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devil-doll13 · 1 year

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Wax & Wane

(Part 4)

Tw: References to past injuries/scars, kinda angsty, Abigail is thinking about murder but Ellie calms her down basically lol, also Abby is very awkward, Blood, Swearing, I think that’s it?

Ellie belongs to @rottent33th! Also thanks to her for ideas <3

Percy who is mentioned here belongs to @the-pinstriped-hood, and I also mention Ava who belongs to @slaasherslut!

To be honest I was bumbling about for most of this but I think the newfound friendship between Ellie and Abigail is really sweet. Anyway, enjoy, sorry it took so long!

Summary: Abigail is left to clean herself up after the two Sinclair brothers had attacked her, and receives an unexpected visitor who changes her mind on returning the favour.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Dividers by firefly-graphics

Hot, steaming water cascaded over her injured body and stung her freshly-stitched wounds, scorching her skin as she painfully winced in response. Ugly purple welts and thinner, more methodical slits that were permanently carved into her flesh seemed to have become angrily inflamed under the boiling spray. Her cracked ribs - the less visible of her impairments - were achingly sore and left her wheezing for every gasp of air. All in all, she was left hurt and dazed after her scuffle with the two Sinclair brothers. Wringing a hand through her stringy locks, Abigail watched glumly as rusty reddish-brown residue dribbled down her cut calves and feet where it disappeared into the steel drain.

The woman that had argued for her release - Whose name she’d garnered was Percy, short for Persephone Jones, the best-selling fucking author - had very subtly and politely hinted that she needed to clean herself, and she found herself in full agreement. Had it not been for the fact that she’d just walked right into a ghost town, fixing her hygiene would’ve been a high priority; except for the fact that evading mortal peril was.

Abigail wrenched the knob back and the steady stream of hot water ceased. She huffed and pulled the faded floral-patterned shower curtain open to step dripping onto a scratchy, worn out towel, then wound another tightly in her wet hair. The first thought of rendering herself naked and vulnerable in such hostile territory had not been an appealing one, but she admitted with some relief that her newfound cleanliness was worth it. No longer did the odorous sweat, filth and grime irritate her; replaced instead by the pleasant scent of rose-scented shampoo she’d sneakily nicked off the bathroom shelf.

After she’d groggily redressed in the furtive, shuttered shade of the house’s old bedroom - for she still did not dare to fall asleep in these conditions - Abigail padded quietly down the scratchily carpeted stairs and into the ancient yellowed kitchen. She pulled open a nearby cupboard, liberating a choice mug and teaspoon from the lower drawer. Then, she switched on the old kettle and sat down on a rickety wooden chair, rather smug. See, the other thing she’d pinched on the sly was a coffee container, which she thought might serve to keep her upright and conscious for the time being. It was here she allowed her nerves to relent slightly, lazily slumping back in her chosen seat and ignoring the pinch in her side as she did so. She pondered for a moment, closely observing the peeling wallpaper and behind it; the gradual buildup of mould festering there. Still, she had roomed in significantly filthier and sleazier boarding houses and motels. How sad was it that this place was actually rather inviting in comparison?

This once empty, abandoned home - which despite sitting dusty and neglected, mysteriously still had working electricity and plumbing - Percy had offered to Abigail as a sort of consolation gift. She narrowed her eyes sharply in thought. It seemed to her a strange act of charity, considering how dangerously close she was to holding the bespectacled writer hostage and using her as a bullet sponge; against her own devil of a lover no less.

…Which was exactly why she suspected she had ulterior motives. She knew this was a kind of soft imprisonment; Abigail was under house arrest until further notice deemed her fit to leave again. Or perhaps she would never leave at all; perhaps they all wanted her dull and drowsy so the moment she let her guard down, Bo would finish the job. A cold, spiteful resentment churning in her gut urged her to take advantage of this lull in their little murder operation to set up a counterattack of her own. It would be remiss to not acknowledge she was as prolific a killer as the Sinclairs were, after all, and they had severely injured a witch’s pride.

Abigail scowled. She would absolutely love to cruelly slaughter them all once she recovered in false docility; that seemed only fair and proper after that leering mechanic Bo had forced her into such an awkward arrangement… But despite her raw indignation at the fact, she had no way to get ahold of her invaluable grimoire, seeing as he so jealously guarded her car. Evidently he hoped to keep her within arms’ reach should his beloved decide she was no longer off limits for him to kill.

("Go’on, git’, before I try an' make Percy change her mind..." A sharp warning flashed in his icy blue eyes, though he carelessly snorted)

But more than that, it truly horrified her that she still couldn’t help but feel comforted by Percy’s gentle care and maternal aura. She radiated a sort of familial affection that Abigail had long wished for but never been truly allowed. That, and the fact that, despite Abigail’s behaviour, she had still been offered nothing but kindness from Percy. This elicited within her something akin to guilt; a foreign sensation that felt hard and rotten in her heart. Guilt, perhaps, that she had acted hastily against an unknown, that just moments ago she’d had thoughts of murdering her. It would normally be so easy to wash her blood off her hands and move on, but this time things were… different. It would actually be more terrifying if Percy was being genuine, that would mean she could cut right through her protective shell. She wasn’t ready to become that helpless and vulnerable again, but it was such a tempting warmth that Percy offered…

Abigail shook her head to dispel the notion. She’d sworn off emotional weakness of any sort since her resurrection; yet she still had those stupid yearnings inside of her that she desperately needed to be rid of. That would be the only way she would find peace and acceptance in who she was; what she was.

She’s using manipulation tactics and you’ve fallen right into her trap… You know better than that by now, Abigail, surely?

Better to be distant and detached than have those unrealistic hopes crushed again.

The rattling kettle puffed to a halt, and Abigail stood up wearily to pour heated water into her mug and stir. For a moment she focused solely on the satisfying clink of the teaspoon against ceramic as the aromatic brew began to turn a dark, swarthy brown. It would’ve been perfect if she had a tin of cinnamon on hand, but beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers, now could they?

Abruptly, she picked up the sound of the door being opened in the entrance hallway and bristled like a disturbed feline.

Is it Bo, come to rub salt in the wound? Vincent, so he can stand there silently, waiting for rebellion? Percy, so I’ll have to confront myself far too soon?

Instead the visitor was decidedly more unknown; a young woman who had appeared by the kitchen threshold with a swish of lavender tulle.

“Oh,” she wrinkled her nose delicately. “It’s kind of dusty in here…”

She had a soft, almost cherubic face, heart-shaped lips and uniquely multi-coloured eyes in which Abigail could detect no underlying malice or deceit; though she had instinctively been searching for it. She was certain they had never met before, but at once the woman seemed strangely familiar.

The light of realisation dawned on her then. She looks exactly like the beautiful woman I saw in Vincent’s portrait earlier…

“Hi!” The girl chirped amiably. “You’re the new arrival here, right? I’m Ellie!”

New arrival…?

Ellie beamed at her with a smile bright enough to rival the sun. Abigail almost squinted at this radiance, finding her almost as difficult to look at.

“…Oh.” She faltered for a moment, placing her teaspoon down gently. Abigail wasn’t quite sure how to react to this. Hadn’t she just moments earlier been fighting for her life? Well, perhaps it was just that she’d never had such a jovial welcome before.

Ellie was kind enough to ignore her slow response, and not discouraged in the slightest, extended a slightly paint-stained hand for her to shake.

“I’m…” Abigail eyed the violet-tangerine splotched palm, half expecting it to produce a knife to stab her with. She tried to settle on a reply.

“…The new arrival. Yes.”

“Well, welcome to Ambrose! It’s been so long since we had a proper visitor and all.” Ellie’s hand felt slightly damp, but it was warm and soft and did not cause her pain.

I had a rather funny welcome, Ellie…

Ellie might’ve been only a smidge taller than Abigail, so it was easy for them to see each other eye-to-eye. For a moment she felt an uncomfortable silence begin to kick in as she allowed her hand to be held limply. Her focus fell onto the colourful splashes on Ellie’s wrist, unwillingly.

“Would you like some…?” Abigail gestured vaguely with her teaspoon back at her coffee. No real point hiding it now. She wanted to stop this touching.

Ellie’s expression brightened further, if that was in any way possible.

“Yes please, if that’s alright!”

Well technically I stole it from you, so…

She quickly turned away and took out another mug from the kitchen drawers - as clean as one she could find - and got to work pouring Ellie a cup of coffee as well. But the woman stopped her gently, insisting that she could do it herself, so Abigail backed off.

“I’m sorry about, um…” Ellie scrunched up her face in an apologetic grimace. “How nasty it kind of is in here, but we’ll find you somewhere nicer soon!”

Abigail concealed a small sigh. It wasn’t exactly in her plans to stay in a place where she was wanted dead; she’d been through that enough already.

Does she not know what the situation is…?

“…Most of these houses are abandoned, then?” She decided to investigate a little, evading these clear attempts to soften up her guard.

The girl’s face lit up in memory. “Yes, they are… Have been for decades, really. It’s mostly just a ghost town here now. Except for us, anyway.”

Us, as in you, Percy and the two brothers…

Abigail was mildly surprised at how honest she was being. Certainly she knew this already, but it was in great contrast to Bo, who had lied to her. Perhaps it would be a good idea to interrogate this one.

“Where do you live, then?” She pressed.

“Just in a house by the outskirts of town. It’s best for my gardens, you see. And it’s wonderfully close to the forest too.” She gave her an enthusiastic little smile. “I’ll show it to you! It’s not far from here anyway, it’s basically me and Vinny’s little retreat.”

Vinny… Abigail just about mentally blanked as she recalled the man who’d just come inches away from cutting her throat an hour earlier.

So, those two both keep their lovers here…

She took a tentative sip as she contemplated this. That nasty, twisted part of her urged to take note of this for later, since it would be oh-so-easy to map out the town for her counterattack and use this girl as a bargaining chip, just as she tried to do with Percy. Ellie seemed overly optimistic and trusting, but Abigail was already expecting that point when she would recoil away from her; it was only a matter of time. This hospitality would not last, so she had to take advantage of it.

“Ok. I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said dully.

It was fine. She could simply spare Percy.

“That’s great. Like I said, not too many visitors lately, and I’m the kind of person who thrives on being able to share things, you know?”

Abigail stared rather intently at the brown-haired girl, still trying to dissect her for clues. Strangely enough, Ellie didn’t even seem unnerved by this, as she expected her to be. She smiled back, as if this was a completely normal occurrence for her. Even after she had figured out that she was the girl in the painting, Abigail still felt like there was something persistently familiar about Ellie. It was probably just that she’d known people like this before, but never really had their approval.

A silky black cat trotted in soon after the girl did and immediately made a beeline toward Abigail, winding in between her legs with a friendly purr.

“This is Salem,” the brunette said, beaming down at the kitten. “Well, he seems to like you!”

“Most cats do…” She murmured.

Abigail couldn’t help but feel charmed by this little fellow and reached down to scratch him between the ears. He chirped a sort of happy mewl in response.

I guess I can spare you as well…

“Actually.” She heard Ellie’s voice lower to a furtive, but slightly excited whisper as she stirred her coffee.

“I know there’s something different about you…”

Abigail felt her breath hitch at this. She was more or less waiting for the other pin to drop, but would it happen so fast?

“Different?” She watched the other girl warily.

“Oh!” Ellie exclaimed. It was as if she’d taken herself by surprise. She flushed slightly. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, I just…”

Ellie scooched closer. “I know you did something really, um… Magical. At least, I think Bo was saying something like that.”

Abigail leaned back against the counter, letting Salem rub his dark furry head against her boots. She knew she had reacted a little too fast, but… She eyed Ellie dubiously.

So you know I reanimated your boyfriend’s statue?

“And you believe in magic?” She probed. It came out as more condescending than she intended.

“Yes!” Ellie said eagerly. “I actually know a bit…”

It was then. She’d lifted her hand to rearrange her hair, and Abigail caught it. That spoon was moving on its own. The coffee was stirring itself.

That’s… Actual…

“…Do you normally do spells without realising it?” She couldn’t stop herself.

Abigail now realised that feeling of strange familiarity was because she’d detected the spark in another; but this one had a far gentler power than her own.

Ellie’s brows furrowed before a moment before an expression of surprise replaced it. She looked back down at her steaming mug. “Um… Yes, that does happen sometimes.” She admitted. “I guess you caught me.”

She took the teaspoon out and blew on her coffee. Abigail had little time to think on it before Ellie bursted out into an enthusiastic rant.

“Ok, ok, so I was honestly really excited, because this is the first time we’ve had another witch here in Ambrose, so I got up in the middle of painting…” She displayed her hands. “…Just to see you! You did cast a spell back there, didn’t you?”

“…In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Not a particularly nice one, though…

“See, I knew it. You definitely have a sort of… Aura, so I can tell. I’ve always been good with that.” Ellie pulled out a chair and sat down rather neatly, tucking her dress underneath herself. It was a rather grand gown she was wearing, Abigail realised. Again, she was struck by the feeling that this bright young woman felt out of place in this dingy town.

“I should’ve recognised it in you before, honestly.” Abigail bit her lip as she pulled up her own chair, and Salem hopped into her lap. “But you don’t have a nasty bone in your body, do you? I’ll admit, I haven’t as much experience with light magick spells.” She remarked, peering at Ellie’s rosy face.

Ellie blushed, as if she’d just complimented her.

“I mean, I don’t like the idea of hurting anyone with it… I mostly use it to help my garden along, grow some of the more difficult plants and use it to bake, that sort of thing.” She played with her fingers absentmindedly.

“…That’s amazing. I could never do that.” Abigail admitted, running a hand over Salem’s smooth fur. She genuinely meant it, too, despite herself.

Ellie’s face turned an even darker shade of pink.

“But I’m pretty sure those lightning bolts from earlier were yours, right? I’ve never seen someone conjure an entire storm before. Are you a powerful witch?”

Now it was Abigail’s turn to feel bashful.

“I… I can only do black magick, I’m not at all skilled in other kinds. Not like you.” She looked back to Ellie’s mug. That sort of quiet, peaceful spell was difficult for her, someone only used to harming others. But Ellie could do it effortlessly; without even thinking.

At the same time, she was astounded. This was almost an out of body experience; since when did anyone admire her disease and destruction? How was it that this girl seemed completely unperturbed by the monster sitting across from her?

Ellie reached over to clasp their hands together, and Abigail’s eyes shot open in surprise. To her own astonishment, she didn’t pull away. Salem jumped down from Abigail’s lap with a ‘mrrrp’ sound, padding out into the hallway where he disappeared.

“This is so nice. I’d love to show you everything I’ve collected over the years! I have this pretty crystal ball I’ve been trying to scry with, but I’ve taken well enough to divining tarot readings for everyone. Oh, you have to meet Ava too! Do you like art? I think I get a bit of a magic touch when painting sometimes.” It seemed Ellie was fit to burst, unable to contain her excitement, and she bounced up and down in her chair. For Abigail, it was infectious.

And who is Ava…?

“Yes, actually. What were you… Painting?” A thread of curiosity tugged at her brain and refused to stop. She thought back to her own artwork still imprisoned in her car. She imagined that Ellie’s were far less reflective of that inner wrongness; more uplifting.

“My new crocuses! See, that’s why I used a lot of purple. They really just liven up the flowerbeds, you know?” Ellie’s hands still clung to Abigail’s, still not recoiling in horror and the cold and pallor. “And purple’s kind of one of my favourite colours, so…”

“It’s one of mine, too…” She said softly.

Abigail could feel herself slipping again; in the same way she’d gotten carried away with Percy, even with Bo around. Her will to fight was slowly drained by a combination of fatigue and desperation to feel a smidge of affection. She realised the vibrant paint had rubbed off on herself, splotched on her own drab wrists. Then she realised she didn’t even mind.

I’ll have to spare Ellie, too. Or… Will I attack at all?

“Wait, I just realised. I’ve been so rude, I haven’t asked for your name!” Ellie leaned forward to fix her with an earnest gaze, and Abigail stiffened.

She was starting to doubt herself, which wasn’t good. How could she ever do that, when she alone made decisions regarding her fate? When she swore she would never relinquish that control again? She felt herself spiral as Ellie gave her a sisterly squeeze on her trembling hands. For a moment, Abigail studied Ellie’s features. No repulsion, no fear. A sort of acceptance and kinship she had never felt before.

“But don’t worry, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me yet… Just do it in your own time.” Ellie’s voice was soothing and patient, as if she’d read her thoughts. It made her heart ache. How many times had she wished for this? Was it too good to be true?

Then, she made her decision.

(“Names have… Power. It’s not wise to give them away so freely.” Her own words echoed in her mind)

“Abigail.” She finally spoke, smiling shyly, and squeezed her warm hands back.

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @bluecoolr, @flower-crowned-lady, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

#the way Abigail is such a stray cat #and Ellie is just going ‘pspsps’#I don’t think Abby is someone who is fun to make friends with but Ellie is still trying go for it girl #with Abigail she’s honestly kind of evil but I can’t help but babygirlify her in situations like these #like goes from the cackling witch to a more softer human person #Abigail Williams #Abigail #Eleonora Mason #Ellie #House of Wax #fanfic #my writing #slasher oc #horror oc

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stregoniconiconii · 1 year

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also i don’t think she believes in heat protectant when doing her hair and it makes steve die a little inside.

she thinks it’s a scam to get ppl to but hair products they don’t need and steve is just crying and throwing up like oh my god how did your hair follicles survive without me

#platonic stobin #she is cackling at him like an evil witch

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scoobydoodean · 1 year

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Motherfucker I truly am the funniest bitch alive.

#reading back through this drama cackling like an evil witch #i do apologize however for the deangirl mutuals in law who had to see the Discourse™️ created because of my “evil villainy”

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harrysnotechanges · 2 years

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#will not be posting any videos bc the only one I took was the baby gender reveal #and when he said whether he should pop the balloon with his thighs #I literally cackled like a mad woman #or an evil witch #awful #my cheeks hurt I haven't stop smiling since the first song

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inkskinned · 2 years

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oh, i love the way relationships develop their own personal language of love. when all that joy shows the way they love you. i love when it is a little icon to who they are, to how you get along with them.

my sister takes a picture of a dead bug and sends it to me - this is you. my friend asks me how the move is going; she put a reminder in her phone to check up on me. i put a piece of ice down my friend's back, he returns the favor by holding my phone over my head and making me jump to catch it. jason and i scream-sing green day while going all of 15 miles an hour down country roads. molly is who i go to for a quiet night in with 5 dollar wine.

i go out for dinner with them and have to step outside to take a phone call; when i come back they've ordered my favorite appetizer without needing to be asked. andrew and i have a long-standing tradition of him picking me up to spike me directly into the first soft-looking surface around. i don't even need to speak to my best friend - she and i will just look at each other and have an entire conversation. burst out laughing at 3 PM, high and cackling like we're evil witches. i just moved by myself into a new city - my brother keeps introducing me to his friends that now live close to me. he always says - oh yeah, this is sibling and then pretends to ignore me. for days now, my family has been in and out of my apartment, just tinkering with things; making sure i am settling in nicely.

i usually have watermelon instead of cake for my birthday; kim forces a full yankee candle into the rind so i can have something to blow out and wish on. for 20 minutes on a saturday, all us grown adults crawl into one bed to have a cuddle puddle like we're in high school again. every 20 seconds someone starts giggling, and then we're laughing again. nick calls me from california; we both groan about the price of tickets, agonizing. miranda and i meet up in the city for the first time in years - without discussing it beforehand, the minute we lay eyes on each other, we both strike gruesome little gremlin poses instead of waving. dean always goes for the hug. joe always does a single firm handshake. sometimes i think about my friends and get so happy i just start crying.

oh, how wonderful to live in a world where affection is biologically ingrained in us. how wonderful that affection helps us build our single greatest strength - community. how wonderful that affection is our body's way of saying - thing is good, let's keep. how wonderful, this language, this skein we weave! to show the other person - i might not always say it. but i love that you live in me.

#btw the ''this is sibling'' is legitimately what he says #which is actually very sweet of him bc it's gender affirming #he does not use my name #my family addresses each other as ''sibling'' ''mother'' ''father'' and it is actually kind of cute #in a serial killer way.#idk just very in love with the languages ppl develop which aren't usual #like im a poet #i might write a poem about you #but there's something special about like ''this is my person to be spiked into the ground by''#you know?#btw i live in boston now #please hit me up i want more friends

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episims · 23 days

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Personality-based Witch Idles

I don't play witches by alignments but I haven't found a mod that addresses witch idles in some other way than completely disabling them. And I like idles!

So this mod makes witch idles personality-based instead. It also expands it so that all witches have some idle (if this aspect is unmodded, neutral witches don't do witch-specific idles at all).

Witches with 0-3 nice points do evil idles (plotting & cackling)

Witches with 4-6 nice points do the wand idle (borrowed from the good witch idles)

Witches with 7-10 nice points do good idles (daydreaming & wand)

In addition for TS3 trait users: 0-6 nice points witches with the friendly trait do the daydreaming idle, 4-10 nice points witches with the mean-spirited trait do the plotting idle, and witches with the evil/good trait always do evil/good idles.

Witches who can only do one idle express it slightly less often than those who have two. This mod doesn't affect NPC witch behavior.

Download (SFS) (alternate)

Apartment Life is required. Conflicts with mods that alter witch idles but should be compatible with other witch-related mods (but as always, run HCDU+ to be sure).

#ts2 #ts2cc #sims 2 #s2cc #the sims 2 #the sims 2 download #dl mods

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juniemunie · 1 year

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Read "I Do Not Fear Death" and its so so so good so I drew smth

“Tell me, what is the real reason you’re tagging along with me, anyway?” He asked, getting straight to the point. “Because obviously you would be able to get up to all kinds of epic adventures without the need for any of my help.” He logiced. “Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“Have you ever had someone run from you in fear before you even opened your mouth?” Lobo asked, eyes glancing over to Puss.

“Of course I have!” The hero scoffed. “My mere name strikes fear into evil do-ers from far and wide!” He proclaimed with a thump to his chest.

“Well what if that happened with everyone you ever met?” The oddly somber wolf said, resting his chin on his fist as his gaze slid off to the side once again, seeming distant.

Puss sobered up at that.

“Whenever I approach someone their first instinct is to get away, their eyes filling to the brim with fright before I’ve even spoken, making a break for it the second I draw near.” Lobo explained. “There's usually screaming involved as well.” He added, almost as in afterthought. “It’s always been that way."

-...-...-...-

Bonus reveal for those who havent read the fic:

Yea,,,, its so funny watching Death bullshit his way around rkkfkdkf

And another moment i wanted to draw

Death's lying ranges from cringe to pretty smooth, but then again this is Puss we're talking about-

Theyre both idiots your honor

I love this fic so much it makes me cackle like a witch, please read it when you find the time!

#ok technically hes not completely lying #but hes deceiving puss #puss in boots the last wish #puss in boots #puss in boots wolf #death the wolf #el lobo de la muerte #deathpuss #pussdeath #death in boots #death x puss #puss x death #that last one was definitely him lying though

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drawlfoy · 10 months

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the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.”

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin.

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it.

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable.

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy.

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring.

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it.

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal.

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you.

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands.

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?”

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.”

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer.

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark.

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point?

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys.

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder.

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version.

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market.

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943.

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please.

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal.

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below.

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s.

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train.

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it.

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces.

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had.

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink.

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you.

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin.

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty.

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it.

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you.

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects.

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand.

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects.

Huh.

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either.

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest.

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away.

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?”

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.”

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.”

“Right, right.”

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.”

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise.

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly.

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.”

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all.

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.”

Y/N.

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out.

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added.

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow.

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you.

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions.

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing.

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here.

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though.

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.”

“See? Useful.”

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot.

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away.

Well, goodnight you wrote.

Goodnight

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit.

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy.

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.”

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way.

There you are. I thought I’d bored you.

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight.

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around.

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink.

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts.

Then the lettering appeared again.

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me.

You lived in a muggle orphanage?

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming.

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to.

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth?

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn.

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair.

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class.

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets.

Surely you do.

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this.

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection.

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.”

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then???

Ancient.

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage?

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled.

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out?

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious.

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction.

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought.

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail?

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause.

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly.

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again.

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section.

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake.

Not until now.

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands.

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here.

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more.

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it.

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary.

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead.

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again.

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal.

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again.

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes?

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive.

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend.

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day.

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give.

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke.

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help.

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied.

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world.

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy.

“Lucy?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze.

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.”

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent.

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it.

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.”

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.”

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok.

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling.

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook.

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable.

“Hi.”

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin.

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.”

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered.

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering.

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning.

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.”

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.”

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.”

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away.

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch.

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless.

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.”

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate.

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.”

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron.

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut.

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly.

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?”

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices.

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory.

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness.

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?”

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling.

He didn’t say anything.

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed.

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes.

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air.

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing.

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.”

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening.

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised.

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you.

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm.

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?”

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.”

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders.

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling.

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well.

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine

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blog-name-idk · 2 years

Text

(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker

*Banner by my love @persphonesorchid

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader

Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

Summary: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love.

Word Count: 12,353

Warnings: Smut

AN: This is the penultimate installment of the Autumn Leaves Collab, which is hilariously the reason I even made a Tumblr. We have one cute autumn-themed fic for each of our beloved boys by some seriously fantastic writers, so please go and check them out! Hope you all enjoy :)

~~~~~

(Right) Hook

It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves were a gorgeous blend of crimson and gold, the temperature was brisk but not freezing, and the sun was kissing the horizon, setting the entire sky aflame in a blaze of unadulterated glory.

You couldn't have asked for a better day to be backstabbed by your friends. In fact, you didn't have any friends. Just terrible people who promised you donuts and cider and then turned around and forced you into a haunted corn maze.

Your best friend had laughed herself to tears watching your expression change when you caught sight of the sign and realization dawned upon your stupid, trusting brain.

"You betrayed me!" you screeched. Mijin dug the knife in deeper by cackling like the evil witch she was.

"It's your own fault for not looking up the name of this place beforehand," she snickered, wiping her eyes dramatically. You huffed and crossed your arms, sinking into your seat with no intention of getting out. They could drag your cold dead body from the car if they wanted to go into the maze.

"I'll pay for your donuts."

"... Okay."

~~~~~

"FUUUUUUUUUCK THIS!" you screeched, sprinting away from the terrifying clown that had leapt out at your group. Your friends doubled over laughing as you sped off, eager to put distance between you and the most recent jump scare.

In fact, you had been a little too eager to escape, and after a couple twists and turns you realized you were lost. Alone. In a creepy corn maze. While the sun was going down and probably also laughing at your idiocy. Fuck.

For a few slow, spooky moments, you struggled between your pride and your sanity. Should you call Meej and ask her to find you, and deal with even worse teasing later? Or should you just woman up and get through this maze to keep the last remaining shreds of your dignity intact? Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Well, that decided that. You weren't gonna go crawling back to her now. They would find your cold, dead corpse in the morning and she would cry at your funeral and you would sneer at the asshole from your new home in hell. If this wasn't already it.

Meej

LMAO DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST PANIC LOSE YOURSELF

YOU MORON

LOLOLOL

The wind picked up and you jumped as the leaves of the corn stalks rustled tauntingly around you. Every little echo and noise sounded like another monster sent to get you, and a falling leaf made you jump and put your fists up for a fight. The shadows looked as if they were reaching for you with inky fingers, and you couldn't tell if your shivers were from the bite of the air or the chill in your chest.

In your head, you knew that it was all fake, that anyone coming at you was just a paid actor in makeup and costume. Unfortunately, your cowardly reflexes and adrenaline convinced your body otherwise and you crept through the maze like a very tense, jumpy mouse. You were so intent on the possible danger ahead, however, that you didn't notice someone creeping up behind you.

"Boo." You felt the barest whisper of hot breath on your ear and you froze. Then your body went on autopilot.

"NOOOOO!" you screamed as you automatically whirled to face your attacker. You weren't entirely sure what had happened, but suddenly the knuckles of your right hand were on fire and there was a collapsed zombie in front of you cradling his nose.

"Oh my fucking god," you gasped as you realized what you had done. You crouched next to the poor dude probably earning minimum wage, and rummaged around in your bag. Did you not have any tissues or napkins or anything?

"I am so sorry, are you okay? Wait that's a stupid question, your nose is bleeding, uh, fuck, shit, can I help? Oh god."

Your victim's shoulders began to shake and you panicked more - you didn't mean to make anyone cry for fuck's sake. Shit, who was the real monster here? Then you realized that he was laughing.

"Uh… zombie guy?" you asked stupidly, wondering just how hard you had hit him. He smiled widely at you. Unfortunately, combined with the costume makeup and the blood flowing from his nose, the gesture was not as reassuring as he intended it to be. You appreciated the attempt, though.

"Jungkook."

"Sorry?"

"I'm Jungkook. What's your name?"

You stared at the boy, wondering just what was going on in that head of his and just how hard you had hit him. Because you were raised to be a polite young lady and some of society's training stuck despite your attempts to fuck the patriarchy, you ended up responding automatically.

"I'm [Y/n]."

Why had you said that? Was your first name and appearance enough for him to figure out your full name and sue you? Was that why he had asked? Well too bad zombie conman, joke was on him because you were broke as shit. The safest thing would probably be for you to peace out and make yourself scarce, but you were still worried about the blood dripping from his nose.

"Um, I didn't break it, did I?" you asked timidly as Jungkook got to his feet. He offered you a hand up, which you took despite feeling like you should be the one helping him. His skin was warm despite the fact that he must have been in the maze for at least an hour already.

"I don't think so," he replied, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve and adding real blood to what was (hopefully) just fake decoration. "That was a mean right hook."

"I'm so sorry!" you blurted again, guilt filling you at his words. Wait, you weren't supposed to admit fault out loud if you were getting sued, right? You had watched that in a show somewhere.

"Nah, it was hot."

You blinked at him. Surely you hadn't heard correctly. By the way he was grinning at you - and it was not cute, considering you were now staring at a grimacing zombie covered in blood - you in fact had. This guy was not right in the head, and you began backing away slowly.

"Okay that's great!" you babbled. "I'll-see-you-around-bye!"

With that, you turned and sprinted away despite your protesting legs. You really had to start going back to the gym sometime. If you did, maybe your rusty skills would be brushed up enough for you to defend yourself from this weirdo.

~~~~~

Line

Jungkook stared after you as the moonlight illuminated your fleeing form. Your feet barely made any noise as they pounded through the dirt and leaves, and he found himself even more enamored. You hadn't even given him enough time to tell you you were heading deeper into the maze instead of towards the exit. Well actually, that was probably a good thing. He had to be out here for a bit longer and this meant that you might still be around when he got off.

"Dude, what happened?"

He turned to see Taehyung who was dressed as a creepy clown and, in his opinion, looked way scarier than any undead creature could. Because clowns were real. And they could be anywhere.

"I think I'm in love," Jungkook sighed, unable to keep himself from poking his nose despite the way it made him wince. It was sort of like wiggling a loose tooth, except in this case it was a reminder of the beautiful moment he met his future wife. He was rewarded by his friend's very unimpressed expression, only mildly obscured by the giant red nose on his face.

"With someone who physically assaulted you?" asked Taehyung, crossing his arms and somehow going from creepy clown to bitchy clown. It was amazing what his friend could do with one tilt of his hips.

"I mean I got closer than I was supposed to because she was cute. And then she punched me."

Jungkook touched his nose again with a dreamy sigh as he gazed in the direction you had run off to. What were you doing now? Were you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you?

"My head rang like a bell. Like wedding bells. Our wedding bells."

Taehyung closed his eyes in resignation, knowing his friend was a goner and probably already picturing your babies sparring with each other. If he was talking about the same girl he scared away from her group earlier, she definitely was pretty enough for any of them to get a little closer than strictly necessary for scaring. He opened them again and scanned his friend just to make sure he was really fine.

"Wait, do you have a boner?"

"She had perfect form, okay?!"

~~~~~

"I fucking hate you," you groaned as you sank down onto the picnic table bench next to Mijin. After what had to have been at least half an hour (the corn maze couldn't even possibly have been that big) of what felt like constant scary clowns and zombies and evil butchers popping out at you, you had finally found the exit. And of course your friends had already escaped and were sitting and eating donuts and drinking hot cider like the assholes they were.

"Yo, what took you?" she asked unsympathetically with a mouth full of cinnamon, powdered sugar, and deep fried dough. "After that clown, no one else showed up. We got done like twenty minutes ago."

"What the hell?" you whined, unceremoniously grabbing your friend's cider and downing it, wishing it had something stronger so you could forget this evening had ever happened. It definitely wasn't because you needed the warmth - you were sweating like a pig from fear and more physical exertion than you had performed in the last month combined. Were you just cursed? Wait no, you did not want your thoughts to go there right after that horrible experience.

And because it just wouldn't quit, Mijin poked your shoulder and pointed to where a familiar looking zombie was strolling towards you in a decidedly un-shambly fashion.

"[Y/n]!" chirped the zombie - Jungkook, was it? - as he waved cheerfully in your direction. Meej raised her eyebrows as you looked behind you and then pointed to yourself in confusion, as if he could have been referring to anyone else. Suspicion began to bloom in your mind.

"Jungkook," you greeted as he came closer, ignoring the curious eyes of your friends. "Do you happen to know the reason I was constantly assaulted by horrifying creatures while my friends here made it through untouched?"

The boy grinned at you, and now that you weren't overcome with hysteria and guilt, you realized that even under his make up his eyes were large and mesmerizing. Wait no, he was a weirdo, why were you noticing how pretty his eyes were?

"Yep," he said unashamedly, his smile widening at your inadvertent pout. "I asked my friends to help."

"I said I was sorry!" you cried indignantly, crossing your arms and scowling at the reason your lifespan had been shortened by ten years. "You didn't have to torture me!"

His eyes widened in surprise, making them impossibly bigger and - dare you say it - cute.

"It wasn't for that!" he protested. "It was so I could catch you after my shift!"

"I - what?" you asked stupidly, now completely bewildered. Jungkook suddenly looked down at his feet, and his voice took on a more hesitant tone.

"I was gonna get a late dinner now, um, will you come?"

Mijin's eyes were now burning a hole into the side of your head as you resolutely pretended neither she nor the rest of your friends existed. What the fuck was going on with your life today? First you got tricked into a haunted maze and now the fucking zombie you punched was asking you on a date?

"Um, it's past midnight," you mumbled, unable to come up with any other response as your brain continued to buffer. The hopeful gleam in those large, innocent eyes did nothing to help. Neither did his adorably bashful expression.

"Okay, early breakfast. On me. Please?" he asked, voice taking on a begging quality. His lip began to jut out in a pout and even under the horrible zombie make up you noticed it was full and plump. "It's the least you can do after you punched me in the face."

At that your friends began to snicker and Meej outright snorted. You felt your own face begin to burn despite the nip in the air. And then your so-called best friend decided to punish you for ignoring her.

"Yeah, she's free," she offered, making you swivel and gape at her second betrayal of the evening. Never one to do anything by halves, she then proceeded to hammer the final nails into the coffin of your friendship. "And she has no plans tomorrow that would make her have to go home early."

"Great!" said Jungkook happily as he and Mijin ignored your indignant splutters. "Just let me get cleaned up and I'll be back here in fifteen."

He jogged away with annoyingly bouncy steps and you whirled on your Brutus.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, ire rising at the smirk on her lips. You opened your mouth to screech at her and she shoved a donut hole into it.

"He's cute," she said conversationally as you chewed hard, determined to give her a piece of your mind. You swallowed, took a deep breath to prepare for your rant, and she stuffed another one past your lips.

"There, there," she said, patting your head as you glared at her, cheeks full of delicious pastry.

"He seems like a nice guy, but keep your location sharing on and if you don't text me every half hour I'll come find you okay?" she said soothingly, patting your bulging cheek. "If it really was something nefarious he'd probably pick a girl who couldn't fight back."

You pouted and slouched in your seat as your other frienemies snickered. Fuck those NPCs. You didn't know them. They weren't even important enough to have names in this universe.

You sulked while you waited for your mysterious zombie boy. Why were you being forced on a sketchy late night date with a total stranger who liked getting punched? Meej continued to feed you donut holes, petting your head and back as if you were a baby. Unfortunately, it was actually working to chill you out because you were an easy bitch.

"Ready?"

You glanced up at the familiar voice, gasped, and immediately began choking on the powdered sugar that flew into your windpipe. Jungkook had removed the zombie make up and clothes, and while he had seemed cute, you hadn't been expecting him to be a total fucking smoke show even with a swollen nose. Fuck location sharing, you would let this guy dismember you and thank him for it. From the way Meej chortled as she handed you more cider, she knew exactly where your mind was at.

"I-uh-yeah," you said suavely, getting up and tripping over the bench as you tried to get out. He moved easily to grab you before you could land on your ass and you felt yourself pressed against a very firm, muscular body.

"You okay?"

Oh no, he was even cuter up close. You gulped and nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his large, sparkling eyes or his wide smile. His two front teeth were ever-so-slightly larger than normal, making him look like an adorably handsome bunny. Who happened to be ripped beyond belief.

A flash went off and the two of you turned to see Mijin, who was pointing her phone at the two of you. You quickly stepped away from him, wondering if your face was as red as it felt.

"Don't mind me," she said innocently, tucking it back into her bag. "Just getting a picture so if [y/n] goes missing I can give the police a lead. Jungkook, right?"

You glared at her, knowing that while it was kind of true, she probably also wanted to memorialize the stupidly dazed expression on your face. The upside was that the muscle bunny wasn't offended, which gave him points toward not being a Gen-Z Ted Bundy.

"Jeon Jungkook," he told your friend with a grin and a nod. "If that helps."

"Good boy," Meej said approvingly. "Have fun, kids."

She gave your butt a goading slap as you turned to follow Jungkook away, and when you turned to yell at her she somehow managed to throw another donut hole right into your mouth. Maybe she really was a witch.

~~~~~

As you walked towards the parking lot, it hit you that you were about to get into the car of a complete stranger. Granted he was a very attractive, nice-seeming stranger who looked to be about your age and whose full name you now knew, but still. This was what all those old stranger danger videos warned you about. The darkness of the night and the rustling of the leaves did nothing to lessen the creepiness of the atmosphere. As if coming to the same realization, Jungkook turned to you with an uncertain expression on his face.

"There's a Denny's about five minutes away from here, it's the only place still open for food," he explained, pointing his finger somewhere to the east. "You can tell your friend that's where we'll be."

"Denny's," you mused, shooting off a quick text to Meej. "You're a real romantic, Jeon Jungkook."

That bunny-like smile appeared back on his face and you felt your heart give a hop in response as the two of you began walking again. You couldn't tell if it was just because of him or also because you had eaten too many donuts.

"I also make some mean ramyun, but hopefully I'll get to show you another time."

"Hm, that's very presumptuous of you considering you're taking me to a Denny's after midnight," you teased. "Are you just that charming?"

"I hope so," he told you earnestly, the blush that rose on his cheeks doing more to endear him to you than anything else so far. You reached his car, and he gallantly - and cutely - scrambled to open the passenger door for you. When you smiled at him in thanks, he froze and stood at the door, gaping at you like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh… is everything okay?" you asked uncertainly, grin slipping off your face. Jungkook turned bright red and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Y-you're just even prettier when you smile," he stammered, before closing the door and hurrying to the driver's side. You barely heard the slam over the way your blood began to pound in your ears, and a small voice inside of you screamed that this was all way too good to be true and you were about to get murked. Another voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Meej, told it to shut the fuck up. Mijin had the unfortunate (or fortunate) habit of always being right, so you decided to listen to that one instead.

Jungkook still seemed flustered as he got into the drivers' side, which was absolutely fucking precious. It relaxed you further despite the awkward silence that descended as the two of you tried to figure out what to talk about.

"So… was that clown also your friend?" you finally asked, remembering the recurring horror that had kept you lost in the maze for so long. Jungkook grinned and nodded, though he quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Yep, that's Taehyung. Honestly I think his costume is the scariest," he confirmed, and you shuddered in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, zombies and werewolves and stuff aren't real. But clowns are, that makes it worse."

"EXACTLY! See, you get it!"

The awkwardness between you dissipated as you began to banter back and forth more comfortably, and you found yourself laughing outright more often than not. As it turned out, not only was this zombie boy a confusing mixture of sexy and adorable, but he was also funny and kind. You had a feeling you weren't going to come out of this night alive, but for entirely different reasons than you had initially expected.

The easy conversation continued through your late dinner/early breakfast, and you found yourself enjoying talking to him even more than the greasy eggs and bacon on your plate. He was just so sweet and cute, it was impossible not to like him.

As the food dwindled, you found that you didn't actually want this night to end. You realized you were growing increasingly enamored with this strange boy, but you weren't sure if he felt similarly after actually having a conversation with you.

Well, you were a strong(ish), independent(ish), woman who knew what she wanted, right? You were a twenty-first century girl! All you had to do was be brave and be the one to ask for his number!

You took one look at Jungkook's handsome face and sparkling eyes and decided no, you were not a brave, strong, independent woman. He was way too attractive for you to be able to grab life by the proverbial ovaries and just straight up ask him out. You let out an internal sigh at your own cowardice, then eyed the table where his right hand was idly drumming the edge of the forgotten menu. Do it, bitch, whispered the Mijin-voice in your brain.

Steeling yourself, you set your own hand on the table and crept it forward until it brushed against his own. He stopped talking mid-sentence and froze, then pulled his hand back as if he'd been scalded. His eyes were so wide it would have been comical if your heart wasn't currently sinking in your chest.

"Uh, I have to pee," he stammered, before bolting upright and almost running to the bathroom. You sat there, stunned and humiliated. That had actually been worse than just hearing no. What should you do now? Stay here and be awkward? Call Mijin and have her come get you?

Before you could fully make a decision, a beautiful guy who was decidedly not Jungkook plopped down into his seat. Another equally gorgeous boy sat in the empty space next to you, giving you a bright smile that squished his eyes into adorable crescents.

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

~~~~~

"Why are we doing this again?" complained Jimin from the passengers' seat as Taehyung followed the car in front of them. "I'm tired, I want to go home."

"Because," said his best friend, "we all put enough effort into Kookie getting this date and he better not fuck it up."

"Wait, with that girl you told me to scare away from the exits?" he asked, suddenly interested. He sat up a little straighter in his seat. "She was super cute."

"Yep, and now I'm invested and I want to see how it goes."

They both sighed a little when they followed Jungkook's car into the Denny's parking lot. It made sense, it wasn't like there was anything else open or around, but still. Denny's? Taehyung parked far enough away that it was unlikely they'd be noticed, but when Jimin went to follow you and Jungkook inside, he tugged him over to the windows instead.

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously, staring at his friend in disbelief. "This is literally the creepiest thing we could be doing, and that's saying a lot considering where we work."

"I'm not hungry," Taehyung replied with a shrug, crouching behind a bush to hide his form from the parking lot. Jimin rolled his eyes but followed suit. When Tae got like this, it was usually better to just humor him.

"Man, she's really pretty," said Jimin, trying not to think about the fact that he was currently admiring a girl through the window of a Denny's while hiding in a bush. Surprisingly, the date actually seemed to be going well - you were laughing, Kookie was laughing, and you were smiling more often than not.

Honestly it was beginning to get boring and Jimin was feeling more and more like a stalker. And watching the two of you eat an absurd amount of eggs and bacon was starting to make his stomach grumble. He was cold, tired, hungry, and it didn't seem like things were going to get interesting any time soon.

"Can we go yet? I think he's doing fine."

As if on cue they watched as you tried to touch his hand and, in true Jungkookie fashion, their friend panicked and ran away. Taehyung gave him a pointed 'I-told-you-so' look, which Jimin ignored as he got up and dusted himself off before heading towards the restaurant doors. If Jungkook was too scared to properly flirt with a pretty girl, then his hyungs would just have to show him how it was done.

~~~~~

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

"Uh, I'm [y/n]," you replied automatically, before cursing yourself for giving your name to a stranger for the second time that night. Should you be worried? Weird things definitely tended to happen when you sat alone at a Denny's after midnight, but they usually involved alcoholics or tweakers, not beautiful mystery men. Well, maybe they were alcoholics or druggies and it just hadn't destroyed their systems yet.

Seeing the trepidation on your face, the other boy gave you a reassuring grin that simultaneously relaxed you and made your face warm.

"I'm Taehyung. We work at the maze too. We - er - we came here to get some food, and recognized you."

A lightbulb went off in your head when he said his name and you gaped in shock. What the fuck? The creepy murder-clown was secretly also a hot guy? Was everyone that worked at that maze secretly a supermodel? They both laughed and you realized you had said the last bit aloud.

"That's really sweet of you," said Jimin, scooting a little closer to you with a twinkle in his eye. Despite the fact that he had probably been outside scaring people all night, he still smelled quite nice. "I'm not aware of that being a prerequisite, but if it is you'd definitely be a shoo-in."

You felt your face flush bright red at the compliment, but luckily you didn't need to respond because Jungkook chose that moment to return. He looked incredibly pissed, which was honestly pretty hot. And confusing. If he wasn't interested anymore, shouldn't he be relieved to have a distraction?

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked flatly, crossing his arms as he eyed the way Jimin was crowding your space. You were clearly flustered, and the way Jimin was looking at you made his jaw clench in irritation.

"We just wanted to get some food," said Jimin innocently. He smiled at you again and inched even closer, pressing his muscular thigh against yours. "But now that I'm here, I think I'm more in the mood for dessert."

Suddenly his warmth was gone and you realized that Jungkook had picked his friend up by his armpits like a dog. The effortless way he lifted him had you eyeing the stretch of his jacket across his biceps, and you recalled just how firm his body had been earlier. He deposited Jimin next to Taehyung with an uncaring thwump and sat next to you, right where his friend had been. His thigh was just as firm as Jimin's, and you felt your chest go fluttery at his proximity.

"Can I get you guys anything else?"

The tired looking waitress sighed when she saw the two new additions to the table, and while they ordered, Jungkook turned to you with that bright smile.

"Did you want anything?" he asked softly, leaning in closer so you could hear him. You were incredibly confused. First just a brush of your hand was enough to send him fleeing, but now he was sitting in your space and looking at you like you were the only person in the room. Maybe he really did have to pee that badly and you had bad timing? Either way, you wanted to prolong this time with him.

"Um, I could go for a milkshake," you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and trying not to stare at how close his lips were to your own. "I don't know if I can drink a whole one though."

"We can split one!"

Jimin's voice broke through the small bubble that had enveloped you and Jungkook, and you looked across the table to see a cherubic smile on his face. You didn't know him well enough to know that this was actually his shit-eating grin, and you also didn't see the knives Jungkook was currently hurling out of his eyes.

"No way, she's gonna share one with me," he protested with an annoyed huff, before turning to you again and looking uncertain. "I mean, only if you want to."

Fuck, this boy was way too cute. You were getting an enjoyable whiplash from the way he switched between being possessive and shy. You nodded, unable (and unwilling) to resist the hope glimmering in his eyes. You gave your order to the waitress, who had started tapping her foot impatiently - not that you could blame her - and brought your attention back to the table.

"So you really punched our Jungkookie in the nose?" Taehyung asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. The full force of his attention amplified your embarrassment and you covered your face with your hands.

"Wait, what?" chortled Jimin, reaching across the table to tousle Jungkook's hair. The former zombie scowled and flicked his friend in the forehead, and the two began to stage an odd over-the-table battle. You slumped further in your seat.

"Your hand looks bruised, let me see."

Warm, gentle fingers pried your own off your face as Taehyung pulled your hand closer to inspect your knuckles. You fought down the urge to shiver as he brushed his thumb across your skin, and the small smile he gave you - more of a smirk, really - made your cheeks heat up.

"He's hard-headed for sure, but it doesn't look too bad," he said with an unfairly attractive arch of his brows. The hint of a smolder in his dark eyes made the gesture seem more suggestive than it should have, and you swallowed hard, unable to look away. "Want me to kiss it better?"

All of a sudden, your hand was back at your side, but now enclosed in another warm grip. You looked at Jungkook in surprise, though you couldn't say you weren't pleased at his attention. He laced his fingers through yours, and you marveled at how perfectly your hand fit into his.

"Leave her alone, hyung," the boy said with a glare, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. You hadn't prepared for how hot that looked, or what it did to your insides, and your cavewoman brain short-circuited at the action.

"Are you going to kiss it better then?"

Oh fuck, you had said that out loud. You watched the glare evaporate off his face as he whipped his head to stare at you, then your joined hands. You could almost see steam coming out of his ears as his brain buffered, and your insecurity began to re-establish itself. Until he pulled your hand up to his face and brushed his full, soft lips against your skin, making you shiver.

Your own lips parted slightly in surprise as you stared at him, fully aware that your heart was pounding and your skin was tingling. His own dark eyes looked back at you, and the intensity in his gaze made you wonder if perhaps he wasn't so innocent after all.

"Is that better?" he murmured against your skin. You nodded, momentarily mute, and his happy smile took your breath away. In a burst of courage, you leaned forward and planted a soft peck on his nose.

"Just returning the favor," you said with a shy grin, ignoring the "ohhhhhhh nice one" from Taehyung. The dazed look on Jungkook's face was definitely worth it.

"You know, I think I cut myself shaving this - "

"Shut the fuck up hyung, you grow like five hairs."

Jimin's offended expression made you laugh, and some of the embarrassment you felt at the two other boys witnessing your awkward fumbles with Jungkook dissipated. His grip on your hand tightened as if taking ownership, which set your silly, weak heart aflutter. You relaxed a little further once Jimin's food arrived and he focused his attention more on eating than on sending you flirtatious glances. Until the waitress brought your milkshake.

"What flavor did you get?" asked Taehyung interestedly, eyeing the tall glass with poorly concealed mischief.

"Um… cookies and cream…?" you ventured with a frown, considering the coloring made it pretty obvious. Taehyung's cheshire grin widened, and from the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook's ears turn pink.

"Oh, do you like cookies?" asked Jimin, having been lured away from his pancakes by the promise of being able to tease his friend. You glanced between the duo, feeling like you were missing something.

"Uh… doesn't everyone?" you asked. Jimin chortled in glee at your response and you spared a peek at Jungkook, who looked resigned and annoyed.

"Well our Jungkookie here is the sweetest of all, wouldn't you say?" said Taehyung with a shit-eating grin. "And his cream-"

He was cut off by a stream of milkshake hitting him in the face. Jungkook glared at him from beside you, straw to his lips and pointed straight at his friend. You and Jimin burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Taehyung's face, and you couldn't help but want to rib him back for how much he had been teasing Jungkook all night.

"Well tell me," you drawled, "how does his cream taste?"

Jungkook choked from beside you, and Jimin laughed so hard he fell sideways into his friend's lap. Taehyung just grinned and wiped some with his index finger, then held it out to you.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" he countered, recovering from his surprise impressively quickly. Your jaw dropped in surprise, and as if he took it as an invitation, he brought his finger closer.

Only for Jungkook to lean forward and lick it clean instead. Which was not hot. Definitely not.

"Thanks, hyung," the boy said with zero expression on his face while Jimin gasped for air. You were actually starting to get concerned for his lungs. "The ice cream was good, tasted like there was some bullshit mixed with it though."

"Maybe Taehyung should take his head out of his ass," you said without thinking, then blushed when you realized you had acted as if you were with Meej and the rest of your friends. They were just so goofy that you had gotten too comfortable, too fast. You needn't have worried though, because Jimin had fallen to the questionably clean floor under the table and Jungkook was staring at you with an even dopier grin than when you had punched him.

"You're amazing," he breathed, making you blush even harder. To avoid having to respond, you took a large slurp of your milkshake, then sighed in contentment.

"Kookie, you invited her to the Halloween party already, right?" asked Taehyung, eyes amused. He clearly wasn't offended by your remark, and that helped you relax again. Especially because Jungkook took that sparkling gaze off of you to scowl at his hyung. His attention was making you feel too many things.

"I was going to, before you showed up," he complained, and you fought down the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth at how cute he sounded.

"Oh please, you ditched a pretty girl alone at a Denny's after midnight before we showed up," retorted Jimin, who had finally recovered and was running his hand through his hair to fix it. You couldn't help but giggle at the way Jungkook's plump lower lip began to jut out in a pout, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"So what's this about a party?" you asked him, chest tingling at the way he immediately perked up and turned back to you. His eyes were so large and bright that you were left momentarily breathless.

"My roommate and I are having a Halloween party this weekend," he explained, looking adorably hopeful. "Um, if you're free, would you want to come? You're welcome to bring some friends if you want."

"If you give me your number, I can - OW!"

You suppressed another giggle as Jimin glared at Jungkook, who had not-so-subtly kicked him under the table.

"I'd love to," you replied, ignoring the two older boys. Jungkook's face lit up brighter than the moon outside, and you unlocked your phone and handed it over to him so he could enter his contact information.

He pouted a little when you did deign to get Jimin's and Taehyung's numbers as well, though he snickered when he saw that you named them TweedleJim and Taedledum. They did tone down their aggressive flirting - slightly - but by the time everyone had finished eating and paying, you wondered how purple the older boys' shins were going to be tomorrow. There had been a lot of kicking from your irritated date, and he had decidedly muscular thighs and calves.

"It was great meeting you," said Jimin as the four of you left the restaurant. The mischievous cast had returned to his face, and he pulled you into a hug that lasted far longer than necessary and only ended when Jungkook shoved him away. Taehyung didn't hug you, but instead took your hand and pressed his lips on your knuckles right where Jungkook had.

"Can't wait to see you this weekend," he said with a wink and throaty chuckle as the youngest ripped your hand away. He stomped towards his car, towing you behind him, and you gave a half-hearted wave to the two monkeys sporting identical grins behind you. You had to half-jog to keep from falling over, but the way Jungkook's cheeks were puffed out ever so slightly was too cute to be annoyed with.

Despite his irritation, he still opened your door for you, and your insides melted further. When he entered the driver's side, you took a moment to admire his pouting profile as he started the car. Then you grabbed his right hand, tracing the skin of his knuckles with your thumb.

"Jungkook, you know I think I like you a lot, right?" you asked, smiling at him. It was a little embarrassing to say aloud, but he seemed like he needed the reassurance after being teased by his shameless friends all night. His large eyes widened in surprise and a slow smile began to consume his face.

"Yeah?" he breathed, eyes shining as he looked at you. You noticed he had a cute mole under his lower lip.

"Yeah," you confirmed softly, gazing back at him and feeling your cheeks warm. You weren't sure who moved first, but then his soft lips were pressed against your own. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than the vanilla still lingering on his lips, and you sighed in contentment as you tangled your fingers in his baggy shirt to bring him closer. He complied, letting his own hands cradle your cheeks gently.

Then twin thuds sounded from either side of you, and you broke away to see Jimin and Taehyung grinning from opposite windows. You screamed in horror and clung to Jungkook before realizing who the fucking idiots staring at you were, and Jungkook swore under his breath.

"I'm going to murder them," he hissed as you laughed weakly and pressed a hand to your pounding chest. It had gone from butterflies to straight up heart attack far too quickly for your preference, and you whole-heartedly supported his statement.

"I'll help," you offered with a scowl as the two idiots gave you cheeky waves and scampered off to a different car. "Do you have an extra shovel?"

"Oh, I couldn't let you do physical labor like that on our first date," Jungkook replied innocently and you smiled in spite of yourself.

"But Denny's and getting harassed by your friends is fine?" you countered, though you placed a chaste peck on his cheek to show you weren't actually bothered. Despite the fact that you had literally just kissed, his cheeks flushed.

"We'll do something better next time," he promised, and your heart fluttered at the casual way he said it. Still, you couldn't help but give him a little shit.

"What makes you think there'll be a next time?" He whirled to look at you, eyes wide, and you began to giggle.

"That wasn't nice," he complained, that adorable pout making its way onto his face again.

"I'm sorry, what can I do to make up for it?" you teased, eyes flicking back down to his lips. He grinned and leaned forward, but a loud honk from what was presumably Taehyung's car startled both of you again.

"Let's get you home," he groaned, leaning back in his car. You laughed and took his hand, twining your fingers with his as he drove out of the parking lot.

"I mean, I doubt they'd follow us all the way to my place…" you said, brushing his hand with your thumb. Jungkook drove a little faster.

~~~~~

Sinker

"You think I should've put a shirt on under this?" you fretted as the Uber driver pulled into the parking lot of a decently sized apartment complex. Mijin rolled her eyes as she adjusted the halo atop her cow onesie, which was the exact opposite of yours in terms of being revealing.

"You're the one trying to seduce a guy who's clearly already gone for you," she deadpanned, making you flush.

"We just met a week ago! How would you know?" you protested, checking the tape keeping your robe semi-decently over your chest for the hundredth time since you'd entered the car.

"I've read your texts, they're disgusting," she said fondly. "He texts you good morning and good night every single day with hearts and everything, it's pathetic."

"I think it's cute," you said defensively, making her laugh and ruffle your hair.

"That's because you're just as whipped as he is."

"Be nice to me," you warned. "Or else we can go back and you won't get to meet any of his hot friends."

"Bitch I'm the one who agreed to come in case this is secretly an enclave of hot serial killers."

"Er, not to interrupt, but is this the right apartment?"

You both looked at the Uber driver, who you had completely forgotten about, then at the building outside.

"Yep, thanks! Sorry about that," you confirmed, opening the door and hopping outside. You shivered in the cold and mentally cursed yourself for going the hot girl route instead of the sensible funny costume route. Then again, you had goals for tonight that hopefully involved a cute ex-zombie between your legs.

As soon as Meej got out of the car, you nodded to the Uber and scurried up the stairs to the proper apartment. Even without knowing the apartment number you could've guessed which unit was the right one from the music pulsing in the air.

You opened the door cautiously, not really knowing what to expect, and a wave of warm air and bass blasted out at you. There was a decent amount of people in the room, and you stepped inside with Meej in tow.

"So where's your man?" she asked, trying to scan over the sea of heads. You shrugged, also looking around to see if you could find him.

"You made it!"

You turned to see twin gorgeous boys wearing togas and wreaths, and smiled despite knowing they were probably up to something already. Mijin outright ogled, and you couldn't really blame her.

Jimin was a vision in white, with a golden belt bearing a sun motif and a laurel crown. Combined with his smooth, pale skin, he nearly glowed. Taehyung wore a green toga, with silver moon adornments and a small toy bow-and-arrow. It played wonderfully with his tanned complexion, and you stared for a moment despite being preoccupied looking for Jungkook. They were already gorgeous before, but in their costumes they truly personified the Greek gods they were dressed as.

"Hey guys," you greeted, but before you could introduce them to Meej they grabbed both of you and all but dragged you further into the house. You sighed internally. It appeared that their antics were already in motion.

~~~~~

"Where is she?" Jungkook complained from his seat on the couch as he pouted into his plastic cup. He had been daydreaming about seeing you again since pretty much the second he had dropped you off that fateful night. The two of you had made out for an inordinately long amount of time in your parking lot, and he had driven away with a happy heart and a raging boner.

Between that right hook, first date, and the constant texts you'd been exchanging throughout the week, it was safe to say he was completely enamored. Not only were you scrappy, but you were gorgeous, funny, and nice, and talking to you just felt right. And amazingly, you seemed to feel the same way. So where were you? You said you couldn't wait to see him, so why weren't you here yet?

Jimin chortled at his younger friend's expression, patting his head like a child. Which he definitely looked like considering he was sagging in his seat in a cookie monster onesie.

"She'll be here," Taehyung assured him with a grin. "If not for you, then for me."

Before Jungkook could respond to his obnoxious friend, a slightly slurred, high-pitched voice came from his side and he winced.

"Jungkookieeee!"

"Uh, hi Dina," he said with a polite smile at the girl dressed as a slutty cookie. So this was why she had pestered him to know what his costume tonight would be. He looked around for help, but of course his two friends had oh-so-mysteriously disappeared in his time of need.

The sound of the door opening drove Dina out of his mind, and his gaze shot hopefully towards the entryway. It was hard to see, but there you were with that friend who had forced you to go out with him that night. He needed to remember to thank her for that. She would probably be the maid of honor at the wedding.

Even from halfway across the room, obscured by other partygoers, you were so pretty he wanted to die. Had you somehow gotten cuter since he had last seen you? He shot up immediately, not even noticing that Dina had been trying to sit on his knee, and she was sent toppling to the floor.

"Owww," she whined despite not looking like she had hit anything. Jungkook sighed in frustration. He really did not want to deal with her right now, not when you were right there, but he wasn't an asshole.

By the time he had helped her up, made sure she was fine, and pried her clinging acrylic talons off his arm, you were nowhere to be found. With an annoyed scowl, he realized that neither were Jimin or Taehyung. His eyes narrowed. They wouldn't.

He found you in the kitchen, sipping a drink and being caged against the counter by Taehyung. Jimin was engaging your friend, who looked more amused than charmed. Your expression was decidedly patient, which soothed Jungkook's ruffled feathers somewhat despite the way his hyung was staring at you like the hunter he was dressed as. Then he got a full view of your actual costume.

He had thought he couldn't be any more attracted to you, but you had proven him wrong. You were wearing a silky boxing robe tied tightly over some criminally short shorts that revealed a very appealing amount of leg. Your knuckles were wrapped in athletic tape, and his nose and his dick twinged at the same time. You were perfect.

Jungkook would have taken more time to admire you, but Taehyung was way too close, and currently playing with the hem of your robe. Something in his brain growled mine.

Then the older boy tugged you towards him by the tie of your robe and Jungkook went on autopilot, striding forward and ripping you away from his hyung. He opened his mouth to yell at Taehyung, until he realized he was holding you and his hand was touching warm, bare skin. He looked down and you stared back, mouth open and face pink. He looked further down and realized your tie had gotten undone. Your breasts were somehow still covered, but it was completely obvious you were wearing nothing underneath. His brain short-circuited.

Jungkook stood there, frozen and gaping, for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Then your friend surreptitiously stomped on his foot, and he came back to his senses. He was not about to let his hyungs see you like this.

You gave a squeak as he scooped you into his arms, clinging to the front of his onesie in a way that he quite enjoyed as he strode wordlessly out of the kitchen. He didn't even see Dina, who he almost trampled into crumbs in his haste to get you away. He quickly made his way to his room and shut the door behind him with his foot.

"Um, Jungkook?" you asked timidly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes. He froze again when he realized what he had done, and that your robe was still untied and revealing a tantalizing amount of skin.

"S-sorry," he stammered, trying and failing to not ogle at the expanse of skin revealed by the cascading fabric. "I just… didn't want them to see…"

Your lips began to twitch up into a smile, and you brought your arms around his neck.

"Oh?" You asked softly, voice almost a purr. The look in your eyes made his heart stutter and his dick twitch. You brought your lips to his ear, and your hot breath sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "And why's that?"

You licked the shell of his ear, tongue warm and wet, and something in him snapped. Jungkook tossed you into his bed, and crawled over to trap you between his arms. The flash of worry that he was going too far vanished when you grabbed the front of his onesie to pull him down and crush his lips against yours.

"Because," he said as he pulled back, slightly breathless. You were a vision below him, splayed out and licking your lips as you stared up at him with hooded eyes. "You're mine."

He saw your mouth begin to curve into a smile before he was on you again, hot and hungry and demanding. Your lips slotted against his perfectly, and the whimper you gave when he sucked your lower lip between his teeth added more fuel to the heat blooming in his abdomen. You evidently felt the same, because you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring his hips against yours, making you both gasp as his erection rubbed against your clothed core. Despite the tickle of his costume, it sent arousal flooding through you.

"O-oh, Kookie," you moaned as he turned his attention to the line of your jaw, planting soft kisses and nips until he reached the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Then he began to suckle harshly, making you gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair encouragingly. If his hyungs couldn't keep their hands to themselves, he'd just have to show them who you belonged to.

His hands skated across your bare stomach, making you shiver, until they came to rest at your covered breasts. Then he sat back, looking perplexed.

"Why isn't this moving?" He complained, tugging lightly at your robe. You burst into giggles at the confusion on his face.

"It's boob tape," you explained, and laughed harder at his uncomprehending expression. "It's basically double-sided tape for clothes. Did you never wonder how girls wear drapey stuff without nip slip?"

"I just thought it was some weird boob magic," Jungkook responded sheepishly, and you dissolved into giggles again.

"You're cute," you said between chuckles, then gasped when he ground his hips down hard against you.

"Cute?" he asked darkly, making your mouth go dry. He proceeded to peel the robe off your chest - luckily the tape stayed on the fabric and not your skin - and his gaze went molten. He stared long enough for you to begin to squirm beneath him, and you brought your arms up to cover yourself. His own shot out to grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head.

"No, let me see you," he demanded, and the pure want in his voice went straight between your legs. His eyes raked over you like hot coals, the heat in them bringing a pretty flush to your cheeks.

"God you're so beautiful," Jungkook whispered reverently before descending again to devour you. You moaned into his mouth, wrists straining half-heartedly against his grip, and he took the opportunity to part your soft lips with his tongue. He licked into your mouth in hot strokes, and your thighs tightened around his hips in an effort to bring him closer. The whine you let out as his cock rubbed you through your shorts made him even harder, and he broke away from your mouth to trail wet kisses down your jaw and your neck. This time, he went past your collarbone to suck bruises that bloomed red and purple on the skin of your chest.

"Jungkook," you moaned breathily, trying to control yourself despite how good he was making you feel. The way he was pinning you down so easily despite how shy he had acted at the beginning was doing a number on you.

He paused to give you a boyish grin at complete odds with the way he was making your pussy clench, before dipping his head to roll your pert nipple around his tongue. Then he sucked hard and you keened, arching into the warm wetness of his mouth.

"Fuck, touch me please," you begged, desperate to feel his hands on you. His eyes darkened further and that innocent grin turned wicked.

"Anything for you, baby," he promised, and the pet name turned you on even more. He released your hands to explore your soft curves, and yours immediately went to the buttons of his adorable but currently unappreciated cookie monster onesie.

You were able to make quick work of them despite the distracting way he was nipping your neck and pinching your nipples, and you forced him backwards so you could shove the upper part of his costume off his frame.

"Oh, fuck you," you groaned when you got a full blast of his glorious body. Jungkook smirked as you ogled his abs, no trace of that stumbling boy left in his dark eyes.

"I mean, if that's what you want," he teased, preening under your gaze. You wanted to roll your eyes, but they were still glued to the hard ridges of muscle on prominent display.

"Shut up and take this off," you grumbled, shoving his onesie further down his waist. "It's tickling me."

Jungkook grinned impishly at you before obeying, and when he kicked his costume to some random corner of his room you sighed in a mixture of arousal and despair at the way his muscular thighs flexed. He was just so perfect, and by the size of the bulge straining against his boxer briefs he was going to be just as perfect there too.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back down to smash his lips against yours again, not particularly caring that this kiss was much sloppier than prior. By the way Jungkook groaned against your mouth when your tongue skimmed his, neither did he.

It was even headier now, with his toned chest pressed flush against your breasts. You ground your hips against his with a breathy whine, raking your nails lightly down his back. When you squeezed his ass - yes, it was just as firm as you'd hoped - he bucked forward, driving his cock harder against you. You briefly wondered if you were soaking him through your shorts, then decided you didn't care.

When you began to wiggle out of your shorts, shy Jungkook made his appearance again. He pulled back, eyes wide, though he couldn't stop himself from licking his lips.

"A-are you sure? I was just… kidding," he said, as if you couldn't see his dick leaking through his boxers and you weren't half naked on his bed and begging for his touch. It was cute, but this sweet Jungkook wasn't what you wanted right now. So you pouted and began to push yourself off the bed.

"Fine, then I'll go see if Taehy-oof!"

Your gamble was rewarded as you were immediately forced back onto the bed, Jungkook's hard eyes blazing above you.

"I said you're mine," he growled, giving your nipple a hard pinch. You yelped at the mixture of pain and pleasure, and felt yourself grow impossibly wetter at the edge in his tone. You threaded your hands in his hair to bring him down for a kiss, but he paused, lips hovering over yours. "You're mine, right?"

Despite the aggressiveness of his actions, there was a hint of pleading in his tone, and you couldn't help but smile as your heart fluttered.

"Only if you're mine too," you replied, making his eyes light up. Jungkook had been yours since you had delivered that knock out punch to his nose heart. He closed the distance eagerly, and you lost yourself again in the heat of his lips and tongue. When one of his hands found its way between your legs, he groaned at how damp you were even through layers of cloth.

"Yours," you murmured, rubbing against his hand shamelessly. His eyes flashed and before you could process what was happening, your shorts and underwear were ripped off and you were bare beneath him aside from the robe halfway off your shoulders. His hand went back and you moaned as his fingers dragged along your wet folds before changing course to start rubbing light circles on your clit.

"You're so sexy," Jungkook groaned against your mouth as you bucked your hips forward, chasing the friction. He pressed his middle finger into you, and the sound that you made was almost enough to make him explode then and there. You were so hot and wet and tight around him already, and if you felt this good around a finger he couldn't wait to feel you around his dick.

You licked sloppily into his mouth, rutting against his hand as he pumped his finger in and out of you and swallowed your whimpers. When he added a second finger your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"J-Jungkook," you gasped when he began grinding the heel of his palm against your clit while rubbing his fingers against your walls. He was working you up embarrassingly quickly, and when your orgasm hit it almost took you by surprise. Your body went rigid as waves of pleasure shuddered through you, and Jungkook hissed and pressed wet kisses all over your neck, working you through your high as your walls spasmed around his fingers.

"Wow," was all you managed when you came back to reality. It was partially due to the orgasm, but mostly caused by the beauty of Jungkook's flushed face and disheveled hair hovering above you as his hungry eyes drank you in. You tugged him towards you by his hair and kissed him hard for a moment before pushing him back a little and giving him your best seductress eyes.

"Fuck me now, please," you said sweetly, in a husky voice you were surprised came from you. Jungkook's eyes somehow went even darker and he almost dove to the side of his bed to open his nightstand, retrieving a condom he ripped open in record time. You giggled a little at his eagerness. Until he kicked his boxers off. Dicks were always objectively funny looking even at the best of times. So why did his make your mouth water?

"Is there anything about you that isn't sexy?" you said in a half grumble, making him laugh as he rolled the latex over his tantalizing length. He hovered over you, one hand by your head and another on his cock as he lined himself up, and you reached up to thread your fingers through his silky hair. He smiled down at you, eyes bright. Then he rubbed his tip against your folds and you moaned, tightening your grip.

"If it makes you feel better, everything about you is sexy too," he breathed, eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and lust as his lips fell to capture yours. All you could do was gasp against his mouth as he began to press his cock past your aching folds. Despite how wet you were, it was still a slow, excruciatingly delicious stretch, and he cursed, hips stuttering against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, thrusting lightly in and out to coat himself further in your wetness. The feeling was definitely mutual, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him to go deeper. When he bottomed out, you both stilled for a moment to get your bearings, though he wasn't sure how much good it did him with you quivering beneath him and your walls hugging him so tightly.

"Please move," you finally whimpered when you couldn't take it anymore, giving a little buck of your hips that had Jungkook hissing. His lips crushed yours again as he began giving slow, measured, pumps that had you arching your chest against his hard pecs. He was glad he'd made you cum once because he didn't really think he was going to be able to last very long. Though that didn't mean he wasn't going to try again.

So when he angled his hips a certain way and you cried out and clenched around him, he maintained that position despite the way his thighs protested. He kept one hand on your waist, locking you in place, and brought his other to rub his thumb lightly against your clit.

"Oh fuuuuck," you groaned, head falling backwards Jungkook worked his magic on you. You were usually content if you could get on top and rub one out with a guy during sex, but this boy seemed determined to ruin you for anyone else and the worst part was that you wanted him to. He was hitting all the right spots and doing all the right things as if you'd been having sex for years, and between the thick drag of his cock and the attention he was giving your clit, you were hurtling towards the edge a second time.

"God, do that again," Jungkook groaned, and you hazily wondered what he was talking about, unable to think past the delicious way he was pounding into you. You didn't realize you were pulling his hair, and when the coil inside you snapped again you gave another hard tug with a desperate whine.

He fucked you through your second high, shuddering at the way your already snug walls squeezed him like a vice. The sounds he was forcing out of your throat were too much, and he felt himself starting to lose it.

"Fuck, [y/n], I'm gonna cum," he cursed, pace growing uneven even as his thrusts became harder and deeper. To his shock, panic, and disappointment, you pushed him off of you and onto his back. Then you ripped off the condom and engulfed him in the confines of your greedy mouth and he gasped, hips stuttering against you.

"Fuckfuckfuck," he choked, spilling himself down your perfect throat as you swallowed around him. Even after he was done, you kept swirling your tongue around his length as he moaned and let his head fall back against his sheets. You gave a little suck that had him whine and thrust against you despite the oversensitivity before you pulled back, looking way too innocent and cheerful for what you had just done.

"Taehyung was right, your cream's pretty good," you said with a wink, and he felt his entire neck and face go red.

"Oh my god," he complained, tackling you back down onto the bed and holding you against his chest as you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. The two of you lay there, snuggling and enjoying the post-coital haze.

"Jungkook?"

"Hm?" he asked a little sleepily, opening his eyes and blushing at the cute way you were looking up at him.

"Did you mean it?" You looked sheepish, and he woke up a little more.

"Mean what?" he asked in confusion, and you flushed, looking uncertain. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek, trying to reassure you even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was reassuring you about.

"Um… about me being yours. And you being mine," you mumbled shyly, avoiding his eyes. He felt his heart swell at the pink rising on your face, and he couldn't keep the stupid lovestruck smile off his face.

"Of course I did," he replied, holding you tighter and smushing your face into his chest. "You're my girlfriend now, you can't escape." Your muffled laugh was music to his ears, and you hugged him back just as hard until you finally pulled away, complaining you couldn't breathe.

"Okay, boyfriend," you said, eyes sparkling happily. He was elated that he had been the one to put that expression on your face. He was less elated when you began to clamber out of bed after kissing him on the nose.

"Nooo, stay here," he pouted, then tried to pose on the bed in an enticing manner.

"I want to, I really do," you told him ruefully as you blatantly eyed his abs. "But I can't just straight up ditch Mijin when I begged her to come with me."

"Oh yes, the maid of honor," Jungkook said with a nod, mollified by how disappointed you actually sounded. You looked confused for a moment before your attention was drawn by your robe.

"Ah shit, the tape isn't sticky anymore," you grumbled as you futilely slapped the fabric against your chest. Jungkook was momentarily mesmerized by the way it made your breasts jiggle before shaking himself out of his daze.

"I'll wear it, and you can wear mine," he suggested eagerly. It wasn't quite the same as seeing you in his clothes or anything, but it was close. You shrugged in agreement, slipping off the robe - which should not have been as arousing as it was when you were already basically naked - and tossing it towards him as you padded around the room to grab your shorts and the onesie. Jungkook stared at your ass for several enjoyable seconds before going to his dresser to grab some basketball shorts.

"This is… kinda big."

He turned around and felt himself torn between laughing and melting into the floor. You had put on the cookie monster onesie, which was sized for him, and were almost drowning in it. You had rolled up both the sleeves and the legs multiple times and yet it still looked hilariously large on your smaller frame.

"You look perfect," Jungkook promised, making your face flush that pretty pink again. Though you frowned when you looked at Jungkook, who was now wearing basketball shorts and your boxing robe. "What's wrong?"

"I… don't know if I want people seeing how hot you are…" you grumbled, eyes glued to his six-pack. Jungkook's heart fluttered when he realized you were jealous, and he grinned at your adorable pout. He strode up to you, enjoying the way you licked your lips when he cupped your face.

"How do you think I felt seeing Taehyung all over you?" he demanded, making your eyes widen before he bent down to capture your lips. Feeling you melt against him was enough to rile him up all over again, but when his hands began to wander you pushed him back a little.

"Fair enough," you replied breathlessly, sounding incredibly reluctant but firm. "Let's go."

You resolutely marched to his door and pulled it open, only to run into a very irate, very drunk cookie.

"Uh…" you began awkwardly, not exactly sure what this chick was doing here.

"Jungkookie, who is she?" the cookie wailed, pointing at you with a venomous glare. You would've felt more worried had Jungkook not looked so done with his life. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"This is my girlfriend, [y/n]," he said, shooting her point blank with the truth. By the way she reeled backwards, it might as well have been a real bullet. Jungkook took the opportunity to usher you past her, lock his door, then take your hand and tug you to the living. You were impressed at the speed in which he had done everything, and wondered just how many quick escapes he had to make from that girl.

"Nice costume."

You turned to see Mijin, Taehyung, and Jimin smirking at the two of you. A fourth extremely beautiful man had wandered somewhere near the vicinity and brightened when he saw you. Despite the pig nose and the blanket he was wrapped up in, he was still impossibly tall and handsome and broad. This had to be the last super hot guy in Jungkook's friend group, right? It was just impossible for there to be more.

"Oh! Are you Jungkook's mystery punching girl?" he asked cheerfully, seeing you with Jungkook. You blushed at the descriptor, and Mijin chimed in before you could.

"I'm Mijin," said your friend as she shook his hand, utterly unfazed by his weirdness. Well, he was a fucking dime so you supposed you couldn't blame her. The man beamed, making his eyes sparkle.

"Yep. It was love at first fight," she said with a grin, and you rolled your eyes at the terrible pun. To your surprise, the new guy's jaw dropped and he stared at your friend in wonder. Then he elbowed Jimin away from her and held out his hand with a charming smile.

"Then it's meant to be, because me Jin!" he said proudly, pointing at his wide chest and ignoring the way Taehyung facepalmed beside him. Meej chortled, giving his costume a very obvious once-over as Jin snickered at his questionable wit.

"Are you a pig in a blanket?" she asked, clearly vibing with her very handsome, very lame suitor.

"Holy cow! You got it!" Jin said cornily, and you heard Jungkook groan at the guy's terrible joke - considering Mijin's costume was exactly that. A cow with a halo. Unlike the rest of you - including a now pouting Jimin - your friend smiled widely.

"Yeah, can you believe [y/n] told me my costume was lame?" she asked indignantly, making Jin gasp in affront.

"They tried to say the same thing about mine!" he complained in commiseration, and the two of them cast peevish looks at the rest of you. You and Jungkook made eye contact and despite the short time in which you had known each other, you knew exactly what he was thinking. What the fuck is happening?

"Uh… we're gonna get drinks…" said Jungkook slowly, backing away from the two farmyard animals. He took your hand again and the two of you fled the scene, once again almost trampling a bawling Dina.

"That's just the way the cookie crumbles," you heard Mijin remark from behind you. All you heard after that was a weird squeaking, as if someone needed to replace their windshield wipers.

"Jungkook, is it weird to say that those two together scared me more than that maze?" you whispered loudly as he handed you a beer. He shook his head and stared behind him, shuddering.

"To never being that fucking corny," he pledged, holding his own bottle out. You nodded and clinked yours against his and took a much needed gulp. Then, unable to resist, you leaned in to kiss him. It ended up lasting much longer than you had intended, and when you pulled away he had a dreamy smile on his face. "I guess it'll be nice if the best man and the maid of honor are together though."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Jungkook distracted you with another mind-melting kiss, and by the time he released your lips, your legs were jelly. He noticed the way you were clinging to him and grinned that sweet smile at you before easily picking you up and setting your butt on the counter.

"Better?" he asked, nestling himself between his legs and tilting his head up to look at you upside-down. You giggled and leaned down to give him a peck, then stroked through his hair with your free hand. The two of you watched the party from the relatively quiet confines of the kitchen, where Meej and Jin where getting increasingly close and Jimin was now attempting to avoid the advances of a sad cookie while Taehyung laughed his ass off on the sidelines. It was odd how easily things had come together when you were the last person who would ever willingly enter a haunted corn maze.

Jungkook snuggled his head under your chin and you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and letting your hands rest on his bare sides. Who would have thought getting lured out of the house by the promise of donuts would lead to so much more? You knew Mijin would use this as an excuse to drag you out to more activities, but when Jungkook nuzzled your shoulder you found yourself more excited than chagrined. Fall might be ending, but your time with him was just beginning.

~~~~~

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #autumnleavescollab

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