#and we were sitting on the floor and she was like

[sunnami]

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

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

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

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

word count. 11.4k

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

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

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

In other words: Quidditch tryouts. 

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

Needless to say, you absolutely hate Quidditch. 

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

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

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

“Watch out!” 

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

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

“Move!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With—what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE STORY GOES like this: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe we can help,” says Remus. 

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

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

Her eye twitches. “Come back tomorrow.” 

With that, she slams the door in their faces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lily glares at him. 

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

Everything is starting to change. 

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

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

You sigh. “Can‘t. Sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of them.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

(Peter knows a lie when he hears one.) 

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

Remus hisses his name in warning. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The snow melts and time catches everyone unaware.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Peter questions dubiously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate Quidditch.

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

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

You handle him with a quick, “Entomorphis.” 

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

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

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

It’s Lily Evans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, the story ends just like that. 

YOU HAVE FOUND yourself in a very tricky position. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” Remus coughs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps, some things are better left unsaid. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Pads, shut up.” 

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

Lily chortles. 

Oh. 

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

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

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

Which happens to be right beside you. 

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

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

Gilderoy’s arm shoots up in the air. 

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

He lowers his arm with a bright blush. 

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

How fun.

Not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ascendio!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to us?” Sirius interjects gravelly. 

You let out a deep sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?” You ask in disbelief. 

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

“What exactly are you going to prove?” 

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

Merlin’s saggy balls. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ACTA NON VERBA.”

Deeds, not words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get down here! Your girlfriend is waiting!”

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

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

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

“You came,” He says huskily. 

“I did.” 

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

But no sign of Sirius Black. 

“Miss me, did you, love?” 

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

“Merlin’s tits—!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lily—” 

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

Sirius snickers. “How charming.” 

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

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

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

(Something she should have done years ago.) 

“IS THAT A new jumper?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait with a bated breath.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

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

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

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

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

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

With that, she pushes you into the Quidditch pitch. 

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

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

Perhaps it’s a sign.

This really wasn’t a good idea.

Love is a fool’s game.

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

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

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

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

“James—!”

“Go, go, Gryffindor!”

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

Once more.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!”

Please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that means?” You scoff lightheartedly. 

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

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

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

EPILOGUE:

“I LOVE QUIDDITCH!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sirius grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BONUS: 

“REMUS!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry blinks. “Thanks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

[malwaredykes]

well. here she is. miss Leigh Stasik.

trans woman. stubborn, incorrigible, eccentric. communist; she has leftist in-fighting with herself on the regular. a cannibal; she has no moral qualms about this, and its both a bit of a spiritual thing and a bit of a pragmatic thing. medic (not a doctor. no medical license). she knows for sure she had some kind of significant personality change from being shot in the head, but she doesn't remember what she was like exactly before it happened, it all became this kind of distant memory soup. shes originally from west new cali, but she grew very attached to the mojave. and has a lot of contempt for the ncr. She Will Serve Crack Before She Serves This Country. thank god the army discriminates against transsexuals etc. zero tolerance for the legion, obviously.

she firmly believes she is not nice, or kind, or compassionate, but instead her actions and her general sense of justice stem from her simply doing whats the most logical and objectively beneficial. it may be true to some extent, but she might also have a wee bit of ocd of the "i am a horrible person whos at all times like 2 seconds away from committing atrocities" variety.

shes a SCIENTIST. unofficially. she doesnt have a degree nor a chosen field of study. she makes her own hrt and other mysterious concoctions, including designer chems. which she claims she ingests injects etc not for recreational purposes, but to Enhance Her Powers And Possibilities. she reads old world books about psychology so she can manipulate people better. and makes weird contraptions and doohickeys while high. shes a HACKER of course and hacks terminals and systems for fun and just to see if she can.

her stats are out there due to implants and intense training, originally they were rather average. in-game she wears combat armor mk 2, but i see her having spruced it up like this. her main weapon is the ycs/186, the unique gauss rifle, but before that she used a modded plasma pistol. which she very much enjoyed the silly appearance of. because it was so small and with so much shit tacked on and she could just hold it in one hand like a mutated revolver like Hands up motherfucker bang bang bang lol. her melee weapon of choice is the machete gladius, but she's been training to be able to wield a thermic lance.

in my head the trajectory of her actions and the fate of the mojave that follows is different from what you can do with the game, because leigh could only go for The Secret Leftist Route Which Was Supposed To Be In The Game But We Were Robbed Of It.

boone was the first friend she made after leaving goodsprings and their relationship is particularly notable. they are Comrades, Siblings-In-Arms, Worsties (like besties but fucked up). theyve seen each other at their worst. they annoy each other on purpose. theyve had serious ideological clashes with each other and some ways in which boone perceives the world drive leigh absolutely nuts. they're ride or die for each other. theyre the kind of comfortable around each other where she'll be on the toilet and smoking a cig with the door open and talking to him, while he's naked sitting on the floor removing stitches from his leg. she's done surgery without anesthesia on him. he's projectile vomited blood on her from being poisoned by cazadores. she strongly encourages him to become a traitor to the ncr and to take part in the revolution and the formation of the new independent mojave alliance. somehow, it works on him in the end. shamefully they kinda like snuggling... boone bro come to bed man its nighty night man its beddy bye time.

shes in love with lily bowen. i havent decided yet whether she actually makes a move. but she thinks lily is sooooo dreamy. and shes right. if you dont think the enormous 203 year old blue mutant woman is dreamy thats your problem. outta her way

#leigh stasik #courier six #fallout new vegas

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 2 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

read part 1 here

wc: 3000

cw: mentions of food and alcohol! enemies to lovers! poorly researched medical information lmao i am a liberal arts girly i just need it for the plot. typical bau meddling, reader is lowkey a bully but dw bc hotch is still a little bitch, part 3 to come c: 

a/n big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You. 

With your red dress and your attitude, throwing back amaretto sours like they’re tequila shots - who gets drunk on amaretto sours? They’re basically safe to drink while pregnant. To be fair, you didn’t get sloppy, or even really that drunk. By the end of the night, your eyes appeared just a bit heavy, like someone had tied miniature weights to your eyelashes. 

Your eyelashes. Aaron had never found eyelashes, of all things, to be attractive, but here he is, in the middle of a work day with a report half-finished (and half-assed, at that), and he’s thinking about your eyelashes. 

He’s thought of basically every part of you already today. Your knees, your dress, what’s underneath it. You have been sucking him into a black hole all day long, and he’s to the point where he’s halfway wishing for a serial killer so he can focus on something else. 

He plows his hand through his dark hair, shaking off the overwhelming thoughts of you. He checks the silver Rolex on his wrist. It’s nearly time to leave. Aaron doesn’t usually do this, but he decides to leave this report for tomorrow, when he can look at the letters on the page and not see your face, hear your voice. 

Just as he starts packing up, there’s a knock on his open office door. Aaron’s dark eyes flicker up to see Garcia standing in the doorway, Morgan’s tall frame looming behind her. “Hotch, you got anything going on tonight?” 

Aaron shakes his head. For once, he actually doesn’t. “Jack’s at a sleepover,” he says. “What’s up?” 

“We’re taking Spence and Jacqueline to this nighttime vendor market thingy,” Penelope says, scrunching her nose up with a smile. “You remember Jacqueline?” 

It’s been a week since Derek’s birthday, when Jacqueline and Spencer were introduced. More relevantly, since Aaron laid eyes on you. “I remember.” 

“You wanna come with us?” Penelope asks with bright eyes. Aaron opens his mouth the decline almost immediately, but Penelope beats him to it. “Y/N’s not coming.” 

Aaron arches a brow. “What makes you think I care if Y/N’s coming or not?” he asks. 

“Oh, c’mon, Hotch,” Derek puts all his weight on the doorjamb. “We saw you staring at her at my birthday. It’s about time you moved on from Haley, any-”

“If I say I’ll come out, will you stop talking?” Aaron cuts him off, grabbing his briefcase. 

Derek ponders this for a second, even looks to Penelope as if to ask permission. He shrugs his shoulders in what Aaron suspects will be the first little white lie of the evening. “Yeah.” 

How anyone was able to sprain their ankle while shopping for books is beyond you. Leave it to Jacqueline, the wide-eyed, quirkily clumsy ingénue of her very own romantic comedy, to trip over a curb while gazing starry-eyed at the oh-so dreamy Dr. Reid. She called you from the emergency room with a shrill panic lining her voice, and you immediately leapt up from the couch. You didn’t even bother pausing your show on the TV, just slid some shoes on, grabbed your bag, and bolted out the door. 

You’re taking extra long strides, your flip-flops smacking obnoxiously against the linoleum tiles of the hospital floor. When you spot Jacqueline sitting up in the bed, still in her own clothes, you feel instant relief. At least she’s not panicking anymore. Spencer sits diligently by her side, fidgeting with the edges of the sheets. Jacqueline’s right leg is elevated atop several pillows, with a meek smile on her face once her eyes meet yours. 

“Spencer, you’re supposed to keep an eye on her at all times,” you joke with a weak laugh, sighing as you plop down in the empty chair beside Spencer’s. 

“She saw something shiny and wandered off,” Spencer shrugs, and Jacqueline glares at the both of you. 

“This whole talking about me like I’m not here, thing? Not my favorite,” she deadpans. There’s the Jacqueline you know and love. In crowded social settings, she can be reclusive and difficult to open up. But with only a few people around - especially people she’s comfortable around - Jacqueline is a completely different person. 

You’re glad she feels comfortable around Spencer after just a week of knowing him. They’re not even officially dating, per se, but tonight they went out with Penelope and Derek to test the waters. You think it’s cute - like two fifth-graders on a chaperoned outing to the movies, with their parents sitting a row behind them. 

You were invited to tag along, but you didn’t want to be the fifth wheel. You also were having a really long, insufferable week, and you simply needed some recharge time. So you politely declined. 

“Oh, shush, you’ve got bigger fish to fry,” you tell Jacqueline playfully, eyes darting down to her elevated foot. “So, what’s the damage?” 

“Sprained ankle, possibly fractured,” Spencer rattles off. “Usually an x-ray isn’t required, but since Jacqueline’s having pain in her malleolar zone - that is, the top part of the ankle that connects to the tibia - the doctor ordered one. We’re waiting on the results to come back, but I think they’ll just put her in a brace for a few weeks. Statistically speaking, only about 15% of sprained ankles result in significant bone fractures.” 

You release an awkward little chuckle, very nearly overwhelmed by the amount of information Spencer just dumped on you. Jacqueline shrugs her shoulders a little, like this is just how he is, and I love it. 

You blink a few times as you absorb all of Spencer’s ramblings. “So.. she’s gonna be fine?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Spencer cracks a smile, and his thumb brushes affectionately over the top of Jacqueline’s hand. Your friend blushes furiously, ever-so-clearly under the fluorescent lighting. 

“So what exactly happened?” You ask. 

Before either of them get to answer, imposing footsteps grow louder, and you hear a familiar voice say, “Okay, coffee acquired.”

Smooth like the neat whiskey he was throwing back the night you met him, Aaron’s voice drags down your spine. Your belly does acrobatic flips. You visibly tense up for a second before turning around to see Aaron with a cardboard drink carrier in his hand containing three to-go cups of coffee. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N. When did you get here?” Aaron’s voice goes flat, and he meets your eyes civilly. 

“While you were getting coffee, I presume,” you deadpan, and you swear you see one of those imposing brown eyes twitch. 

“Right,” Aaron hands Jacqueline her coffee, and then has to lean over you so he can give Spencer his. You catch whiffs of pine and espresso and dark leather. His chest is basically in your face for a solid three seconds. God, he’s broad. He’s also in a suit, save for the jacket and tie, and your eyes catch the crinkly lines in his white dress shirt, no longer crisp from being worn all day. They look like rivers on a map. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Glad you’re okay, Jacqueline, that was quite the fall.” 

“Oh, no, Aaron, you don’t have to go!” Jacqueline pipes up, holding her coffee with two hands. “I mean, only if you need to, but, we’re still waiting for my X-ray to come back, and I know I’d love the company.” 

You look at Jacqueline with a bewildered expression. “I mean, I’d love the company of all of you,” Jacqueline corrects, her cheeks pinkening. 

You cross your ankles, suddenly aware that you’re in your loungewear - beige linen shorts and a blue Georgetown sweatshirt - and your hair sits in a haphazard knot on top of your head. You have to remind yourself that you don’t care. That Aaron Hotchner’s opinion of you does not matter. 

Aaron seems momentarily frozen in place, standing at the foot of Jacqueline’s bed. His eyes dart to you as if to silently ask permission to stay, and you give a subtle, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shrug and tilt of your head. He inhales and you see his nostrils flare. He clears his throat and says, “Let me find a chair, then.” 

There’s something humorous about a man as tall and imposing and draconian as Aaron Hotchner looking for a chair in the emergency room bay of a hospital. Shoulders hunched so he doesn’t inconvenience anyone. You hope he feels embarrassed and humbled by the experience. A muted smirk rests upon your lips as you watch him most unhelpfully, not even bothering to move from your seat. 

Eventually he finds a free chair in the corner and drags it to the other side of Jacqueline’s bed, keeping a respectful distance. He looks across the bed at Spencer, who sits beside you. “Did you tell her that Garcia basically pushed Jacqueline over the curb?” 

Fluorescent lighting had never been so flattering before. Under its clarifying spotlight, Aaron gets to see details of you he’d missed at the bar where you first met. The texture of your skin, an extra little sliver of thigh from those linen shorts he wasn’t privy to before. 

And when he leaned over you to give Reid his coffee? He caught your intoxicating scent and now he fears it will either be stuck in his nostrils forever, or it will fade too quickly, before he can commit it to memory. 

“Penelope did what?” You’re asking, looking at Reid, then Jacqueline, brows creasing in the middle. 

Aaron folds his left leg atop his right, then nods with an amused smile. It’s clear you still don’t like him - might even hate him for how cold he was to you at the bar the other night. He can tell by the way you refuse to look at him unless absolutely necessary, how your jaw visibly tenses every time he addresses you directly. 

“I have no solid proof,” Aaron begins, offering the information as an olive branch. Your eyes snap to his and he’s jarred for a second, then he continues, the corners of his lips ticking up into an amused smile. “But one second, I see Garcia and Morgan at least three feet behind where Jacqueline’s walking, and the next thing I know, she’s on the ground and Garcia’s apologizing profusely.” 

“Why isn’t she here?” You laugh softly, and Aaron’s chest thrums. He can’t diagnose his reaction to it, but your laugh, no matter how strained and merely polite it might be at this moment, could be the thing that kills him. 

“Something about feeding JJ and Emily’s cat while they’re on vacation,” Jacqueline chimes in. Aaron clocks the younger woman’s eyes and how glued they are on Reid. She’s been so closed off every time Aaron’s around, so this tidbit of information coming from her surprises him. Aaron’s wondered this whole time if she truly likes Reid or if she’s just being kind. 

You nod in understanding and lean back in your chair. Little wisps of your hair fall into your eyes and you brush them back delicately with your index finger. 

Jacqueline pipes up again, her voice still timid and maybe a little tired. “Would you mind maybe getting me a snack?” She asks you. 

Aaron watches the softening of your expression as you look at Jacqueline fondly. You would do anything for her, and he can tell. “Of course,” you squeeze Jacqueline’s uninjured leg as you rise from your seat. 

“And maybe Aaron can go with you? Since Spence is pretty hungry, too, right, Spence?” Jacqueline proposes. 

Your soft expression twists into one of slight irritance. 

Aaron knows exactly what Jacqueline is up to, but it takes Reid a lingering moment to catch on. “What - oh, yeah, I’m starving,” the good doctor adds, even going to far as to pat his stomach, as if to say it’s hollow in there. 

Your eyes shrink in annoyance, and you seem to plaster a sickly sweet smile onto your lips, one that would make demons shake in their boots. You lock eyes with Aaron, as if to say, well? What’s it gonna be? 

Aaron asks Jacqueline and Reid what they want, then leads the way out of the ER and towards the cafeteria. The hospital’s signage is fairly easy to follow, and Aaron slows his usually long strides so you don’t have to struggle to keep up.

He gestures to your Georgetown sweatshirt. “You graduated from Georgetown?” He asks. 

“No, I just like to wear merchandise for schools I didn’t attend,” you deadpan, and there’s that goddamn attitude again. 

Aaron considers laying it all out - right here, right now. You’re not even thirty yet, from what Garcia’s told him. He shouldn’t be attracted to you, but he is, and god, is it killing him. Instead, he just furrows his brows and doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” you soften a little, shoving your hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt. You seem to be cutting Aaron a little bit of slack, for whatever reason. “Yeah, I went to Georgetown.” 

Aaron holds the door open for you when you reach the cafeteria. You feel a little bad for your snarky comment in the hallway. You were not raised to be outwardly rude. You were raised to hoard your resentment like a precious flower, nursing it so it grows big and strong. 

“Jacqueline made it really sound like an emergency, huh?” Aaron asks, following you to the line. You shoot him a quizzical brow, and he gestures to your ensemble. 

“Oh, excuse me for not wearing an Armani suit to the hospital,” you roll your eyes, but they linger on the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “You just went out right after work, then? In your fancy suit?” 

Aaron smooths his fingertips over the white cotton. The color reminds you of freshly cleaned bedsheets. “Yeah, and it’s not Armani, for your information.” 

“Sorry, Mr. FBI. What is it, then, Dolce & Gabbana? Ralph Lauren?” 

“Tom Ford.” 

“Like that’s any less pretentious,” you scoff. 

“Hey, I can spend my money however I choose,” Aaron says, and you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to give him shit for it. 

“Must be nice to just burn cash,” you say dryly. “I’m sure your wife loves that.” 

“I don’t have a wife.” You look at him over your shoulder and his eye twitches a little when he says this. 

You’re not sure why you mention a wife anyway. Maybe you’re merely curious, but then again, you’ve already clocked that he’s not wearing a wedding ring. “Girlfriend, then,” you correct. “Do men your age call them girlfriends, or do you prefer the term mistress?” 

“Men my age?” Aaron laughs bitterly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. His voice is stringent, right on the line of annoyance. You smirk to yourself and grab a tray so you can carry the food. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t call her my mistress, because I don’t have a wife to cheat on with her.” 

“Bachelors in the 1800s called their girlfriends mistresses,” you point out, though your facts are coming from Bridgerton, so you’re not sure if they’re entirely accurate. “I don’t know how old-fashioned you are.” 

“I’m not,” Aaron says simply as you load an individual-size veggie pizza on your tray for Jacqueline, then grab a bag of chips and a soda for yourself. Aaron grabs the sandwich Spencer requested, and you lead the way to the checkout. 

The cafeteria worker punches in your items, and then Aaron’s. “Oh, we’re not together,” you correct politely. 

“It’s fine,” Aaron insists, pulling a silver AmEx out of his wallet. You reach for your own wallet to try and beat him, but he’s already swiped by the time you even get it out. 

You thank the cafeteria worker before gathering everything in your hands. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you and Aaron head out of the cafeteria. He holds the door open for you, again. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Aaron says as you walk through the open door. “Chivalry is still alive, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Not old-fashioned, huh?” You smirk as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks redden a bit. Wait, when did this become playful jesting rather than straight-up bullying? 

“Maybe a little old-fashioned.” Aaron’s lips hint at a smile, and you feel your mouth go dry. 

“Shocking that you’re still on the market,” you say, admittedly because you’re curious about what Penelope said the other night at the bar. Something about Aaron going through a hard time. 

“My job requires a lot of my time,” Aaron explains. Your footsteps slow a little and he matches your pace. “Even if I found someone worth all the trouble, I don’t think I’d have the time to dedicate to a relationship.” 

“Worth all the trouble?” You repeat, a scoff lining your voice like a thousand tiny needles. Aaron resists the urge to visibly wince at your reaction. 

Why you’re prompting all this relationship discussion is beyond him. He’s a profiler, for Christ’s sake, but he can’t pin you down, for some reason. He lays the brickwork down and builds his walls up again. For a moment, back in the cafeteria, he was starting to let you in. 

But, no, it doesn’t matter how god-forsakenly adorable you are when you scrunch your nose or call him out on his bullshit. Aaron’s not ready for this kind of thing yet, so iciness is necessary. It protects him, it protects Jack, but - and, maybe most importantly - it protects you. 

You’re young and you’re willful. You’re a goddamn hurricane, a force to be reckoned with, but your stubbornness is a house of cards. Aaron Hotchner knows that if he hurts you, the cards will fall. And he could never forgive himself for something like that. 

So when you look at him for some kind of explanation, throwing him an arched brow and the opportunity to explain himself, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he watches as you pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, leaving a hell of a view and a frustrated, fully-grown man in your wake.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotchner x reader #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner x you #hotchner x you #hotch x you

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt4

pairing: jessie fleming x reader pt 1, pt2, pt3

synopsis: jessie’s lack of proper explanation has her pleading

warnings: so so angsty, language

a/n: lol

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

the tick of your eyebrow tells jessie that this isn’t going to be one of those times when you two talk it out.

“great!” you say clapping your hands “so do you mind telling me why you said that bullshit instead of behind honest with me about your two and a half year relationship?” your falsely cheery tone paired with the sarcastic smile across your face is unsettling for jessie. “and while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me what the problem with this photo is?” you say as you slide your phone across the counter. the photo that was on jordyn’s story stares back at jessie.

“y/n” the canadian starts “i really— it’s not—” she huffs and scrubs a hand over her face. “i was standing up before the photo and she moved over so i could sit down. there wasn’t much room so we had to squish together, and she stood up pretty much immediately after the photo was taken”

you nod once as you purse your lips “and the lying?”

“i didn’t mean to” jessie says, now leaning back “it just came out and i don’t know why i didn’t correct myself”

her reasoning makes you feel worse. you think you maybe would’ve preferred her purposely lie and stick to it, rather than stick to an accidental lie for almost four years. tears begin to well in your eyes as you watch jessie cast her gaze to the floor in front of her.

“so you kept up with an accidental lie for almost four years because… what? because you couldn’t tell me the truth afterwards? because you didn’t think it was anything? like, what was the reason, jessie”

“it’s not like i thought about it!” jessie stresses “it never came up again so i forgot about it”

“until you saw her again, right?” you spit at her, folding your arms over your chest.

your girlfriend stays silent and rolls her head on her neck. she continues to not say anything as she scuffs her shoes against the floor.

you can’t help but laugh at yourself. you feel stupid, so, so stupid. “it took you less than twenty four hours to, what?, second guess your four year long relationship? are you—”

“i’m not second guessing shit” she says, now looking at you “don’t even start with that”

“start with what jessie?” you raise your voice and push off the wall “start with the fact that there’s every chance that i’m just a rebound you got in too deep with? that we were seeing eachother and you weren’t over her?”

jessie pinches her eyebrows together “you weren’t a rebound! i wasn’t even looking to date when janine introduced us—”

“because you were still in love with her”

“jesus christ, will you let me finish?” jessie grits out.

“when you start telling me something that’s gonna make me believe that our whole relationship isn’t just because i was the first person shoved under your nose when you got to london” you sneer at her.

jessie deflates, her hands going lax by her sides “is that seriously what you think?” she asks quietly “that i only started dating you because you were there?”

“what am i supposed to think, jess? that it was a coincidence that we started dating just after you get out of an almost three year long relationship?” tears fall down your face at the thought of janine introducing the two of you so jessie could get over her ex. you turn your face away from her and sniffle.

“it was a coincidence” jessie stresses “i didn’t want to date anybody, and janine thought i needed friends outside of the club so she introduced us. that’s seriously it” she says as she approaches you carefully.

you look at her through tears “did seeing her again bring up old feelings?”

jessie hesitates and bites the inside of her cheek before looking away. you don’t try to get her to look at you, don’t try to get her to answer you quicker, you simply just wait. it’s only now that you get to fully take in what she looks like. her unbrushed bed head, her oversized ‘i heart aus’ t-shirt she wears to sleep, the way one sock is kind of flopping off her foot whilst the other is still on. the version of jessie in front of you is your normal, your safe space.

this version of jessie likes her eggs made a particular way and buries herself under the covers to avoid the sun when she wants to sleep in; she wakes you up with kisses all over you face and tells you corny jokes, and she doesn’t have the weight of a nation’s expectations on her shoulders. she’s carefree and so full of love that sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with it.

this jessie is the love of your life, and right now you feel like you’re watching her slip through your fingers.

when you watch silent tears fall down her face you know you’ve got your answer. you shut your eyes “right” you say coldly before turning around and heading for your shared bedroom.

jessie’s head snaps towards your retreating form “wait, y/n!”

“jessie i can’t” you say as you grab a bag out of your closet. you begin pulling clothes you know you’ll need: training, home and away kits, socks, underwear, pyjamas, a few shirts and jeans. you count them in your head and then stuff them in your bag just as jessie comes into the room.

“what are you doing!?” she half shouts as she closes the wardrobe “can you please let me explain before you take off?”

you don’t stop walking around your shared bedroom “i just gave you a chance to and you couldn’t look me in the eye” you spit at her, not turning around to look at her.

a fresh wave of tears fall down jessie’s face “i was trying to figure out what to say, y/n, please!”

she walks around the bed to you, putting her hand over yours when you open your bedside drawer to grab your watch. her hand is warm and soft wrapped around yours and you are filled with the overwhelming urge to give into her. you turn your head to face her.

“p-please” she stutters “i swear, i have an explanation for all of it” she whispers to you, trying to hold eye contact through teary eyes “please don’t leave”

you own lip trembles “i need to, for a few days at least” you whisper back to her, pulling your hand out from under hers “it’ll give you time to think about whatever it is you want to say”

“but i don’t need time, i—”

“i do” you interrupt “you have no idea what finding this out has done to me, jess. i just need to step back”

the canadian looks defeated as you move to your bathroom to pack up your toiletries bag. she’s rooted to her spot and find herself wondering how she got here when it was only yesterday morning the two of you were rolling around in bed giggling.

she harshly wipes her tears as you slip your shoes on. the sight of her makes you want to drop everything and wrap your arms around her, make sure she knows that you still love her, but you can’t. you can’t stand here and deny yourself time apart, even if it is just a day or two.

“i’m gonna go stay with sam” you sigh “i just— i really think we both need a little bit of time”

jessie helplessly nods “okay” she whispers as you pick up your bag “i love you”

you bite your lip and turn to her, the weight of the duffel bag in your hands suddenly getting a lot heavier “i love you too” you whisper back to her, hopefully not for the last time.

#jflemings woso #jflemings writes #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming angst #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso angst

[en-gelic]

THE BOY IS MINE — !

syn. when you get jealous gn. fluff 1.1k cw. skinship, jealousy, short reader 엔하이픈 형선 ୨୧ the boy is mine LiA'S NOTE my bday is on monday 🤭 COLLECTION 엔하이픈 막내선

LEE HEESEUNG — You had been watching him interact with the engenes for the past 20 minutes, watching as he made flirtatious jokes and held their hands. Pushing back the uncontrollable pout on your lips, you huffed and dodged his kiss when you arrived home. Bewildered by your indifference, he pestered you about it, trying to bribe you to tell him. "Why are you mad? Just tell me." He pressed, burying his head between your neck, pressing ticklish kisses on your collarbone. "Go talk to your fans." You pouted, shrugging him off and stalking into the kitchen. An amused smile grew on his lips as he bit back laughter at your childish behavior.

"Are the engenes really the cause of why you're mad." He questioned, catching your arm before you could escape his grasp. Feeling embarrassed, you refused to answer. He leaned down and pressed kisses on your lips, each one getting longer than first. Pulling away, he trailed kisses down your neck. "Engenes should be jealous of you," He began between kisses. "Because you have me, and I love you." "More than you love the engenes?" You huffed, feeling your anger deplete. He let out a breathy chuckle, scooping you up in his arms and moving to the bedroom. "Of course."

PARK JONGSEONG — Staring daggers at the waitress, you watched Jay charmingly smile at her and engage in what he called polite conversation, but to you was just straight up flirting. You could see that the waitress had a clear crush on him by the way she batted her eyelashes at him repeatedly and the way she hovered around your table like a lost fly. "Baby, where do you want to go after this?" He asked, finishing the wine in his glass. You muttered a half-hearted reply which he was behavior he was not used to seeing from you. Moving to place a hand on yours, he tried to read your face.

"What's wrong?" He questions, worried about your silence. "I don't know. Ask the waitress, she seems to be bored and waiting for a conversation with you." You complained, picking at your food like a 5-year-old. He smiled his charming smile at you, and you huffed even more, turning to look at him. "Just stop doing that smile to everyone." You complained, pushing down the corners of his mouth. "Now she's probably going to fall in love with you and you'll leave me for her ass and personality." You pouted. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss on your pouty lips. That single action caused your lips to twitch upwards as you tried to bite back a smile. He gave you a few more, leaving his lips stained with your red lip product. Getting out your wet wipes, you moved to wipe his lips but was stopped by him dodging your hand. "I have to show the waitress I have a girlfriend, so my pretty girl doesn't get jealous." He said, teasing you with a grin. "I hate you." You replied, feigning indifference, but actually pleased at his stained lips. "I love you too." He answered. ✶ more under the cut !

SIM JAEYUN — Jake had been laying on the floor, playing with Layla for the past hour, leaving you to relish in your growing hatred to a dog you used to love before. "Should we take Layla out for a walk?" He asked, sitting on the bed beside you. Without replying, you turned away from him, playing games on your phone. He shook your leg, immediately noticing something was wrong. "Babe?" He asked. "Go take her by yourself, since you love her more than me." You mumbled, sinking into your blanket barrier. He stilled for a moment, until he slid into the bed with you. "Are you jealous?" His hot breath swirled at your neck as amusement lined his voice.

"Why would I be jealous of a dog?" You retorted, even though you were indeed jealous of a dog. Knowing how much your pride meant to you, he stifled his giggles, which resulted in you huffing even more and moving out of his grasp. You felt him get out of the bed and heard the door open and close after. Thinking he left, you scoffed and buried yourself in the blanket, thinking about ways to get Layla out of the room. An arm startled you out of your thinking as you were moved to your back. Removing the blanket from your head, you found his eyes gazing down at you. "I was reading something," He started, caging you between his arms. "The art of fixing things with your girlfriend, I think it was called." Clearly, you knew that wasn't a thing, but you listened anyway. Leaning down, he caught your ear with his mouth, moving down to your neck. "Step one, was give her a kiss." Before you could reply, his lips collided with yours messily. Pushing him away, you struggled to catch your breath. "Where's Layla?" You questioned, knowing very well that she would come in between what you were about to do. He grinned his signature boyish grin. "She's on her walk."

PARK SUNGHOON — "Does he have to be so pretty?" You complained silently as your date was continuously interrupted by fans and onlookers stopping him to take a photo with him or get his autograph. "We should go to Tifanny and Co next," He started, excited after meeting his fans. "They just said that a new collection was coming out." Without replying, you excused yourself to the bathroom, muttering pouty complaints to yourself, Sunghoon smiling to himself at your irritation, finding it cute that you were jealous.

To make you even more jealous, he chatted about the fans on the drive home fighting back a smile at your pouty replies. You had been so immersed in your phone that you didn't even notice when he pulled up in an empty driveway. He picked up the phone in your hands and put it in one of his pockets, patting his lap afterwards. Pulling a face, you reluctantly moved to his lap, avoiding his gaze. "What's wrong, love? Feeling jealous?" He teased, moving you to face him. "No." You mumbled through evidently pouting lips. His hand traced the fabric on your jeans, moving his hand from your hips to your waist. Pulling you closer to his body, he pressed a peck on your neck, holding it there before moving to your collarbone. "What do you want?" You complained, pushing away from him. Your action was short-lived as he pulled you back, peppering more kisses on your neck. "You." Dancing around the border of temptation, he kissed everywhere but your lips. After he pulled away, your pout increased. "Why did you stop?" He displayed his perfect teeth through a grin. "I see you've forgiven me. Say please and I'll consider." He teased. "Kiss me and I'll forgive you." In an instant, his lips were on yours; the action of forgiveness becoming messier. Pulling away, you slid off his lap. "I'll forgive you now."

© EN-GELIC, 2024

#･･✸ en gelic #—🗯 lia writes #enhablr #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #park jay x reader #park jay imagines #enhypen jay imagines #jay x reader #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #sim jake imagines #jake imagines #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen riki #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen maknae line #jungwon

[satellite-evans]

Little Miracle

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/N and Benedict face unexpected challenges during a family gathering.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: tiny angst, fluff, reader falls down the stairs.

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The ballroom at Aubrey Hall was alive with the sounds of laughter and music as the Bridgerton family hosted yet another grand gathering. Guests twirled around the dance floor, the atmosphere vibrant with joy. Y/N Bridgerton, glowing with the radiance of pregnancy, stood near the grand staircase, her hand resting protectively on her slightly rounded belly. She was engaged in a lighthearted conversation with Penelope and Eloise, who were both delightedly fussing over her.

“You look positively radiant,” Penelope said, her eyes sparkling. “Marriage and being with child certainly agrees with you.”

Eloise grinned. “Not to mention, you have an excuse to sit and rest while the rest of us run around.”

Y/N laughed softly. “I do enjoy the attention, I must admit. But tell me, Penelope, how have you been?”

Penelope smiled warmly. “Life has been wonderful. Colin is as adventurous as ever, always whisking me away to some new place. But seeing you like this makes me wonder about the future.”

Y/N placed her hand over her belly, feeling a flutter of excitement. “I can’t wait for our child to arrive. Benedict and I are so excited.”

Eloise rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, I’m just glad you’re happy. Although I’m still not sure about this whole marriage and babies thing. My books are just far more interesting than every encounter I had with a man.”

“You’ll find your own path, Eloise,” Y/N said with a smile. “And when you do, it will be perfect for you.”

Benedict Bridgerton was mingling with guests across the room, keeping a watchful eye on his wife. His heart swelled with love every time he saw her smile. Benedict planned to whisk her away to a quiet corner of the garden for a few moments of peace amidst the festivities. He could hardly wait to tell her about the little swing he had built for their future child, nestled under the old oak tree. He turned to Anthony and Colin, who were discussing estate matters near the punch table. As soon as he saw Benedict's expression, Anthony excused himself and joined his brother, with Colin following closely.

“You look like a man on top of the world,” Anthony remarked with a knowing grin.

“I am,” Benedict admitted, his eyes bright. “I can’t stop thinking about what it will be like to hold our baby, to see Y/N as a mother. It feels like a dream.”

Colin chuckled. “Our brother, a father. Who would have thought?”

“I always knew he had it in him,” Anthony teased. “Even if he does look like he’s about to faint every time he thinks about his wife giving birth.”

Benedict laughed. “I’ll manage, somehow. Though I’m sure you’ll both have plenty of teasing to do.”

Anthony grinned. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Speaking of which,” Colin added, “do you have any names in mind yet?”

“We’ve been thinking,” Benedict said, his face lighting up. “But we haven’t settled on anything yet. We want it to be perfect.”

Anthony patted his brother on the back. “Whatever name you choose, it will be perfect because it will be yours.”

Benedict’s smile widened. “Thank you, both of you. I’m just so excited.”

Back at the staircase, Y/N continued chatting with Penelope and Eloise.

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Eloise asked, echoing Colin's question.

“We’ve been thinking about a few,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling. “If it’s a boy, maybe Charles, after my father. And if it’s a girl—”

Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the entrance. A servant, rushing to fetch more refreshments, tripped on the hem of a guest’s dress and stumbled forward, knocking into Y/N.

Time seemed to slow as Y/N lost her balance, her arms flailing in a desperate attempt to steady herself. Penelope and Eloise reached out to catch her.

“Y/N!” Penelope screamed, her voice filled with panic.

“Someone help!” Eloise shouted, her eyes wide with terror.

But it was too late. Y/N tumbled down several steps before coming to a painful stop at the bottom. Gasps filled the room, and the music halted abruptly. Y/N felt a sharp pain shoot through her abdomen and a wave of fear washed over her. She tried to move, but the pain was too intense.

Benedict’s heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat as he sprinted toward his wife. The guests parted, creating a clear path for him as he fell to his knees beside her.

“Y/N!” Benedict’s voice was raw with panic. “Please, someone get a doctor!”

Penelope and Eloise knelt beside her, their faces pale with worry. “Y/N, are you alright?” Eloise asked, her voice trembling.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her face contorted in pain. “Benedict...” she whispered, her voice weak. “The baby...”

“Shh, don’t speak,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “Help is coming.”

Lady Danbury, always composed even in the face of crisis, took charge. “Everyone, give them space! Anthony, fetch the doctor immediately!”

Anthony snapped into action, his usual commanding presence even more pronounced. “Colin, stay with them. I’ll be back with the doctor as quickly as possible.”

Colin nodded, his face pale but determined. He knelt beside Benedict, placing a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She’s strong, Benedict. She’ll pull through this.”

Benedict barely registered his words, his focus entirely on Y/N. “Just stay with me, love. Help is on the way.”

Anthony pushed through the crowd, his voice cutting through the murmurs of concern. “Make way, please! It’s urgent!”

Within moments, Anthony returned with the doctor, a sense of urgency in his movements. Violet Bridgerton appeared soon after, her face etched with worry but her demeanor composed.

“Y/N, darling, you’re going to be alright,” Violet said softly, her voice soothing. She took Y/N’s hand, offering her strength and comfort.

The doctor’s examination was thorough but gentle. Benedict watched, his heart pounding, as the physician examined Y/N with care.

“She needs to be moved to a bed immediately,” the doctor instructed. “We must be cautious.”

Anthony and Colin helped carry Y/N to the nearest bedroom, Benedict never leaving her side. His mind raced with a thousand fears, each one more terrifying than the last. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose their child.

As they laid her gently on the bed, Violet stayed close, her presence a source of strength for both Y/N and Benedict.

“Benedict...” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so scared.”

“I know, my love,” Benedict said, his voice choked with emotion. “But you’re strong, and our baby is strong. We’ll get through this together.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. “What if something happens to the baby?”

“Don’t think like that,” Violet interjected gently. “Focus on staying calm and resting. The doctor is here, and we’ll do everything we can to keep you both safe.”

The doctor’s examination was thorough but gentle. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression grave but hopeful. “She’s had a nasty fall, but there’s no immediate danger to her or the baby. However, she must rest completely to ensure a full recovery.”

Benedict released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief mingled with lingering fear as he took Y/N’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, doctor. We will do everything you say.”

Y/N managed a faint smile, her eyes meeting Benedict’s. “I’m sorry...”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Benedict said, his voice choked with emotion. “Just rest, my love. I’m here with you.”

As the doctor and the rest of the family ensured Y/N was comfortable, Colin and Anthony took turns comforting their brother.

“She’s in good hands,” Colin assured Benedict. “And you’re doing everything right.”

Anthony nodded. “Just stay by her side, brother. She needs you now more than ever.”

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N’s recovery was slow but steady. Benedict remained by her side, his love and dedication unwavering. The Bridgerton family rallied around them, their support a constant source of strength. One afternoon, as Y/N rested in bed, Benedict sat beside her, holding her hand.

“How are you feeling today?” Benedict asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Tired,” Y/N admitted. “And scared. I can’t help but worry about the baby.”

Benedict’s expression softened. “I know. I feel the same way. Every time I think about what could have happened...” His voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath. “But we have to stay positive. The doctor said you’re both doing well.”

Y/N nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I just want our baby to be safe. I’m trying to stay strong, but it’s hard.”

“I understand,” Benedict said, his voice gentle. “But you are the strongest person I know. And our baby is lucky to have you as a mother.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his words. “And lucky to have you as a father. I couldn’t do this without you, Benedict.”

“We’re in this together,” he assured her. “Every step of the way.”

As they spoke, Violet entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits. “How are my two favorite people?” she asked, her smile warm and comforting.

“We’re managing,” Y/N replied, grateful for her mother-in-law’s presence.

Violet sat down beside them, her eyes filled with maternal concern. “You’re both doing wonderfully. It’s been a difficult time, but you’ve handled it with such grace and strength.”

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her emotions. “I just want everything to be alright.”

“And it will be,” Violet said firmly. “You have a loving husband, a supportive family, and a strong spirit. You’re not alone in this.”

Benedict nodded, his eyes meeting his mother’s. “Thank you, Mother. Your support means everything to us.”

Violet reached out, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re a part of this family, Y/N. We’re here for you, always.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, feeling a sense of belonging and love. “Thank you, Violet. That means so much.”

As the days passed, Y/N’s strength slowly returned. She spent her time resting and taking short walks in the garden, always accompanied by Benedict. The fear of losing their baby still lingered, but with each passing day, their hope grew stronger.

One evening, as they sat in the garden watching the sunset, Y/N felt a gentle flutter in her belly. She reached for Benedict’s hand, placing it over the spot.

“Did you feel that?” she asked, her eyes shining with wonder.

Benedict’s face lit up with joy. “Our baby,” he whispered, awe evident in his voice. “Our little miracle.”

Y/N smiled, tears of happiness spilling down her cheeks. “Yes, our little miracle.”

Benedict’s eyes were filled with emotion as he gently pulled her into his arms. They held each other tightly, their hearts beating as one. The overwhelming sense of relief and joy was almost too much to bear.

“I love you so much,” Benedict whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, her voice trembling.

They kissed tenderly, their lips conveying all the words their hearts couldn’t express. As they pulled back, Benedict pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he took in the moment.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

Y/N laughed softly through her tears, her hand resting on her belly. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Benedict’s eyes sparkled with joy as he knelt down, placing a gentle kiss on Y/N’s belly. “Hello, little one,” he whispered, his voice filled with love. “You gave us quite a scare, but we’re so happy you’re okay. We can’t wait to meet you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love as she watched him. “Benedict, thank you for being so wonderful. Our child is going to be so lucky to have you as a father.”

He looked up at her, his eyes shining with tears. “And lucky to have you as a mother. We’re going to be the best parents we can be.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a deep sense of peace. “Yes, we are.”

Benedict stood, taking her hand in his. “There’s something I want to show you,” he said, his smile widening.

Curious, Y/N allowed him to lead her through the garden. They walked slowly, savoring the warm evening air and the sense of calm that had settled over them. As they approached the old oak tree, Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise.

Beneath the tree, Benedict had crafted a beautiful swing, its wooden seat polished to perfection and adorned with soft cushions. The swing hung from sturdy ropes, gently swaying in the breeze.

“Benedict, did you make this?” Y/N asked, her voice filled with awe.

He nodded, his smile proud. “I did. I wanted to create something special for our child. A place where they can play and dream, just like we did when we were children.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they were tears of pure joy. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you.”

Benedict wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “We’re going to make so many wonderful memories here,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “I can’t wait to see our child swinging and laughing under this tree.”

Y/N leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love envelop her. “Me too,” she said softly. “Thank you for everything, Benedict. For your love, your strength, and for always being here with me.”

He kissed her gently, his lips lingering on hers. “I will always be here for you, Y/N. Always.”

As they stood together under the old oak tree, their hearts intertwined, they felt a profound sense of hope and happiness. The future was bright, filled with the promise of new beginnings and the enduring love of adding a member to their growing family, their little miracle.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict x reader

[lovelytsunoda]

purple haze // charles leclerc

summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.

pairing: charles leclerc x author reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.

by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.

her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.

“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.

“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.

she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.

and now he knew she needed a break.

taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.

his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.

“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“

charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”

smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.

"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."

"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.

SIX MONTHS LATER

it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.

she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.

"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"

ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."

"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.

and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.

"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."

she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"

"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."

charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.

"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.

making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.

this was it.

she had done it.

"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."

she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"

THREE YEARS LATER

the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.

oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.

since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.

they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.

she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.

and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.

it all came down this night.

"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.

she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.

"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.

"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."

she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.

"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"

she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.

in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.

and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.

#charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #f1 iagine #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #Spotify

[thecowinblack]

Burning Hearts pt.3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Word count: 1345

Summary: A dramatic High Lord/Lady meeting and a confrontational conversation between you and the Night Court.

⚠️Warnings: Drama lol, some against, a little fluff, makeouting, swearing, mentions to cheating, mentions about sex.

An: Well this part is filled with drama and if you've wondered about yn powers well this is your part...

“Hello big brother” You said as the Night Court arrived into the meeting room. Rhysand and a very pregnant Fayre, stood with shocked expressions, meaning that they’d overheard the conversation that you’d just had. Behind them you could see Cassian's broad frame tower and next to him, next to him was Azriel. Morrigan, Amren and Nesta seemed to stand behind them trying to get a good look at the drama unfolding right before them. But with Amren's height it was a miracle that I even could make out the top of her head.The look on his face was just plain sadness and envy, envy as he stared at the many parts where yours and Eris's bodies met. Shadows started to flood the floor as the cavalry from your home court stepped out of the large entrance to the room.

“Y/n/n please tell me that it's all a joke, you can't be Autumn's High Lady!” Rhysand asked you pleadingly.

“So what if I am? Let me get this clear. I am never ever going back to the Night Court. Not after what you all did, what you did.” You said looking accusingly at Azriel.

“Sweetheart I never meant to hurt you, Elain just needed some distraction but you are the one I love, you're my mate!” Azriel told me as he stepped forward and in the same moment Eris's hand flew out to stop him.

“If you take one more step towards her I will burn you to death.” Eris murmured to him, marking every word. “She's my mate! Not yours, she belongs with me! Elain was just a dumb mistake!” Azriel screamed at Eris as Rhysand held him back. “I stopped being yours the moment you cheated on me, and don't you dare to lay all this on Elain. She wasn't in a good phase back then, and we all know it.” You told Azriel. Behind you Helion coughed, symbolizing that the others had arrived. As you turned your back you felt someones hand on your arm, Nesta. The two of you had grown closer after the war. You would often sit in the library together, just reading.

“I'm so, so sorry Y/n. I shouldn’t-” She whispered to you. “Don't, you didn't have anything to do with it. If anything you really helped me, if you someday want a place to just run away to for a while you'll always be welcome in my court.” You told her warmly.

Once you and Eris had gotten seated you could feel the gazes the other High Lords threw at you. And you got it, you’d been your brother's right hand and now, now you were Autumn's High Lady, and everyone knew that the Autumn court and the Night Court didn't have the best relationship…

“So how's Autumn doing now that Beron’s gone? Are your people happy with their new High Lady?” Tarquin asked Eris. “Quite well. My father definitely wasn't the best of High Lords so there's much to do and many things to change but I'm lucky Y/N has been of great help and our people love her, but I mean who wouldn’t. We're currently very open to allies” Eris calmly answered the young High Lord. “Why would we trust you? Like father, like son.” Taunted Rhysand.

“Eris is nothing like Beron and the fact you suggest otherwise when I, your own sister, is married to him, really fucking shows how low you think of me, and of him. Eris is by far the best male I have ever met.” You told Rhysand, quickly erasing that smug smile off his face. You could feel Eris's affectionate stare resting at your face and you placed your hand in his and he firmly held on, almost like he thought you would disappear if he let go of you.

When the meeting was over you and Eris got shown to your quarters, a beautiful ensemble of rooms with marble floors and large windows. Eris quickly sat down at the couch dragging you down in his lap.

“Thank you, thank you for standing up for me.” He mumbled between the sweet kisses he pressed to your neck.

“Always, Eris, Always.” You gasped.

Suddenly a knock on the door interrupted the two of you.

“I'm going to kill whoever's behind that door. ” Eris murmured, his hair a mess. You chuckled quickly and said: “It might be a possible ally so I suggest that you don't.” Eris just rolled his eyes but a large smile was plastered on his face. “One minute just let me-” You said, fixing Eris's hair. “Thanks love!” he said sweetly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then he opened the door to reveal… Tarquin.

“I hope I'm not bothering you but I would like to discuss an alliance between our courts.” He told the two of you. You and Eris exchanged a surprised look, Tarquin had been a proud ally of Rhysand since the war against Hybern. “Come on in.” You said nicely. The three of you sat down at a low table. You quickly noticed that the rest of the Summer Court was missing.

“Your visions for your court align with mine on a level no other court does. We have been taking in emigrants from the Spring Court for a while and I'm guessing that you have done the same.” He paused and you nodded in agreement. “I want to create a place for them where before we have established them, they can live and be with friends and family. Would the two of you be interested in this?” he asked you.

“Definitely.” Eris said.

The rest of the evening went on smoothly for you and Eris. After Tarquin left you were visited by the Day Court and the Winter court, both interested in an alliance. When you and Eris went to bed smiles were painting your faces and you fell asleep in his arms.

__________________________________

You woke up quite early and decided to go down to the dining room, getting breakfast. You had left a note to Eris, in case you got stuck talking to someone. When you walked into the room you could see the whole Night Court sitting and talking to each other. Aside from them the room was completely empty. Suddenly you felt someone's arms around you, Morrigan. You quickly pushed her away, starting to walk out when you saw two males get in the way, cowering at the entrance.

“Y/n we need to talk.” Rhysand said. “Please just let us explain.” Cassian begged you. The pleading in his eyes was the only thing that made you stay. Cass was like a brother to you. “Fine. What do you want?” You asked them. “Your power, no one but me is able to keep them in shack.” Rhysand said “You need us and we need you.” A scoff unleashed from you. “So this is what it's all about, you want my powers under your control. Well guess what, no. I don't need you. My powers work perfectly without you and your help. I was blessed by the Mother herself. I deserve them and I'm going to use them to help my court, The Autumn Court.” You said as you walked out of the room, going to one of the many balconies in the castle.

Starting out into the ocean made your thoughts wave over you. What are your powers really? You knew that you had Rhysand’s ability but you could also create things from nothing. You could heal people and under the war against Hybern you had felt the cauldron. That was when you realized it. Why you didn't look like your brother at all with your long white hair And clear blue eyes. And why you weren't born with wings like him. Maybe the Mother herself sent down the explanation because you sure as hell wouldn't have realized it without help. You weren't his sister at all. No you weren't even your parents real daughter. You were created by the Mother. You were the Daughter…

Author's note: hehe

Taglist: @queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @@mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge @myromanempiree

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra #high lord eris x rhys!sister!reader x azriel #eris x oc #acotar angst #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar agains #acotar x you

[withwritersblock]

Lover Boy-The One Where Ethan Knew All Along

~Lover Boy by Phum Viphurit~

Author's Note: italitics are flashbacks Summary: Ethan approves of the relationship Warnings: underage drinking Word Count: 1,677 Luke Hughes x Edwards sister!reader

She stared towards Ethan, scanning his features waiting for him to speak. He doesn’t. Nessa fights the smirk forming to her lips as she excitedly smacked her hand against Derek’s arm. Dylan’s mouth fell open as he stared towards Ethan for a few seconds.

Luke’s entire body tensed as he saw Y/N’s eyes light up in fear. Ethan continued to stare into his sister’s eyes as he smirked. “What was the wink for?” Dylan asked as he stared towards Ethan. 

Ethan shrugged, “Ask Luke’s girlfriend,” he said as a full smile started to form onto his lips. Dylan shifted his gaze towards Y/N, where Ethan hasn’t wavered his gaze from.

Ethan raised his hand up and knocked on Dylan and Luke’s door. The three of them were supposed to head to practice together. “It’s open!” Dylan shouted. Ethan pushed the door open, his backpack over his shoulder. Walking inside, he kicked a few shirts away as he entered the messy room. Ethan lifted his gaze from the floor to only see Dylan inside.

“Where’s Luke? Thought we were heading to practice together,” he let out as he tightened his grip around the hold of his backpack. Dylan hopped off the bed and started sifting around the room for varies items for practice. 

“He went to grab a bite like thirty minutes ago, but he’ll-” Dylan let out as the door was shoved open. Luke wandered inside, he met Ethan’s gaze like a deer in the headlights. “There he is! We were just wondering where you were,”  he continued. 

Luke took in a sharp breath as he ran his hand across her chin, “Yeah I had to do a quick assignment with a friend,” Luke mumbled as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder. Dylan tilted his head to the side.

“Thought you went to get food,” Dylan mumbled. Luke nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah but it was a study thing,” he quickly made up on his spot. Ethan rolled his eye playfully as he motioned towards the door.  Luke quickly gathered everything as he jogged over the mess towards the door. “We really gotta clean up Dukes,” he mumbled. Dylan rolled his eyes as he reached for the door and pulled it open.

Subconsciously, Ethan looked towards Y/N’s room to see her walking back inside. Ethan nodded slightly as he glanced towards Luke who was staring towards Y/N’s door not so secretly. Ethan furrowed his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Y/N?” Dylan asked staring towards Luke as if everything was starting to be connected. Y/N continued to stare towards Ethan, waiting for him to yell and maybe pick a fight with Luke. Luke was still sitting straight up with Ethan’s arm drapped across his shoulder. “Y/N?!” Dylan asked urgently again. 

“Uh-” she coughed not so subtly as she dropped her gaze towards her lap. “Yeah, um, Luke and I-yeah excuse me,” she muttered as she stood up from the table and began walking away from the table. 

Luke shifted his gaze towards Y/N watching her walk away, heat rising up in his cheeks. After a few second he stood up from the table, calling out her name. He quickly began to follow after her, Ethan stood up and followed after the pair. 

Dylan shifted his gaze towards Derek and Nessa. “Did you guys know?” he asked them.

“Seriously, Dylan? You had no idea?” Nessa asked, a teasing smirk forming to her lips. Dylan shook his head while laughing. “You live with Luke! How could you not know?” she asked again, a soft chuckle left her lips. 

“I knew he was seeing someone, I didn’t think it was Eddie’s twin sister,” he let out while shaking his head, “Lukey boy might die before we even play our first game,” 

It was Friday night, late and majority of the team was drunk inside the frat house. It was hard to move and even breath. Each body dripping in sweat as they danced and moved along together to the beat. Y/N has never been this drunk before, neither has Luke. Drunk enough to not remember the night one bit. 

Luke hated parties, he wasn’t a huge fan of the whole no room to dance let alone breath. But himself and the rest of his close teammates wanted to join the frat. Which meant partying. Right now, he was too drunk to care about the lack of space, or the fact that Ethan probably could see them. But Y/N and Luke didn’t care. 

Ethan leaned against the wall, nursing the warm beer in his hand as he scanned the crowd. Matty was standing beside him, scanning the crowd for a potential date for the rest of the night. Matty nudged Ethan, “You see this?” Matty pointed across the entire living room area towards Luke. He was poking above the rest of the crowd as he was leaning down and whispering something into a girl’s ear.

“How’d he get a girl?” Ethan let out with a dry chuckle, “He doesn’t even know how to talk to girls.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he brought the cup towards his lips.

“And you do?” Matty mumbled while laughing. 

“Alright,” Ethan mumbled while shifted his gaze back towards Luke, he watched the girl in front of him spin around and wrap her arms around his neck. His eyes widened once he saw Y/N standing in front of him. “That motherfucker,” he muttered as he watched his sister with his teammate and future roommate.

“What?” Matty asked softly as he scanned the crowd, searching for what provoked that reaction out of Ethan. His eyes landed on Luke, watching him whisper something into Y/N’s ear. “Oh wow,”

Y/N walked out of the dining hall building and went to sit on the bench a few feet away from the door. The building’s air was stuffy and hot and she needed to breath. Luke stepped out of the building, slightly out of breath when he walked towards Y/N. 

“Why did you do that?” she asked as her lip quivered. She looked up towards him while shaking her head slightly. “I mean that was humiliating.” Ethan jogged out, a teasing grin on his lips. It quickly fell as he watched the quiver on Y/N’s lips. “Great,” she mumbled as she covered her face in her hands. 

“What’s with the hysterics?” Ethan asked while laughing nervously. He pointed towards Y/N for a second before shifting his gaze towards Luke. 

“Seriously, Ethan?” she asked while shaking her head.

“I was just teasing you guys, I think this is great-well I mean I didn’t at first, but-” he paused as he scanned his sisters features. “Look, I’m just made I didn’t set you guys up myself to take all the credit,” he let out with a chuckle. Y/N lifted her head up from her hands as she looked towards Ethan. 

Ethan shoved through the crowd, his mind overwhelming with rage. He warned Luke. He warned Y/N. It was going to get complicated. He hated complicated. “Alright-sorry I’m sorry, sorry,” he shouted as he shoved past the crowd to see Luke and Y/N gone from the spot where he last saw them.

“Eddy!” Matty shouted as he smacked his hand against Ethan’s shoulder. 

“I fucking warned ya’ll to say away from her!” he shouted towards Matty. Matty tried to hide his offense, he wasn’t the one who was maybe banging his sister right about now. “That’s my fucking sister! And he thinks it’s okay to go behind my back to sleep with her at a party?!” he shouted, shoving Matty back.

“Hey, hey, hey I’m not the one who was with her alright! Save your anger for Hughesy,” Matty muttered as he rested his hands onto Ethan’s shoulders. “Wait, why are you mad?” Matty let out while shaking his head, “I mean Y/N looked real happy with Luke dancing up on her.”

“Alright now I’m pissed off with you!” Ethan shouted as he shoved Matty back. He walked past him, making sure to bump into his shoulder in the process.

“So you’re not mad at me?” she asked Ethan. He shook his head as he sat down beside her. He pulled her to his side, a teasing smile on his face. He looked towards Luke, who’s face was bright red as he was repeatedly clenching his jaw. Luke ran his fingers through his hair nervously.

“I mean you guys thought you were good at hiding it, but you remember that party last weekend? You guys were all over each other,” Ethan said while crossing his arms over his chest. Y/N and Luke instantly met each other’s gaze. 

Luke slowly began to smile as he fought the grin on his lips. She pursed her lips forward as she fought the smirk forming to her lips, “I don’t remember that weekend much at all,” Luke muttered as he tilted his head back.

She turned her head to the side to meet Ethan’s gaze, “You’re seriously not mad?” she asked again.

Ethan pressed his lips together as he rolled his eyes. “Not mad, unless you ask Matty. But don’t listen to him,” he mumbled as he shifted his gaze towards Luke, “I mean it when I said if he makes you happy then that all that matters,” he said as he looked towards Luke.

“Thanks E,” she mumbled as she shifted her gaze towards Ethan for only a second before she looked towards Luke.

“Just cause I’m happy for you guys dooesn’t mean you get to be all coupley around me,” he muttered as he pointed between Luke and Y/N.

Luke grinned excitedly, “Oh what like this?” Luke offered as he took a few steps towards Y/N and leaned down and kissed her excitedly.

“Oh come on, man!” Ethan let out while laughing shoving Luke to the side. She giggled as Luke reluctantly pulled away.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #hockey #nhl fic #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards imagines #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards #umich imagine #umich #umich hockey

[invisible-lint]

Here For You

Lucien x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Lucien finds you Under the Mountain

Warnings: angst, smut, mentions of non/dubiously concensual sex, nothing explicit and not with Lucien

Note: This was going to be a part of Before & After and kinda took on a life of its own oops. It's that same reader though

Word Count: 1.6k

You suppose that you should be glad that you were here and not locked in the dungeon like Feyre was. If she was still alive. And part of you was, at least there was a bed and a fire. But the reason you were here outweighed the luxuries you had.

 You were being used as a plaything. You weren't sure how Amarantha decided which male spent the night with you, but it didn't really matter. Some of them were kind, spending the night sitting in the chair by the fireplace. But most of them weren't. And the ones who weren't, the ones who spent the night in your bed... You'd rather not think about them. You almost wish you had the luxury of fae wine so you didn't have to remember it. 

You pace in front of the fire, trying to keep the anxious anticipation from overcoming you. It wouldn't do you any good. The door opens, and you press your hands into your skirts to hide their shaking, looking at the floor. The male says your name and you sway on your feet, not believing it's him. Perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you, or this is some sort of magic, a cruel trick. He crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, steadying you. He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your jaw, under your chin, gently tilting your head up to look at him. It's really him. Lucien. You lean into his touch, tears running down your cheeks. He brushes your tears away. 

"Lucien... Luc… How are you here? I thought... I didn't think..."

"I managed to convince the male who was supposed to be here tonight to let me take his place." You cling to him, burying your face in his chest. 

"How?"

"It doesn't matter. I had to see you." 

You nod. "Not much longer now until Feyre's first task... Any idea what it might be?" 

"No. Nobody knows."

"Can we sit?" 

"Of course." He picks you up, walking over to the chair by the fire and sitting, setting you on his lap. You lean your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He plays with your hair, and you sigh contentedly. It has been far too long since anyone has touched you with so much care and compassion. With love. 

"I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If Feyre..." You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "If Feyre dies... I don't know what will happen to me. Amarantha may just kill me. But if she doesn't. If she decides to keep me as a plaything for others to use… I want you to kill me.”

He whispers your name, a pained look on his face. 

“Lucien, please. I can't live the rest of my life like this. I can't. I'm not strong enough.” 

“I can't do that…”

You look up at him, eyes bright with tears. The sight breaks his heart.

“Please.” 

He relents, nodding. “I promise.” 

He prays to the Mother and whatever gods may be listening that he won't have to. But he knows one thing for certain, if he does have to kill you, he’ll follow close behind, hoping that wherever your souls end up you can be happy together. You brush your thumb across his cheek, catching a stray tear. 

“I don't think it will come to that. I think Feyre can do it. But I wanted to have a back up plan, just in case.” 

“I… Understand.” 

“Luc… look at me, please.” 

He looks down at you, and your eyes meet. You can see everything he's feeling, all the pain, the fear, but most of all, you see the love shining through all of it. 

“I love you, Lucien. With all of my heart. And I am so sorry that I have to ask so much of you.” 

“I love you too.” You lean up and kiss him. One of his hands finds its way into your hair, holding you to him. After a moment, you pull back to breathe.

“I want you.” 

“You have me. I'm right here.”

Your cheeks flush. “No. I want you.”

You see it as realization dawns in his eyes.

“That's not why I came here. I just wanted to see you. Hold you.” 

“I know. That's part of why I want you. Because you care about me and how I feel. About what I want. About my desires. If you don't want… We can just sit like this. This is more than enough. More than I ever thought I'd get to experience with you again.” 

He just stares at you a moment before standing suddenly, causing you to squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. He carries you over to the bed, gingerly setting you amongst the pillows.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, sitting next to you, brushing his hand across your ribs. 

“Yes. I want you. I choose you.” He leans down to kiss you, his hand trailing from your ribs to your waist. 

“As long as this is what you want. If you change your mind. If you want me to stop. At any point. I don't care when, promise you'll tell me?” He shifts so he's kneeling between your thighs, sliding his hands to your hips.

“I promise.” 

“Good.” He leans down to kiss you, his hands tugging your dress up so it pools at your waist. He trails his hands back down to your hips, savoring the way the soft flesh feels, before hooking his fingers into your underwear and pulling them down, tossing them aside. He trails kisses up the inside of one thigh and then the other, smiling at the soft whine that you make. He does it once more, breathing in the scent of your arousal. Finally, when you open your mouth, ready to beg for him to put his mouth where you want it, he spreads your legs, licking up your center to your clit. You let out a breathy moan, hands tangling in his long hair, as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves. He slides a finger into you, curling it up into that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. 

Before long, he's adding in another finger, his free hand reaching up to grope at your covered breasts. You let out a loud moan, tugging on his hair, so close to falling over that edge. He flicks his tongue across your clit just right and you fall over the edge, climaxing. He presses wet kisses to your thigh, fingers still going as you come down from your high, enjoying the way you pull his hair so hard it almost hurts. He pulls his fingers out, chuckling at your needy whine, sucking them into his mouth and licking them clean. He grabs your wrists, squeezing them gently to get you to release your grip on his hair so he can sit up. 

He looks into your eyes, looking for any sign that you want him to stop. You speak, as if you had read his mind. 

“Luc, I want you. I need you. Please.” You sit up, reaching for the buckle of his belt. He lets you, pulling his shirt off as you undo his trousers. He stands, pulling them down his thighs, kicking off his boots with them, and as he does you pull your dress off over your head, tossing it so it lands in a heap on the floor. 

You lay back against the pillows, spreading your legs for him, and he pauses for a moment, taking in the sight, before climbing back onto the bed and settling between your thighs. You tense briefly, but he's watching you closely enough to notice the movement. “Do we need to stop?”

“I… I don't want to.” He cups your cheek and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

“I know, Love. I know.” You take a deep breath and blow it out, frustrated at how unfair it all is. “Can we try a different way? Maybe if you sit up against the headboard?” He does as you ask, his hands finding a place on your waist as you straddle his hips. You let out a breath, visibly relaxing. 

“Better?”

“Yes.” You grind down on him, smiling at the way he moans, eyes fluttering shut. You do it again and he curses. You don't have enough patience for much more teasing though, your hand reaching between your bodies to stroke his hard cock, lining it up with your entrance. You both moan together at the way he feels stretching you. You lean your forehead against his, just enjoying the way he's filling you up. 

After a moment, you start to move, letting out a low keening moan. Lucien thrusts up into you, looking into your eyes. One of your hands tangles into the hair at the top of his neck, the other pulling one of his hands from its grip on your waist, intertwining your fingers. You both pick up the pace, moaning at the way your pussy clenches around him. 

His hand still on your waist trails down between your bodies to circle your clit. He's getting close, and he wants you to find your release at the same time he does. You kiss him, putting all of your love for him into it. He climaxes shortly after, taking you with him. You all but collapse against his chest, breathing heavy, body tired after two orgasms. 

He slowly, carefully lays down without pulling out, wanting to keep your bodies joined as closely together as possible, pulling the blankets over you. You press kisses to his neck and shoulder, smiling when he kisses the top of your head. He traces his fingers up and down your spine, the action lulling you to sleep. 

“Sleep now, Love. I'll be here to keep you safe.”

A/N: Showing my baby Lucien the love he deserves. I'll eventually post more Before & After, but I also have another thing I started writing with the intent of it being for that that has taken on a life of its own that I'll post when it's done. As per usual, requests are open! I have a couple prompt posts I reblogged and I'd love to get a couple of those!

divider is by @tsunami-of-tears

#lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is an official entry for the @flash-exchange In a Flash Creation Challenge. A huge thank you to @lorei-writes for all her help with organizing this so that I can post the whole thing at once.

Ikemen Prince OCs and their Suitors. Thank you to everyone who shared their OCs with me and trusted me to write them. It really is an honor! 💜

WC: 3.3 k

Esther x Chevalier (@lorei-writes) Bright fingers of sunlight try to push their way through the hazy white curtains, but even their insistent prodding isn’t enough to wake Chevalier. Esther, propped up on one elbow, takes a moment to study him, sunlight washing across his features, brightening the pale blond of his hair, gilding his long eyelashes, caressing the sharp line of his cheekbone. She smiles, allowing her fingertips to brush the soft, fair strands away from his forehead before leaning down, her own hair falling in curls over her shoulder like a curtain of ringed sunshine. “It’s morning, Chevka.” Her voice is brimming with affection, rounded with love. He grunts, the only sign of life aside from his steady breathing. Warmth blossoms in her heart and Esther knows what she must do. Cupping his face in her hand, she lowers her head until her lips touch his. She lingers there, reveling in the feel of his mouth, the scent of him, remaining still as a marbled statue until she feels him respond: there’s the curve of his smile against her lips and the sudden, secure wrap of his arms around her. In a voice thick with sleep and purring with tenderness, he kisses her back through the following words: “Good morning, my Ragdoll.”

Imogen x Nokto (@yarnnerdally) Nokto watches from the bed as Imogen rubs a towel through her damp chestnut hair, expressive green eyes narrowed in concentration. She catches sight of him in the mirror and turns, hand on her hip. “Something funny?” Slowly and shamelessly he sits up, allowing the bedsheets to slide down his lean torso and gather enticingly around his hips. “You….being so annoyed at having to bathe.” Imogen shakes her head, huffing out a breath. “You try getting all that chocolate out of your hair!” He grins slowly. “When I suggested we use chocolate, I believe your response was something like ‘Show me what you mean’ in a very seductive voice.” She rolls her eyes and his heart echoes the motion, flipping about in his chest as if he were some lovestruck youth. So what, he thinks. So what if he is? With a flourish he throws the bedsheets back and stalks towards her, relishing the way her expression goes from startled to heated in a matter of seconds. Nokto slides his arms around her, pulling her against his naked body, and dips his head so his lips brush the shell of her ear. “How about we take a bath together?” He kisses the sensitive spot just below his whispers and Imogen’s breath catches in her throat. “But…I’m already clean,” she murmurs, towel slipping from her hand to the floor. She feels his huff of laughter against her neck, the sharp nip of his teeth before he kisses the pink skin. “Then I will just have to dirty you again.” The words are throaty, a soft growl. She sighs happily, her body already saying yes as it yields itself to his kisses and his touch.

Melinda x Chevalier (@dododrawsstuff)  “I have something to show you.” With these words, Chevalier reaches for Melinda’s hand, threading his fingers through hers tightly, and leads her through the winding halls of the palace and into one of the salons. “What...?” she murmurs as he drops her hand a bit quickly, a bit awkwardly. She watches, perplexed, as he makes his way to the elegant white piano and lowers himself onto the bench. There is no sheet music in front of him. What is he.....and then he places his hands on the ivory keys and begins to play. At first she is simply captivated by the movement of his beautiful hands, the dexterity of his elegant fingers, but then the melody breaks through and she gasps. It is a song from her home country, one she sings to herself when she feels the lonely pangs of homesickness echo through the corridors of her heart. It is a song made famous by a woman who sang from the very depths of her vibrant soul, whose voice not only comes from Brazil, but IS Brazil. Melinda’s vision blurs as she makes her way over to the piano. She never knew he was listening, let alone that he was mentally recording every note she sang. His hands still as the chords fade and he turns towards her. “I had to infer certain musical elements but I believe this was an adequate—” He stops speaking as Melinda leans down, capturing his face in her hands and kisses him, words unable to convey the gratitude and love for this man who sensed her sadness and tried to bring a piece of her home to her. He relaxes under her touch, eyes only opening when she pulls back to rest her forehead against his. “Obrigado meu querido.” Thank you, my love.

Beatrice x Yves (@bicayaya) The kitchen is filled with the smell of cinnamon and sugar. Humming to herself, Beatrice carefully uses the flat end of her knife to spread the thick, pink cream across each of the cookies that have cooled enough for decoration. She leans down, concentrating as she makes sure the spread is even, each cookie matching the one before. She doesn’t notice that Yves has returned from the small garden just outside the kitchen, nor does she notice the way he’s paused, simply watching her with sunny affection dancing in the bright blue skies of his eyes. “There,” she says, straightening up again, staring down at the sea of pink frosted cookies proudly. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots him and smiles. “Don’t they look wonderful?” He pushes off the doorway he’s been leaning against, his smile curving into a grin. “They do, little bee, but….” He stops in front of her and with a small laugh, touches the tip of her nose, his finger coming away pink. “It looks like you decorated yourself.” Beatrice gasps softly, touching her nose and then starts laughing when her fingertip is also pink. “I guess I got too close!” Yves sets down his small basket of edible flowers, reaching for a clean dish towel. Gently, he cleans her nose and then leans forward, giving it a light kiss. He starts to straighten up but she catches the back of his neck. “Ah ah….not when I have you so close.” He melts into her touch, sighing happily as he slides his arms around her and meets her lips for a kiss sweeter than all the cookies in Rhodolite.

Viva x Leon (@lorei-writes) Being king means many responsibilities and one of them is dealing with ambassadors. Most are skilled at what they do and therefore polite, but every now and then, one comes along who believes that rudeness may prove more advantageous than civility. Leon watches one such man walk away and sighs heavily into his champagne glass, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. The man was arrogant, condescending and above all, an idiot. At least Viva didn’t hear some of the insulting things he had said– “How dare he speak to you like that!” He winces inwardly, turning to see his beautiful wife puffed up with indignation. Her eyes are narrowed, her shoulders squared and she’s about to chase down the man and possibly cause an international incident. Leon quickly sets down his glass and catches her hands mid-raise, turning her away from the gathering so that she can only focus on him. “Viva, my love.” He smiles, tenderness welling up inside him at the sight of the indignant fire blazing her eyes. “That boar of a man–” she rumbles, ready to let loose a storm. Leon gently tugs her towards him and places a calming kiss on her lips. “Forget him, my beautiful, valiant rooster.” Her attention snaps to her husband at that and he laughs, triggering her own, answering chuckle, deflating the cloud of umbrage. He twirls a curl of her golden hair around his index finger, head tipped as he regards her. “How about we get out of here?” Viva grins slowly. Never has she heard a better idea.

Romarin x Leon  (@ikeprinces-stuff) He follows the sound of music, the soft, mournful notes that guide him away from his study and up the winding stairs towards the salon on the third floor. It is a room he does not visit all that often. The walnut-colored door is open, just a crack, and he slowly pushes it further, peering inside. She’s standing by the window, magnetic jade eyes closed as she plays her beloved violin, that constant companion that saved her in so many, many ways. He watches her from the doorway, his heart aching in his chest at the story her music is telling. A song of sadness, of loneliness, of the dark, secret shadows that haunt a person’s heart. Her whole body bends as she plays, one with the instrument. The final note fades, leaving the room in silence until Leon clears his throat. Romarin’s eyes open, at first startled, but when she sees who it is she relaxes slowly like a skittish feline that needs a moment to recognize a kind face. “I didn’t know you were there.” He doesn’t answer with words but crosses the room to where she is standing. She notices the way he swallows, emotion balling in the back of his throat, before he places his hands on her shoulders and bends to place a kiss on her cheek. She breathes in deeply, the cool scent of him flooding her senses and steps closer, her violin hanging by her side as she rises onto her toes and kisses him, marveling at the way his mouth fits perfectly against hers. He sighs her name, sliding his hand along the silken moonlight of her pale hair. That sound, her name from his lips, feels as romantic and full of longing as any serenade, any sweet piece of music, could ever be.

Carina x Leon (@fang-and-feather) The campfire burns a warm orange, crackling steadily as it releases tiny red embers up into the night. The forest trees stand tall, reminding Leon of gentle, peaceful guardians keeping watch over the campsite he and Carina have built. Speaking of his love…he pulls his gaze away from the flames and stands, frowning. Where has she gone? Squinting, he looks beyond the tent towards the water. Moonlight glints off the smooth surface of the lake, silvery and idyllic. But there is no sign of her. A tiny tendril of concern sprouts in his heart and he’s about to call her name when suddenly, a dark shape explodes from behind several trees and leaps into the water, shattering the peaceful silver and filling the air with a loud gasp of laughter. He grins slowly. Of course. Carina waves from the water, still gasping from the shock of cold on her bare body. She watches, sapphire eyes alight with mischief and anticipation, as Leon makes his way towards the water, shedding his clothing piece by piece as he goes. Only when he is as bare as she is does he pause with a leonine grin on his face and then takes a running leap into the water, diving towards her. Their laughter fills the isolated area and when she holds out her arms in welcome, Leon swims to her and accepts her embrace. Moving aside her damp curls, he begins pressing kiss after kiss to her cheek, her neck, the curve of her shoulder, his mouth so very warm against her cool skin. Above the stars gleam brightly, tiny diamonds in a black velvet sky.

Ciel x Rio (@floydsteeth) Rio adjusts the straps of Ciel’s quiver on his shoulder as they walk back through the fields. He listens, bright blue eyes alight with adoration, as she explains the characteristics of the mushroom she is holding, a beautiful brown and pale green specimen she spotted on the way back from archery practice. “They only grow for a period of two weeks and then they’re gone. We’re so lucky we found—” Her words cut off and they both stop in their tracks. Just ahead, grazing upon the lush grass in the field, is a massive horse. It’s easily seventeen hands high, with powerful muscles that roll underneath its glossy silvery coat with every movement it makes. Ciel freezes, the little mushroom tumbling from her hand. “Rio.....” Her voice is small, shrunken with fear. But he’s already moving, walking towards the huge beast, calmly, fearlessly. “You seem to be in the wrong place, fella.” His tone is soothing, gentle. The horse lifts its great head and nickers. Before Rio can say another word, a red-faced stablehand comes huffing and puffing over the mound of tall grass. “This one got away,” he manages between deep breaths. “C’mon now Llwyd, let’s go.” He leads the horse away and Rio quickly returns to Ciel’s side. She’s pale but breathing steadily. Setting down the quiver of arrows, he reaches for her, pulling her against him and embraces her lovingly. “It’s ok.” He presses gentle kisses to the beauty marks on the side of her face. “It’s ok.” One final kiss, this time to her lips, soft and reassuring, a candle in the darkness. “Let’s go home.” He bends down, picking up the quiver and the tiny mushroom which he presses gently into her palm once again. “Let’s go home and you can keep telling me all about this little one on the way.”

Oliver x Sariel (@olivermorningstar) The sun has long since set, sinking into darkness, as Oliver adjusts the focus of his microscope. He wants to observe the bacteria he’s been cultivating just a little bit longer. The door to his study opens, the hinges squeaking softly, but he is so focused on his subject that he doesn’t even look up. The sound doesn’t even register. He’s muttering to himself, his black quill scratching against the parchment as he records his observations and questions they spark. It’s only the surprising sound of someone clearing their throat that breaks through, letting him know that he isn’t alone. He turns, eyes wide behind his glasses and then relaxes instantly when he sees Sariel. “It’s late,” the minister says as he approaches Oliver. The researcher sighs, turning to look over his shoulder at his instruments and his notes. “I know, I know but I just wanted to finish collecting my observations on this particular–” Sariel reaches up, gently taking hold of Oliver’s chin and turns his head back towards him. His eyes, an arresting dark violet, are full of something soft, something admiring. Still holding Oliver’s chin, he leans forward and presses a delicate kiss to his lips. Oliver’s breath catches in his throat, any and all protests crumbling immediately. Sariel kisses him again, then lets his fingers trail down his neck before falling back to his side. “I’ll wait here while you finish.” A rush of warmth colors Oliver’s cheeks. Sariel is so patient, so considerate….and somehow, in the greatest mystery known to mankind, he has chosen him to love, to care for. He nods, reaching out to briefly squeeze his hand. “Just another minute.”

Maeve x Keith (@keithsandwich) Maeve’s emerald eyes are closed, her head resting comfortably in Keith’s lap. The grass is soft beneath her bare feet and every now and then, a bird chirps, adding its music to the soothing sound of Keith’s voice as he reads to her from a new collection of Jadean poetry. In one hand he holds the slim volume, the other is holding hers, reveling in the feel of her slender fingers entwined with his. He’s reading a poem about love and nature and fate, about stars in the night sky that bless those who have found the sacred bond of lovers. Then he feels Maeve’s hand squeeze his and he lowers the book to find her looking up at him, those eyes wide open and bright, green as springtime, beautifully wild. Under that loving gaze he feels his heart unfold like a flower beckoned by sunshine and he can’t help himself, he has to kiss her. The book falls to the soft grass as he leans down just as she reaches for him. Gently he shifts her, pulling her into the warm circle of his arms, his lips moving over hers with wordless declarations of love and devotion. It is moments like this, enveloped in the safety of her love, that he understands a poet’s desire to try and capture the enormity of what it means to love and be loved in return. Maeve kisses him and the world is born anew. She smiles and it is daylight illuminating a field of wildflowers. He loves her and she loves him. There is nothing more natural or more beautiful.

Céline x Gilbert (@celiciaa) Céline slashes her way through the underbrush, single-mindedly heading towards the narrow dirt path that runs through this part of the dark Obsidian forest. Her sword bites into bushes and brambles, an extension of her fury. Gilbert knew they were being followed and went without her to take care of it. Damn it. Damn him. Her blade hacks through the last scattering of vegetation, revealing the earthen road and she stops when she sees the sight laid out before her. Gilbert, face flecked with crimson drops, pistol still in hand. Several bodies are laid out like fallen petals before him. He glances up from the havoc and offers her a bright smile. “They made poor choices.” Céline throws her long white braid over her shoulder, her sword falling to the ground as she crosses the space between them in several long strides, throwing her arms around him and kissing him fiercely. She catches his lip between her white teeth and bites down. The sound he makes is fire to gunpowder, sending a wash of heat straight through her body, every nerve feeling like it might explode at any moment. He pulls her tightly against him, their mouths restless and searching, rough and savage. She tastes blood, but it doesn’t matter. There’s blood everywhere anyway.

Leyla x Silvio (me) —  The overcast sky matches the expression on Silvio’s face. He watches as the last of the crates are loaded onto Siren’s Call. Leyla’s ship. The one getting ready to leave the royal Benitoite port. “That’s the last one, Captain.” First Mate Kai clamps a large, reassuring hand on Leyla’s shoulder and she nods at him. He inclines his head towards Silvio, a begrudging sign of respect, before heading onto the gangway. The silence between Silvio and Leyla hangs as heavy as the gray clouds above. “I don’t get why you gotta go. You know I could–” Leyla cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head, her gold hoop earrings swaying with the movement. “I won’t be a kept woman. You know that.” She sighs heavily, brushing aside several wayward strands of hair that the wind has plucked free of her dark braid. Silvio’s fingers ache at the sight. He curls his hands into fists, fighting the burning need to touch her. “Besides,” she continues, “It’s not that long. Just a few months.” Her words are hollow with forced optimism. Silvio looks down at his boots, jaw clenched. “Fuck.” His voice is ragged. “Captain!” Kai’s deep baritone calls from the ship. “The tide!” “I know!” she barks back, her own voice scraped raw with emotion. Trying to ignore the vice squeezing her heart, she turns to Silvio. He lifts his head and in his eyes she sees all the words his mouth can’t form, all the storm clouds churning in his heart. At the same time they stumble towards each other. The kiss is messy and desperate, tinted with anger and sharp with longing. It’s Leyla who pulls away first, afraid she won’t be able to take a step towards her ship if she holds him a moment longer. “Good-bye.” He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He only watches as distance shrinks her figure, taking her away from him, with her kiss still lingering on his aching lips.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet

@silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton

@ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea

@chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja

@starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @ozalysss @bestbryn

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri oc #ikemen oc #chevalier michel #leon dompteur #silvio ricci #yves kloss #nokto klein #gilbert von obsidian #keith howell #sariel noir #rio ortiz #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites #in a flash cc

[paranoiastudio]

Good company

pairing: Art Donaldson x f!reader x Patrick Zweig

summary: An active evening in pleasant company, what could be better?

warnings: +18 smut, threesome, p in v, orel (f for m and m for f), cumshot

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

- She won’t come... - Art looks at the ceiling.

- Why do you think so? - Patrick smiled, but seemed no less nervous. - Are you afraid that she didn’t like you?

A quiet knock on the door. Then another one, a little more confident. Both athletes rush out of their seats and quickly get dressed. When they finally opened the door for you, they were both breathing heavily.

- Did I distract you two from something? - You straighten Art’s blond curls and walk into the room.

- We just... We were waiting for you.

- I get it. - You sit down on the edge of the bed, noticing that they pushed them together. - Very nice room.

Patrick called you, you met at a party. You, ambitious and active, barely out of junior age, attracted everyone’s attention with your white dress.

Art treated you to a cigarette, Patrick brought you beer and you didn’t notice how you gave these two all your attention. And this is exactly what you planned to do today.

- Will you have a drink? - A cold bottle of cider, foggy and wet, ends up in your hands and you immediately take two large sips.

- What are your plans? - Art sits down next to you and you hand him the bottle. -Have you decided how you will entertain me, boys?

- There are a couple of options. - Patrick sits on the floor in front of you. - But...

- But?

- I don’t think all of us are ready. - You catch his gaze, it slides over Art’s figure and you yourself fix your gaze on Donaldson.

- What are you talking about? - You frown, seeing how Art is slightly nervous under your gaze.

- Our babyboy wasn’t... Well, you know... - Patrick smiles, seeing his friend’s embarrassment.

- So what? - You take the bottle from Art’s hands and hold the touch, playing with his fingers. - I don’t see a problem with that, especially when he’s such a cutie.

Art’s ears turn red and you want to spoil this innocent baby even more, who, as intuition tells you, is full of passion and desire.

- We can show him how to do it. - Patrick is already stroking your bare knee, you know why you are here and Zweig clearly did not intend to waste time.

- I think it’s easier to learn in practice. - Art finally looks into your eyes and you can’t help but smile at him, you liked him much more than Patrick and you wouldn’t mind being alone with him at all.

The guys are silent and you take the first step, taking everything into your own hands. Handing the bottle to Patrick, you quickly sit on top of Art and giggle when he grabs your hips, holding you close to him.

- You hold me so tightly. - You kiss the man on the nose and move your hips, watching his pupils dilate. - Tell me the truth, Art...

You could haven't asked, he could never lie to you. Especially when you sit on him, hug him by the neck and are not at all embarrassed by the fact that his dick is already resting against your clothed pussy.

- I want you so much. Is it true. - Art strokes your back. - But I really wasn’t with someone... There are three of us.

- Don't worry. - You kiss him on the corner of his lips. - I will be near.

He really hopes so, Art wants to be as close to you as possible. Now he regrets wearing the T-shirt; he wants you to feel him.

- You won’t be offended by me, will you? - You bat your eyes and look sweetly at Patrick. - You can sit here for now, you will see everything very well.

Patrick doesn’t object and sits down next to you, not taking his eyes off you. You kiss Art, moan into his mouth from the taste of the gum that was just recently in his mouth and raise your hips again, catching his boner hidden by his underpants.

Art answers you, pulls you closer and moves his hips towards you, thrusting into you with a precise rhythm and with that amount of despair that only spurred you on more.

You hear Patrick quietly grumbling and puffing next to you, opening your eyes, you see that he has already grabbed himself and is not at all embarrassed to touch himself in front of you.

- We won't need this. - You pull off your top and grab Art’s T-shirt. - So what about you?

You wink at Patrick and he, without wasting any time, undresses completely, brazenly sitting on the bed. He is big and looks better without clothes: not too pumped up, flexible and strong, he looks at you with greed, wanting to be in the place of his friend.

Art places kisses on your neck, squeezing your breasts, glad you weren’t wearing a bra. You whimper, your nipples already hard and Art’s movements as he slowly licks your breasts cause a tingling sensation between your legs.

You stand up and pull down Donaldson’s underwear, freeing his dick. The head turned red, you smeared the droplets that appeared at the tip and earned a pitiful moan.

- My poor baby. - You coo, moving the fabric of your underwear under your skirt. - You really need a release, right?

- Please. - Art himself doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking for, but he doesn’t intend to let you go.

You spit on your palm and pump the tennis player’s penis a couple of times. There's a wet spot on your underwear, but no one notices because the next moment you rise up and impale yourself on Art in one motion.

The stretch burns your muscles and you hiss with pain and pleasure. The sight of Art gasping with pleasure flatters you and you pull him into another kiss.

- Shit... - Patrick attracts your attention and you reach out your hand, wanting to touch him too.

He crawls closer and now you are already holding him by the balls. Your pussy quivers around Art's cock, and Patrick's tongue rules your mouth. You move your hand more actively and the guy moves his hips towards your gentle palm.

You raise your ass and fall back onto that perfect cock, clutching the other one in your hand. You hear squelching sounds when you touch Art, you spit on your palm again and jerk Patrick off with renewed energy.

-You look so hot, baby. - Patrick squeezes your tits, twists one of your nipples and reaches hand down, spreading your folds and touching your clitoris.

You squeak and speed up, Art moaning loudly from how hard you’re squeezing him.

- I wanna cum... - You look into Patrick’s eyes as you say this and he lets out an obscenely loud moan. - Please.

Your long, neatly manicured fingers play with his balls, with your other hand you touch yourself and rub your clitoris, chasing an orgasm.

Art enters you harder and harder, he caught the right pace and each thrust ended with a precise blow to your spongy spot. Everything swims before your eyes and you open your mouth, you feel saliva running down your chin and dripping onto your bare tits.

You stick out your tongue and guide Patrick’s pulsating length into your mouth. He groans again and grabs your hair, holding you down, carefully and gently.

Art, watching this, feels his balls tightening, he needs to cum, he desperately wants it. But your pleasure is much more important and the man only squeezes your hips harder.

You move your head, taking all of Patrick, your throat taking him in so perfectly that it’s even strange. The member twitches and you suck it in harder, and after a moment you feel hot sperm flowing down your throat.

Patrick moans, tugs at your hair, and mutters something in post-orgasmic ecstasy. You move your head a couple more times and release the dick from your mouth with a loud, wet pop.

Your pussy tightens more and more and you fall apart on Art’s dick, mewling and rolling your eyes. Art wanted to cum inside you, he was almost ready when Patrick pulled you off of him and threw you onto your back.

You, flushed and out of breath, don’t even try to close your legs when Patrick falls to your wet folds with his mouth. His beard is slightly scratchy, but the strong grip on your hips does not allow you to dodge these caresses.

-Are you going to sit like this or what? - He throws it over his shoulder and Art is immediately next to him, you extend your hand to him and open your mouth again, ready to accept everything he gives you.

Patrick rubs his nose against your sensitive clitoris, his hot tongue penetrates inside and you squirm, rising on your elbows and swallowing Art’s still wildly hard cock.

- You are so beautiful, so kind to me... - Art strokes your head, whispers sweet nothings. His eyes are closed, his lips are red, and his hair is flying in different directions. He looks beautiful and you almost cum just looking at him while Patrick fucks you with two fingers.

You lick the underside of Art’s cock, squeezing his in you're small hand. The sensations are so pleasant that it seems as if it was all a dream.

-Will you cum for me, baby? - Patrick lifts his tongue from your clitoris and moves his fingers more actively, your pussy squishes with excitement, you feel yourself dripping onto his hand like the last whore.

- Yes, yes, yes, please! - You fall on the bed, releasing Art from your mouth and he immediately hugs himself, caressing your body with his eyes.

Patrick doesn't stop and you come again, squinting from the force of the stimulation. Art watches his friend eat you out and can’t look away.

- Can I?... - You nod and squeeze your chest, bringing it closer. Art whimpers and spills onto your chest, white droplets now decorating your neck and tits.

And only when Art lets go of his dick does Patrick stop, only caressing your quivering pussy a couple of times.

- Everything is fine? - Art sounds hoarse, he is still standing next to you.

- It couldn't have been better. - You pick up a couple of drops and lick them off your fingers. - I need a shower. Who will carry me?

Patrick, who was still holding your hips, pulls you closer and rises to his feet. You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling that he seems intent on continuing the party.

- Let's go to. - You manage to put your hand on Art’s shoulder. - Rub my back.

#challenges #art donaldson #patrick zweig #mike faist #josh o'connor #challenges imagine #art donaldson x fem!reader #Patrick zweig x fem!reader #smut #challengers smut #imagine

[mrm0rgansw0man]

hi !! can i have a more angsty arthur fic of the reader admiring him from afar and wanting to give him all the love he’s deserving of but feels she doesn’t have the chance to ? :)))) happy ending would be nice maybe arthur reads a note of hers !

god i love writing angst. LETS DO THISSS

hope you enjoy!! Xx @risingtripletaurus

I can let you down, I can make you Hurt.

Bitter, freezing cold. That was all you felt. Just the cold and the ache in your heart. Your whole chest ached, from the cold or from the emotions you were feeling you didn't know.

This whole Blackwater fucked up mess was just what you needed. You had already been struggling, being new to the gang and trying to help out and earn your keep. And, not only that, but Arthur Morgan hated you. You were sure of it, you had no clue what you did to offend him but just until right before this mess he started pulling away from you.

He was always friendlier with all the women of the camp, but you and him had taken a liking to each other. But one day, it just stopped. The hellos. The cups of coffee he'd bring you every morning. The shared cigarettes. The random talks, it was so nice. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fallen for him. You though he could be falling for you too, but looks like you were wrong. You knew it was too good to be true.

"You're so down." Charles said simply. You looked up at him, not even having noticed he came into the cabin you had been sitting in.

"I can practically feel it in the air around you." He continued. Your eyes flit away from him and back to the floor. You watched a few snowflakes melt into your boots.

"Why do you care?" You asked quietly. "I'm sure you've got much better things to worry about than my problems."

Charles shrugged. "Just wanted you to know I'm here if you want to talk. I'm not doing much lately, cause of this hand. So I've noticed more."

Tears welled in your eyes. You blinked them away before you thought Charles could notice. But he still did.

"I've never seen you like this before. I'm worried about you, (Name)." Charles said. His voice more stern now. "Ask anyone, it feels like and looks like, no offense, that the life has been drained out of you."

"It's jus' the cold..." You mumbled. "I'm fine Charles.."

"You know, I was sitting in this cabin with you for hours. You didn't move once. You didn't even know I was here, did you? And Abigail came in to try and talk to you, but it was like you were in a whole different world."

Uh oh. Fuck. He's got you there. You didn't even know Charles had come in, let alone Abigail.

"Have you ever had to love someone from a distance Charles?" You asked weakly. You finally lifted your head enough to meet his eyes.

"No." Charles said with a sigh. "But I can't imagine it's a great feeling."

"It's not." You said with a sniffle. "Not at all."

"Can I ask who it is?" Charles asked you cautiously.

You let out a choked cry. You took a few deep shaky breaths, trying to keep yourself together. It was getting harder and harder by the second. God dammit Charles why do you have to care?

"Arthur." You whispered, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape your eyes. "It's Arthur."

Charles didn't say anything, he only nodded. So you kept talking.

"He was so kind to me when I first started riding with you. We got on real well too." You said, finally starting to weep. Who cares anyways? "I started falling for him. Quick and hard, and could you blame me?"

"No, I was convinced he was sweet on you." Charles admitted. Though all it did was send more tears floding out of your eyes.

"He'd bring me coffee in the mornings. We'd talk. He always said Hi to me at the very least when we crossed paths." You said softly. "And he made sure I was eatin'- I mean you know how I was when I first got here."

"Always sick and thin as paper." Charles said grimly, having been on of the few people that helped take care of you during that hard time.

"Neither of us sleep very well, he'd come find me or I'd go find him. We had such nice talks on those nights, he opened up to me. Like really, really opened up to me. And I opened up to him too." You continued, your cries becoming harder and your voice rising.

"I don't know what I did!" You cried. "But one day it all just stopped! He wouldn't talk to me, he hasn't even looked me in the eyes Charles! I don't know what's wrong with me! I just want to love him!"

"Oh (Name)..." Charles started, but you cut him off.

"He deserves so much Charles!" You sobbed. "He is such a good man, no matter what he says when he looks in the mirror! I just want to love him, he doesn't even need to love me back! Do you know how pathetic that is? How disgustingly pathetic I am to love him like this!?"

You inhaled and exhaled at a frantic pace, running your hands over your tear soaked face. It was too much. You couldn't breathe. You wrapped your arms around yout face and buried yourself in your knees. Charles rushed to your side, kneeling down next to you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders and just stayed there, giving you something to hang onto. Keeping you grounded.

You finally lifted your head and met Charles's eyes, only to find them already locked on you.

"I just want to love him. T-that is all I w-want." You managed to get out between sobs. "And now I've lost m-my chance! I can't keep going like this Charles! He's- he's been through so much. That poor man has suffered and s-suffered and I just want t-to make him feel like he deserves something!"

"Arthur-"

"Needs me! And I need him to need me because look how badly I need him! If he doesn't love me the-then what am I supposed to do?!"

You broke apart, sobbing harder than you were before. Probably harder than you have ever cried in your life. Charles caught you, and he wrapped his arms around you. He let you sob and scream into his chest until you couldn't breathe.

"I just want a chance I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!" Was all you could say, over and over again. Charles rocked you back and fourth, letting you cry yourself out. It took at least an hour, but eventually your cries had lulled to a stop.

Once your breath had returned to normal, Charles spoke.

"I'm going to go get Miss Roberts and Miss Gaskill. They'll take care of you. I'm going to talk to Arthur, don't you worry about this for another second." Charles said soothingly. It was all you could do to nod a yes at him. He pulled away from you, but right as he was about to reach the door you called out for him.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" You asked horsely. Charles looked back at you and gave you a small smile.

"First of all, I like you. Quite a bit, your a good person (Name)." He said simply. "And secondly, you haven't moved from that spot for over a day and you haven't even noticed. Someone needed to do something."

And with that, he left. You sat in silence until Abigail and Mary-Beth showed up. They tried to talk with you but you didn't have the strength to even reply to them. They accepted this, and helped you to your room and laid you down in your cot.

You laid there for what felt like hours, completely lost in thought.

"Glad to see your feelin' better, Miss." Arthur said, handing you a tin cup filled with scalding hot coffee. You took it gratefully.

"Thank you, Mr. Morgan." You said with a smile. "I've got to say I'm liking your company more and more each morning you visit me."

"Oh don't be too flattered, your jus' the only one up as early as me." Arthur said with a smirk, playfully elbowing you in the side. You chucked and hoped Arthur didn't see the blush spreading across your face.

"Well a girl can dream!" You said, that same flirty smirk crossing your face.

"Arthur! I need to talk to you!" Dutch called.

Arthur groaned in annoyance. He turned to leave, but at the last moment he turned back. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

"Meet me at the campfire tonight. We never get t' talk without gettin' bothered." Arthur said. You nodded your head happily as he turned to leave, running of to do whatever the hell Dutch wanted him for.

You felt yourself smiling at the memory, even if it was just a weak one.

That night at the campfire was the first of many, you two met every night you could. And that was when you truly began to fall for Arthur, those nights by the burnt out campfire. The last night it happened, you told him about your life before joining the gang, and why you were so sick when you first arrived.

"No one in my family was right." You said with a deep sigh. "My daddy hung himself in our living room right before my mama had me. And since then she just never had any happy in her head."

"Jesus.." Arthur mumbled. "Was your Mama good t'you, at least?"

"Pfft, no!" You said with a laugh. You took another swig of whiskey from the bottle Arthur stole from Pearson for you. "Beat me halfway to hell every other day. I think she had some disease. Think I might have it too, honest to god."

"D'ya really think that?" Arthur asked, taking a swig of his own whiskey bottle.

"I jus' get so low sometimes.. Not enough happy in my own head." You said sadly. "Not something I can really help, but it happens. Part of the reason I was so sick when I first got here, that and being out in the elements."

"What a woman you are, Miss. (Name)!" Arthur said with a laugh. "Survivin' yer' Mama, survivin' runnin' away into the wild, and survivn' yourself!"

Arthur and you spent a lot of time talking about your past life that night, so much time you had finished that whole bottle of whiskey. Bittersweet tears filled your eyes as you remembered what happened next.

You stood up from the ground, and wobbled your way over Arthur and poked him in the chest.

"Tell me, Mr. Morgan!" You slurred. "What have you survivedddd?"

"Oh sweetheart, we ain't got time for that tonight." He said, shaking his head at your drunken boldness.

"Pleaseeee Arthurr??" You whined, a wrong step sending you tumbling down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, and you smiled happily. It was a giddy childlike smile that Arthur would never forget.

Arthur had no idea what possessed him to do so, but he gulped down the last of his whiskey and started talking.

"My mama died when I was real young..." Arthur said, his voice going quiet. "My daddy was a thief, a petty one at that.. Wasn't even a real father. He wasn't good t'me at all. The lawmen got him when I was jus' eleven."

" 'M so sorry Arthur..." You said, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tight. He rested his chin on your head and returned the hug, god it was so nice to be held like this. To be able to feel freely.

Arthur had no clue why he was so drawn to you from the very start, but ever since he first laid his eyes on you he couldn't get enough. He knew he was a goner, but he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't terrify him. Hell, sitting here like this with you terrified him! But even with the fear in the back of his mind, he could feel the whiskey clouding his thoughts and what little remained of the walls he so constantly put up crumbling.

Arthur went on about his family for a bit, and then told you all about getting taken on by Dutch and Hosea. He told you about what a deliquent he was, told you about when they brought John in. And Miss. Tilly. Then he told you all about a girl named Mary Linton, and about the love they used to share. You listened intently to every word, even in your drunken state. You prayed to whatever god above that you remembered this all tomorrow.

"I had a boy once." Arthur said, after a long stretch of silence. "His name was Issac. He passed on, though."

"Oh Arthur." You whispered, finding his hand and holding it tight. "I'm so sorry!"

"Some bastards killed him 'nd his Mama. Eliza." Arthur said, his voice breaking. "Shot 'em. All for a measly ten dollars."

"What is wrong with this world.." You murmred. Arthur just shook his head.

"I wasn't there f'him much. I shoulda been a better father to my little boy..." Arthur mumbled, his words starting to slur. "I was good to them when I was 'round, but that doesn't make up for nothin'. I'm a horrible person, (Name)."

You sat up, moving your legs around Arthur so you were straddling him. You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"Did you love his Mama? Did you treat her well?" You asked fiercely.

Arthur nodded his head frantically. The change in you startled him.

"Did you play with your boy? Did you hold him? Did you tell him stories, or sing him to sleep?" You pressed on, even with the tears forming in Arthur's eyes.

"Y-Yes!" Arthur said, stumbling over his words. "He was small, but he still liked to run. He liked being held-"

Arthur stopped, a strangled cry escaping his throat. You took your hands off of Arthur's face and wrapped both of your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms back around you, burying his face in your hair and neck. Arthur thought that he should want to leave, but he realized he'd rather be buried alive then leave your arms right now.

"His favorite was 'Hush Little Baby'" Arthur said softly, you could feel the tears falling from his eyes now. "I was so happy to sing it to him the last time I...."

You sat up- which scared the wits out of Abigail and Mary-Beth-and covered your eyes. Trying to block out the image of what came soon after that.

The comfort you brought Arthur. The way he held your face in his hands. The kiss, so passionate. You both tasted of lust, whiskey, and pain. It was a fiery mix of emotions that sent you both stumbling into his cot and ripping off each other's clothes.

And then he wanted nothing to do with you.

"Honey? What's wrong?!" Abigail said, she wrapped her arm around you and Mary-Beth took your hands off of your face and held them.

Charles had given them a brief explanation of what had happened, but they were anxious for him to get back. They wanted to know what Arthur had to do with you being in an absolute state. They sent each other worried glances.

"When will Charles be back?" You asked with a sniffle. You leaned into Abigail and held Mary-Beth's hands tighter.

"Shouldn't be much longer, I promise honey." Abigail said.

"Want to tell us what's wrong?" Mary-Beth asked softly, she was testing the waters.

You looked between your two friends, and smiled weakly. God, you loved them so much.

"Okay."

»»———-　　———-««

"Arthur? Are you here?" Charles called out before going right into Arthur's room.

Charles found Arthur sitting on the edge of his cot. He was reading a letter.

"What is it, Charles?" Arthur said, still not looking up from the paper in his hands. Arthur didn't even seem like he was listening to Charles.

"Put that down. I need to talk to you." Charles said, his voice becoming more serious.

Arthur re-read the words written on the paper one last time before looking up at Charles.

'Arthur, please tell me whatever I did. I just want to talk to you again. Please, just talk to me whenever you read this. Your true friend, (Name)'

"You know, (Name) isn't doing good. She's been sitting in the corner of her room, curled up. Not moving, not talking. Nothing." Charles said simply.

Arthur's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. Charles continued.

"I sat there with her for hours, and she didn't move a muscle. I watched Abigail come in and try and talk to her, but it was like she was talking to a wall." Charles said. "And that was after Molly had tried to talk to her for hours the night before. She's the one who came and got me."

"Is..is she alright?" Arthur asked, his nerves evident in his voice. He knew this was his fault. He could feel it in his bones. Oh god, he was a fucking idiot,

"No! She's not alright!" Charles snapped. "She barely even looks human! When I finally got through to her all she could do was cry! And she was crying about you!"

"No.." Arthur said softly. "Where is she now? I need to go see her-"

"You can go see her when we're done here." Charles said sternly. "Arthur, did you know she was in love with you?"

Arthur ran a hand over his face. Oh great, now he'd really done it.

'I'm such a piece of shit..' Arthur thought to himself. 'God.. Oh my god..'

"No." Arthur said. "I jus' thought... I don't know what I thought! I jus' didn't think she loved me."

"I just want to love him. He doesn't even need to love me back." Charles said with a sigh. "That's what she said to me, while she was sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe. And then 'I just want a chance! I want to know what I did wrong!'"

"I get yer' point!" Arthur shouted. "Jesus christ..."

"She's broken. Between having to be here, the whole mess in Blackwater and you completely disregarding her, she is broken." Charles said.

"I KNOW GOD DAMMIT I GET IT!" Arthur shouted, standing up from his cot. Charles stood firm, crossing his arms over his chest. He had said his part, now it was Arthur's turn to speak.

"Does.. Does she really love me?" Arthur asked weakly, taking off his hat and running his hands through his hair. Charles nodded. " I thought she was just' sweet on me a little bit, I thought I was jus' sweet on her.."

"Do you feel different now?" Charles asked. When he joined this gang, he never expected this would be the role he took on. Oh well.

Arthur stilled for a moment. He knew how he felt about you. But how could he even say it out loud, knowing how love had turned out for him in the past?

Mary had to leave him. Her father hated him because of his life as an outlaw.

His love for Eliza and his child only got them shot.

How could he condemn you, someone who has suffered and suffered, to a life with him? He wanted nothing more than to make you feel loved, protected, and cared for. He wanted to hold you like he did that night, to keep you close. To kiss away all your pain and never let you feel like you don't deserve it. Because you deserved the world, Arthur just didn't think he could give it to you.

And he was scared. He was so scared, so instead of being a decent fucking human he ran. And now look at what he did to you. Sent you right back to that dark part of your mind where you never wanted to be stuck in again.

"Yes." Arthur said finally. "But, how could I even try anythin' with her? I don't want nothin' happening to her cause of me! She deserves so much more than I can give her!"

"Arthur, I don't think you understand." Charles said with a deep sigh. "She doesn't want more! She isn't expecting anything of you! All she wants is. you."

"Why does this matter to you anyways! Who are you, t'come in here and talk t'me about this!" Arthur spat. "You have no right-"

"Yes I do!" Charles said, his voice rising. "I took care of (Name) when she first joined us, so I'll continue to take care of her now! She can't function! She needs you, Arthur! And I have a feeling you need her too."

Arthur stood there, glaring at Charles. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to scream foul things at him, for getting into his head like that. But he also wanted to thank him. For being there for you while he failed miserably.

"Figure it out. And then you go see her." Charles said coolly. "Don't go see her like this, she's not strong enough."

Charles left, Arthur's cold stare practically ushering them out the door. Arthur stood there for a few more moments, not really knowing what to do with himself. Charles had sent his mind reeling.

He knows what he wants to do. He wants to go to you, hold you, kiss you, tell you how sorry he is. Tell you that he loved you so much but he got scared, and instead of facing it like a man he ran like a boy. He never wanted to hurt you, but look how bad you were hurting now!

You loved him. And he loved you, but Arthur ran away and now would you ever be able to forgive him? He hadn't even told you he loved you! Arthur was sure he had already ruined everything. Not to mention the two of you slept together, which Arthur didn't even know if you knew it happned or not you were both so god damn drunk!

Arthur sat down and sighed. He took out the letter you left for him to find. He read it again, only this time he stopped over a certain line.

"Just talk to me."

It echoed in his mind. Arthur could practically hear your voice, begging him to talk to you. And he knew what he had to do. Arthur folded the letter up and placed it neatly in his pocket, before placing his hat back on his head. He made a beeline for the hut you were staying in with Molly.

»»———-　　———-««

You had just finished telling your sob story to Abigail and Mary-Beth when Charles returned, not even giving them a moment to react.

You didn't even look up at him when he came back, feeling so weak having to relive what happened with Arthur yet again.

"He's coming. I don't know when, he needed to collect himself. But he'll be here to see you, (Name)." Charles said softly. You nodded, reminding yourself to go and thank him properly when you were better.

"Miss Roberts, Miss Gaskill, please stay with her until Arthur gets here." Charles asked them. Of course they agreed. And then Charles left, god he needed a drink.

Abigail and Mary-Beth stay there with you, wrapped up in blankets in your cot. It was a comforting couple of minutes of silence before Arthur practically broke the door down and rushed into your room. Abigial and Mary-Beth said some hurried goodbyes to you before rushing out of the room.

You knew Arthur was there, but you couldn't look at him. You continued to lay down on your cot, wrapped up in blankets and facing the wall.

Arthur looked at you for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and starting to speak.

"(Name)" Arthur said softly. "Can I uh.. May I sit with you?"

You rolled over slowly, and forced yourself to meet Arthur's eyes. They looked just as broken as yours did when you looked in the mirror. You nodded yes weakly, and Arthur sat down on your cot next to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you closed your eyes. Arthur saw the tears flowing from them.

"I'm so sorry honey." Arthur said with a shaky sigh. "I should never have pushed you away like that."

"You fucked me." You spat, opening your eyes to look at him. "You fucked me! And then you wouldn't even look me in the eyes!"

"You know!?" Arthur gasped, completely shocked. He didn't think you were sober enough to remember what happened that night.

"I OPENED UP TO YOU ARTHUR!" You yelled, finding the strength in your anger to sit up in your bed. "I GOT CLOSE TO YOU- I LET YOU IN! YOU KNOW THINGS ABOUT ME KNOW ONE ELSE DOES!"

Before you even knew what you were doing, you got up and started pounding your fists against Arthur's back. He was caught off guard, so you got a couple solid punches in before he turned around and grabbed you by the wrists.

"You FUCKED ME! AND THEN YOU THREW ME TO THE SIDE LIKE SOME WHORE! YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU! AND ALL FOR WHAT!? ALL FOR WHAT ARTHUR MORGAN!? IS THAT ALL YOU WANTED FROM ME FROM THE START!?" You cried, not knowing when the shouting stopped and your tears began.

You fought to get your wrists out of Arthur's grasp. But he wouldn't let you go. In fact he held on to you tighter, pulling you firm against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tight and without even knowing what he was doing started peppering your head with kisses.

You punched, you sobbed, you screamed, you fought like a bat outta hell trying to get out of his grasp. But Arthur wouldn't let you go. He took every hit, every foul name and every insult.

Eventually, your thrashing stopped. Your sobs turned into small shaky breathes, and instead of punching him your arms were wrapped around his neck and you crawled into his lap. Arthur started rocking you back and fourth, and was whispering comforting things in your ear.

"I didn't know you remembered.." Arthur said softly. "Honey.. I thought I took advantage of you. I didn't think you'd wanna sleep with me if you were sober."

Arthur felt you softly shaking your head, but you didn't speak. So Arthur kept talking.

"I never woulda' acted how I did if I had known you remembered that night." Arthur whispered. "And, I can't lie to ya' honey. I was afraid. I didn't feel worthy of somthin' like what we had going on. I wasn't thinkin' right- actually I don't think I was thinkin' at all."

"Do you love me?" You asked, your voice a broken whisper. "Arthur I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. You know just as well as I do that there is some type of connection between us that we didn't even spark ourselves. Everyone saw it happen before their very eyes."

Arthur looked down at you, and you were looking up at him already. You looked like a scared little girl, and it broke Arthur's heart. How could he have done this to you?

Arthur swallowed thickly. It was now or never. He was afraid, but his fear meant nothing. Nothing mattered when it came to you. Arthur couldn't bare to lose you, especially not like this.

"Yes." Arthur breathed out, a small chuckle leaving him. "God, I love you so much. Please forgive me f'being such a goddamn moron-"

Before Arthur could continue, you grabbed Arthur by his coat collar and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Arthur moved his hands to cup your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that fell from your closed eyes.

You kissed until the both of you needed to pull away for air, and then Arthur kissed you again. He never thought he'd be able to feel your soft and loving lips against his own ever again, so he made sure to savor every moment.

Once you had both caught your breath, Arthur sat there. He held your face in his hands. The love in his eyes sent a blush to your cold and tear stained face.

"I love you (Name) (Last-name)." Arthur said, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "S'much. More than you'll ever know. More than I'll ever be able to show ya' sweetheart."

You let out an airy laugh, and for the first time in a long time you felt like you could breathe. Your chest wasn't heavy anymore and it felt like your heart was actually beating.

"But I sure as hell will try. Like you said, there is somethin' between us that's not even we could control." Arthur said softly. The smile on his face sent butterflies to your stomach. " 'M so sorry I made you feel so horrible. I'll do everythin' I can to make this right. To make us right, honey."

"It's okay.." You whispered. "It's not entirely your fault, y'know I'm sick anyway-"

"Which is another reason why I shoulda' been smarter!" Arthur said, his voice soft still but also firm. He pulled you into another hug. "I need to keep the happy inside your head."

"You remember that?" You gasped. You were deeply touched that he had remembered something so small.

"I'd have to be dead to forget any of the talks I've had with you sweetheart." Arthur said, his tone nothing but truthful. You smiled into his chest, his words made you feel like you were floating on a cloud.

You both sat there in a comfortable silence, Arthur gently rubbing your back and rocking you back and fourth. You had your eyes closed, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Arthur noticed a shift in your breathing, and he knew you had fallen asleep.

As quietly and comfortably as he could, Arthur shifted so that you were both laying down again. Arthur wrapped you up in a blanket and let out a content sigh. This felt so right. So perfect. He was still scared, but he couldn't let it keep him from you. It was better to be afraid with you, so you could learn and grow together, instead of pushing himself away and hurting the both of you.

"I'm gonna give you the world, my sweet girl. Jus' you wait and see.." Arthur whispered. He planted a kiss on the top of your head, before drifting off himself.

»»———-　　———-««

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! ive literally spent all my free time on it the past few days lol i got wayyy to invested into this, but are we suprised at this point??? Xx

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #angst with a happy ending #angst #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan rdr2 #lots of angst #but also lots of love #arthur morgan angst #fic request #sad with a happy ending #sadnees #arthur morgan fanfiction

[sevikasupremacy]

I know you probably get this ask a lot so I’m sorry but can we get more Sevika that jealous?

No need to say sorry babe I love writing about jealous Sevika 😚

Jealous Sevika

NSFW

➼ Oh lord have mercy—

➼ Whoever lays their crusty ass fingers on you just asking to be killed.

➼ Who in their right mind would even try to flirt with you?

➼ Sevika’s presence is terrifying enough—

➼ Imagine what’s it like when she’s jealous.

➼ Oh this woman is OVERPROTECTIVE.

➼ And she hates it when anyone comes up to you with the intention of flirting.

➼ The two of you would just be chilling at The Last Drop (It became part of your daily routine at this point).

➼ And of course, you would be sitting on Sevika’s lap while she played cards.

➼ At one point you left to go grab a drink at the bar.

➼ That’s when a bold young man decided to shoot his shot.

➼ He’ll try to offer you a drink, which you immediately refuse.

➼ But it seems he liked that you were hard to get.

➼ So man didn’t stop there—

➼ He decided it was a good idea to snake his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

➼ You, on the other hand, were already pleading for help as you stared at Sevika

➼ And oh god—

➼ The woman’s eyes are screaming MURDER.

➼ And before you know it—

➼ The poor man’s body was already sprawled on the floor, choking on his own blood.

➼ This wasn’t the first dead body that you had seen let me tell you that

➼ Before you could even utter a word, Sevika has already dragged you out of The Last Drop

➼ Time to take her frustrations out ;)

➼ The moment you guys reach the apartment, Sevika kicked the door open (She was already carrying you bridal-style).

➼ Doesn’t hesitate to throw you onto the bed before hovering over you, her fingers eagerly unbuttoning your shirt.

➼ She will leave marks all over your neck, chest, stomach, inner thighs— LITERALLY EVERYWHERE.

➼ “Can’t believe I had to get my fucking claws dirty again. At least that’ll warn others not to lay a finger on you.”

➼ She will eat you out like it’s her last meal on earth—

➼ Definitely fucks you until you see stars.

➼ Oh she’s not finished yet—

➼ Make sure to have enough stamina for the rest of the night.

➼ Cos she’ll have you in every single position she could think of.

➼ Ride her finger, sit on her face, let her finger fuck you from behind— It’s not even a request. It’s an order.

➼ “What did you say, Sweetheart? Too much? Well too bad. Be a good girl and take it.”

#arcane #arcane x reader #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika imagine #arcane fanfic #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #sevika x y/n #arcane smut #arcane headcanons

[zhaosbin]

Hello! If you're thinking about writing a Soobin fic, how about a Soobin x fem!reader in which they become fwb after finding out reader's bf cheated on her, so she wanna get revenge and he's such a good friend he can't help but offering himself... you can leave their relationship like that (secret fwb/affair) or maybe they become something more in the end...

Tell me what you think and feel free to change or add anything to the plot! :)

sweet revenge- c. soobin

summary: after your boyfriend cheats on you, your best friend is there to pick up the pieces.

reader: afab/fem reader!

warnings: kind of dom!soobin x sub!reader, soobin is in love with his bestie, oral (f receiving), kissing,explicit smut minors dni

a/n: tysm for requesting!! i love fwb trope a little too much.. also for the record i am the biggest sub!soobin enthusiast but i had to make him dominant here sorry :(

-

slamming the door to your apartment behind you, you immediately let out a cry of frustration.

twenty minutes prior to this, you had walked in on your boyfriend of almost a year cheating on you. you always had a hunch with how distant he became but you never thought you'd actually witness it first hand.

breaking you out of your thoughts was a sweet voice, the voice of your best friend to be exact.

"y/n? is everything okay" the voice asks.

fuck. you completely forgot you and your best friend soobin were having a movie marathon tonight.

you grow even more frustrated and rather embarrassed and slowly sink down to the floor finally letting your tears run free.

soobin immediately rushes over to you, long arms engulfing you in a tight squeeze.

you try to blurt out an explanation but your thoughts were too jumbled.

"shhh, it's okay y/n. calm down and tell me when your ready" soobin says softly.

after about five minutes of sitting in your best friends warm embrace, you finally find the strength to speak again.

"he cheated on me soobie" you pout and tears slowly fall down your face again.

soobin immediately holds you tighter, cursing under his breath at the boy he never liked in the first place.

"it's his loss" soobin immediately cuts in. "you're the sweetest girl i've ever met".

it wasn't unusual for your best friend to compliment you, you grew up next door neighbors and have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. even though you were used to the compliments, it didn't stop your heart from fluttering at his words.

after a few more minutes of silence, soobin noticed your breathing going back to normal and tears no longer dripping down your face.

he took your hand and led you to the bedroom that he had set up for your monthly movie night.

you notice how much effort he put into it and find yourself pouting again, ready to apologize before he cuts you off.

"don't y/n. we do this once a month it's okay to miss out on our fifth avengers rewatch" he says smiling.

you giggle at that, your best friend immediately cheering you up after such a shitty night.

god. you think to yourself. i should've just dated him.

before your thoughts could get any more bizarre, you take a seat next to soobin on your bed.

he immediately engulfs you in his arms again, kissing the top of your head and sighing contently.

after a few moments, you glance over at soobin who looks awfully nervous about something. before you could ask him yourself, soobin speaks up.

"you know... if you ever want to get back at him or something, i'd be more than happy to help" he gently says.

you furrow your eyebrows at his comment, not fully understanding what that meant.

"you mean like keying his car or something?" you confusedly giggle.

soobin chuckles at your cuteness.

"well that or, i don't know, maybe he should feel the same pain he caused you" he says sounding more confident now.

your eyes widen a bit when you fully understand what your friend was suggesting.

you weren't gonna lie to yourself, you knew your best friend was attractive. you just never really thought of him as anything other than your friend before. but for some reason, you were enticed by his idea.

"but...w-wouldn't that ruin our friendship?" you ask nervously.

"of course not. i'm your best friend and i'd do anything for you. let me do this for you" soobin rushes to say.

you weigh the pros and cons in your head, trying to logically think of what to do before that anger from earlier comes back. you wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you, and your attractive best friend was offering to help you with just that. how could you possibly say no?

instead of verbally answering soobin, you gently press your lips against his plump ones.

he looks taken aback for a split second before he recovers himself and kisses back more passionately.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable at any point and i'll stop, okay?" he says seriously.

you nod, fully trusting him to do whatever he wanted to you anyway.

soobin moves down from your lips to your neck, stopping here and there to leave hickeys that you knew would be noticeable tomorrow.

you moan softly at the feeling of his lips against your neck, making him swallow a groan in his throat.

"you sound so pretty, baby" soobin comments casually making you a flustered mess.

"soobin, please" you beg him.

he knew what you wanted and he wanted it too. badly.

he moves down lower on the bed until he's face to face with your drenched panties.

"how are you already so wet?" he moans running his fingers up and down the wet spot before moving your panties to the side.

without warning, he presses his tongue flat against your core making you scream out in shock and pleasure.

"tastes so fucking good, better than i ever imagined" soobin says too entranced to notice his slip up.

you frown confusedly for a second before his tongue circles around your clit and the only thing you can think of right now is his mouth.

"soobin i'm gonna c-cum soon. really want your cock inside me" you say very obviously deep into your sub headspace.

soobin pulls his mouth off of your clit with a loud popping noise making you whimper at the loss of contact.

"since you asked so nicely" soobin says smiling and kissing your lips again.

he releases his (massive) cock out of his boxers and it was already dripping with precum.

soobin wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, gently pushing in inch by inch.

you knew that right now wasn't the time to be comparing cock sizes, but he was so much bigger than your ex and felt so much better. were you really missing out on this feeling this entire time?

after a minute he finally bottoms out, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling.

he looks into your eyes, silently asking for approval to start moving. you softly smile at his cuteness and nod your head at him.

immediately soobin picks up the pace and your smile is replaced with your mouth dropping open.

"oh my god soobin, you're so big. feels so good" you gasp.

soobin let's out a chuckle at this, knowing your ex must've been less than half of his size.

"yeah baby? does that feel nice?" soobin says trying to contain his own sounds of pleasure.

you nod your head up and down quickly, not being able to form a proper response right now.

soobin knew that you were already pretty close since he ate you out before this and he hurriedly moves his thumb to circle your clit as he fucks you.

"s-soobin. cumming" is all you could say as your orgasm rips through you, making your entire body shake.

soobin has never been more turned on in his life seeing you like this and quickly follows after you with a deep groan.

he releases onto your stomach, cum splattering onto your mouth and chin in the process.

you immediately lick it up while staring deep into his eyes and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"fuck that was amazing" he says slowing down and eventually taking his cock out of you.

you had completely forgotten about why you were so heartbroken and upset before and once you remembered, you really couldn't care less.

the only thought in your mind was soobin.

you knew your friendship would be changed drastically after this, especially after coming to terms with the fact that you might have been in love with your best friend this entire time.

little did you know soobin was laying next to you thinking the exact same thing.

#txt x reader #txt smut #soobin smut #soobin x reader #soobin imagines

[greynatomy]

so american

mapi león x reader

pretend that spain drives on the left side of the road. some of the italicized dialogue is supposed to be the character speaking spanish

happy two years of writing woso fics to me!! thank you for reading!

———

Who knew going to Barcelona on a very last minute decision was the best choice you have ever made?

—

Coming off of an end of your United States tour high, you wanted to take some time for yourself after spending months with thousands of people. You’ve traveled the world doing these shows, but never had the time to enjoy these places. 

Touching down in Barcelona, you picked up your rental and made your way to your home for the next couple of weeks.

The first few days were nothing exciting. The beaches were beautiful, same with all the structures. You were very relaxed.

After a week of staying cooped up in your house, you thought it was time to see what Spain has to offer and you were not disappointed at all. You were a tourist and went to all the tourist spots, camera hanging around your neck. You were having the time of your life.

Wanting to end the day on a high, you saw a club you wanted to go to. Seeing there was a waitlist, you had your assistant call and hopefully get you on the list for tonight. 

Fortunately, she was able to.

Making your way to the bar, you had to squeeze through the people a bit.

“Vodka cran please!” 

Getting a nod, you turn away from the bar, scanning the whole place. There was a bit of everything, make-outs, shotguns, dancing, all on their own little groups, no one left behind. You felt like a bit of an outcast, but not for long.

“Hola, bebé.”

Turning to your left, you’re met with an arm littered with tattoos and a neck, another tattoo right on the center.

“Looks can be deceiving. Hmm.” 

“Like what you see?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, grabbing the drink placed in front of you. Looking up, you make eye contact, keeping it as you take a sip through your straw.

“You understand?” She was taken aback that you understood her. You shrug again, playing the mysterious card. She smirks at you, taking you by surprise when she drags you onto the dance floor.

The whole night was a blur, the next thing you remember is waking up to the sun shining through the curtains, the smell of something cooking in the air.

Making your way out of the unfamiliar room, still dressed in the clothes from your night out, seeing a person with a familiar arm littered with tattoos by the stove.

“Hola.”

Turning around, Mapi is met with your figure. “Ah, bebé! I made some breakfasts. Come sit.” You sat down awkwardly, not remembering much that happened after leaving the club. Mapi, seeing the look on your face, speaks up, “We didn’t sleep together.”

She thought that was the reason you looked uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the case.

“That’s a shame.” Her eyes almost popped out of their socket. “I’m just uncomfortable with wearing the same clothes from last night.”

“Oh!” She gets up, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into a different room. “Choose anything you’d like and the shower is over there if you want. I’ll leave you to it.”

You noticed how much clothes Mapi owned, excited to ‘borrow’ a few. After a very quick shower, the weather being a bit chilly, you grab the hoodie hanging off the back of a chair and put it on, walking out of the room.

Hearing footsteps coming closer behind her, Mapi turns but freezes at the sight of you. Her clothes pretty much almost swallows you whole.

“Bonita.” Mapi said softly to herself, not intending for you to hear. 

“You said to pick anything.” You shrug, going over to sit next to her.

There was a bit of an awkward silence that filled the room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my home.”

“Oh! No, not at all. I’m kinda glad you did.”

The awkwardness went away pretty quickly, talking like you’ve both known each other for a while. She drove you to all her favorite spots, bringing you to her favorite restaurants. before you both know it, it was time for you to go home.

Spending the past couple of weeks with Mapi was something you would never regret. You went to a couple of games incognito, she spent some days at your place, it was like you were both in your own little bubble, not wanting it it be popped.

It’s been two months since you got back home. You and Mapi haven’t lost contact, you’re still very much obsessed with her.

You just put on some comfy clothes after getting out of the shower when your doorbell rang. ‘Who the hell rings a doorbell an hour before midnight?’ you thought. Looking through the peephole, you couldn’t believe it.

Throwing the door open, you launch yourself into their arms, holding them tight.

“What are you doing here?” You mumble, voice muffled into her neck.

“It’s a surprise and you’re surprised.”

She was staying for two weeks, still recovering from an injury. You’ve gone back and created your little bubble and loved every second of it.

You’re driving to your destination, wanting to take a little trip.

“You’re so pretty.” Mapi mentioned, a hand resting on your thigh.

“What?”

“Wearing my clothes.”

Heat rises up to your cheeks, not able to stop how flustered you are. She sat in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash. It almost felt like you were part of a romance film.

It was a few days later, Mapi had gone back to Spain and you were hanging out at your house with a couple of people. There were games, food and drinks. You were a bit drunk and when you were drunk, you get talkative and giggly, even texting Mapi.

—

—

“Did- did you know that Ma-Mapi plays soccer. Wait, no, foot bowl.”

You were hanging off of your friend as she tries to get you in bed.”

“Yes I do.”

“Oh! This is Mapi’s. She told me I can keep it.” You were now burying your face into a hoodie, taking deep breaths in. “Doesn’t smell like her anymore though.” You pouted, tears edging to fall out of your eyes.

“Okay! How about you go to sleep and you can call Mapi when you wake up?”

You were already out cold when she drapes the blanket over you. Walking back downstairs, she’s met by the rest of the group.

“How was she?”

“She’s out like a light and guess what?”

“What?”

“Talking about Mapi again.”

“Of course.”

—

Two weeks into the international leg of your tour, you’ve done something that only a few people knew. Having just released an album earlier this year, another song wouldn’t be expected so soon, but here you are on stage, talking to the audience.

“Okay. So as you all know, this tour is all about me spilling everything to you guys.” The whole room breaks out in cheers. “And since I am already spilling everything, I might as well spill some more!”

“As none of you know,” Everyone laughs. “This city of Barcelona has become one of my favorite places that I have ever visited because… I might’ve met someone here.” The crowd cheers. “And they may or may not be in the audience tonight.” The crowd cheers even louder. “Anyway, this was the easiest song I have ever written because, well you’ll know why once you hear it.”

In the crowd, Mapi was with the whole team of Barça, surprised with the little soft launch you did introducing a new song. You’ve both talked about possibly going public soon, but didn’t realize that you were going to do it at your concert in front of all your fans.

You grab your guitar from one of the stage hands, stepping in front of your microphone, grabbing it once the band starts to play.

Drivin' on the right-side road She says I'm pretty wearin' her clothes And she's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, she's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Mapi became speechless. Did you really write a song about her? Are you really singing it for everyone to hear?

“Dude you didn’t tell me she wrote you a song!” Alexia gave Mapi a little shove, a teasing smile on her face.

“This is news to me!”

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

Mapi’s eyes look like they were about to pop out of their sockets. The two of you have never said the ‘L’ word to each other yet, but she’d be lying if she said there weren’t times where she almost said it.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when she's with me When she's with me

Ever since she left Los Angeles, Mapi has also been having a hard time falling asleep, so used to having you in her arms.

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-love

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love?  I think I'm in love

She wanted to run up on the stage and say the words she’s been wanting to say for so long. You technically beat her in saying it, professing it to her and to the whole audience.

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

—

liked by marialeonn16, user1 and 8,363,829 others

yourinstagram 5 new tunes for ya!! GUTS (spilled) out this friday!!!!!

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user1 AHHHHHH i can’t wait

user2 she preformed so american for us!!!

↳ user3 i loved it so much!

↳ user4 girlie is IN LOVEEE

—

Mapi and the rest of the team followed your bodyguard, Tony, to your dressing room, eating for you to finish thanking the fans. the door opens not that long after as they all spot you walking in.

You see Mapi right away, running to her, even in your tired state, jumping into her arms.

“Hola mi bebé.”

“Hey. I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t you get dressed comfy so we can go back home.”

“Yeah, home.” You walk away, waving to everyone else in the room, before going to get changed.

Two days after, you were still in Barcelona, specifically making sure you’ve taken a week break from tour to be able to stay with Mapi for a bit. You were both walking hand in hand around the city, wanting to spend time with each other doing whatever, just happy to be with her.

—

Y/N Y/LN New Fling?

Y/N Y/LN, an international pop star, was seen getting cozy with a mystery woman in Barcelona.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Y/LN started her international leg of her GUTS tour, preforming in Barcelona two days ago. On stage, she announced a deluxe version of her album, GUTS (spilled), where it features a song she performed for the first time called ‘so american.’

In the song, she said that she is “gonna marry her” and she “might just be in love” so, no this might not just be her new flavor of the week. Is Y/N Y/LN ready to settle down?

Y/LN has been previously linked with Lily Rose Depp, Joshua Basset, and Adam Faze just to name a few. None of those has seemed to last. Paparazzi has caught sight of Y/LN going all around the city of Barcelona with her new supposed girlfriend that we’ve found out is María Pilar León (Mapi), who plays on the Barcelona Femení Football Club. Pictures of the two are now circulating online and we have to say, Y/N looks very much in love. Take a look yourself.

Aren’t they just so cute! Let us know what you think.

—

Sitting on the couch watching a movie with Mapi, your phone suddenly starts going off with notifications.

Man-anger

Just a heads up, you’ve been paparazzied with your gf today.

You

Alright, thanks 👍🏼

“Ugh!” You throw your head back in frustration.

“What’s wrong bebé?”

“Damn paparazzi won’t leave me alone. They got pictures of us and posted them everywhere. I’m sorry. And they said that you’re hopefully not just my flavor of the week. Like what the fuck does that mean?”

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

“Cause I know you wanted to be private about this whole thing and this just ruined it.”

“Hey, hey.” Mapi holds your hands, moving them away from covering your face. “I’m not mad mi amor. We agreed on private but not secret. You can’t prevent people from taking pictures in public, especially of you. Eres hermosa.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to keep hiding how much I love you.”

You freeze. This was the first time Mapi had said she loved you. You know that you technically said it in the song, but now you’re for sure.

“I love you.”

Mapi guides your face to her’s with a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck, deepening it.

—

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yourinstagram i know i’m in love

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#woso #woso x reader #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #mapi leon #mapi león #mapi leon x reader #mapi león x reader