that song was on the tip of my tongue, and it felt just right for the moment.

His grin widened, and for a split second, he looked like I’d caught him off guard. But then he leaned in just a little, his voice low and smooth. “Well, maybe I do,” he said, the teasing tone still there but with just enough seriousness to make my heart skip.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I met his gaze, my smirk fading into something softer. “Careful,” I replied, my voice quieter now, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He chuckled, that lazy grin still in place. “Maybe I like the sound of that.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at him with a playful smirk. “I saw you lookin’ me up and down from across the room,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the banter. “Subtle’s never been my strong suit,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth. “But hey, can you blame me? You were up there making it pretty hard not to look.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh as I shook my head. “You got a lot of nerve saying that out loud, you know.”

He shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Just calling it like I see it. You’re the one who beckoned me up here, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my composure, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks again. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not subtle either.”

He tilted his head, giving me that same cocky grin. “No complaints here, darlin’.”

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. “Alright, mystery man, you’ve been charming me for the last few minutes, but you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He leaned back slightly, tipping his hat with a playful glint in his eyes. “Name’s Daniel,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words just right. “And you, miss, have definitely made this night a lot more interesting.”

“Well, Daniel,” I replied, giving him a once-over just like he had done to me earlier, “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

I raised an eyebrow, still grinning as I asked, “So, where’s that accent of yours from? I know it ain’t local.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before answering, “Perth. Australia.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Australia, huh? Never been there before.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Heard it’s nice, though. Beaches and all that.”

Daniel nodded, his grin widening a bit. “Yeah, we’ve got the beaches. But it’s more than just that. You should visit sometime, I’d make a pretty good tour guide.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I bet you would,” I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to visit a place so far from Texas. “Sounds like a whole world away from here.”

“It is,” he admitted, his eyes locking on mine again. “But I reckon you’d fit in just fine.”

I tilted my head, feeling a smirk pull at the corner of my lips. “Oh, you think so? I’m not exactly the ‘surf and sand’ kind of girl. I’m more boots and dirt roads.”

Daniel chuckled, his gaze still holding mine, like he was seeing straight through the sass and into something deeper. “I dunno, I think you could rock the Aussie lifestyle. Maybe even swap those boots for some thongs,” he teased, leaning in just enough to close the space between us a little more.

I blinked, the word catching me off guard, and then burst into laughter. “What the fuck are thongs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You Aussies have some weird ideas about footwear.”

Daniel paused for a second, then laughed, realizing his mistake. “Oh, right... over here, thongs are something else entirely,” he said, his grin turning a little mischievous. “In Australia, they’re just flip-flops. But I like where your mind went.”

I felt my face flush, a mix of the whiskey and the sudden innuendo hitting me all at once. “Well, maybe you should clarify next time,” I shot back, trying to sound confident despite the warmth creeping up my neck. “I was starting to think you had some very bold ideas for this first conversation.”

He smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “Trust me, if I wanted to make a bold suggestion, I wouldn’t be talking about footwear.” His voice dropped low, teasing, as he let the words hang between us.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fought the urge to stammer. “Well, good to know,” I managed to reply, my voice quieter now, my gaze locked on his. “But for the record, boots are staying. Thongs or no thongs.”

He chuckled, the laughter low and warm, and I could feel the space between us shrink even more. “Noted,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that same playful spark. “But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here to help you pick the right pair.”

I smirked, shaking my head, but before I could respond, he tilted his head, still grinning like he had a whole world of charm left to unleash.

“Well, if I can make it out here to a bar in Texas, maybe one day you could try Australia. I’d personally make sure it’s worth your while.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his confidence. “Big promises, Daniel from Perth. You must think pretty highly of your tour guide skills.”

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Just sayin’, you might find there’s more to life than boots and honky-tonks. Besides,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d make sure you’d never forget it.”

My heart skipped a beat, his words sending a rush of warmth through me. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Careful now,” I replied, my voice soft but steady, “I’m not so easily impressed.”

Daniel grinned, tipping his hat slightly as he leaned back. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then, won’t I?”

I grinned at him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar. “You’ve got a lot of confidence, Daniel from Perth. But I’ve been around enough smooth talkers to know when someone’s bluffing.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to keep the playful tension in the air. “Bluffing? I don’t bluff. Just telling it like it is.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me prove it to you. First round’s on me.”

I laughed, shaking my head but not protesting as the bartender slid two drinks our way. “Fine, I’ll bite,” I said, taking the glass. “But I’ll have you know, Texans can hold their liquor, and I’m not easy to out-drink.”

Daniel’s grin only widened. “Oh, I’ve got my work cut out for me, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We clinked our glasses together, and before I knew it, the drinks were flowing just as easily as the conversation. Time seemed to blur, the crowd around us fading into the background as we swapped stories and traded teasing remarks. My guitar, once my only focus of the night, now sat forgotten against a pole near the bar, its case propped up and covered with old stickers and layers of chipped paint from the years of wear. But I didn’t care.

“Okay, I have to ask,” I said, my words slightly slurred from the whiskey but still full of curiosity. “How does a guy from Australia end up here, of all places? Texas isn’t exactly next door.”

He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “Racing,” he replied simply, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I travel a lot for it. Came for the Austin Grand Prix. Thought I’d stop by a local bar, get a feel for the place. Lucky me, huh?”

I felt the warmth from the drinks spreading through me, loosening me up even more. “Racing, huh? So, what, you’re like a big-time driver?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But tonight, I’m just a guy trying to keep up with a Texas girl who’s got a pretty good whiskey tolerance.”

I grinned, feeling the heat in my cheeks and not just from the alcohol. “Well, you’re doing alright so far. But don’t think a few drinks and a smile are gonna get you off the hook that easy.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes held mine for a moment longer than I expected, and I could feel my heart race a little faster.

We laughed together, leaning in closer, drinks in hand, the weight of the night slipping away. The bar around us blurred into the background, as if it didn’t matter anymore — just the two of us, the warmth of his touch, the easy rhythm of our conversation, as natural as the music I’d been playing hours ago. Our hands brushed more often, his arm finding its way around my shoulder, his fingers trailing down my back in moments that felt casual but were charged with something more.

Before I knew it, we were touching more than talking — my hand resting on his arm, his thumb grazing the small of my back. The buzz of the alcohol had me feeling light, and every time his fingertips lingered a little longer, a blush crept up my neck. I could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned closer to whisper something that had us both giggling again.

The next thing I knew, we were stumbling out of the bar, calling an Uber, the cool night air doing nothing to shake the warmth between us. The ride was a blur of drunken laughter, our legs pressing against each other as his arm wrapped snugly around my waist. The city lights flew by in a haze, but all I could focus on was the way his touch made my heart race. His grip on me tightened, pulling me closer, and I was too drunk and too tipsy to even pretend not to blush.

Then, suddenly, we were back at his hotel room. The door clicked shut behind us, and we both broke into a fit of giggles, stumbling inside like we were sneaking in after curfew. His arm never left my waist, and I couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as he pulled me against him, the warmth of his body sending a shiver down my spine.

“Shhh,” I whispered between giggles, trying to stifle the sound, but it was impossible when he looked at me with that boyish grin, like he was having the time of his life.

“Quiet was never my strong suit,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, sending another wave of heat through me. I blushed even harder, barely able to keep my composure as he pressed his forehead against mine, his hand resting on my hip like he never wanted to let go.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every inch of me aware of his body so close, his touch gentle but firm, like he was holding back just enough. His breath was warm against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my side, and the more he touched me, the more I felt my resolve slipping.

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension building between us, but it only made him grin wider. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘quiet’ thing,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper as my hand slid up to rest against his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm, and the closeness of it all made my own pulse race.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening just slightly on my hip. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to stay quiet when I’m this close to you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the alcohol. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away. It was just us, standing there, barely holding it together in the haze of the night.

Before I could think about it, I found myself leaning in, my breath catching as his lips brushed against mine, soft and teasing. It wasn’t a full kiss — just the faintest touch — but it sent a jolt through me that made my knees weak. I blushed again, harder this time, but I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Instead, he smiled against my lips, his hand sliding up from my hip to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re blushing again,” he whispered, and I could hear the teasing note in his voice.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but there was no hiding the heat in my cheeks or the way I was leaning into him, my body betraying how much I wanted to be close.

We started kissing, and the night blurred together, in a mess of liquor, sticky kisses, and well what do you know, my guitar lay upright against a chair, watching the entire thing.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

I didn’t know where the fuck I was.

I blinked, staring up at a ceiling that definitely wasn’t mine, with sheets that smelled way too expensive for my budget. My head was pounding like I’d been hit by a freight train, and as I tried to roll over, something — no, someone — stopped me.

That’s when I felt it.

An arm. A very muscular arm. Draped over me like we were starring in a rom-com, except I definitely didn’t remember signing up for this role.

I squinted around the room, trying to piece together the disaster that was my life. My shirt was flung haphazardly across a chair, my boots were tipped over near the door, and... was that his cowboy hat sitting on the dresser? Oh god.

Oh god, no.

And then it all came rushing back — the whiskey, the dancing, the flirting, the thongs conversation. And then, as if on cue, the faint sound of an alarm started buzzing on his phone, because apparently this guy sets alarms like a responsible adult after a night of drunken debauchery.

“Well, shit,” I muttered under my breath.

I lay there, trying to pretend I was still asleep, or dead, or invisible—any of which would be preferable to dealing with the fact that I had absolutely no idea what to do next. Daniel’s arm was still heavy around my waist, his slow, steady breathing telling me he hadn’t woken up yet.

Okay, Y/N, just stay calm. Maybe he won’t even remember… Or maybe you can just ninja your way out of this without waking him up.

I carefully, carefully shifted my leg, inching toward freedom, but the moment I tried to move, Daniel stirred. His arm tightened around me slightly, and I froze, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to break free and escape the situation without me.

Please don’t wake up. Please just keep dreaming about kangaroos or whatever it is Australians dream about...

But then I felt him shift again. This time, he let out a low, sleepy groan. Oh god. He was waking up. I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck, and my entire body went stiff, like maybe if I played dead, he’d just go back to sleep.

But nope.

I heard him take a deep breath, and then his groggy voice cut through the awkward silence. “Morning, darlin’.”

Shit.

His voice was raspy, deep, and far too casual for someone who had a front-row seat to my current state of oh-my-god-what-have-I-done. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the ground to just swallow me whole, but apparently, the universe didn’t grant those kinds of wishes.

I cleared my throat, still trying to stay as still as possible, like maybe if I didn’t move or respond, this entire moment would cease to exist. “Uh… morning,” I finally muttered, my voice betraying me with a nervous crack.

I could feel him shift behind me, and then — to my absolute horror — he pulled me in closer, his arm still firmly wrapped around my waist. Great. Now I’m spooning a guy I barely know, and I don’t even have a shirt on. What a stellar life choice, Y/N.

“So… how’re you feelin’?” he asked, his voice low and way too smooth for a guy who probably didn’t have a hangover.

How am I feeling? Like I’ve just woken up in a rom-com, except the comedy is my life falling apart, I thought, but instead, I just blurted, “Fine. Totally fine.”

My face was heating up again. I was like a human tomato at this point. I could feel him smiling behind me, like he was enjoying the fact that I was internally combusting.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his voice dipping into that playful tone that I was beginning to realize was very dangerous for me.

I finally turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He had that messy bedhead look going on — the kind that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow was, and that damn lazy grin hadn’t left his face.

“Listen,” I said, trying to inject some semblance of control into my voice, “we’re just gonna pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down my spine. “You mean the part where you dragged me back to my room, or the part where you kept giggling every time I tried to be quiet?”

My eyes widened. “I did not drag you back here!”

“Yeah, I think the Uber driver might disagree with that,” he replied, his grin widening.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“You and me both, darlin’,” he said, chuckling again as he gave my waist a playful squeeze. “But I gotta say, I’m not exactly complaining’.”

I let out a nervous laugh from under the blanket, but inside, I was mortified. I wasn’t the type to have one-night stands—like, ever. The last time I had one was three years ago, before Johnny and I started dating. And even then, I’d sworn it off because of how awkward and weird the whole thing felt afterward.

And the last time I’d had sex? Six months ago. Six. I wasn’t even sure how I managed last night, let alone with someone as confident and charming as Daniel. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t that girl who woke up in a stranger’s bed with her shirt somewhere across the room and no memory of how she got there.

I peeked out from under the blanket, feeling my face burning hotter by the second. “I just… I don’t do this. Like, ever.”

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like this was the most entertaining morning he’d had in a while. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed like a pro last night.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, don’t say that,” I groaned, burying my face back into the pillow. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughed, his voice softening just a little. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were both tipsy, had a good time, and now we’re just... waking up. Happens to the best of us.”

I peeked out from the pillow again, trying to gauge if he was just messing with me or being sincere. But the easygoing look on his face hadn’t changed. He didn’t seem fazed at all, while I was over here spiraling.

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the chaotic thoughts running through my head. Okay, maybe I could play it cool too—pretend like I wasn’t freaking out. But as I shifted under the blanket, trying to figure out how to extract myself from this mess, I felt a sudden, horrifying realization.

No bra.

I stiffened, my eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to remember where the hell it went. My shirt was across the room, but no sign of the bra. Oh god.

I glanced at Daniel, who was watching me with that amused grin still plastered on his face. He noticed the moment I realized it—of course he did. His grin widened, and before I could even attempt to form a coherent excuse, he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “Looking for something, darlin’? Because I’m not sure it’s gonna walk back over here on its own.”

My face turned beet red. “I—uh—this is just…” I stammered, covering myself with the blanket more securely, like that would magically undo everything.

He let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of my mortification. “Don’t worry, your shirt’s over there, and I think your bra… well, it might’ve decided to take an extended vacation,” he teased, pointing toward the floor, where it lay crumpled in the corner like some sort of defeated symbol of my night.

I buried my face in my hands, laughing despite myself. “This is so not how I thought my night would end,” I mumbled through my fingers.

Daniel leaned in, still grinning like the cat who got the cream. “If it helps, I think you handled yourself pretty damn well for someone who doesn’t ‘do this,’” he teased, his voice full of playful charm.

I groaned, unable to stop the embarrassed laughter bubbling out of me. “Oh my god, stop,” I muttered, half laughing, half dying inside. But there was something about his laid-back attitude, the way he wasn’t making this feel weird or awkward, that made me feel just a little better.

At least one of us was good at handling this kind of thing.

I couldn’t stop laughing now, even though every cell in my body wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. But Daniel wasn’t letting up, his teasing coming in waves.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “I’ve heard of people losing their dignity after a night like this, but you managed to misplace your bra too. That’s impressive.”

I rolled my eyes, still hiding my face in my hands. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Maybe I’ll just stay under this blanket forever.”

He chuckled again, sitting up slightly and stretching, looking way too comfortable considering the situation. “Can’t say I blame you. This bed is pretty damn nice. But I’m starting to think you’re just stalling because you don’t want to leave me.”

I shot him a glare, trying to smother the blush on my cheeks. “I’m not stalling. I’m just… regrouping.”

“Right,” he nodded sagely. “Regrouping. Take all the time you need, darlin’. I’ll just be over here, admiring your tactical approach to gathering your scattered clothing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, finally throwing the blanket off and clumsily scrambling out of bed. My hair was a mess, and I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just survived a tornado, but I was determined to reclaim some shred of dignity. As I stumbled over to where my shirt lay crumpled across the chair, Daniel’s voice piped up again.

“Wow,” he said, a little quieter this time, and I turned to see him watching me with an entirely different look—more serious, though still with that glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I gotta say, you’re even more beautiful in the morning.”

I paused, my hand halfway to my shirt, and felt my heart do a little flip. “Really?” I asked, trying not to sound too flustered as I glanced at him.

He nodded, that easy smile still on his face but softer now. “Yeah. Really.”

I stared at him for a second, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again but in a different way this time. There was something about the way he said it, so casual and genuine, that made me stop caring so much about the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Well,” I said, finally grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head, “you’re not too bad yourself… for someone who’s spent the night making terrible jokes at my expense.”

Daniel laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t help it. You make it way too easy.”

I shook my head, still smiling, as I gathered the rest of my things. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll be sure to remember all of this next time I decide to ‘misplace’ my bra.”

Daniel grinned, watching as I gathered up the last of my things, still laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, if you ever need help finding it again,” he said smoothly, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at me with that lazy smile, “you might wanna give me a way to contact you.”

I paused, looking over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re slick, huh?”

He shrugged, giving me an innocent look that was anything but. “Just thinking ahead. In case you lose any more important items in the future… like your phone, your hat—hell, your sense of direction, since you clearly needed help last night.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

He tilted his head, flashing a charming grin. “Darlin’, you already fell for it.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, but there was no denying the grin on my face as I grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Fine, I’ll put my number in your phone. But if I get any messages about lost bras, I’m blocking you,” I teased, typing my number into his contacts and tossing the phone back to him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning as he glanced down at the screen. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, winking. “Unless you’re the one sending me a distress call next time.”

I shook my head, smirking as I turned toward the door. “You wish.”

“Already do,” he called out behind me, his voice playful and teasing, but with just enough sincerity to make my heart skip a beat as I left the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I let out a long breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relief washed over me, but so did the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. Holy hell, I actually survived that.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing from the whirlwind of the morning. Daniel’s playful smirk, his damn smooth lines—it was all still buzzing in my head, and the fact that I’d somehow managed to walk away with my dignity (mostly) intact felt like a miracle.

But then I caught sight of myself in the mirror at the end of the hallway. Oh no.

I was a mess. My hair looked like it had been through a windstorm, and my shirt from last night was wrinkled beyond repair. The smudged mascara under my eyes was giving me a whole new level of “walk of shame,” and I couldn’t help but cringe at my reflection.

This is what I left the room looking like? Oh, great.

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth out the wild tangles and make myself look at least halfway decent. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to straighten it out, but no matter what I did, it still screamed “last night’s mistakes.” I wiped away the smudged mascara with the edge of my sleeve, doing my best to clean up the damage.

My cheeks were still flushed from the sheer embarrassment of it all, and no amount of quick fixes was going to change the fact that I had just walked out of a guy’s hotel room looking like a hot mess. I bit my lip, shaking my head at myself in the mirror, my heart still pounding in my chest.

“Well, this is a look,” I muttered to myself, giving my reflection one last, exasperated glance before squaring my shoulders and heading for the elevator. Just get out of here, Y/N. Fast.

I smoothed my hair down one last time, took a deep breath, and headed toward the elevator, praying no one else in the hallway had witnessed my tragic attempt at post-hookup self-repair. The faster I got out of this hotel, the better. I was already pressing the elevator button repeatedly like I could summon it faster through sheer desperation.

Come on, come on…

Finally, the doors slid open, and I practically leaped inside. But the universe had other plans for me, because standing right there, already in the elevator, were Carrie and Johnny.

My heart stopped. I almost crapped my panties.

Carrie, my ex-best friend. Johnny, my ex-boyfriend. Of course they were here. Of all the elevators in this damn hotel. My stomach dropped as the realization hit me like a freight train, and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the heartbreak they’d both caused, except this time I looked like I’d just rolled out of a frat party.

I stared at them, my mind racing, wondering if I could somehow reverse time and avoid stepping into this death trap. But it was too late. I was standing there, and they were looking at me. Johnny’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in my rumpled clothes and messy hair. Carrie’s smile faltered, and her eyes widened, like she was realizing exactly what kind of morning I was having.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“Y/N?” Carrie’s voice was soft but laced with that familiar fake concern. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Johnny just stood there, staring, that stupid, unreadable look on his face. He didn’t say anything, but the awkward silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.

I forced a tight smile, trying not to visibly cringe. “Yeah, well... things have been... busy.”

The elevator doors closed with a quiet thud, sealing me in with them. It was, without a doubt, the longest elevator ride of my life. I could feel Johnny’s eyes on me, that same calculating gaze that used to make me second-guess everything I said. And Carrie? She had that look on her face—the one that said she was definitely going to gossip about this later.

I stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to move faster, trying to breathe through the tension. Every second felt like an eternity, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the elevator as it slowly, agonizingly descended.

My mind raced. Of all the mornings to run into them, this had to be the one where I was dressed in last night’s wrinkled shirt, and my hair looked like it had gone to war with a curling iron. The fact that I’d just come from Daniel’s hotel room made it worse. Much worse.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment over Daniel. It was from pure mortification.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the lobby. I didn’t waste a second. “Well, this has been… fun,” I said, voice tight, and bolted out of the elevator like my life depended on it.

Behind me, I could feel their eyes still on me, and I could practically hear Carrie’s voice in my head already: Did you see Y/N this morning?

Kill me now.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping into my stomach. Oh no. No, no, no.

This wasn’t just any hotel.

This was Carrie’s hotel. Her family’s pride and joy. The one I had spent countless summer nights in when we were best friends, long before everything fell apart. Out of all the hotels in Austin, Daniel had to be staying at the one owned by Carrie’s family.

I groaned internally, my mind reeling. Of course, this was how my morning would go. The universe just loved to test me, apparently. I could already imagine Carrie’s smug little face, probably telling her family all about how I’d been seen leaving some guy’s room at her family’s hotel, looking like a mess. And Johnny—ugh, Johnny—had been right there to see it all, too. The two of them were probably plotting how to make this even more humiliating for me.

I felt my cheeks burn again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from sheer frustration. Out of all the places Daniel could have stayed, this had to be the one. What were the odds?

I shook my head, trying to compose myself, but the realization only made me want to crawl under a rock even more. Not only did I have the most awkward elevator ride in history with my cheating ex and ex-best friend, but now I was in their territory. This was their turf, and I just walked straight into it with no idea.

This day just keeps getting better and better, I thought bitterly, glancing around to make sure neither of them had followed me out of the elevator.

I glanced back at the lobby, memories flooding back from when Carrie and I used to run around this very place, pretending we were in some grand adventure. Funny how things had changed. So much for avoiding drama.

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yourusername

liked by user1, user2, and 10,289 others

yourusername: t-3 days until my sophomore album "The Cowgirls, Guns, & Horses" comes out, can't wait for everyone to hear it #tcgh

user1: i'm wayyy too excited for #tcgh i just know ts is too good

user2: everyone say amen for y/n for dropping out of uni to bless us with amazing music

user3: yeah it's literally crazy too , like she was going to be an engineer and literally quit her last year...😦😦

user2: it's lowkey sad but AT LEAST WE HAVE MUSICCC YASSS

user4: guys...did we see her on twt last night w a certain someone....

user5: wait no??!?! hello please fill me in on the tea 📖

user4: basically some op saw her in a bar with a shit ton our tourists, turns out one of them was non other than F1 DRIVER DANIEL RICCIARDO

user5: THERES NO WAY???

user6: wait who's that... i'm so out of the loop for pop culture guys... 😭😭🙏🏽

user7: he's this super famous formula one driver (drives fast cars in weird shaped circles) from australia and he LOVES the country

user8: yeah... he wears a cowboy hat so much its kind of goofy

user9: yeah and allegedly, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO SOMEWHERE IN A CAR TOGETHER 😃💃🏻

user10: DAMNNNN @/yourusername.... was the d fire 🔥🚒🧯

user11: @/user10 LMFAO GTFOOO

user12: wait so i know this album is gonna be lowkey sad but like what if she pops up w some suprise songs about daniel's cowboy...

user13: i'm DEAD what if she actually reads the comments

user12: i would simply pass tf away!!

danielricciardo

liked by user1, user2, and 109,110 others

danielricciardo: Save a horse, ride a cowboy #austingp

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I slid into the backseat of my Uber, letting out a long, frustrated sigh as I slumped against the door. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, but I waved off any small talk with a quick, “Rough morning.”

As we pulled away from the hotel, I scoffed, shaking my head at myself. Did I seriously just spend money to Uber to and from a booty call? The thought made me cringe. Out of all the impulsive decisions I’d made in my life, this one was quickly climbing the ranks. I mean, come on—Ubering to a random hotel was bad enough, but having to ride back in shame after? That was a whole new level of poor life choices.

By the time the Uber pulled up to my house, I was already mentally preparing to face the walk of shame into my own home. I quietly slipped inside, trying to be as stealthy as possible, when suddenly—

“Boo!”

I jumped a mile high, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest as my younger sister, Maddie, popped out of nowhere, grinning like a cat who caught a canary.

“Jesus, Maddie!” I whisper-yelled, clutching my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, eyes immediately trailing up and down my disheveled outfit. “Uh, is that the same thing you wore yesterday?” she asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “Did you... seriously just come back from—”

I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence, my eyes wide. “Shh! Keep it down!” I hissed. “We are not having this conversation out here.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but she nodded under my hand, so I let her go. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, sneaking into my room like we were plotting a heist. Once inside, I shut the door behind us and turned to face her, arms crossed.

Maddie sat on the edge of my bed, looking way too pleased with herself. “Spill,” she said, not even bothering with a polite lead-in.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Fine. But you cannot tell anyone.”

She mimed zipping her lips and leaned in, ready for the juicy details.

“So…” I began, pacing the room. “Last night was a complete disaster. I ended up—well, you know—at some guy’s hotel room.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You? Miss ‘I Don’t Do Hookups’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, flopping down beside her on the bed. “I don’t even know how it happened. We were drinking, flirting… one thing led to another, and next thing I know, I wake up in his bed.”

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Damn. And?”

“And…” I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. “It gets worse. Guess who I ran into on the elevator this morning?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, who?”

“Carrie. And Johnny,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Maddie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way. You ran into both of them? At the hotel?”

I nodded miserably. “Yup. Turns out the hotel I was in? Carrie’s family’s hotel. Of course.”

She gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, Y/N, that’s… that’s awful but kind of hilarious.”

I shot her a glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, hilarious for you maybe. For me? Literal nightmare.”

Maddie giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos of my morning. “So, did they say anything?”

“Not really. Just awkward stares and Carrie’s fake concern. The whole thing was a disaster. I swear, I am never doing this again,” I said, shaking my head.

She grinned, nudging me with her elbow. “Never say never. But hey, at least you’ve got a hell of a story now.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Trust me, I could’ve done without this particular story.”

I stared at the ceiling, still trying to process the absolute train wreck of a morning I’d just experienced, when Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“So, who’s this mystery guy you hooked up with?” she asked, nudging me again with a smirk.

I bit my lip, hesitating. Should I even say it? It felt surreal—like it wasn’t even real life—but what the hell, I was already in deep. “You’re not gonna believe this,” I muttered, sitting up and bracing myself. “His name’s Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Maddie’s jaw dropped so fast I thought it might hit the floor. “WHAT?!” she practically screamed, her eyes going wide with excitement. “THE Daniel Ricciardo? You slept with Daniel Ricciardo? As in F1 driver Daniel Ricciardo?”

I blinked, confused at her over-the-top reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, he said he’s a driver or something, but... I don’t really follow racing, so I didn’t think much of it.”

Maddie grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like I was the one losing my mind. “Y/N, are you serious? How did you not know who that was? He’s super famous! Like, ridiculously famous!”

I blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? Famous famous?”

Maddie rolled her eyes, like I was the most clueless person on the planet. “Yes, famous famous! He’s one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers in the world! You know, the sport where they race the fastest cars? And, uh, hello, the Austin Grand Prix is in like five days! How do you not know this?”

My mouth dropped open as I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying. “The Austin Grand Prix? You mean that thing that brings in all those tourists every year?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Maddie threw her hands up in the air, looking like she couldn’t believe my ignorance. “F1 is huge, Y/N. There are races all over the world, and Daniel Ricciardo is, like, one of the biggest personalities in the sport. People love him. He’s been racing for years, and he’s known for being super charismatic and... oh my god, you really didn’t know?”

I shook my head, completely floored. “I mean, he did say something about racing, but I didn’t realize it was that kind of racing. I just thought he meant, like, NASCAR or something.”

Maddie smacked her forehead. “Oh my god, you’re killing me. F1 is way bigger than NASCAR! It’s like the most elite motorsport in the world. And Daniel’s been racing for some of the top teams. How did you not realize you were with an actual celebrity?”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “So, you’re telling me I just… slept with a world-famous driver and didn’t even realize it?”

Maddie nodded emphatically, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Yup! And honestly, I’m a little jealous. I mean, Daniel Ricciardo, Y/N! He’s a big deal! Girls all over the world would kill to be in your position.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, my hands covering my face. “Oh my god, I cannot believe this. I slept with a celebrity, and I didn’t even know it. What is my life?”

Maddie giggled, clearly having way too much fun with this. She flopped down next to me on the bed, her grin as wide as Texas. “Girl, don’t even stress. You’re a celebrity now too! You and Daniel Ricciardo? That’s some next-level, power couple stuff right there.”

I groaned louder, pressing my palms against my face. “Maddie, stop. I’m not a celebrity. I’m a girl who just had a really, really embarrassing one-night stand.”

She nudged me with her elbow, smirking. “Nah, you’re thinkin’ too small, sis. Just picture it! You’re up on stage with your guitar, singin’ your heart out, and Daniel’s out there in the crowd, front and center, lookin’ all fine and proud of his lil’ cowgirl.”

I rolled over onto my side, staring at her in disbelief. “Maddie, please. You’re daydreamin’ way too hard right now.”

But she wasn’t even listening, lost in her own fantasy. “Y’all could be, like, the ultimate couple. Country singer and an F1 driver? Hell, people would eat that up! He’d be all, ‘This here’s my gal, Y/N,’ and you’d be sittin’ there in the paddock, rockin’ those fancy hats like a boss. Shoot, you two would be in all the magazines!”

I shot her a look. “Maddie, we’re not even dating. It was one night, and I barely knew who he was until five minutes ago.”

She waved her hand, brushing off my concerns like dust off a pair of boots. “Psh, technicalities. I’m just sayin’, y’all could make waves. You’d be the talk of Texas and everywhere else too. Like a regular old-fashioned Bonnie and Clyde, but with less crime and more racin’.”

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, sure. A cowgirl and a race car driver. That’ll be the day.”

Maddie wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, you never know! Y’all could be splittin’ your time between the racetrack and the rodeo. And if anyone can pull off being a celebrity couple, it’s my big sis.”

I sat up, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grinned wide, leaning back on her elbows. “I know, but tell me I’m wrong.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to push away the ridiculous idea. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Maddie’s wild daydreams weren’t entirely out of reach.

Just as Maddie was about to launch into another wild daydream about me and Daniel conquering the world, there was a sharp knock on my door.

“Y/N? Maddie? What are y’all doin’ in there?” my mom’s voice called out from the hallway.

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh, crap,” I whispered, looking down at my crumpled shirt and yesterday’s jeans. No way could Mom see me like this. Not after last night.

Maddie, ever the quick thinker, jumped up, eyes wide. “You gotta change! Quick, or she’ll know!”

I scrambled off the bed, frantically grabbing the first pair of sweatpants I could find and yanking off my wrinkled jeans. “Uh, we’re just—hold on, Mom! Give us a sec!” I yelled back, pulling on the sweats and trying to find a shirt that didn’t scream ‘walk of shame.’

Mom knocked again, louder this time, sounding more impatient. “What’s takin’ so long? Y’all up to no good in there?”

Maddie shot me a panicked look, then, in true Maddie fashion, she came up with the most absurd lie possible. “Mom, we’re—uh—just checking if Y/N has a wart down there!”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly fell over. “WHAT?”

Maddie’s eyes were wide with mischief as she mouthed, Just go with it!

Mom was silent for a second, and then I heard a heavy sigh. “A wart? Y’all expect me to believe that?”

Maddie waved her arms around frantically, trying to sell the lie. “Yeah! You know, like, one of those really weird ones! We didn’t wanna make a fuss about it, so we’re handling it ourselves.”

I threw on a hoodie, pulling it over my head as fast as I could, all while glaring at Maddie. “Are you kidding me?” I whispered through gritted teeth, but she just gave me a thumbs-up.

Mom’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Well, can’t this wait until later? I need y’all downstairs now.”

Maddie’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Uh, well, it’s kind of urgent, Mom! You don’t just leave a wart alone, right? It could get... worse! Way worse!”

I buried my face in my hands, trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous this had become. But Maddie wasn’t letting up, and my mom, bless her, was clearly not buying it.

“Alright, enough. I don’t care if there’s a whole forest of warts down there! Get your butts downstairs in two minutes or I’m coming in!” Mom’s voice was firm now, and I could hear her foot tapping impatiently outside the door.

Maddie shot me a guilty look as I finally finished pulling myself together. “Okay, okay, we’re coming!” I yelled back, exasperated but unable to stop giggling at how absurd this situation had become.

As soon as we heard Mom walk away from the door, I turned to Maddie, shaking my head. “A wart? Really? That’s your best lie?”

Maddie grinned, completely unbothered. “Hey, I had to think fast! Besides, you know Mom was gonna barge in here if we didn’t come up with something good.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear, if I ever have to explain to her that I don’t have warts, you’re taking the blame.”

“Deal,” Maddie said with a grin, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door. “Now let’s go before she drags us down there herself.”

Maddie and I hurried downstairs, trying our best to look normal — like we hadn’t just staged a ridiculous wart-related lie to keep Mom from barging into my room. As soon as we hit the bottom step, Mom was standing there with her arms crossed, eyeing us with that mom look that said she knew something was up but was choosing to let it slide for now.

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Y’all got those warts handled? Need me to call a doctor or somethin’?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as Maddie snickered beside me. “We’re fine, Mom,” I muttered, trying not to blush all over again. “No doctor necessary.”

Mom chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, then. I need you two to run to the mart for me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grocery list, handing it over. “Just a few things I need for tonight. Don’t dilly-dally.”

I took the list and scanned it, my mind still racing from the chaos of the morning. Eggs, milk, sugar—normal stuff. But then I spotted cilantro circled three times with a little note that said, “Don’t forget this time!!!”

I sighed, folding the list up and sticking it in my pocket. “Got it, Mom. Anything else? Want us to pick up some wart cream while we’re at it?” I teased, shooting Maddie a glance.

Maddie snorted, and Mom swatted me lightly on the arm. “Just get what’s on the list, smart mouth.”

We headed out the door and into the driveway, where Maddie tossed me the keys to my truck. “Your turn to drive,” she said, hopping into the passenger seat with a grin. “I’m still recovering from your fashion disaster this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she said, smirking as I started the engine. The truck roared to life, and we pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the mart.

As we cruised down the road, the Texas sun beating down on us, I finally started to relax. The insanity of the morning was starting to fade, and it felt good to just drive, even if it was for groceries.

“Cilantro, huh?” Maddie said, glancing at the list as we pulled into the parking lot of the mart. “You better not forget that, or Mom’s gonna throw a fit.”

I parked the truck and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Yeah, I know. We’re on a cilantro mission now.”

We hopped out of the truck, laughing about the morning's chaos as we headed inside. At least now, it was just me, Maddie, and a simple grocery list to tackle.

Maddie and I wandered through the grocery store aisles, chatting about nothing in particular as we grabbed the items on Mom’s list. Everything was going smoothly until I remembered the cilantro.

“Maddie, I can’t forget the cilantro. Mom will kill me if I come back without it.” I scanned the store like I was hunting for buried treasure, and then—out of the corner of my eye—I spotted it. The last bunch of cilantro.

“There!” I practically shouted, pointing across the produce section. Without thinking, I made a mad dash for it, leaving Maddie behind as I zeroed in on my target. Nothing was going to stop me from getting this cilantro—not after what happened last time.

But just as I reached for it, my hand collided with someone else’s.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a familiar voice said, as our hands both grabbed for the same bunch. “In a rush, are we?”

I looked up and found myself staring directly into Daniel’s mischievous eyes. My heart skipped a beat—of all people.

“You?” I blurted, both annoyed and surprised.

Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand still held onto the cilantro. “What, you didn’t think you’d see me again?”

I blinked, trying to recover from the sudden collision, both physically and mentally. “I—uh—no, I just didn’t expect to be fighting you over a bunch of cilantro,” I said, still clutching the herb in one hand as he held the other end.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, if you’d been a little slower, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Slower? I was practically flying over here. I saw it first.”

“Oh, really?” He tilted his head, that playful smirk of his back in full force. “I’m pretty sure I had my hand on it before you did.”

“Dream on, Ricciardo,” I shot back, trying to yank the cilantro from his grip. “It’s mine.”

He tightened his hold, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Tell you what—we’ll share it.”

“Share?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to split a bunch of cilantro? What are we, in preschool?”

Daniel laughed, pulling it toward him slightly. “I mean, it’s either that or you admit defeat.”

“Admit defeat?” I shot him a glare. “I don’t lose at grocery shopping.”

“Is that so?” His grin widened as he leaned in closer, his face just a little too close for comfort. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re losing.”

My cheeks flushed, and I yanked the cilantro again, this time breaking the bunch in half. “There. Now we’re both losers.”

He burst out laughing, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Fair enough. You really don’t like losing, do you?”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing. “Not when I’m up against people who think they can out-shop me.”

Daniel leaned against the cart, still grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Alright, you win this round, but I’m telling you—next time, I’m taking the whole bunch.”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Just then, Maddie appeared behind me, her eyes going wide when she realized who I was standing next to. “Uh, Y/N? What’s going on here?”

I turned to Maddie, holding up my half of the cilantro. “Just winning a fight, that’s all.”

Daniel winked at Maddie before looking back at me. “More like a draw, if we’re being honest.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ricciardo.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows, her grin spreading. “Oh, this is definitely going in my scrapbook.”

Daniel chuckled, still holding his half of the cilantro like it was a prize. Just as I was about to turn away, he slipped something into my hand, so smooth I almost didn’t realize he’d done it.

I blinked, glancing down at the small folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it carefully, my curiosity piqued.

Before I could even figure it out, Maddie was already craning her neck to see. Her eyes widened in excitement the second she caught a glimpse. “Oh my god, Y/N, do you even know what these are?!”

I looked at her, completely confused. “What do you mean?”

She pointed excitedly at the paper in my hands. “Those are paddock passes! For the Austin GP! You’ve got three-day passes to the entire race weekend! Do you even understand how hard these are to get?”

I stared down at the passes, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Wait, what?”

Daniel smirked, casually leaning against his cart, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Yeah, figured you might want to see what all this F1 fuss is about, and I happened to have an extra pass. So, you know, if you’re not too busy fighting over cilantro.”

I looked up at him, completely floored. “You... got me paddock passes? For three days?”

He shrugged, looking way too casual about the whole thing. “What can I say? I’m glad I grabbed an extra one just in case.” His eyes flickered with that familiar playful glint. “And now, I’m even gladder.”

Maddie, still buzzing with excitement, suddenly stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, where are my manners?” She extended her hand. “I’m Maddie, by the way. You know, the better sister.”

Daniel burst into laughter, shaking her hand. “Well, if you’re anything like your sister, I think I’m in for trouble.”

Maddie winked at him. “Trouble’s our middle name. But really, she’s the one you’ve gotta watch out for.”

I shot Maddie a glare, trying to keep my cool even though my heart was still racing. “Maddie, stop.”

Daniel grinned, turning his attention back to me. “I dunno, I kind of like trouble. Keeps things interesting.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. “You just like making everything a competition.”

He tilted his head, that infuriatingly charming smirk still on his face. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you.”

Maddie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Oh, he’s good, Y/N. Better watch out, or you’re gonna find yourself in the middle of a Grand Prix.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in just a little. “Well, with those passes, you might just end up front and center.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at how ridiculous this had all become. “You seriously just carry extra paddock passes around?”

“Only when I think they might come in handy,” he said, eyes glinting. “And I had a feeling you’d appreciate them more than anyone else here.”

I raised an eyebrow, still not entirely sure how this was my life. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He smiled, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Takes one to know one.”

I stared at the paddock passes in my hand, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Daniel Ricciardo—actual Formula 1 driver—had just handed me access to the most exclusive part of the Austin GP like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she was about to combust from excitement.

“I mean, front and center at a Grand Prix?” Maddie piped up, clearly having the time of her life with this. “Y/N, do you even understand how cool that is? You’re basically about to be part of the elite crowd. And you didn’t even know who he was two days ago.”

I shot her a look, trying not to blush as I turned back to Daniel. “I feel like I should be saying thanks, but... are you sure? This feels a little...”

“Too good to be true?” Daniel finished with a smirk, crossing his arms. “I get that a lot. But trust me, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Plus, I didn’t want to go through the weekend wondering if you’d ever stop fighting over cilantro.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really gonna hang onto that, aren’t you?”

“Only as long as it keeps you on your toes.” He grinned, his gaze holding mine a second longer than necessary. “Besides, now you’ve got no excuse not to come.”

Maddie, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in with a grin. “Oh, she’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it. You’re looking at the world’s most stubborn person right here, but once she commits, she’s all in.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Is that so?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t listen to her. She’s just trying to recruit me into her fantasy F1 life.”

Maddie snorted. “Uh, you slept with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got paddock passes. I think that fantasy is turning into reality, sis.”

I groaned, rubbing my face in embarrassment. “Maddie, please.”

Daniel chuckled, glancing between the two of us. “You two are something else. This is probably the most fun I’ve had at a grocery store in... ever.”

I crossed my arms, half smiling despite myself. “Well, I guess we know who to thank for that. You’re really making a habit of surprising me, aren’t you?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin widening. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just wait ‘til you see what surprises I’ve got lined up for the weekend.”

Maddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, mysterious. I like it.”

I shot her a look but couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, fine. You win. I’ll come to the race.”

Daniel winked, clearly satisfied. “Knew you would. See you in the paddock, then.” He tipped his imaginary hat and turned to walk away, but not before flashing one last grin. “Don’t forget to bring your competitive spirit. You’re gonna need it.”

I watched him go, my heart still racing as Maddie practically squealed beside me. “Oh my god, Y/N! This is insane!”

I shook my head, laughing. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe I’m actually going to an F1 race.”

Maddie grinned, nudging me again. “Not just any race. You’re going with Daniel freaking Ricciardo. Girl, this is like something out of a movie.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me couldn’t deny how surreal—and thrilling—it all felt.

After successfully scouring the back of the store and miraculously finding one last bunch of cilantro hidden behind some parsley, Maddie and I made our way to the checkout. I could barely keep my head straight, still reeling from my unexpected run-in with Daniel, while Maddie was practically bouncing with excitement, shooting me side-glances the entire time we loaded up the cart.

Once we were through the checkout and back in the truck, Maddie wasted no time. As soon as I turned the ignition, she turned toward me, eyes wide with anticipation. "Okay, enough stalling. You have to give me details about the one-night stand. I mean, come on. It's Daniel Ricciardo! Spill it!"

I groaned, gripping the steering wheel and backing out of the parking spot. “Maddie, please.”

She crossed her arms, giving me her best "I’m-not-letting-this-go" look. “Oh, no, no. You’re not getting out of this one. I need the full rundown. Like, what happened? How did it happen? How is he? Is he a good—”

“Maddie!” I cut her off, feeling the heat rise to my face. “I am not telling you that.”

She smirked, not even remotely phased by my protests. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you weren’t just as shocked to wake up next to him. I mean, how does someone like you,” she gestured to me dramatically, “end up in bed with someone like him?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. It wasn’t even planned! We were both tipsy, flirting at the bar... and, well, you know how those things go.”

Maddie practically squealed. “So, was it... like, really good?”

I groaned again, my face probably a bright shade of red by now. “Maddie, I’m not talking about that. Just know that... it was fine, okay? We were both drunk, and it happened. End of story.”

She pouted but kept pushing. “Ugh, fine. But was he sweet? Was he funny in the morning? Or did he just roll over and pretend like nothing happened?”

I snorted, shaking my head as I turned onto the road. “No, actually, he was... really chill about it. We joked around a bit, and he didn’t make it awkward. I mean, we even fought over cilantro in the grocery store, and he’s still as annoyingly charming as ever.”

Maddie let out a dreamy sigh. “Of course, he’s charming. Ugh, I bet that smile of his could get you to do anything. No wonder you ended up in his hotel room.”

I shot her a look. “Can you not make me sound like a complete pushover?”

She giggled, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You gotta admit, he’s got some serious game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely got something. But honestly, I don’t even know what to make of it all. One minute, I’m waking up in his bed, and the next, I’ve got paddock passes for a whole race weekend.”

Maddie leaned back in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. “Okay, okay, but I have to ask the important question.” She paused for dramatic effect, smirking like she was about to drop the most scandalous question of all time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What now?”

She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Is it... big?”

I nearly choked on my own laughter, my face instantly heating up. “Maddie!” I exclaimed, giving her a light shove. “Oh my god, you can’t just ask that!”

She burst out laughing, completely unfazed. “Come on! You hooked up with a famous race car driver! You know I had to ask!”

I covered my face, shaking my head. “This is not happening right now.”

Maddie nudged me again, still giggling. “I’m just sayin’, you can’t drop all these details about Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo and expect me to not be curious! It’s, like, basic sister requirements.”

I sighed, laughing despite the embarrassment. “I’m not telling you that. Besides, some things are meant to be kept private!”

She threw her hands up in surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Fine, fine. But I’m just gonna assume the answer’s yes based on how flustered you are right now.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the grocery bags. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She beamed at me, completely proud of herself. “It’s part of my charm. Now let’s go inside before Mom gets suspicious.”

We stepped out of the truck, and as we made our way toward the house, Maddie shot me one last teasing glance. “I still can’t believe this. You’re living the dream, sis. Now we just have to get you through the race without tripping over yourself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as we walked inside. “Easier said than done, trust me.”

Maddie winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to keep you grounded. And, you know, ask more questions about... size later.”

I groaned. “Maddie, I swear, if you bring that up again—”

She cut me off with a giggle. “Relax, I’ll save it for after the race. Maybe Daniel will answer it for me.”

I gave her a mock-serious glare as we stepped into the kitchen. “If you ask him anything remotely like that, I’ll personally disown you as my sister.”

Maddie just grinned, completely unfazed by my threat. “Oh, come on! You know you’re curious too. I bet Daniel’s the type to joke right back—he seems like he’s got that smooth banter down.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not find out in front of you.”

She grabbed a bunch of cilantro, holding it up like it was a victory flag. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave at the race... but no promises if the opportunity presents itself.”

I groaned again, shaking my head. “You will kill me one day, you know?”

Maddie smirked as she placed the cilantro in the fridge, turning to me with a wink. “Hey, if you’re gonna be dating an F1 driver, you better get used to me asking all the embarrassing questions. It’s a sister’s job to keep things interesting.”

I felt my face flush at the mention of “dating” Daniel, quickly brushing it off. “Who said anything about dating? This was just a one-time thing.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Uh-huh, sure. You just happened to have a ‘one-time thing’ with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got three-day paddock passes? Girl, please.”

I crossed my arms, trying to sound firm. “We’re not dating.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe not yet, but trust me, once you’re up close and personal at that race, things might change. I mean, the man gave you paddock passes, Y/N. He’s clearly not done with you.”

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest at her words. “Whatever, Maddie. Let’s just focus on surviving this weekend without you embarrassing me in front of him.”

Maddie grinned, stepping closer and nudging me with her elbow. “I make no promises. But I will say this—you better have fun. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a superstar. Just... remember to breathe when you see him again.”

I laughed, despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me finish putting these groceries away before Mom comes in and asks what’s taking so long.”

Maddie threw me a playful wink as she grabbed the rest of the groceries. “You got it. But I’m definitely asking for more details after the race.”

I groaned, but there was no hiding my smile. As much as Maddie drove me crazy, I couldn’t deny that having her along for this wild ride was exactly what I needed.

Maddie and I stepped into the kitchen, laughing and joking about who could embarrass me more at the race when we both suddenly stopped dead in our tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea like it was the most casual thing in the world, were Carrie and her mother, Savannah.

I froze, my heart sinking to my stomach. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

My mom glanced up, clearly trying to keep the peace with a polite smile, but there was no missing the tension in the air. “Oh, hey girls,” she said, in a tone that was way too casual for the situation. “We’re just having a little afternoon tea.”

Savannah gave us a small wave, her southern charm still as present as ever. “Hi, Y/N. Maddie. It’s been a while.”

Carrie glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. I could tell she was remembering the hotel elevator, just like I was. The awkward tension between us stretched out as thin as it could go.

In my head, a thousand thoughts ran wild. Why are they here? I knew the answer, though. My mom and Savannah had been cordial for years, mostly because they had to be. Both of them were rodeo managers for the same rodeo company, which meant they had to stay civil for the sake of work. The whole town knew their friendship was... well, strained at best. But here they were, playing nice over afternoon tea like it was some kind of forced social obligation.

Maddie, always the one to break awkward silences, cleared her throat. “Uh... hey, Mrs. Summers. Carrie.”

Carrie’s mom, Savannah, smiled politely, her perfect rodeo-queen hair barely moving as she lifted her teacup. “It’s lovely to see you two. Your mother and I were just catching up on the rodeo business.”

Of course you were, I thought bitterly. The rodeo world was so small, and no matter how much I wanted to avoid it—or Carrie—I couldn’t escape it.

My mom, sensing the tension, glanced between us. “Savannah and I were talking about the upcoming event. Looks like it’s going to be a busy season.”

Maddie shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Yeah, busy. Fun.” Her usual energy was suddenly subdued, which I knew was her way of trying to keep things from getting too awkward. Not that it was working.

Carrie, ever the queen of awkward stares, finally spoke, her tone as polite as ever. “It’s... good to see you, Y/N.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother before continuing. “How have you been?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let the awkwardness show on my face. “Great. Just, you know, busy.” Really busy fighting you in elevators and trying to forget you even exist.

Carrie nodded, sipping her tea, and the silence between us stretched even further. I could feel the weight of Savannah’s eyes on me, like she was silently assessing everything—our strained friendship, my disheveled appearance from running errands, everything.

Maddie, never one to let tension linger, piped up again. “Well, we just got back from the mart. You know, had to get that cilantro Mom keeps losing her mind over.”

Savannah smiled tightly. “Ah, yes. Cilantro can be tricky.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the moment, but I managed to hold it in, keeping the strained smile on my face. I just wanted this impromptu tea party from hell to be over with.

The silence in the kitchen stretched on, thick and awkward, like we were all waiting for something to break it but hoping it wouldn’t be us. I could feel Maddie’s discomfort beside me, her usual spark dimmed in the presence of Carrie and her mom. My mind raced with a mix of irritation and embarrassment—of all the days for them to be here, this had to be it.

Carrie set her teacup down gently, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain filling the room like a final punctuation to the unbearable silence. She gave me a tight-lipped smile, that same fake pleasantness I’d grown used to over the years. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Busy avoiding you, I thought, but instead I just nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

Savannah, ever the poised and perfect woman she was, glanced at my mom and then back at us, her hands wrapped neatly around her teacup. “It’s important to stay productive. Especially with everything going on in the rodeo season. You girls must be a big help around here.”

I bit back the urge to laugh. My mom might be cordial with Savannah for the sake of their professional lives as rodeo managers, but the subtext was loud and clear. They barely tolerated each other, both knowing that competition was part of their work, and now that tension had trickled down to Carrie and me—and Maddie by default.

Maddie, bless her, tried to keep things light. “Oh, we’re great at helping out... with, uh, grocery shopping.” She flashed a smile, holding up the cilantro like it was some grand prize. “Mom’s got us on strict cilantro duty these days.”

Mom shot Maddie a look, clearly not in the mood for her humor right now. “Thank you, Maddie.”

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Maddie’s comment, but kept her voice smooth. “Cilantro can make or break a meal, I suppose.”

Carrie glanced at me again, her eyes flicking up and down, probably still processing our awkward encounter in the hotel elevator. “You know,” she said, her voice too casual, “I think I saw you at the Hilton the other day, Y/N. Were you there for something special?”

My stomach dropped. Of course she’d bring it up.

“Yeah, I... had some errands downtown,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. No way was I going to let her know about Daniel, not with her mother sitting right there.

Maddie, though, being Maddie, had no such reservations about subtlety. “Oh, you know, just casually bumping into Formula 1 drivers. No big deal.”

Carrie’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw her mom’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Formula 1 drivers?” Savannah asked, her tone suddenly more interested than it had been for the entire tea party.

I shot Maddie a seriously? look, but she just grinned like she’d been waiting to drop this bomb the entire time. “Yeah, we ran into Daniel Ricciardo. Real nice guy.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I could tell she was piecing it all together. She probably knew exactly what had happened in that elevator. “Wow, Daniel Ricciardo,” she said, her voice cool. “That’s... interesting.”

Savannah, ever the picture of elegance, nodded approvingly. “Well, that’s quite a meeting. Formula 1 is certainly prestigious. You must have made quite the impression.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. Yeah, I made an impression, alright. But instead, I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was... unexpected.”

Carrie’s eyes flickered with something—maybe curiosity, maybe envy—but her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Unexpected, huh?” she said, her voice a little too casual. “I’m sure it was.”

I could tell she wasn’t buying my attempt to downplay the situation. She knew. She’d probably already started piecing together the story from the elevator and was likely imagining a whole different version of events—one where she could twist it into something more dramatic.

Savannah, on the other hand, smiled that perfectly polished smile she always had, but I could see a glint of interest in her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly moving in impressive circles these days, Y/N. Formula 1 drivers... that’s a step up from the usual rodeo crowd, don’t you think?”

I bit back a smirk. “I guess you could say that.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened a little more, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She had that look on her face—the one that said she was already planning how to bring this up the next time she was with her friends. She’d never admit it, but the idea of me bumping into someone like Daniel Ricciardo clearly irked her.

She straightened up in her seat, brushing a lock of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “Well, it must’ve been nice to meet someone so... prestigious,” she said, her tone dripping with false politeness. “I’m sure it was a brief encounter.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah, brief.” I decided it was better not to mention the three-day paddock passes in my back pocket. The less ammunition Carrie had, the better.

Savannah, still smiling, added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw him again at some point. Those kinds of connections have a way of resurfacing.”

I nodded, doing my best to seem nonchalant, but I couldn’t help glancing at Carrie, who was staring at me with just a little too much interest.

Carrie leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “So, what did you two talk about? I mean, you don’t exactly strike me as the F1 type.”

I could feel Maddie practically vibrating with excitement beside me, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Carrie was. “Oh, we talked about racing. Rodeo. Life,” I said, keeping my response vague. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing more.

Carrie raised her eyebrow, sensing I wasn’t going to give her more details, but she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “Rodeo, huh? That’s cute. I bet he found all of that... fascinating.”

Before I could respond, Maddie jumped in, her voice sweet but sharp. “Actually, he seemed really interested. You know, not everyone can handle a fast-paced life like Y/N’s. Some people are more into... exciting things.”

I shot Maddie a look, barely suppressing my grin as she winked at me.

Carrie’s smile faltered for just a second before she regained her composure. “Well, good for you, Y/N,” she said, her tone cold enough to send a chill through the room. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the race car crowd.”

Carrie’s words hung in the air like a challenge, her eyes flicking over me, searching for any sign of discomfort. But I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand—not today.

I smiled, my voice steady. “I’m sure I will. After all, fast-paced lives aren’t for everyone.” I kept my tone light, but there was no missing the underlying message.

Carrie’s smile tightened, her fingers twitching slightly as she adjusted the strap of her designer bag. “Well, best of luck keeping up. Those kinds of people tend to leave others in the dust if they can’t handle the speed.”

Maddie, ever the bold one, didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, Y/N can handle anything. Don’t you worry about that.”

Carrie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she forced another smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I could practically hear Maddie holding back a giggle beside me. Carrie’s frustration was almost palpable, and I knew we were getting to her. She was always one to hold her cards close, but right now, the fact that I’d spent time with someone like Daniel Ricciardo—a man from a world far beyond Carrie’s reach—had clearly rattled her.

Savannah, ever the picture of grace, stepped in before things could escalate any further. “Alright, girls. We really must be going.” She placed a hand on Carrie’s shoulder, guiding her toward the door, but not before giving me one last glance. “You’ll have to tell us more about your Formula 1 adventures next time, Y/N.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “We’ll see how the weekend goes.”

Carrie shot me one last look as they turned to leave, her voice almost too casual. “Enjoy the race. Let’s hope it’s as exciting as you’re expecting.”

I held her gaze, giving her the smallest of smirks. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Maddie let out the loudest laugh, finally letting go of all the tension that had been bubbling up during that excruciatingly polite exchange.

“Did you see her face?” Maddie said, practically bouncing with glee. “She’s absolutely livid. I can’t believe you kept your cool like that!”

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Barely. She almost had me when she started pushing about Daniel.”

Maddie waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, you handled that like a champ. I mean, did you see how she tried to act all nonchalant? She’s probably seething inside.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Well, let’s hope she stews on it for a while. Maybe she’ll back off.”

Maddie laughed, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Or maybe she’ll just get more competitive. Either way, you’re the one with the paddock passes and a date with Daniel Ricciardo.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not a date.”

She gave me a mischievous look. “We’ll see about that.”

As Maddie and I were still laughing about the showdown with Carrie, my mom suddenly cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway. “Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, “so that’s where you were. I was wondering why you came back home looking like you’d been wrestling a tornado. Turns out you were just... banging some famous Formula 1 driver, huh?”

I froze, mid-laugh, and Maddie immediately burst into giggles, almost choking on her soda.

“MOM!” I spluttered, my face burning red. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” my mom interrupted, waving a hand. “I don’t need the details. I’m just surprised you didn’t even bother to sneak in quietly after all that ‘looking for warts business’” She put heavy air quotes around her later statement, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the embarrassment crawl up my neck. “It wasn’t... like that.”

Maddie, still giggling, jumped in. “Oh, it was exactly like that. Just wait until you hear about the cilantro.”

Mom raised an eyebrow, her smirk not fading. “Cilantro, huh? Sounds like that’s code for something else entirely.”

I groaned. “Mom! I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

She laughed, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, sweetie. But next time, try to sneak in a little less obviously. And maybe let your poor mother know if you plan on... running into celebrities in the future.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Maddie quickly jumped in, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. If she ever brings Daniel Ricciardo home, you’ll be the first to know.”

My mom winked at me. “You better believe it. Just make sure to feed the poor boy—don’t want him leaving hungry after all that... grocery shopping.” She gave me a teasing smile, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort.

I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Maddie leaned over, patting me on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the family, sis. Nothing stays secret here.”

After the chaos with Carrie, my mom’s teasing, and Maddie’s relentless jokes about Daniel, I finally retreated to my room, grateful for some peace and quiet. I had a big task ahead of me, one that had been on my mind for weeks—finalizing my album. The release date was just around the corner, and there were still a few loose ends to tie up.

I sat at my desk, flipping through the notebook that held all my song lyrics. Most of the album was finished, a mix of country ballads, heartbreak anthems, and some upbeat tracks about the wild, unpredictable life of a cowgirl. But something was missing. As I strummed my guitar absentmindedly, my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the last couple of days—the bar, the unexpected encounter with Daniel, the flirting, the way he made me feel more alive than I’d felt in a long time.

Without even thinking, I started jotting down lyrics. The melody came first, soft and steady, like a heartbeat. The words followed, spilling out onto the page as I replayed that night in my mind. The tequila, the banter, the way he leaned in close with that lazy smile, and how I’d felt—nervous, excited, like I was diving into something new and unexpected.

Before I knew it, I had a full song written about that night. The lyrics were a little cheeky, playful, and flirty, with just enough emotional undertones to make it feel real. It wasn’t like the other songs on my album, but somehow, it fit. It felt right. It felt like something I needed to include.

I sat back, looking at the lyrics on the page, and let out a breath. “Okay,” I whispered to myself, “this might actually work.”

But there was one hurdle left—convincing my manager.

I picked up my phone and called them. It didn’t take long for the line to click, and my manager’s voice came through, warm but business-like as always. “Y/N! We’re almost there. Everything’s looking good for the album release. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, I’ve been thinking... I wrote a new song today. It’s about something that just happened recently, and I feel like it needs to be on the album.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear them flipping through notes. “A new song? Y/N, we’re cutting it pretty close to the release date. Is it finished?”

“Yeah, it’s finished. I can send you a rough cut tonight,” I said, my heart pounding a little faster now. “I know it’s last minute, but this song... it’s important. It’s different from the other tracks, but it feels like the missing piece. I don’t want it on the physical CDs or anything—we can just add it to the online release.”

Another pause, and I held my breath, waiting.

Finally, my manager spoke, their tone thoughtful. “Send it over. I’ll take a listen. If it’s as good as you’re saying, we can make it work for the digital release. But no promises until I hear it.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thanks, I’ll send it over in an hour.”

I hung up the phone and got to work, recording a rough version of the song. It wasn’t polished, but the emotion was there, raw and real, just like that night with Daniel. When I listened back, I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over me. This song wasn’t planned, but it felt like it was meant to be there, like it had been waiting for the right moment to come out.

Once the recording was done, I sent it off to my manager and leaned back in my chair, guitar still resting in my lap. The day had started out so wild, but now, here I was, about to add a brand-new track to my album because of an unexpected encounter at a bar with a Formula 1 driver.

It was crazy, sure—but it was my kind of crazy. The kind that made life interesting, that made music worth creating.

As soon as I hit send on the rough cut of the song to my manager, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down and, to my surprise, saw Daniel’s name lighting up my screen. My heart skipped a beat—I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon, if at all. I swiped the notification open, and his message popped up.

Daniel: 👀 So… did I win the cilantro war or what?

I snorted, shaking my head. Of course he’d bring that up.

Me: you wish... i think we agreed it was a draw, remember?

A few moments passed, and another message popped up.

Daniel: Sure, sure. I’ll let you keep telling yourself that. But really, I let you have it. Gentleman and all. 😏

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile as I typed back.

Me: oh, you let me win, huh? that’s the story you’re going with??!

Daniel: Obviously. Wouldn’t want to start a feud over herbs. You Texans can be dangerous when you don’t get your cilantro.

I chuckled to myself, feeling the tension from earlier slip away as we fell into easy banter.

Me: you’re totally right. we don’t mess around with cilantro here. it’s practically sacred!! 😭

Daniel: I’m starting to see that. 😅 So, how’s your day been, besides our grocery aisle showdown?

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell him about the song? About Carrie and the whole awkward tea party? I decided to keep it light for now.

Me: oh, you know... just the usual—running errands, finalizing some stuff for my album release. nothing too exciting, what about you?

His response came quickly.

Daniel: Not as exciting as your day, I’m sure. Just some press stuff and getting ready for the race. Though I guess that means I’m busy dodging questions about why I’m spending so much time in the grocery store lately. 😏

I laughed, imagining him charming his way through whatever interviews he had lined up, somehow making even his grocery shopping sound interesting.

Me: yeah, i’m sure the twitter is DYING to know all about your cilantro preferences.

Daniel: Oh, absolutely. “Ricciardo spotted in aisle five—what does this mean for the upcoming race?” 😆

Me: groundbreaking stuff😣😣. we’re really pushing the boundaries here.

His next text came through quickly, and I could almost hear the teasing in his voice.

Daniel: Speaking of groundbreaking... any chance this album’s got a song about a certain Aussie driver in it? 😏

I froze for a second, staring at his message. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

Me: actually… funny you mention that. i may or may not have written something inspired by a recent bar encounter. 😉

There was a brief pause before his reply, and I imagined him raising an eyebrow on the other end.

Daniel: Oh? Inspired by, huh? Now you’ve got my attention. Do I get to hear this masterpiece before the rest of the world does?

I grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but something told me he’d find it amusing.

Me: maybe... but only if you promise not to make fun of me. i just wrote it today, so it’s still fresh. it's my newborn baby 💗💗💗

Daniel: Promise. I’m intrigued now. What’s it called?

I paused, biting my lip before typing.

Me: i haven’t decided on a title yet, but let’s just say it has a lot to do with flirting, tequila, and someone wearing a cowboy hat...😏

His response came quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Daniel: Well, that narrows it down. Sounds like a banger already. 😎 When do I get to hear it?

I hesitated, unsure if I was really ready to let him listen to something so personal so soon. But then again, the whole point of the song was how unexpected and spontaneous things had been with him.

Me: soon...maybe if you behave yourself at the race. 😏

Daniel: Behave? Me? I’ll do my best, but no promises. 😉

I rolled my eyes, grinning at the screen. He had a way of keeping things light, but there was still something underneath all the teasing that felt... real.

Me: alright alright cowboy, well, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else then. patience is a virtue, right?!

Daniel: Patience is overrated, but for you, I guess I can try. 😎

I laughed, shaking my head. This was getting too fun.

Me: good. now go prepare for your race before you get too distracted.

Daniel: Oh, trust me, I’m already distracted. You’re making it hard to focus on track times, you know that?

I felt a blush creep up my neck at his words, though I tried to brush it off with my usual sarcasm.

Me: well, o wouldn’t want to be responsible for messing up your race. just remember to keep it on track. 😏

His response came with a playful challenge.

Daniel: Challenge accepted. Just don’t be surprised when I win—and not just on the track. 😉

I let out a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.

Me: we’ll see about that, Ricciardo.

Daniel: Count on it.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update in 1-2 weeks after i get a few more chapters out in my op81 lay all your love on me fic...stay tuned xx <3

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kedsandtubesocks · 25 days ago

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WILD RIDE: a writing challenge

So I wrote my first ever multi fic series Let’s Rodeo at the beginning of this year & to celebrate i’d thought I would finally host my first ever writing challenge to welcome the new year!

So here’s how the challenge will work…

- The boys will be divided into 2 groups: one with prompts occurring in modern day & the other set in old west/western times

- 14 slots: once a prompt is taken it’s gone… so be sure to grab the one you want!

- Each prompt has a moodboard attached (which you can use as inspiration or just enjoy for the vibes)

↳ So what’s the extra wild ride part of this prompt?

✨send in an ask with the Pedro boy of your choice & a number between 1-20 & I’ll reply with a trope to add to your fic! If you’re not feeling too wild about the trope you got, then no worries, ride on & write what feels right!

⚠️ Rules:

Even if you don’t decide to use the trope given - please stay within the prompt’s boundary & given time frame each has been placed in

500 word minimum - other than that you’re free to write to your hearts content!

Tag me & use the hashtag #kedsandtubesocks wild ride so I can update the masterlist

Deadline: February 28 [of course if you need to send it in after just let me know …we can always use more cowboy fics at any time]

🌾 MODERN DAY PROMPTS

✦ Marcus Moreno: Rodeo Rescue @morallyinept #4 [star-crossed lovers]

✦ Dieter Bravo: Movie Cowboy @chaotic-mystery #15 [meet ugly]

✦ Marcus Pike: Cowboy Themed Party @secretelephanttattoo #8 [workplace romance]

✦ Joel Miller: Retired Rodeo Cowboy - @pedgito #12 [forbidden love]

✦ Jack Daniels: Honky Tonk Cowboy Bar Owner @jennaispunk #5 [childhood friends]

✦ Oberyn Martel: Spanish Ranch Owner @chronically-ghosted #7 [fake dating/relationship]

✦ Pero Tovar: Rodeo Bull Rider @perotovar #16 [rivals/competition]

🌵 OLD WEST ERA PROMPTS

✦ Javier Peña: Rancher @savedyounine #11 [love at first sight]

✦ Tim Rockford: US Marshal @crowandmousewritingco #2 [only one bed]

✦ Ezra: Corrupt Sheriff @beefrobeefcal #3 [lovers to enemies]

✦ Javier Gutierrez: Bandit/Outlaw @bluestar22x #8 [workplace romance]

✦ Dave York: Hired Gun [Mercenary]

✦ Frankie Morales: Solider turned Cowboy @hauntedhowlett #17 [secret dating]

✦ Din Djarin: Hired Gun [Bodyguard] @corazondebeskar #1 [enemies to lovers]

Here’s to the creations & wonders, the wild rides, you will write and take us on! Can’t wait to see all the magic y’all create!

If you have any questions please message me! Also I can’t thank @perotovar & @pedgito for inspiring me, cheering me on, to finally host this - this wouldn’t be here without them 💛

tagging some yeehawin’ cute mutuals that might be curious about this rodeo (if not, no worries!)

@hauntedhowlett @burntheedges @saradika @nothoughtsjustmeds @jolapeno @tonysopranosrobe

@nothoughtsjustmeds @almostfoxglove @amanitacowboy @sp00kymulderr @chronically-ghosted @beardedjoel

@morallyinept @schnarfer @lowlights @julesonrecord @quinnnfabrgay-writes @guiltyasdave @secretelephanttattoo

@ghotifishreads @corazondebeskar @chaotic-mystery @seventeenpins @yxtkiwiyxt

#i’m so nervous but excited & hope y’all enjoy!!!#kedsandtubesocks wild ride writing challenge #kedsandtubesocks wild ride

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catiuskaa · 11 months ago

Text

new task: valentine’s day.

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 10.6k (OH MY FUCKING GOD)

CW: it’s like fluffy comfort because I say so, kim seungmin supremacy (YES), use of spanglish (just on the text messages bc yes, it’s not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format for plot convenience (and a whole bunch of emojis and colors), the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), use of cliché valentine and enemies2lovers tropes (BECAUSE THEY ARE FUN AND THEY WORK), academic rivals (we love to see it), bad student reader x good student seungmin (like bad/mean girl x good boy ish), mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying?, mentions of being followed, use of (pet)names because I don’t like using ‘y/n’: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, (yes i’m just petty like that, sue me), hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is almost a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

SPECIAL THANKS! To my lovely pookies @lyramundana and @tonks-21 for ideas and support, plus also, most of the classmate’s names are thanks to gorgeous gourgeous @stayconnecteed and her spanishverse series bc i’m so invested! Go check all of their blogs out! 100% recommend. son mis chicas españolitas, hehe<3

A/N: alone on valentine’s day? same for me, pookie! but dontchu worry, mister kim seungmin is here to help us out<3 (and if not, we can always help each other😚🫶)

[☆★🌷★☆]

{PROLOGUE: THE GROUPCHAT}

At first, you didn’t really know him.

To think for a second that there was a time where you didn’t know who he was made you sigh. Oh, how you wish you had never, ever encountered him.

…Kim Seungmin.

Some may say that ‘rivals’ or ‘enemies’ is a term that could seem too intense regarding a simple statement: that you two didn’t get along.

But no. Because those kind of words were exactly how you’d define your relationship.

And it had all started the first day of your last year before graduating. When you made the class groupchat.

> you created ‘Year 13-A 😼😼’

> you added ‘lucas🤺’ ‘atenea🛐’ ‘noa🫶’ and 16 more.

> you: guys help, am I missing people?

> you: @ atenea🛐 told me to create this group for homework n stuff but idk if I have everyone’s numbers 😵‍💫😵‍💫

< noa🫶: tía you’re missing two people no?

< lara💋: hala, new people?? 👀

< noa🫶: pero- they’re literally from the other group, girl

< abril🌻: you even know them lara

< abril🌻: se te va la pinza JAJSJA

< miguel📚: sí, there should be 22 people (creo)

> you: oh right, Lix told me!

> you: yeah i’ll add them now, brb 🏃‍♀️

Well.

Rookie mistake.

> you added ‘kim seungmin™️’, ‘hyunjin🎨’

> you: omg i even added everyone

< lucas🤺: omg omg

< kim seungmin™️: omg omg so crazyy

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you texted. But that was just because you hadn’t talked to him before.

Now was a different story, of course. You wouldn’t smile, not for Kim Seungmin.

> you: @ kim seungmin™️ what was crazy is how difficult it was finding someone who had your phone number, lol

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: fr fr omg

< lucas🤺: que es omg

< lucas🤺: ‘oh me gustas’ ? omg?

< lara💋: you’re such an idiot, asshole

< lucas🤺: ohhh you love me so bad 😌😌😌

< isabel🌸: she knows better lol

< lucas🤺: dude, you’re my sister

< lucas🤺: shouldn’t you be backing me?

< isabel🌸: there’s a fee for that, dude.

You giggled at the stupid teasing, used to your mates’ shenanigans that never ceased to make you laugh.

But then, he replied.

< kim seungmin™️: @ you the only difficult thing here is you reaching graduation

…

Your smile faded.

You read that once more. Then again. And another time.

You chuckled dryly.

What was this guy on about?

> you: ah? wdym?

You remember thinking that maybe he was joking. That maybe he was someone who talked to people with a lot of harsh remarks without really meaning them. That maybe he was trying to be funny, or something.

Other texts showed up, but Kim Seungmin —named like so in the contact Felix had shared to you— wasn’t replying.

< minho🐈: guys wtf it’s 00:12

< lucas🤺: oh he uses the other clock

< lucas🤺: so its am-pm for us but not for you

< lucas🤺: think you’re special? wanna fight?

< noa🫶: lucas just shut up and go to bed

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: damn right 🛌🛌🛌

< miguel📚: guys, stop texting 😓

> you: yeah guys lol

< minho🐈: no u started this

< minho🐈: u shush

You snickered softly, used to Minho’s humour, quickly playing along.

> you: ?! unfair ☝️🤓

< kim seungmin™️: no, minho’s right for once

< kim seungmin™️: you should shush

< kim seungmin™️: you’re less annoying when you’re quiet

You frowned at your phone, your face contorted in angry confussion.

Who did this guys think he was?

With a huff, you typed a rapid “gtg guys!”, ignoring Seungmin’s texts, and quickly settled your phone back on your pocket, getting off the bus and finally arriving home.

You groaned, the text that that Seungmin idiot had sent still rolling in your head even after you laid in bed. You passed your hands through your hair.

“Difficult to reach graduation?” You mumbled, eyes fixated ln the chatroom the sentence feeling like acid in your mouth.

Kim Seungmin wasn’t ready for how difficult his last year was going to be, solely for his stupid text message.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 2: UNDER THE STREETLIGHT}

After avoiding Seungmin like the plague all Thursday, only looking at his back when you zoned off in class, Friday arrived earlier than expected.

You hadn’t been able to concentrate at all, the thought of his sweet taste lingering in your mouth, almost letting you feel the ghost of his lips pressed against yours.

“Hello? Earth to… oh, you’re awake, Jesus.” Abril looked at you with a smile, but she was unable to hide her worried look.

“Of course I am,” you mumbled, shaking your head sideways. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t even touched your delicious and totally-not-overcooked pasta.” Lara mentioned the cafeteria lunch as she poked it whith her fork, full of humour. “It leads to believe that you’re dealing with something far more interesting that the technical drawing homework, that’s for sure.”

You bit your lip, hesitating.

“Is it because Henry Li has been ignoring you?” Noa mentioned softly.

You blinked, puzzled. “Huh?”

He’d been ignoring you? Now that she had mentioned, maybe that could’ve happened. Maybe you would’ve realized if you hadn’t been so focused on Seungmin and whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes…

…or maybe you should look for an easier name for it.

“Uh, no, he invited me to this new place today, actually,” you brushed your hair with your hand mindlessly. “But I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” You smiled at the girls, and joined in at their conversation.

After lunch, you separated from Lara and Noa, who had literature, and Abril, who had been hanging out with a guy called Jeongin from her photography club recently, and so you headed to the study room.

It was a quiet place, quieter that what you had initially expected for a high school study room. Matter of fact, you thought it was a pity that the school closed it after class, considering that in that case you wouldn’t have to walk to the public library.

You opened the door silently, finding that there were barely any students, only three or four people studying silently. You were heading towards a lonely corner so you could listen to music in a high volume without having to pay attention if it could be heard through your headphones. Or maybe, considering that it hadn’t been a lie and that you had slept like four hours maximum, you could probably rest there until the bell rang.

You snickered when you looked to your right, finding someone struggling with the technical drawing homework that had been assigned that morning, the one that Lara and Noa had been talking about.

You gently tapped the guy’s shoulder, but spoke before he even turned.

“You’re missing this incline here,” you whispered on his ear, your arms coming above his shoulders, placing your hands above his, placing the square and bevel on the right angle. “It should be seen, but with dotted lines, get it? That way the side-view makes sense.” You added with a soft giggle.

“Oh, right. T-thank you…” he mumbled, not facing you.

You brushed it off as weird, but your sleepy self wasn’t bothered enough to notice or pry, and instead smiled, ruffled his hair and settled in your cozy little corner, placing your scarf in between your arms and rested your head on it, merely “resting your eyes”, but only if a teacher happened to come and check on the students.

Seungmin stared at your sleeping figure, eyes almost wide. He felt like his heart was going to explode underneath the layers of flesh. His hands tingled, his usually warm and sweaty palms missing the comfortable coldness of yours, so soothing and relaxing.

Either you had completely gone crazy, or he had fallen asleep trying to complete the stupid assignment. He knew you were good at technical drawing, it was one of the subjects were he wasn’t. It wasn’t a surprise when several students started asking you for help on their papers and assignments, considering that you were one of the few who was able to receive praise from the teacher, a middle-aged man with no kind of vocation with kids or teaching, by any means.

But it had never happened when he was the one in need of help, had you ever considered the idea of helping him.

He watched you, puzzled, as he had never done before, and maybe it would be the first time of many because Seungmin found himself liking what he was seeing, dare I say mesmerized by the image before him.

By you.

Your sleepy figure was as calm as he had ever seen from you, sleeping with little to no care in the world. Your hair remained stuck in a ponytail, which allowed Seungmin to notice that it left the skin of your neck visible, and despite the voice on his head saying that it was a behaviour quite like a man from the Modern Ages, just being so fixated at that small bit of skin, he couldn’t help but feel bashfully amazed.

Suddenly, he noticed you licked your lips, your eyes still closed and your small smile never faltering, but that made something start to flutter in his stomach, as if a whole lot of butterflies had been awaken at the sight of you, tranquil, and sweet, and cute, and he forced himself to stop looking at you abruptly, wondering why he had done that in the first place.

Licking your lips only made Seungmin aware of how dry his were, and action plus the thought of your lips immediately brought back what had happened on Wednesday.

Crazy. He’d gone completely crazy.

He felt his hand slowly approach his lips and he grazed them with his fingers, almost able to taste your chapstick back on his lips. Because he had been able. All Wednesday night. And a small part of him wanted more of it.

He blushed, scratching his eyes. He hadn’t slept shit, his mind betraying him every time he attempted to close his eyes instantly going back to the memory of how you stared at him after your kiss, dark pupils, and red lips, and so ridiculously gorgeous that it made Seungmin wonder why whenever he saw you he resorted to his first line in code: being mean.

He never used that side with anyone. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, because small, teasing and slightly unhinged Kim Seungmin had tried to be himself in middle school, and… well.

Let’s just say that it didn’t work like expected.

But everyone loved dorky, funny and sweet Seungmin. Even with the difference with grades, that had definetely not been appreciated in his early years, nowadays people would see that as a part of him, and he recieved praise for it, not only from teachers, but also nice classmates, who sometimes went to seek help from him.

He just needed to pretend for a bit. Smile here and there, and put on a sheepish act of bashfulness that despite it not being natural, it wasn’t totally bad. It wasn’t like middle school.

But then you came in the picture.

Something about you made Seungmin want to tease you. To see you finally look at him after battling in your head if you even should, and then, sometimes when you were mad enough, you’d glare at him, and he couldn’t help but grin. Your cheeks flushed in anger that creeped up your body, how you looked at him through your lashes or how you’d tease him back. The first time you had done that, his brain’s chemistry had changed, he was sure of that.

He didn’t care about the mean remarks, and that now seemed almost obvious, considering what had happened almost two days ago in the school bus.

But it got impossible to miss when Seungmin noticed your sleepy self shivering in your slumber. With a mental groan, careful of not making any kind of loud noise in the study room, he slowly got closer to your corner, and tried to close the windows near it. And failed, because the stupid windows were old and rusty, only able to move them a bit.

He bit his lip, arguing in his head. Would that be enough? No, it probably wasn’t, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be. Considering that you always wore thin clothing, always borrowing your mates’ jackets…

…it couldn’t possibly hurt to do a bit more, right?

Seungmin approached you further, and shook a hand close to your face, but you were dead, as still as a fallen tree, despite the sunlight that enetered throught the windows glowing on your face, the Sun in winter, that brought little to no warmth, made you shine in his eyes.

He’d see you in the public library a couple of hours later. It didn’t mean anything. He could probably tease you for sleeping in school later. Yeah. And then he’d ask for his jacket back.

Seungmin was lost in his thoughts as he carefully settled his jacket over your shoulders, and he froze when you sighed deeply, surrounded by a familiar warmth and a cozy scent that you didn’t know you had missed or needed until then, but you didn’t wake up.

He blinked when he noticed your phone in your hand, the screen suddenly turning on. He giggled at your wallpaper, which had a silly joke on it and a funny doodle of a banana.

But then his eyes trailed down to the notification that had made the phone turn on.

[3 new messages from: henry li🫧]

> sorry i didn’t get to see u yesterday, had to sort smth out!

> guys.its.totally.a.real.address.wdym.lol

> it’s the address for later, shortcake 😉❤️

…huh?

Seungmin blinked once. Twice. Nah, his glasses had to be deceiving him. Then, another notification popped up.

> can’t wait to see you ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

He winced silently.

Ugh. What a cringy choice of emojis.

Did you really like this guy?

He frowned, going back to his place in the study room.

Ugh.

He didn’t care, obviously. Why would he care? That wasn’t his business. Never was, never would be. Not like he was interested. Pffft, no. Not at all. Yeah, nah. That kiss had been a one time thing. Totally. 100%. He wasn’t thinking about it again. Nope. Nor did he want to kiss you again. Not in a chance.

Just… ugh.

It was just that… no. Scratch that. No further comments.

He sighed as he went back to his work, feeling a sudden inspiration hit him as he took out a blank paper for the English class valentine’s assignment, but not before he looked at you again, then shook his head, turning the music back on in his headphones. He started writing, drafting, and throwing papers away, getting slightly desperate at his perfectionism.

He sighed. His eyes trailed off towards you.

Slowly, words started to flow in his head. Pretty sentences, things that he had kept hidden in the back of his mind. Maybe it could be good to let it all out. It couldn’t hurt. Yeah.

So he stared writing. Vomiting word after word. And he finished earlier than expected, with two papers.

One was perfect for the english assignment. It was boring and dull enough to be handed in for a school work, but good enough for his perfectionism.

And the other… was something different.

Something that had only happened because you were there, in front of him.

He stood up, letter on his hand. He leaned against the table you were sleeping in, and settled the jacket further on your shoulders. He sighed, grabbing a pen from his pencil case, folding the letter and signed it.

Maybe it was a bad idea, he thought as he picked up his stuff from the table and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at your figure once more before heading out.

It had been to check if you were still asleep, of course.

Just to check.

Yeah.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Your phone vibrated in your hand again.

And again.

With a groan, you silently accepted that there was no way you could fool an inanimate object into believing that you were still asleep.

But when you yawned and looked around and didn’t find the posters in your room, but rather a whole bunch of tables and chairs, your eyes widened.

It hadn’t been your alarm but a phone call that had awoken you.

“Y-yeah?” You mumbled, picking up the call and quickly taking your backpack and scarf and rushing out of the study room, taking a quick scan and making sure you weren’t leaving anything behind.

“I’m heading to the club now, shortcake.” A low voice greeted. “Are you getting ready?”

Who…?

“H-henry?” You frowned slightly.

You heard him snicker through the other side. “Yeah?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“N-nothing! Nothing, I, uh, I was just doing my make up. Y-you know.”

What? You frowned, even more this time. No, that didn’t make any sense. You always blabbered about how you never did your make up for clubbing because the one you owned was cheap and never stayed on anyways.

“Sure, yeah.”

It didn’t seem like he had noticed.

“You can head there before me. I’ll go there eventually, yeah?”

You heard him snicker on the other side of the phone call. “Ok, baby.” He cleared his throat, stuttering a bit. “Y-yeah, I mean, I’ll uh… get there in a bit. Don’t rush.”

Only then you felt that the wind from outside wasn’t freezing your bones like usual. You squinted at the jacket you were wearing.

“Henry, did you…?” But he hung up.

It probably was him. Yeah. That’s why he had called you. To make sure you’d wake up.

Besides, there were little to no people who’d do such a kind gesture towards you, and even if the jacket was pretty much your style and it smelled like heaven, it didn’t feel like something any of the girls would keep around.

So, why didn’t it made you feel giddy that Henry had given you his jacket?

You kept on running through the hallways and catched the bus that was usually there for students who had extracurricular classes, unlucky people who had to stay in school late in Fridays. You never had, using Fridays to be a bit lazy or to start homework sooner just to hand it in earlier than Seungmin.

Oh.

Friday.

Seungmin.

The library.

You bit your nails, staring through the window.

Would he wait there for long?

What was he going to do once he figured you weren’t going to show up?

Were you… feeling guilty?

No… that… that couldn’t be, you chuckled dryly. Mean decisions against Kim Seungmin didn’t spend too much time on the judgmental side of your brain. You just… teased him back. And he’d take it. And double it. And so on.

So why did this feel too mean?

Could it be because of whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes?

Could the fact that it had been the best thing that had happened in a long while?

Well, fine.

Not just ‘thing’.

A kiss.

And for fuck’s sake, what kiss.

You groaned and grunted, sprinting home as soon as the bus stopped.

Why did it always have to be him?

You entered your room and burst open your closet. The jacket was cool, you thought. And if you were going to see Henry, you could just wear it and hand it back to him in the club.

It was vintage, but its warmth engulfed you as if it had been handmade. Its funky designs and patterns looked cute, and its grey color contrasted well with it. You chose the first dress you saw, a tight black dress with no sleeves that you would’ve discarded as too short if you had more time, but it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve bragged about.

Jacket, dress, high socks, boots, wallet, phone, keys, headphones… yeah. You nodded, checking all of the boxes in your mental list, and started hurriedly walking to the address he had sent.

You hoped you weren’t going to be too late.

[☆★🌷★☆]

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“The number you are trying to call is turned off or out of coverage. Please, leave your message after the—”

You hang up, tired of hearing that mechanic voice over and over again.

You looked around you, and there was nothing that looked like a club. You had tried to enter the building that the address lead to, but it hadn’t got well.

A strange figure opened a small window and gave you a look, almost disgusted. It took you a second to understand that they were wearing a mask, with dark lace and other colours. But just when you were about to speak, the window slammed close.

You blinked, puzzled. Where the fuck was Henry sending you? What kind of club was this?

You had started to roam around the building, trying to call him —and failing misserably, because the damn guy couldn’t pick up the fucking phone for the life of him—, but now you were starting to run out of ideas.

It was past 12pm, your legs shivered with every slight wind that swooshed your way, and there was no one that was going to pick up the phone. Not Henry, that ridiculous imbecile, not Lucas, who always bragged about having his phone in night mode, so nothing would get to him until morning, and not the girls, because Noa had her phone turned off, Atenea was most likely sleeping, Abril and Lara hadn’t picked up either, and your list of close friends who could possibly pick up was… that.

And no one was picking up the fucking phone.

You were about to keep on ranting about how disgustingly bad this was turning out to be, but you heard footsteps coming your way. You looked around, but didn’t find the source. With a frown, you walked to the building again

Placing your hand on one of the windows, who were dark and almost impossible to see through, you could notice that in the dim light from what could be seen outside, Henry was well entertained with a certain kind of company, so much that he couldn’t even pick up your phone.

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the tinted glass. Of course. Yeah. That made total sense. It was Henry, after all. He had always been known to be kind of an asshole anyways. It couldn’t possibly come out as a surprise the fact that he actually was.

You shook your head and mentally mocked him and the blond girl he was kissing.

Henry Li could go to Hell.

Guess there was nothing left to do now. You had dumped Seungmin, and Henry had dumped you. It was an ass move over an ass move. Maybe you kinda deserved it.

But then your thoughts ended in a halt, because you swore you could feel a shadow starting to follow you from a distance.

They were behind you, but not too close, and due to their hoodie it was imposible to distinguish their face.

So you started walking. Turning left. Right. Left again. Right. Just kept on walking. Don’t look behind you. They’d probably just leave. This had to be your imagination, 100%.

But when you took a peak, the silhouette was not only still behind you, slowly walking towards you, but a slight bit closer this time.

You swallowed dry, gulped, even. Your heart tightened in your chest. What kind of joke was this? Your eyes were tearing up. You were tired, and this was mental. Adrenaline rumped through your body, and even if you were already lost, you kept on walking.

You took your phone from your pocket. Think, think, think. Who could you call? Who could pick up at one am? You scrolled down your list of contacts, until for a reason you don’t fully get, your eyes stopped at a certain name.

—> seungmeannie

It couldn’t possibly hurt to try… right?

You sniffed almost silently, and pressed call.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

You started crying a bit louder, unable to hold it back.

“Eh, hi…?”

“S-seungmin!” You sobbed, smiling. It was the first time in your life you had been that happy just from being able to hear his voice, raspy and low.

“W-what?” He stopped talking, and you guessed that it was because he hadn’t figured out who was calling him so late at night. “Do you know what time it is, you fun-sized dingus?” He groaned sleepily at the phone.

You bit your lip and sniffed.

“Wait. Are you… crying?” His tone had changed.

“I-i’m sorry about t-this eve-ening.” You sobbed, failing to hold back the tears, hugging the jacket that was still on your shoulders.

“Are you drunk, little one?” You never thought your shoulders could relax as fast as they had when his soft tone of voice called you that stupid nickname.

“N-no, I… I went to this stupid club, with-“

“With Henry, yeah.” The way he said his name, as if he wanted to put that stupid bitch in a box and send him to the end of the world took you by surprise.

“B-but um, he’s not picking up my phone and I…” you gulped. Taking a peek behind you, you shivered. “I think someone’s following me.”

“Wait, what?” Seungmin had never stood up from bed as fast as he had done that night. “Where are you?” He asked to the phone as he randomly picked a sweater and his glasses, biting his lip as he struggled to put on his shoes.

“I… I don’t know.” You sobbed. “I started walking away so he’d go, but it didn’t work.” You mumbled, sniffing. You felt so stupid.

“Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?” It was the first time in the whole afternoon that you felt like that statement could be true. Because Seungmin was going to help you. “Don’t hang up. Tell me what buildings can you see. Try heading away from small alleys. I’ll find you.”

Seungmin rushed out of his appartment, not before scribbling down what was happening in a post it note and left it on his mother’s bedside table.

“T-there are some restaurants, but they’re all closed.” You started, dubious as how was this going to work. “There’s a road to my left.”

“Can you name any of the restaurants, little one?” Seungmin had a hunch, and he huffed, sprinting to the plaza closest to his appartment.

“I just passed by a Mexican, I think.” You sniffed, Seungmin’s soothing voice working like a charm and calming you down slowly. “In front of me, I think this is a Japanese… it’s called Ginza.”

Seungmin chuckled, feeling relief flooding his body. “Y-yeah, ok! I- god, yes, I know where you are. Keep walking straight ahead. There should be a park, right?” He started running, hiding the fact that he’d have to rush and make the usual fifteen minutes it could take him to arrive where you were and make them five.

He needed to see you and make sure you were safe.

“I… shit, yeah! I can see it!” You went back to crying, a smile planted in your features.

“I’m almost there. You’re doing so well, little one.”

You felt your cheeks getting warmer at that. Walking a bit faster, you looked behind you, finding that the silhouette was still there.

But Seungmin was close. Seungmin said everything would be fine.

“S-seungmin?” You mumbled at the phone, wanting to hear his voice, so soothing and warm.

“Under the streetlight, silly.”

You heard the beep that sounded when Seungmin ended the call, but he was there, tangible, a couple of meters away from you.

You chuckled, happy to see him for the first time ever, and crying away the pent up stress and worry, you ran off to him, and clung your arms around his neck tightly, unbothered at the need to stand on the tips of your toes to do so.

Seungmin stuttered, still panting from the marathon he had ran to get there, 100% baffled at this. But it was ok. You were there. You were safe.

“T-they’re still behind me.” You whispered against his chest.

He could feel your nervousness on your tone, how scared you were judging by how strongly your arms closed behind his neck, and hesitated for a second before hugging you back, his arms pulling you closer by your lower back, keeping you grounded and so weirdly safe in his grasp, and it felt so strangely comforting coming from him that your eyes swelled with more tears.

You couldn’t see or feel the person behind you anymore, but Seungmin did, somewhat clearly.

The only thing that his mind made up that moment is that for the person to leave, they’d have to believe you two did know each other.

And Seungmin’s heart beated loudly in his chest when your grasp loosened and you stood back on your feet, allowing him to see how your lip trembled, how you were holding back tears and how you looked at him with a million emotions hidden in the colour of your eyes. He had never seen you cry before.

His hands itched to touch you again, a sudden need to comfort you that overwhelmed him.

So he did.

His hands cradled your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears, and he pecked your lips softly, smiling at your baffled face. His arms engulfed you in a comforting hug that smelled so much like the jacket you were wearing.

He looked behind you, and the silhouette was nowhere to be found. As if it had never been there before.

“It’s ok.” Seungmin whispered in your ear. “I’m here now. You’re safe. They’re gone, yeah?” His arms rested on your shoulders as his slender hands stroked your hair. “No one’s gonna hurt you now, pretty.”

And you started to cry on his shoulder, because not only then you realized how bad you had needed a hug, and not even the fact that it had been a hug from him that you had secretly yearned for, but because none of your excuses made sense now.

There was no ‘fake’ or ‘real’ Seungmin.

Whatever he was, fake or not, stood in front of you as he hugged you under the streetlight.

And you sighed as he cooed at you softly, because deep down you had known for a while.

It was time you came to terms with it.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

~Kats, who, believe it or not, took the text argument in the beginning from an old school groupchat (yes i was the target akbdksbdks idk why lol, but no, i did not have an enemies2lovers :( lmao)

HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINES DAY!

TAGGING! (oh wow) @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick @deadcrow-donteat @obyyyy @euphoric-univers @aslou @19marka @daisyjihannie @im-loco66 @coolbabydumplings @amarecerasus @sharonxdevi @han-to-my-minho @abbiespooks @moon0fthenight @koala-wonderland @hecrtful @hheesungsung @vampcharxter @kpopandblunts @daisy-dont-play @skz-lover21 @skyl1nninie @lunathewonyoungstan @5starlee @pchyyhoe @4ln-stay8 @michelle4eve (bolded and/or purple means it won’t let me tag you, pookies! please check your blog’s privacy settings <3)

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anxiousnerdwritings · 8 months ago

Note

Bellatrix Lestrange having a daughter around Tonks/Charlie’s age who is like a younger, more unhinged but still somewhat replicated version of her this is very, very inspired by Jenifer Check, I love her sm so when you think of Lestrange!Daught it’s pretty much Chrck lmao which she thought she’d absolutely love except her kid won’t do anything she asks for her and absolutely will not serve the Dark Lord cause she worships the ground the Reader walks on, whatever they want and whenever they want it, she’ll do anything for them

Narcissa can’t help cause she doesn’t have a daughter for plots sake we’ll say Cygnus raised her alone meaning the kid had mad freedom, old man just wanted to chill after losing 2 of 3 daughters over politics so Bellatrix goes to Andromeda

and for a solid five minutes all Andromeda can do is laugh because her older sister is coming to her for vague parenting advise

inevitably Andromeda connects the dots and then starts laughing again pointing out the hilarious parallel about Bellatrix being obsessed with Voldemort and now her daughter being obsessed with her own morally questionable criminal or better yet the Reader isn’t a criminal but gets up to sketchy shit sometimes and doesn’t understand why this pretty, violent girl is following them around but goes with it anyways

worst part is that after Rodolphus and Rabastan died which I assume they did in Azkaban then Lestrange!Daughter would’ve inherited the vault, cutting off the death eaters funding and access to the Hufflepuff’s Cup hidden inside, because she’s not gonna betray her darling for some nose-less fuck

Are we talking like an OC?? Cause I actually really love that idea. Especially, regarding Harry’s twin!Reader or something like that, just the parallels between the two only Belatrix’s daughter is on the literal complete opposite side. But in the circumstances it would be Harry and twin!Reader with this older girl staliking following them around, especially outside of Hogwarts. Like, she just hangs out outside of 4 Privet Drive just watching, even breaking in and just wanting to be close to the Reader. You can bet Bellatrix’s daughter would give the Dursley’s a piece of her mind. Or maybe even just take Harry and the Reader to live with her.

I just imagine the Reader waking up in a completely new place all by themself with this older girl hovering over them. And the Reader being kind of okay with it since they’re away from the Dursley’s but they ask their captor/“savior” to go back and get their brother too.

The Lestrange house/manor/estate would probably become the new Order of the Phoenix headqaurters, mainly because Bellatrix’s daughter won’t part with the Reader so they can’t go with Harry to live with Sirius so Sirius moves in to keep an eye on everything. And his reaction to his batshit crazy cousin’s batshit child being obsessed with one of his godchildren would really be something. Like, FUCK NO!?!?!

Like, I could imagine Bellatrix’s daughter having been obsessed with the Potter twins since it came out that they were able to survive and best Voldemort even when being just mere babes. And just her like revolving her world around getting to meet them or something. Maybe when Bellatrix’s daughter was younger but still older than Harry and the Reader she ended up wandering to 4 Privet Drive or having her house elf take her to meet them or something and she did, even if it was for a few minutes.

When it comes to the idea of Bellatrix’s daughter being obsessed with a criminal or a bad witch/wizard, I could just imagine Potter!Twin!Reader having nicked something small or lied about something insignificant and from then on Bellatrix’s daughter was like “That’s the one for me”.

Also, just the idea of Bellatrix’s daughter having stalked Harry and his Twin!Reader for most of their life. Like, I could see them getting Cygnus or their house elf to take them to 4 Privet Drive and she would just watch the whole place like a hawk. Never taking her eyes off of it and getting excited at the smallest bit of movement or liveliness at the home. Or even having the house elf sneak her into Harry and the Reader’s school to pass herself off as one of the students and getting to befriend the Reader even just for a brief time. But afterwards, Bellatrix’s daughter would use that as her excuse to interact with the Dursley’s. She’d happily knock on their door asking the Reader to play with her, that she was their friend from school as to not draw any suspicion. Hell, Bellatrix’s daughter would go as far as getting one of the houses on Privet Drive just to stay close and ending up living there the rest of the time the twins are across the street/down the road.

#anxious answers #yandere oc #yandere harry potter oc #yandere lestrange!daughter!oc #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

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blueberry0409 · 24 days ago

Note

educate me on dragonrose (please)

YES SPREADING THE GOSPEL

Ok everything is on my blog <3

basics

canon info we know that Felix was Evan’s younger brother and he went to go work with dragons in Romania and bill weaskey called him to the pub and he was good in school and obsessed with dragons

Fanon

he is bsfs with Charlie and tonks known as the creature feature they wreaked havoc

He was much younger than the twins so he was the ultimate annoying sibling when he was little and the twins were at hogwarts

he loved barty and reg and would follow the skittles around when they came over

he was raised with his grandma who did not let him go to hogwarts for a few years until she died and the estranged panda took him in ( this is to solve for the age gap )

Evan died his first year and Felix broke down and Charlie and to tonks helped him trust again

also

Charlie and Fellix and Tonks were the ones that came and rescued Norbert Charlie recruited Felix for the dragon emeergancy and he ofc went along with his equally crazy bf. They rode their dragons to Tonks who went with them IMMEDIATLY and before they went to pick up Norbert they went to Hagrid where Felix and Charlie yapped to him about dragons while Tonks played with a odd lil creature.

Felix had a breakdown in the field after pandoras death (during winter break in fifth year ) between the Weasley and Lovegood home while holding Luna Ms. Weasley saw him and brought him inside for hot cocoa and a blanket and told him stories about pandora a few days later she gave him a matching blue Weasley sweater with luna. it had a matching dragon with charlie :)

it starts the tradition of Felix and Charlie’s matching sweaters

the Weasley first impression of Felix was a slytherin boy shouting with their brother about dragons

AND

@guess1mjustheren0w did a amazing fix name Analysis

AND MY BLOG UNDER FELIX ROSIER TAGGG

#felix rosier #felix x charlie #the creature feature #Dragonrose

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

Text

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins X Reader]

Part 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

This one hit me in the feels 🥀

You'd never ran through the school corridors in such a hurry in your life, not even when you, George and Fred had repeatedly evaded Filch after late night trips to the kitchens and after nighttime pranks. But in stark contrast to those previous times, you felt no excitement or elation, only pure dread and adrenaline.

As you ran out into the main atrium you could see the full extent of the devastation, broken walls with debris everywhere, injured students still fighting and even worse, bodies littering the floor. You tried not to look, the pit in your stomach only increasing as you hoped with all your might that your boyfriends bodies or loved ones were not amongst the deceased. Deatheaters were everywhere, flying and appearing out of thin air in their puff of black smoke.

You ran out of the main doors and Harry immediately blocked you all, shielding you and pushing you back around the corner as a deatheater awaits just around the corner prepared to smite anyone who exited. Harry casts a stunning spell and the sole deatheater flies back and knocks into a wall. The courtyard is pure chaos, giants roaming the stone floor and knocking down opponents with their weapons, people on brooms attacking from above, deatheaters taking on students as more brickwork and stone fell from above, the fixtures destroyed by misfired curses and spells. You ran for cover inside the giant bell as the giant spotted the four of you, his weapon creating a resounding clang on the metal bell which rendered you dead for a moment, ears ringing with the noise. You ran out and immediately faced a swarm of acromantula's which caused a frightened, unintelligible noise to fall from your lips and had you turning quickly in the opposite direction, back towards the giant as you bolted between his legs, narrowly avoiding the sythe-like weapon he was sporting.

You ran towards the external corridor and rounded the corner only to find it deserted except for one heinous animal and it's poor, familiar victim. Fenrir Greyback.

He looks up the moment you freeze near him, his mouth covered in blood that was dripping from the neck of Lavender Brown who lay on the floor unmoving and pale, her eyes fixed into the distance.

"Hello again beautiful," he drawls, looking up towards you and before you can even think of a reply, Hermione blasts him through the corridor walls, sickened and haunted by his presence. You cast a look to Lavender wishing you had the time to lay a sheet over her at least but you don't have time, not at all.

You find your way to the main bridge and stop, each of you looking ahead with petrified glances. The sea of dementors hovering towards you was a frightening sight but you no longer felt fear, the urge to get to the boathouse too strong and so you pulled all the power you could from inside you.

You pull out the Lebetum that has begun vibrating once again in your pocket. The doe is immediately looking at you and you instinctively know what to do, somehow.

You quickly think of the happiest memory you could, needing it to be strong. You think of the first night you'd moved in to the flat above the shop with the twins, all of you able to spend the whole night together after being separated for a few weeks. That night you all slept in the extra large custom made bed, cuddled together and wrapped in a mess of limbs, snuggled between both of your boyfriends as the soothing rain poured down outside, rhythmically tapping the window.

"Expecto Dominum Meum," you said clearly, reading the words that had appeared on the black device as the doe burst free from the device. You took a breath and pulled out your wand,

"Expecto Patronum!"

Your weasel patronus burdtnout from the top of your wand and met with the doe mid-air. The two danced around eachother as if reunited before clearing away every one of the dementors in a magnificent rush. When another wave of dementors hits, you see another blue light from behind you, a large goat that transforms into a shield of light, casting away all the other dementors. You turn in shock and see Aberforth holding out his wand and aiming right for the sea of approaching dementors. You hardly have time to see the others around him as you turn back to look at your patronus in the distance, still encircling the doe which is a metre away from you now, urging you forward.

You run down the countless stone steps towards the boathouse with an urgency you had never felt, knowing that Severus was in trouble. You also knew the snake was there, which was not an optimal position to be in. The closer you got to the snake, you could feel it, your blood seeming to get colder as your limbs felt loose and numb, almost like something was crawling on you. You're one with the snake, beginning to feel and hear everything that she can, and you realise quickly that she is far from alone with Snape in the damp, rundown boathouse.

"He's there, you-know-who, he's there with them," you gasp out, trying to fight off the connection you felt to the snake whilst trying to catch your breath.

"The invisibility cloak, Harry!" Hermione says as you all come to a stop at the very last step leading to the small dock. Harry pulls out the invisibility cloak and drapes it around you all as you walk in perfect synchronisation, quietly and a little apprehensively towards the outbilding, keeping to the shadows to add an extra layer of protection. You approach a streaky, dirty pane of glass and position yourself down onto the ground, watching as the patronuses disappear into the water, leaving you in near complete darkness, only the moonlight and swinging, backlit torches illuminating the building.

In the mercurial light, you can make out two prominent figures, one that is wholly familiar and the other is a nightmare you'd only created in your sleep, never having been so close to the dark Lord himself. You don't see the snake, but you can sense it's presence nearby.

"You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand, my Lord. In the last few hours alone," you hear Snape's distinctive deep tone and languid delivery, making an emotion build within you that you couldn't place.

"No! I am extraordinary, but the wand resists me," Voldemort says, moving closer to Snape who stands resolute. His voice is breathy and cold, reminiscent of slithering as you realise how very snake like he sounds.

"There is no wand more powerful. Ollivander himself said it. Tonight, when the boy comes to you, it will not fail you, I am sure. It answers to you and you only," you sense a very brief hesitation to his words and just as you listen in, you feel it. The snake appears, circling around the feet of both men within the boathouse, slipping along the wet and rough floorboards inside the boathouse, their very presence the epitome of threat.

"Does it?" You don't miss the slightly goading tone to Voldemort's words, denoting that he doesn't quite believe Severus' words.

"My Lord?"

"The wand. Does it truly answer to me?" You watch as the dark wizard begins to circle your potions master, tension building within you. You watch Snape's demeanour, his face, calm and composed but then you notice the hand concealed behind his back, twitching and squeezed white with tension.

"You're a clever man, Severus. Surely you must know. Where, Severus? Where does its loyalty lie?"

You feel the snake inching closer, like it's crawling through your body and you're able to see multiple perspectives when you close your eyes. You can see the bottom of the dark, frayed robes of Severus, his black leather shoes that have not been polished in some time and for a moment you have to hold on a gasp as you feel Severus look at you. You realise moments later that he was looking at the snake, eyeing it with caution and is encircles him and his master in a threatening display. Snape then turns back to Voldemort to see him staring in wait.

"With you, of course, my Lord."

Voldemort simply stares at Severus with an expression you cannot see due to his new position. He finally speaks, "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master." There's a foreboding pause that seems to increase the tension, as if Voldemort was pausing for effect. Your gaze flicks to Harry briefly who watches on intently, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he's considering the words, reliving that night.

"The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. Ollivander was quite explicit about that. You killed Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine. You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus."

There's another pause and you begin panting, realising much too late what is going to happen before your very eyes.

"But only I can live forever..."

Voldemort's words are eerily calm and collected, his cold and uncaring nature showing through as he sweeps his arm away, flicking his wrist. You can't look anymore and turn away, trying desperately to think of any way you could stop this.

"My lord?" Snape's voice says questioningly and you can't help but shed tears.

Suddenly, there's a giant thud on the window pain and your immediately know that it's the body of your mentor, dying right before your eyes.

"Nagini, kill."

You immediately begin scrambling to exit the cloak, trying desperately to reach Severus in time regardless of the consequences of your actions but Ron reaches for you and holds you down with a bruising force, stopping you from going after him. Harry joins in and holds you back with Ron, realising that he wouldn't be able to hold you alone, the adrenaline and grief running through your body too much to bare.

You fight against Ron and Harry with all your strength, trying desperately to pull away to help him, but you're immediately consumed by the cold and blood curdling sensation of being the snake, your eyes blurring with tears that fall from your eyes without hesitation. You're in the body of the snake, trapped and forced to watch and feel it's every moment as it launches itself at your beloved friend. Three consecutive thuds ring out into the air as the snake attacks. You feel everything, the blood-lust and vengeance like hunger of the snake, the willingness to obey Voldemort's orders and the satisfaction of carrying out such duties under his command.

In stark contrast, you feel sick to your stomach as you are forced to endure this agony, feeling Severus' ripped flesh beneath your fangs, the slam of your hull against his own, much weaker body, the slide as you entangle your strong limb around him, constricting with a strength you'd never known.

Your shoulder burns though you cannot feel your own pain, too concerned by the pain you are indirectly inflicting.

Then suddenly, it all stops. The snake withdraws and disappears from sight, leaving you as yourself, shaken and broken, to deal with what you have lost.

You rush forward, fleeing from under the cloak like a golden snitch whizzing off in the distance. Your feet carry you forward as you stumble through the glass planed door, sickened by the blood spatter across the glass that you pass. You anticipated seeing Severus' cold, dead body pressed against the fractured and blood splattered window but you instead found him barely alive and breathing raggedly, his throat slit and oozing crimson blood.

You fall to your knees in front of him, your vision blurred by the tears that continue to spill without care. Immediately you reach out to put pressure onto the wound in his neck, watching as his head turns slightly towards you, his eyes extending just a little. His mouth opens and a single tear leaks out from his eye making a soundless sob erupt from your chest. His mouth continues to try and speak but you shake your head no, trying to get him to reserve his energy. You feel his blood seeping onto your clothes, onto your skin but your numb to the sensation, too overcome with emotion to consider anything else.

"You're... here," he says weakly, voice raspy and broken.

"I'm here," you say, trying to fight through the sobs that erupt from your chest, trying to stay strong for him. You turn your head to the trio, shouting for your bag, trying to fight through the mess of your thoughts to think of anything that would help him.

"What do you need?" Hermione asks delicately, rushing over with your small bag, her wand ready to summon anything you needed from within the extension charmed bag.

"I, um I " you stutter, mind blank. His throat was slit using a spell you didn't know how to counter and he was covered in marks from Nagini's attack, the venom no doubt already coursing through his veins, similar to how it had in you. Panic begins to rise in you as you try to think of anything remotely useful but everyone of your senses in blocked by the fight or flight reaction your body had entered.

You freeze when you feel a cold hand on top of your own, the one putting pressure onto his wound trying to slow the bleeding. You see the black sleeve of your mentor attached to the blood covered hand and immediately look up into his eyes. He simply shakes his head as much as he can, knowing just as you do that there's nothing you can do for him. You push down the rising sobs once again as you realise exactly what he's trying to tell you.

"I'm so sorry," you cry, feeling powerless and ashamed that you can't help him. You apologise for everything, for your anger at him all those months ago, for pulling away, for not fighting for him. "Severus."

You watch as a tear wells in his eye and runs down his cheek, followed by another that looks misty and niveous. You recognise at once the change in his tears and watch as he struggles to lift his hand, gesturing to the memories falling down his face.

"A vial, a flask anything," you say quickly, turning your head towards Hermione who summons one instantly from your bag.

"Always prepared," you say as you grab the vial from her hands and bring it towards his face, capturing the silken tear. His eyes flicker to Harry and he immediately joins you, crouching beside the Professor as he looks into his eyes, wordlessly telling him with a gesture that he needs to see whatever memory he has given. You grab a second vial from Hermione and begin receiving the second set, his eyes never leaving Harry as he ensures that his message is conveyed: these ones were for Harry.

"Take them to the pensieve," his voice says quietly, sounding weak and breathless. You look at Harry, examining the vial in his hand, both of you momentarily watching as the memories swirl around the glass.

"Look at me," you hear Severus say. You don't look, allowing him and Harry to have a moment, knowing there is so much unsaid between the pair. Only when you feel a gentle hand on yours once again do you look up, seeing that Severus had meant you.

"My last look," he says, struggling to talk even more now as you hear his breathing change, faster but more uneven as his chest rattles with a foreboding rumble. You reach for his hand, slipping yours into his much larger, calloused hand and squeeze gently, trying to comfort him in any way you can.

"Forgive... me."

You watch in horror as he sucks in one final breath and sighs, his eyes fading under your gaze as he slips away from you. You sit there in shock, frozen in position as a moment passes where you wait for him to return to you, for his body to do something but it doesn't, he'd gone.

An unearthly noise falls from your lips as you watch his body sink lifeless and defeated, all trace of life slipping away. Violent sobs erupt in your throat and you're entirely powerless to stop them as your body convulses with the effort, your hand still holding onto his tightly as if you couldn't let him go.

"Severus," you cry, head falling on your shoulders as rapid tears swarm your vision, no longer able to hold back any of the emotions you felt.

You sit beside him for what seems like both hours and mere seconds at the same time, pulling your hand away from his reluctantly.

"Help me move him please," you beg the others, Snape's slumped, twisted form seeming like a disgrace to his body. The four of you manage to turn him and lay him down on his back and Harry closes his eyes with his finger, allowing him to rest. The Lebetum in your pocket begins to violently shake and you pull it out quickly, watching in amazement as only a moment later the doe bursts out without any prompt and dances around for one last time before fading in front of your eyes. The last remnant of his soul vanishing.

You take a deep breath as you stand, looking down at the body of your friend and mentor, feeling an overwhelming sense of personal loss. You can feel the blood drying on your skin and it takes you back to the night when George lost his ear, your clothes and skin covered in your loved ones blood.

Just as you look away up to the moon, you feel a cold sensation swirling just under your skin, growing and rising in you just as it had before. You move and extend your neck, as if trying to fight off the uncomfortable sensation but it only increases, slowly turning sinister as the ice cold burning begins. You look at Harry in alarm and notice that he too looks to be in severe discomfort, his eyes squinting and his face contorted into a wince, meaning that his scar was throbbing.

The pain erupts in your shoulder like a wildfire whizzbang had been set off under your skin and you immediately fall to your knees as the pain consumes you. Harry stumbles into the glass panelled wall and you wrestle through the pain to keep your vision clear, noticing the change in the sky immediately. Storm clouds had gathered, engulfing the school and the horizon as sharp and violent winds begin to whip around the building of the boathouse, the joists creaking under the pressure.

As soon as the snake like voice enters your head, the pain begins anew though relents to a simmering burn in your shoulder up to the base of your neck.

"You have fought valiantly... but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

The pain subsides and you clamber your to your feet, moving in step with the others who walk out of the boathouse to look at the sky and the burning, broken castle before you. You turn and look around at Ron and Hermione's faces both contorted with discomfort as Voldemort speaks again.

"Harry Potter, I speak now directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

The pain and anguish fades from you almost instantly, the clouds returning to normal as he calls off his communication. You take a steadying breath and roll your shoulder, unclenching your hands that you hadn't realises had been held so tightly.

Nothing is spoken between the four of you as Voldemort's demands play over and over again in your mind. You look at Severus one last time, knowing that you'd have to leave him there, the thought sickening you. You walk back over to his body and see him looking peaceful now, his already pale face only turning paler with time. You vow in your mind to lay him to rest as soon as you can, knowing that there would be no time now to do so. You pull out your wand and cast a shielding charm over his body, a veil of secrecy that would prevent anyone from discovering him or harming his body if he was found.

With one last look, you turn back to the trio who wait patiently for you by the dock before you all begin to make your way back to the castle in complete silence.

The courtyard was entirely deserted, a stark contrast to the ongoing battle you had navigated on your way to the boathouse. There were no giants, no acromantulas, no deatheaters and no students. Smoke poured from every open space in the castle, most of the internal flames now extinguished and only making the castle look even more battered. Blood and broken wands littered the flagstone, rubble and debris covering all the other areas with some parts still roaring with fire, though it seemed contained.

There's a haunting sense of foreboding of the scene before you and you walk up to the doors with a sick feeling in your stomach, immediately concerned by the lack of people around. In another move that only increases your angst and anxiety, Ron places his hands on the large enternace doors and simply pushes them open, the exit no longer protected by any of the enchantments and charms.

You walk straight towards the Great Hall with purpose, finding no one in the broken, rubble lined corridors or any sign of life around. Once again, Ron pushes on the door and the triage station comes into view, finally finding the place where everyone was gathered.

You immediately look for the familiar faces of your boyfriends, desperate to catch a glimpse of their flaming locks or towering heights above everyone but you can't see anyone, the sea of faces all blending together to form a mess in your mind. You can still see Severus' body behind your eyes, clouding your vision as you walk through the hall, looking around and trying to focus on what you were seeing.

The house tables had been pushed to the walls and the injured as seated on the stacked benches being treated or waiting for treatment. Every face you see is dirty and not without injury. You stand close to Harry who also takes his time walking through the overwhelming sight, familiar faces finally coming into view as you pass Filch and Slughorn, professors Flitwick and Sprout. You catch a glimpse of Professor Trelawney and Padma, slipping a sheet over the dead body of a girl you didn't recognise.

You turn to your left and freeze, a fresh wave of nausea and grief hitting you like a quaffle to the chest as you look down at the bodies of Remus and Tonks, laid side by side on white stretchers, their eyes closed and faces blank, their hands outstretched to one another but quite meeting. Both of them dead. You hand shoots to your mouth in horror as you look upon the couple, two people you had trusted and respected now gone, together even in death.

A resounding sob from behind you pulls you from your focus and before you could react, you are spun around on the spot and pulled into someone's chest. You know immediately that it's George. His cries shatter your heart even further as you sink into his embrace, gripping him back with a bruising force as your face presses deeper into his chest. Just as George begins to pull away, you are spun around again and are even more forcefully pulled into a second very familiar set of arms. You melt immediately into the arms of your boyfriend, listening as he sniffles and sputters above you, his arms tight around your shoulders as he holds you closely. The tightness hurts your shoulder something fierce but you can hardly focus on it as you desperately cling to Fred, never wanting to let go.

You begin to sob all over again, the pain of losing Severus and now Remus and Tonks, the pain you felt for little Teddy now orphaned and the overwhelming and all consuming relief at being in the arms of your loves just too much for you to handle. You don't pull away, not even as Fred begins to loosen his grip and you blindly reach for George, pulling him back in until the three of you are entwined, exactly as you were always meant to be. You hear one of them gently shushing you, trying to calm your sobs but you can't make out who it is, your mind entirely focused on your unbearable sadness. You try to force yourself to think of the sensations you feel, the smooth material of their jackets and warm bodies, the strength of their arms and the size of their large hands gripping hold of you.

Eventually, your grip on them loosens and they slowly pull away, finally able to see their faces as you pull apart. They look dishevelled and tired, dirty and a little broken but they are alive and as far as you could tell, not injured.

A sob erupts from George as he looks at you and it's then that you realise what they are seeing as you look down at yourself, clothes entirely stained with blood. It's everywhere, from your hands, up your arms and across your chest and that was only as far as you could see on yourself. Fred looks horrified, his eyes flickering over your form immediately surveying you for injuries as his hands run over your arms, trying to find what was wrong.

"Severus," you hiccup out an explanation, fresh tears running down your cheeks as you re-live the moment over again in your mind. Fred wastes no time and pulls you back into his arms, cradling you and stroking your hair. George reaches out and places his hand on your shoulder, his long fingers running across your frayed and ripped top. They might not have always understood your bond with Severus, and definitely did not share in your affections for the man, but they consoled you without question, asking no questions nor requiring any information.

You suddenly pull away, looking around to account for everyone, realising that you hadn't had the chance to check that everyone was there.

"Everyone's here," George says quietly, reassuringly. "Percy took a hit but he'll live." You look around and find Ginny and Ron sat beside Percy who is lay on a stretched to your right, Molly and Arthur near his head. Bill and Fleur are stood a little further back and almost as if he can sense it, he turns to look at you the moment your eyes flicker over to him.

You see him whisper something to Fleur and pull away, making his was over to you.

There's a second's pause as he approaches, his brothers moving aside with questioning looks as he hesitates only briefly, looking at your blood soaked clothes and weary form before he closed the gap between you and pulls you into a strong embrace. His arms reach around you but are careful to avoid your anguished shoulder as he gives you a strong hug, the epitome of eldest brotherly kindness. He pulls back after a moment and smiles at you, chasing the look in your eyes.

"Hi tough girl," he says quietly, taking a step back and allowing Fred and George to move in closer to you again, each of them reaching out to touch you in some capacity. "Had me worried."

"I'm tough," you shrug, a brief but honest smirk tugging at your lips as you mirror his words, seeing a smile bloom across his face at your little confident joke.

Molly approaches you next, followed by Arthur who both look exhausted but thankful that their children are okay. You ask about Percy and Molly assured you that he'll be awake soon, having been saved by Fred at the last moment from the explosion. You turn to Fred who for once doesn't look smug nor self-satisfied at the praise but instead looks relieved that he was able to save his brother. You immediately each for his hand and entwine it with yours, silently communicating how proud you were of him, followed by George who your other hand reaches for, linking you all together again.

You look around a few moments later as you all gather around Percy who begins to rouse and you realise that Harry had disappeared. You remember the vial in your pocket then and it suddenly feels like it's burning a whole in your jeans, curiosity plaguing you. You force yourself to ignore it, to allow yourself peace just for now, to be surrounded by the people you love and who love you.

You find yourself unable to sit still, unable to merely sit whilst people need help all around you and so you offer assistance to Madame Pomfrey, still keeping a short distance between you and your boyfriends so that you would all feel better being in sight of each other.

Hours pass and the able bodied begin clearing the rubble from the halls, assisting with clearing up the devastation caused by the earlier attack. You feel weary and tired physically but mentally you feel like you could levitate the entire castle with your mind. The adrenaline you felt earlier has gone and had been replaced by pure determination to end this, to prevent anyone else from dying.

The first signs of dawn's light stream through the shattered and haphazardly fixed windows and you ponder for a moment about where Harry is. Hermione and Ron had gone to find him a while ago but you didn't feel the need to go with them this time, knowing that they needed each other, the original three.

You'd just finished healing a burn like wound on Cormac Mclaggen's arm, moving away to gather some supplies for your next patient when an overwhelming pain consumed you once again. The hit was unlike any other this time and your vision immediately turned blurry and distorted, making you lose your balance and knock the metal gauze dish from the side of the table, the resounding clang of the metal hitting the stone floor ringing out around the room.

Bill was beside you in mere seconds, followed closely by his twin brothers who were immediately trying to help you, asking what was wrong in panicked voices.

"Help her sit," Bill instructs the boys and you can vaguely see three figures with fire red hair of various lengths before you, helping you stabilise yourself as the pain radiates through your shoulder before fading away once again.

"What is happening? Sweetheart you have to tell us what it is," Fred says quickly, at least you think it's Fred.

"Angel please you're scaring me," George, you think.

You feel a coldness pass over your shoulder, like a wave pulling along the sand lazily, the pain subsiding as the area goes numb, though not entirely. You open your eyes and see Bill covertly pocketing his wand again and you smile thankfully at him, especially for his discreet spell casting.

"Just dizzy," you lie, squeezing your eyes shut again before opening them, now seeing Hermione looking at you with concern, having returned during your episode. The pain never returns nor do you have another episode and you return to work eventually, ignoring the protests from your boyfriends who wish for you to rest.

Hermione and Ron manage to pull you away from your duties a while later and conceal you from the watchful eyes of your boyfriends to have a private word with you in the corridor.

"We need to kill the snake," Ron says, "it's the last one like you said, after that it's just him. Harry's given himself up."

You nodded gently, eyes fogging with tears at the thought.

"Only, your connection to the snake, what if that doesn't work?" He adds, sounding hesitant to mention the second part of his thoughts.

"You think I'm a Horcrux?" You ask quietly, the words alone making you shiver.

"No, Voldemort wouldn't have known about that, but there's something more to it isn't there? The connection needs to be broken, whatever happened that night, the snake wether they meant to or not left a piece of itself in you," Hermione says, sounding a little less cautious than Ron.

"Perhaps you need to look inside the snake, hear their thoughts, maybe it's trying to tell you something."

You catch a glimpse of the red headed family through the doors, smiling tiredly at each other as they huddle around the now responsive Percy. A wave of sadness washes over you as you realise that whatever this thing was with the snake, might have cursed you to a life without them, or worse, the end of your life.

You look back to Ron and Hermione, seeing their expressive faces and solemnly nod, once again knowing what needed to be done.