futuristicyouthvoid

[futuristicyouthvoid]

satisfying

Alone in this shitty world (Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker)

Word count: 2.4k

Description: After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

Content warnings: Supersoldier!reader, John Walker being a bitch as usual, protective boyfriend Bucky, mental health talk, hurt/comfort.

Note: After watching Walker’s storyline in this movie I felt like I needed to write some hurt/comfort with him. Enjoy!

Masterlist

"So, what kind of super serum you both get?" Alexei's thick accent cuts through the silence.

You were sharing the front cabin of a stolen truck, Bucky behind the wheel, you in the middle, and Alexei by the window. He'd already declared the ride to Valentina's location a 'super soldier party', clearly over the moon about the whole thing.

"I ... uh don't know. Regular? Hydra" Bucky is the first to answer, quickly brushing off what he considered to be an irrelevant topic. Alexei on the other hand, reacted like it was the only thing he'd been wanting to know the whole time.

"Hydra! Ohh, fancy" Alexei grinned wide, Bucky just huffed at his excitement. "I got something mixed, still good, still powerful" he puffed his chest a little. "And you, pretty one, what is your serum ah?"

"Uh ... mine was Shield's. It was developed from Steve's dna" You reply. Alexei's face lights up with more amazement. 

"Ayy Shield! Straight from captain Rogers. She gets the premium brand, ah winter soldier?" He speaks to Bucky like he was breaking news, the latter just nodded absentmindedly.

"A super soldier couple, ha! what are the odds? you two lovely creatures made for each other, strong, beautiful and dangerous. Like spy movie" his laugh booms through the cabin as he pats a heavy hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky pretends to ignore him, eyes still on the road, but his smirk was undeniable.

You just gave Alexie an amused smile, then gently squeezed Bucky's hand resting on the wheel. Without hesitation, he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. Alexei just watched with a knowing grin.

Bucky kept driving in silence, enjoying the calm before of the storm, because once you found Valentina, and her new shiny creation, at the former avengers tower, all hell broke loose.

God, how you missed being back in that truck.

Now, you were limping away from the tower where Bob– or Sentry now, whatever the hell Valentina was calling him now, had beaten the living shit out of all you. Your thoughts were cut short when you noticed Yelena snapping at everyone.

"What, it's my turn now?" Walker asked defensively, his tone only adding fuel to Yelena's anger.

"Oh no, you already know you're a piece of shit. And your family knows too" Yelena shots back without missing a beat.

"Wow" he muttered, his eyes dropping to the bent shield in his hands. He didn't argue to that, he didn’t know how to.

"Yelena, you're not alone in this–" you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"You shut up! We're all alone in this shitty world, you only say that cause you have Bucky" She cries out, her finger pointed at you like a dagger.

You didn't fight back to her, you knew she wasn't lashing out at you, not really. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the just the fear taking over her.

Bucky turned to you, curious about your reaction, but your small smile was enough to say 'I'm okay'. She wasn't wrong, after all.

Then your gaze drifted to John, when you noticed from the corner of your eye his posture had shifted. It wasn't only anger you saw in him, it was something heavier. Something that stuck with you longer than it should've.

Normally you would just ignore Walker, silence had always been your preferred way to keep your sanity intact around him. But this time you couldn't help it, you kept your eyes on him a little bit longer.

And you saw it.

The way mentioning his family made his entire demeanor shift. The same reaction you saw the first time Bucky brought them up. And now Yelena had rubbed it in, like salt in an open wound.

You couldn't believe it, and would probably never admit it out loud, but you felt something for John Walker.

Pity.

The next thing you knew, the group had scattered, everyone going in different directions after Yelena's outburst.

And without really thinking, with Bucky walking by your side, you walked towards the same direction Walker had taken. You didn't exactly know why, but you felt like you needed to say something to him.

"This is a mess, doll" Bucky sighs, eyes scanning around like he would find an answer in the clueless people walking by. "I didn't think I'd come to this, but I think I should call Sam"

"Uh huh. Sure, let's call Sam. He can totally take down Sentry" Your tone was half sarcastic half distracted, as your gaze darted around trying to find John, who had walked fast enough to get lost in the busy streets of New York.

"I think he might know something– wait, are you okay, doll? What are you looking for?" Bucky stopped walking, but you didn't, giving him no choice but to catch up.

"Huh?" You ask, barely registering the question.

And then you spotted it, a flash of black and red cutting through the crowd, stomping rather than walking.

"There he is!" Your voice lit up, picking up your pace to reach your target. "Walker!" You shouted his name, loud and clear. No way he didn't hear you, not with his enhanced hearing. The way he sped up to get further from you confirmed it.

"Okay now, Walker?" Bucky asks, completely baffled. As far as he knew none of you could stand the guy.

"Listen honey" You say softly, weaving between pedestrians "I love you, but it wasn't cool to bring up in front of everyone that his wife took his baby and left him. They're just gonna keep throwing it in his face now"

Bucky shifted slightly, but still defensive. "Yeah well, he doesn't exactly make it easy not to"

"I know" you admitted. "But weirdly enough we're all stuck in this shit show together. We might as well try to work with him" You pause for a second, knowing you could catch up to Walker anytime now. "Just give me a second with him Buck, please babe?" You bat your eyelashes at him.

He gave you a long look, raising an eyebrow, clearly ready to protest. But he knew what you were doing. And you knew he knew.

"Alright" he grunts, rolling his eyes. "I'll be right behind you. With my favorite knife. In case you need me to stab him for you, doll" He flashed you an ironic smile, and you nodded back amused.

You turned back around and quickened your pace, finally catching up to Walker. Bucky kept his promise, a hand resting on his knife holder as he trailed behind you at what he considered a safe distance.

"Walker!" You called again, now standing just behind him.

"For fuck's sake, give me a break!" He came to an abrupt halt, turning around to face you, but still keeping his distance. "What, Y/N?” His harsh tone pulled you straight out of your rush.

"Wow, okay. I didn't really think this through" you admitted, realizing you hadn't actually planned what to say.

"You know what? I'm done. I'm done with everyone making fun of me. I get it, okay? I suck. What's new?" He threw his hands in the air dramatically, bitterly trash-talking himself.

"About what Yelena said—"

"Oh, I heard her just fine. And she's right, isn't she? You're all right. I'm a fucking asshole. That's why my family left, why everyone hates me" He continues letting the anger speak for himself.

But now that you stared at him for a little longer, instead of seeing the prick he portrayed in front of everyone, you could see underneath all that rage, there was something much softer.

Hurt.

So you didn't get defensive, instead, you speak softly to him.

"That's not true, John"

He froze. Taken aback by the fact that you've never called him by his first name before.

"Really? Be fucking honest with me" His voice cracked just slightly. "Cause everyone's made it pretty damn clear"

"We don't hate you" you said carefully. "You're just... hard to be around sometimes" You explain, his brows lifted at your honesty. "Look, I'm not trying anything here. I just want to talk, okay?. That's all"

He looks around, hesitant at first, but decides to drops his guard. He rolls his eyes before taking a step closer to you, never admitting he was curious about what you had to say. You pretend to not notice the sheen in his eyes once he's close to you.

He looks behind you, catching a sight of Bucky in the distance, arms on his hips, watching your interaction like a hawk.

"Don't worry about him, he's keeping watch" you brush it off, slightly amused.

And after a deep breath, you start. 

"So, you know how the serum works, right? It …enhances everything"

He gave a faint nod, prompting you to continue.

"It can make the good parts of you better, but it can also make the worst parts unbearable" you continue, letting memories you had buried down a long time ago, come to the surface. " When I first lost Bucky and Steve, back in the 40's, I was completely consumed by grief, by this ...” You pause for a second, searching for the right word. “Emptiness” you continued.

“They were all I had back then, and suddenly all my days just went by, all alone. Until one day Peggy Carter contacted me, offering me a spot on a super serum program. She said it was developed from the last blood sample taken of Steve” That seemed to finally peak his interest.

“It was quite experimental but I didn't mind, I had nothing left to lose. So I said yes, because I felt like that was my way to honor them, but deep down, I just wanted to be strong enough to destroy Hydra myself." You let out a bitter breath.

"As you can imagine, I was in no condition to take the serum. But once I did? that emptiness only grew louder. I lost control. I let all my pain out on the battlefield, told myself it was for the greater good. But really, I just wanted to hurt the world as much as it had hurt me" You confess to him, not being able to make eye contact. He didn't mind, he just listened attentively, finding he related to you in more ways than he could have ever imagined. "It went on like that for a long time, and I thought I would never stop feeling that anger. And then one day, the loss felt lighter, the emptiness began to fade away. That's when I finally stared seeing things clearer" You finally lift your gaze to meet his eyes through your glassy ones.

"That anger you feel inside you? It's real, it's the serum turning the volume up on your worst pain, but it's not everything you will ever be" You explain, and now it's his turn to drop his gaze to the floor. "I know what it feels like to drown in that, I know how hard it is to climb out of it, but trust me, it will fade eventually. I got Bucky back. I got my miracle. Maybe you'll get yours one day"

He bitterly chuckles.

"It doesn't feel that way. I'm just ... too messed up" He mumbles, and you shake your head.

"Look around, Walker. Every one of us is messed up too" you chuckle ironically, gesturing vaguely behind you. "We're all running on red numbers here. The only difference is, our worst mistakes weren't, you know... broadcasted to the whole world" You carefully admit, remembering his public incident back in Latvia.

You paused, then added softly. "I'm sorry yours were"

He didn't say anything right away, just blinked a few times, processing everything you told him.

"Thank you" It came out quiet, but it was honest.

It was is the kindest someone had treated him since the day his wife left.

"You know, it's never too late to start over with us" You admit, referring to the new dysfunctional group you had accidentally became a part of. “So, are you? with us?" You question.

He lingers for a second, before he gives you a small nod. He didn't have to say much, you could see how much your words meant to him by the way he looked at you. It was different than before.

You patted his shoulder gently and nod happily, before turning to head back to Bucky.

Walker notices Bucky's face shift into a smile the second he saw you coming. And just before you were too far away, you hear his voice once again.

"You know... I can see why he's so protective of you. He's lucky to share this shitty world with you" He grants, hinting back at what Yelena said earlier.  A smile tugs at your lips.

Before you could turn around to respond, a sudden explosion cracked through the air, followed by pedestrian’s screams. Chaos erupted in the streets as people began running in every direction.

You barely had time to process it before you caught the sound of something heavy crashing down, a huge chunk of concrete, straight above you.

In less than a second, two super soldiers blocked the blow, Walker with his dented shield raised above you and Bucky with his vibranium arm braced against the falling debris that shattered around them.

Even though you were as much of a super soldier as he was, Bucky still protected you like you were made of glass.

"Are you okay, doll?" he asked immediately. His hands swiftly dusting away little rests of concrete off your suit, eyes scanning your body for any injuries.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Walker doing the same, he was more subtle, but still watching you closely, making sure you weren't hurt.

"Yes. Thank you. Both of you." You nodded quickly, still catching your breath.

Bucky gave a short nod in Walker's direction, a silent acknowledgment.

Then your eyes lifted, and your heart dropped.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, horrified at the sight. The people who had been running were now vanishing. One by one, melted into silhouettes.

You looked back to Walker, desperation setting in.

"You're with us, right?" You ask one more time.

This time, his nod came without hesitation.

"Great" you said, turning now towards Bucky. He nodded firmly, ready to jump into action. "Let's go"

[futuristicyouthvoid]

OH I LOVED THIS SM! Great to read about John, this is definitely a rare piece! Need more

change

john walker/f!reader

when you get injured during a job, you and john have a genuine conversation for once

cw some thunderbolts spoilers (pre-movie, about his personal life), non-graphic depictions of injuries, discussions of mental health / 2.1k wc

i've been a john walker sh**ter since 2021, i've been in the TRENCHES and have watched wyatt russell's entire filmography - i love him. this mainly serves as a set-up/prequel to the second part which takes place during thunderbolts. also, named after the djo song. did i mention that i saw djo last night? i in fact saw djo last night.

It was supposed to be just a job. An easy one at that. 

Really, you were embarrassed to admit to yourself that you actually believed Val when she told you that this would just be an easy in-and-out, that you she was only sending you with your only frequent collaborator because she wanted extra assurance that the package you were retrieving would be found in a timely manner. Believing Val about anything had been a mistake from day one, especially something that had to do with your own personal security and well-being. 

From the moment a cloaked man’s blade embedded itself in your thigh, you knew that this wasn’t ever supposed to be an easy job. 

“She’s trying to get us killed.” Your voice came out as more of a complaint than an actual statement that you were trying to communicate to the man in front of you who was doing his absolute best to patch up your wound with what he had on him. 

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Walker was stubborn, he always was. But sometimes you wondered if that stubbornness came from the fact that he had more going on than he ever wanted to let on to people. You knew about his issues at home, what had happened about six months ago at this point. It was why you became gentler with him, but he all but rejected any sign of kindness from you - mainly because he seemed to believe that you were just patronizing him, because, as he said, he ‘didn’t want to be coddled’. That didn’t mean that, eventually, he hadn’t started being a bit nicer to you, too. 

“Didn’t you take a knife to the shoulder, too?” 

“Yeah but I’m a super soldier, I’ll be fine.” 

He was too stubborn for his own good. 

“You still couldn’t died, I could’ve died. She told us this was easier than it was, and you know it just as well as I do.” 

As you finished speaking, he finished wrapping your leg and looked up at you. But there was a look in his eyes that told you that this conversation simply wasn’t going to go the way that you wanted it to go, because there was no reasoning with him on this matter. 

“If she wanted us to die, we would be dead.” 

“John-”

“You’ve said this for the last two jobs, if this is too hard for you, you can always tap out.” 

Sometimes it was easy to get a more human side out of him, but sometimes - times like this - it proved itself to be a challenge. Deep down, you were sure that he knew that there was a part of this operation that relied on Val lying to you so you would be more willing to do what she wanted you to do. Did she really want to get you killed? Probably not, she’d have to find more people willing to work for her if she did. Granted, you were certain that would-be superheroes weren’t too difficult to find nowadays. 

“Maybe she doesn’t want us to die, but she clearly has no regard for our well-being.” 

“Oh, please-”

“Forget it, John, I don’t want to argue.” 

Maybe it was the exhaustion on your face that made him listen to you as he moved away from where he was sitting, grabbing the chair that he had moved opposite to the edge of the bed that you were on while he was patching your leg up and moving it to the corner. 

“I’ll be in the other room.” 

Like usual, when you had far-away jobs, Val would either fly you out or get you a hotel with adjoined but separate rooms. When John decided to get up and leave, you could go talk to him whenever you wanted - and you typically did. That was what made it so difficult for you, when it came down to it. Well, it was among the things that made everything so difficult for you.

The issue stemmed from the fact that, at some point, the two of you had become friends. You weren’t sure when things changed, when your professional relationship had become a lot more personal. Maybe it was the night that you were feeling a bit rough, and while he wasn’t the type to talk you through that and give you a hug, he didn’t mind wordlessly sitting beside you and watching movies that the hotel had until you eventually fell asleep. Then you both started sharing more personal things with each other, personal issues that neither of you were sharing with other people. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like that you were friends, because you did. But sometimes you liked it too much. It hadn’t taken you very long to figure out that the feelings that you had when you were around John weren’t exactly platonic, but that wasn’t something that you were going to tell him. Even if it had been months ago, he was clearly still reeling from the loss of his marriage and you knew that. The issue wasn’t workplace romance, or not wanting to tell him because of some minuscule reason. It was because you knew him, and you knew that if anything were to happen between the two of you it would need to happen on his terms - for both of your sake. 

Knowing him itself was a battle, because sometimes you wished that you could do more to help him. You wanted to do something beyond just exist and be a friend, because you knew what it was like. It was the reason you were the way that you were, and the reason that you were in the position that you were in. You knew - perhaps in a difference capacity - the pain that he was experiencing and you wished that there was something that you could do to help him. But knowing him meant that knowing that he would just live with whatever pain it was that he was going through, that trying to talk about it would only make matters worse. 

As you heard him settle into the other room, presumably changing out of his uniform, you did the same and let yourself lay down. The pain in your thigh was quite unbearable, but you were so used to getting stabbed at this point that it wasn’t something that you were particularly surprised by. 

With some Advil in your system and the knowledge that his experience in patching up combat wounds probably left you in a pretty decent position, it took you maybe twenty minutes to fall asleep for what you hoped would be the rest of the night. But that hope was dashed a bit later as you awoke to the sound of a light knocking on the door attached to your own. 

“It’s John, uh, if you’re still asleep that’s fine.”

“You can come in, there’s no locks.” You replied, sitting up in your bed and turning on the light. It had been about five hours since you had fallen asleep. John had clearly gotten out of the shower a bit ago, his hair still damp even if he was covered in dry, clean, casual clothing. 

“Have you been able to shower or is the pain too bad?”

“You know, it’s not often polite to tell a girl she needs to bathe more.” You replied, a normal playful tone in your voice as you spoke. But you knew that he was just being nice, even if a small smile covered his lips, you wanted to be nice, too. “I was going to, but then I fell asleep.” 

“I can wait here, you know, just in case you need anything.” 

“What’s going on, John?” 

He could be nice to you, but right now he was downright doting. It was true that you had been in danger during the mission, but even then he didn’t seem too disturbed by it afterwards. This was odd, to you. You had never seen him act so… caring. 

When he didn’t respond, though, you nodded and got up off of the bed. “We can talk after my shower.” 

You weren’t as quick as you would’ve liked to be in the bath, but you were trying your best to stay off of your bad leg. Despite the fact that the pain had dulled considerably since it happened, and the fact that you were used to things like these happening, you couldn’t say that you enjoyed the pain. Nobody did, even if it was something that you had become used to over time. Still, you were out and dressed in your sweatpants and tank top before you knew it, and you found John sitting on the bed waiting for you like he had nothing better to do. 

He wasn’t on his phone, hadn’t turned on the TV even though the remote was sitting right beside him. He was just waiting. It was quite odd, especially for him. 

“Seriously, John, what’s wrong?” There was no judgement in your voice as you sat down beside him, careful to not sit in a way that would disturb the medical bandages that were covering your leg. “I mean, you know I enjoy your company and all but it seems like something happened.”

You really felt like you shouldn’t known that something was wrong from the moment that he was the one to knock on your door, and not the other way around. Something had clearly been bothering him since before he had come into your room, and the fact that he asked if you were still asleep implied to you that he had seemingly tried to talk to you before, and couldn’t because you were knocked out. 

“You were right, I just wanted to tell you that you were right.” The confused look in your eyes seemingly only made this more difficult for him from the way that he was looking down. “About Val, she doesn’t care about us that much.” 

Truthfully, whether he told this to you or not, you knew that this was something that he was never going to repeat to someone else. He was telling you because he wanted to tell you and because he trusted you, but you were well-aware of the fact that this wouldn’t change how he acted around other people. You would never really ask him to change who he was, though. There were aspects of everyone that could be changed, it wasn’t your place to change that for him. 

“Is that the only thing bothering you?” You asked him, not because you were prying, but because it seemed like there was more that he wanted to tell you. There was a part of you that knew he would never, ever be completely out in the open because it just wasn’t who he was. But you hoped, somewhere deep down, that he would try to be more honest and open. 

“I just wanted to tell you that, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t… I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to be withholding.” 

Seemingly, it was difficult for him to get those words out. You understood why, and you were honestly more than surprised that he even said anything to begin with. But again, you knew him and what he had been through. He hadn’t been there for his family, he hadn’t been there for anyone other than himself. He got selfish, and mean, and he wasn’t the person who you were sure that the people who cared about him knew. You weren’t there when any of it happened, because that was his home life and you weren’t really friends at that point, but you knew about it. He told you about it. And you knew the importance of him coming to you now.

“You’re the only person I have, I don’t want to make you leave.” 

“I won’t leave, John.” Your words were soft, and quicker than you intended. But he didn’t seem bothered by it, and for once, he didn’t seem bothered by the feeling of you pulling him into a hug. Even softer this time, as though you were confessing some kind of secret that he didn’t already know, you continued -  “You’re the only person I have, too.” 

The tone of the evening seemed different than the other nights that you’d fallen asleep watching movies with him, because for the first time, he didn’t leave. He didn’t mind the feeling of you asleep on his arm, and you didn’t feel perturbed the next morning when you woke up to find his blond hair obstructing your eyesight and you tried to get up.

But the change in tone didn’t bother you, even if it changed the way that your relationship functioned as a whole. You couldn’t be too sure what would happen, and you knew that some of your actions throughout the coming weeks and months were implicitly non-platonic even if neither of you explicitly admitted it. But whether you talked about it or not, you had each other, and even if nobody else was there for you, that was more than enough.

[futuristicyouthvoid]

my heart skipped a beat and fell

Chapter 2: I Love The Way You Are

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend wasn’t supposed to happen—but with Adrian Chase, it was inevitable. Maybe it started back in high school, when he smiled at you across the science lab. Or maybe it crept in later, during those long, adrenaline-soaked nights working (sort of, not really) for ARGUS, where the line between best friends and something more blurred every time he looked at you like you were the only steady thing in his world.

Loving him was easy. Living with the fact that he might never love you back? That was the hard part.

Because whether he couldn’t feel it—or just wouldn’t let himself—you were stuck in a limbo of almosts. Lingering touches, late-night confessions, unspoken things that hung heavy in the air.

And eventually, something was going to give. Warnings: Slow-Burn, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut.

Masterlist familyfriendlyhoho

You hated Thursdays. You could never quite pin down why. Maybe it was the way they hung there—liminal and heavy, like a breath stuck in your chest. Too far from the start of the week to feel productive, too far from the weekend to feel hopeful. The awkward, overlong sigh between Wednesday’s promise and Friday’s relief.

Thursdays didn’t offer anything. They just were—a placeholder day, existing without purpose.

“Thursdays feel thick,” you’d muttered once, offhandedly, the words caught halfway between a yawn and a thought you didn’t realize you’d said out loud. You were both perched on the edge of the bridge, legs swinging lazily over the side like a pair of oversized kids sneaking out past curfew. The river glittered below you, fractured and fidgeting under the lamplight—liquid glass catching the reflections of the city’s bones.

Adrian glanced up from where he was polishing a smudge off his glasses, the edge of his sleeve bunched in his fist. He stilled. Then, slowly, he lowered the frames back to his face and tilted his head toward you, eyebrows drawing together with theatrical disbelief.

“Thick?” he repeated. Like you’d just declared that gravity was optional on even-numbered days.

You shrugged and took another sip from your rapidly melting milkshake, the striped straw bent at a funny angle from where he’d gnawed on it earlier. “Yeah. Like... the air feels heavy. Dense. Like it’s pressing down on you. Not in a stormy way, just in a… Thursday way.”

Adrian’s brows stayed furrowed, but there was a flicker of something else beneath the confusion—something fond. His glasses were crooked now, the left lens sitting slightly higher than the right, and you knew he wasn’t going to fix it. He never did unless you reached out and did it for him.

“What do other days feel like, then?” he asked after a beat, voice pitched somewhere between dry skepticism and genuine curiosity.

You blinked, surprised by the question, but answered anyway. “Tuesdays are thin,” you said, lips quirking. “Like the world’s stretched out too tight, but nothing’s actually happening. Just tension. Background noise. You know?”

“Not really,” he said, but he was smiling now, that sideways, slightly off-kilter smile he only gave you. The one where his eyes crinkled at the corners, not because he was laughing at you but because he got you, in the strange, impossible way only Adrian Chase could.

Before you could respond, he reached for your drink—no warning, no hesitation—and took a loud, exaggerated sip, slurping dramatically like a cartoon character.

You gave him a look. He handed it back unapologetically.

“You’re right,” he said, mouth still a little pink from the strawberry ice cream. “Thursdays are like brain-soup days. That mushy, half-soggy feeling? Like everything’s running five seconds behind your thoughts. Ugh.”

You laughed, more startled than anything. “Soup,” you repeated.

He nodded solemnly. “Chunky brain soup. Maybe with some alphabet noodles.”

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“Says the girl who’s assigning textures to weekdays.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. This was who you were around each other—comfortable, ridiculous, weirdly tender in ways that didn’t need to be named.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It never was. The quiet with Adrian was a blanket, not a wall. He shifted beside you, boots scuffing gently against the concrete, his hands behind him now, bracing his weight as he leaned back to look at the sky. The kind of posture that said, I could stay here a while.

Then, as if sensing the exact moment it was time to move on, he sat forward, reaching for the mask resting by his thigh. His fingers toyed with the edge of it, flipping it once, then twice, before he glanced sideways at you.

His voice changed—just slightly. Not cold, but sharper. More him in the way the world knew him, not the way you knew him.

“You ready to go fuck some bad guys up?” he asked, his smile all teeth and trouble now.

You didn’t answer right away. You were still watching him, still cataloguing the way the city’s glow caught in his hair, the way his mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin too hard. The way his fingers hesitated on the mask, just for a second, like he didn’t want to put it on just yet.

You turned your gaze out toward the water again, then upward—toward the dark ribbon of sky frayed with stars. The city beyond the bridge hummed softly, like it was breathing.

“Let me finish this,” you said finally, lifting the milkshake again. “The view’s nice.”

Adrian made a soft noise of agreement, flopping onto his back with a dramatic groan, arms flung out beside him like a crime scene outline. “Fine. But if you take too long, I’m going in solo. And we both know how that ends.”

“With you punching a car alarm and getting your ass kicked by a recycling bin,” you muttered into your straw.

He grinned up at the sky. “Exactly. Classic me.” You smiled, shaking your head as you took another sip. Thick Thursdays and chunky brain soup. God, you loved him, and he didn’t even know.

But now you hated Thursdays for a different reason.

Adrian had always been a constant in your life. The guy who slipped into your orbit like it was inevitable, like the universe had just decided one day: Yes, you need this chaotic gremlin in your life. And he stayed. Effortlessly. He brought noise, brightness, chaos. A whirlwind in a turtleneck. A walking contradiction of unfiltered violence and unflinching loyalty. And for the longest time, that was enough. More than enough.

He was your best friend. Your post-patrol dinner date. Your unofficial roommate. Your emotional support Vigilante. The guy who didn’t even flinch when you threw up after a rough mission, who quietly cleaned up the mess while making a bad joke just to get you to smile again. The one who could kill a man in an alley and then spend fifteen minutes complaining that your bathroom light made him look “blotchy and dead” in the mirror.

He was yours in every way that didn’t count. And maybe that used to be okay.

But now… now things were different.

It wasn’t the way he still slipped into your bed after patrols that had changed—he’d been doing that for years. Always finding his way back to your apartment like some overly armed, bullet-riddled homing pigeon. Like the violence clinging to him wasn’t a barrier but a thread—something that connected him to you, that guided him back through the dark. No matter how messy the night got, no matter how late it was or how bad he looked, Adrian always found his way to your door. And you always unlocked it.

He’d usually frame it like he was doing you a favor. “I’ll walk you home,” he’d offer casually, even though it was out of his way, even though he was the one with the cracked ribs or the bloodied knuckles. And if you got hurt during patrol—something as small as a graze across your forearm or a split lip—he’d suddenly get real serious about “supervising your medical care,” like he hadn’t just yanked a shard of glass out of his own thigh five minutes earlier with zero expression.

“You shouldn’t be alone in case you pass out or bleed everywhere,” he’d say, gesturing vaguely to your definitely-not-life-threatening wound. “I’ll patch you up. I’m like… basically a certified vigilante EMT.”

“Pretty sure duct tape and a leftover Band-Aid doesn’t count as certification,” you’d reply, unlocking your door.

He always came in smelling like blood and sweat and fast food—whatever late-night place had still been open while the adrenaline was still wearing off. Burgers, gyros, chicken tenders. You loved the looks people gave the two of you when you rolled into 24-hour diners at 2AM in full tactical gear, with dried blood on your necks and crime scene dirt on your boots, ordering milkshakes and mozzarella sticks like it was a Tuesday afternoon.

And you never told him he couldn’t stay. Not once.

You never said no—not when he curled up on your couch and stole your throw blanket, not when he shuffled into your kitchen in the morning to make terrible coffee with too much sugar and exactly one ice cube (“trust me, it’s optimal sipping temperature”), not when he threw his mask on your dresser like it belonged there.

Because maybe part of you liked the way he filled your space.  It was the little things, things you’d never noticed before—or maybe you’d noticed them too much, too often, until they'd quietly embedded themselves into the fabric of your days, stitched seamlessly into your shared life.

It was the way Adrian’s voice echoed softly off your apartment walls, playful, vibrant, alive in a way your own space never seemed to feel when he wasn’t there. It was laughter at three in the morning over cereal bowls that clattered loudly against your coffee table, or him calling from the kitchen—“Hey, do you know why your freezer smells like birthday cake? Is it supposed to?”—his tone confused and entirely genuine.

He made your apartment feel lived-in, not just occupied between patrols and errands and jobs that left scars both seen and unseen. Adrian brought warmth, laughter, noise. A certain messy chaos that wasn’t exactly comforting, but still familiar—something you found yourself missing when your apartment was too quiet.

He’d enter your place without ever really asking. Dropping his gear by the door, heavy weapons clattering against your hardwood floor like it was nothing more than a pair of shoes. He’d toe off his boots lazily, each landing wherever they landed, then stretch, arms raised high above his head, back arching like a stray cat—if a cat could hide half a dozen knives under an oversized hoodie and smell faintly of late-night fights and cheap diner coffee.

And without needing him to ask, you’d pass him a towel. Because it was habit, because it was routine, because this was what your life had become. It was something small and quiet and unspoken that neither of you ever questioned, never talked about.

But now, something had shifted. Quietly, painfully, irreversibly.

Because Adrian still slipped under your covers each Thursday night, the mattress creaking softly beneath him as he settled. He still argued playfully over the pillows, making exaggerated sighs when you insisted your bed, your rules, poking him in the ribs until he grudgingly moved.

But now, everything felt different. It wasn't casual anymore. It wasn't routine anymore.

Now, every time he shifted closer, the mattress dipping gently beneath his weight, your heart skipped painfully, like a record needle caught on an old song. Every accidental brush of his knee against yours beneath the blankets sent your pulse skittering off rhythm, left your breath shallow and tight. Every sleepy murmur, every soft sigh in his sleep felt magnified, sharpened, impossibly intimate.

You became hyper-aware of every detail: how warm he was, radiating heat like he’d soaked up the entire sun; how his fingertips sometimes brushed against your wrist in his sleep, feather-light and careless and devastating; how, if you woke first, you’d sometimes watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his hair tousled and boyish and impossibly endearing.

But it wasn’t just the nights. It was everything else, too—the quiet domesticity that had snuck into your lives, that you’d never given permission for but had somehow settled permanently into place anyway.

It was mornings in your tiny bathroom, with Adrian perched cross-legged on the closed toilet lid like a curious goblin, eyes sleep-soft and warm behind crooked glasses, his mask casually tossed onto the countertop like it belonged there. He’d talk endlessly about nothing—rambling monologues about his shift at Fennel Fields or the existential dread of pigeons (“They’re everywhere, but have you ever seen one sleeping? Suspicious, right?”)—all while steam fogged the mirror, water hissed softly behind the shower curtain, and you struggled not to slip and break your neck while trying to shave your legs.

It was him making himself coffee in your chipped mug—too sweet, with exactly one ice cube to achieve the “perfect sipping temperature,” and how he always left another cup next to yours without comment, perfectly prepared the way you liked it. You never remembered telling him, and yet he always knew.

It was how he’d pick crumbs off your sweatshirt absently, how you found your laundry folded haphazardly yet carefully on your bed when you came home. It was in the way his hoodies seemed to multiply in your drawers, how his toothbrush was next to yours, how you’d stopped noticing exactly when these things happened.

But now you did notice, now you noticed all of it. You noticed it with a clarity that felt sharp, piercing, almost painful.

Did he know what he was doing when he leaned close, whispering conspiratorially about something meaningless, eyes bright and crinkled with laughter behind those ridiculous glasses? Did he know how deeply it hit you when he said things so simply, like, “You always take my side. I love that about you,” with his smile open and vulnerable and effortlessly sincere?

Probably not. He was just Adrian. Pure-hearted, oblivious Adrian who poured out affection so freely but never seemed to realize when it was returned.

And that hurt. It hurt in a soft, lingering way, like pressing on a bruise just to remember how it felt.

Because it wasn’t just comfort anymore when he climbed into your bed at night, still warm from a hot shower, smelling faintly of your shampoo. It wasn’t just friendship anymore when he laughed at your worst jokes, bright and loud and unrestrained. And it wasn’t casual anymore when he stole sips from your drink like your boundaries were his own, casual and intimate and somehow heartbreaking.

Now, you lay awake, body rigid, hyper-aware of every breath he took beside you, every shift of the mattress as he moved unconsciously closer. Now, instead of easily drifting to sleep, you rolled carefully onto your stomach, face buried in the pillow, pretending your body wasn’t screaming for you to close that tiny, aching gap between your skin and his. You fought the burning urge to curl into his side, to gently lift his heavy arm and drape it protectively around you, just to pretend for one fucking moment that he was yours, and you were his, and this was normal.

But it wasn’t.

Now, you stayed awake until your eyes stung, staring at the wall forcing yourself to pretend everything was fine. You wore sleep pants and an old oversized T-shirt—telling yourself it was because the nights had grown colder, not because sleeping next to him in just a shirt and underwear had become unbearable. Because now every accidental brush of skin felt deliberate, too charged, sending coils of painful longing spiraling low in your belly.

Now, you couldn’t even roll onto your side without your gaze drifting automatically to him, without your breath hitching quietly in your throat at the sight of Adrian asleep. Without the overwhelming urge to trace your fingertips along his jawline, memorizing every angle, every small imperfection. Without desperately wanting to run your hand gently through his messy curls, imagining how they’d feel tangled softly between your fingers, imagining his sleepy sigh in response, as if you belonged exactly there.

God, you fucking hated this.

Hated the ache in your chest every time he smiled, hated the burn in your fingertips when he touched you casually, obliviously, completely unaware that every casual brush sent sparks through your veins. You hated how he filled every corner of your thoughts, every waking moment, every tiny detail of your life.

How could one person consume you so completely, so effortlessly? How had Adrian become everything—your first thought in the morning, your last thought at night, the name whispered in the quiet darkness when no one else could hear?

You were utterly, hopelessly, painfully in love with him, and he didn’t even know.

But worse were the thoughts—the creeping, dark, gnawing ones that had started whispering in your head at night, twisting and turning restlessly through your chest, making sleep impossible:

What if he did know?

What if Adrian had noticed every small shift, every hesitant pause, every stuttered breath and trembling hand you tried so hard to hide? What if he had sensed the change between you, felt it in the way your laughter faded slightly too quickly, or in the way you jerked away from his touch before forcing yourself to relax again?

And what if he knew… and didn’t feel the same?

What if Adrian was just trying to keep things as normal as possible, to quietly protect the friendship you’d built for so long? What if he’d noticed how fragile you’d become, how easily you’d break, and was being careful, gentle, slowly and silently letting you down—waiting for you to realize he’d never want you that way, that you were only hurting yourself?

What if this entire heartbreaking disaster was just you?

The thought hit so sharply it physically hurt, twisting your chest painfully tight. You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t bear to stay beside him for another suffocating second.

Carefully, you eased yourself upright, your heart slamming painfully hard against your ribcage. The sheets rustled softly beneath you, but Adrian’s breathing stayed steady. You stared at him for a second longer, drinking in the softness of his features, half-buried in your pillow, blissfully unaware of the ache he caused you.

Then you slipped out of bed, your bare feet cold against the wooden floor. The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped out of the room, making your way silently into the kitchen. You didn’t dare turn on the main lights, instead flicking on only the small overhead glow of the stove, bathing everything in muted, amber shadows.

You opened the pantry quietly, eyes drifting aimlessly over the contents: a nearly empty box of cereal, a forgotten packet of crackers, a couple of muesli bars you’d tossed there after patrol. Nothing special. Nothing comforting. Just something to keep your hands busy, to distract you from the ache in your chest, to force your mind somewhere other than Adrian sleeping quietly in your bed.

You grabbed one of the muesli bars, tearing the wrapper open slowly, almost robotically, fingers trembling slightly. The bench was cool against your back as you leaned heavily against it, your gaze fixed blankly on the tiled backsplash, thoughts racing uselessly, looping around the same unbearable truths.

This was bullshit.

All of it.

The way your entire being screamed at you to confess, to grab him by his stupidly soft hoodie and kiss him breathless, to just blurt out how deeply, impossibly, pathetically in love with him you were. The way your brain whispered endlessly that maybe rejection would finally free you from this unbearable tension, from the horrible limbo of maybe-maybe-not, from the desperate fantasy you’d quietly built around a man who might never look at you the way you longed to be seen.

Maybe rejection would hurt less than this endless ache.

Your fingers tightened around the half-eaten bar, crushing it in frustration as your throat grew tight, the quietness of the apartment suddenly deafening. Your body felt brittle, tense, desperate for release—desperate for anything other than this fragile silence, this unspoken torture of yearning and longing and denial.

Because Adrian was the best thing to ever happen to you, and he was also, undeniably, the worst.

He made your days brighter, your laughter louder, your world bigger—but he’d also fractured you so subtly you hadn’t noticed until you were already shattered, broken, desperately trying to hold the pieces of yourself together each time he smiled, oblivious and beautiful and so fucking far from reach.

You dropped your head forward with a defeated sigh, eyes squeezed shut as if you could block out reality simply by refusing to acknowledge it. Your fingers pressed hard against the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white, breathing shallow and controlled. You couldn’t do this anymore—couldn’t keep living in this suspended ache, hiding behind carefully constructed barriers, suppressing every longing glance, swallowing back every aching, fragile confession. It was exhausting, draining you moment by moment.

But the thought of losing Adrian entirely—of breaking the delicate balance that tethered you together—terrified you more than anything else.

You remembered vividly the night he showed up on your mother's doorstep all those years ago. His dark hair tousled, a duffel bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, and his expression strangely blank, guarded beneath that forced half-smile. He'd shrugged casually, voice carefully neutral, telling your mom, "My mom kicked me out," as though it were just another Tuesday. But the emptiness in his eyes told a different story.

Your mother hadn't hesitated. Even though your tiny social housing apartment barely had enough room for the two of you, she quickly pulled together bedding for Adrian on your bedroom floor, muttering sternly, “Door stays open. I was seventeen once, too.” You’d rolled your eyes then, embarrassed, but secretly grateful she'd understood without question.

You remembered clearly how Adrian slipped crumpled bills, money he had earnt from his paycheck, discreetly around the house—under the sugar jar, inside her purse, between the pages of a worn cookbook—pretending ignorance when your mom confronted him about it. Even at seventeen, he’d tried to make sure he wasn’t too much of a burden on a woman who was already working two jobs to afford what little she had. Your mother had given him half of that money back every time.

But more vividly than anything, you remembered that night for the crack you saw in Adrian’s carefully constructed armor—the fracture that showed through the darkness as he lay silently next to your bed, hands clasped loosely over his stomach, eyes fixed emptily on the ceiling, caught in a fragile moonlit shadow.

You’d watched him quietly, lying awkwardly with half your body hanging off the edge of your mattress, studying every painful shift of emotion he didn’t know how to voice. You saw the uncertainty pooling in his eyes, questions he’d never dare ask aloud: wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why everyone who was supposed to love him eventually walked away.

Without hesitation, without fear or embarrassment, you’d reached across the narrow gap between you, gently, awkwardly tangling your fingers through his. You felt his hand stiffen at first, surprised by the intimacy, before relaxing slowly into your touch.

“I got you,” you’d whispered quietly, your voice shaky yet certain, holding on tightly even when he couldn’t.

Adrian didn’t reply—not in words—but he squeezed your hand so tightly it almost hurt. There had been no teasing smile, no playful banter, just Adrian holding desperately onto the lifeline you silently offered. That night, the silence between you was louder than words could ever be, filled with the silent promise that you would always, always have him, even when no one else did.

You sighed heavily now, years later, standing alone in your dimly lit kitchen with the weight of memories pressing sharply against your chest. You rubbed a tired hand over your face, remembering how you’d had him then, at seventeen, in that cramped, rundown apartment where the world outside saw you both as nothing but freaks and misfits. It hadn’t mattered then, because even in your deepest loneliness, you’d always had each other.

“Hey,” Adrian’s voice startled you softly from the doorway. You turned quickly, heart stuttering painfully at the sight of him standing sleepily in your kitchen doorway, wearing nothing but his old, worn dark blue tracksuit pants that hung low on his hips. His hair was tousled wildly, glasses crooked on his sleepy face as he rubbed at his eyes with a loose fist, yawning quietly.

“You good?” he murmured softly, stepping into the kitchen without hesitation, coming to lean gently beside you against the countertop.

Your heart raced at the proximity, heat rising to your cheeks as you felt the warmth radiating off his bare skin, felt the subtle brush of his arm against yours. You offered a small, tired smile, smelling faint traces of his deodorant mixed with the soft scent of sleep that clung to his skin, filling your chest with painful longing.

“I’m good,” you lied quietly, holding up the half-eaten muesli bar weakly. “Midnight snack.”

Your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears, unconvincing beneath the quiet intimacy of the moment. You knew he didn’t believe you—could see it clearly in the gentle furrow of his brow, the quiet, thoughtful scrutiny of his eyes—but Adrian didn’t push, didn’t pry.

Instead, he simply reached out and stole the bar easily from your fingers, taking a large bite. His expression twisted into a grimace of exaggerated disgust, mouth half-full as he chewed slowly, contemplatively.

“These taste worse than I thought they would,” he finally offered, swallowing roughly, mouth turning downward into a dramatic pout.

Despite everything, you smiled softly, shaking your head as you gently tugged it back from his fingers. “Fine. You can be in charge of the snacks next time.”

“Don’t worry,” Adrian murmured, stepping even closer, his bare shoulder pressing comfortably against yours, his warmth sinking deeply into your bones. Your breath caught quietly in your throat, heart racing painfully, “I definitely will be.”

You didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer, didn’t flinch as Adrian rested his head softly against the top of yours, releasing a gentle sigh. You closed your eyes tightly for a second, inhaling slowly, painfully aware of every inch of skin pressed carefully against yours, hyper-aware of the steady, reassuring rhythm of his breathing beside you.

I love you.

The words burned dangerously on your tongue, hot and bitter and desperate for release. But instead, you held them silently, letting them sit heavily in your chest, your heart aching in quiet resignation. You didn’t dare break this fragile moment, this quiet, beautiful intimacy that Adrian seemed completely unaware he’d created.

Instead, you stood quietly together in your kitchen, breathing softly, sharing a half-eaten muesli bar in silence beneath the gentle glow of the stove light.

You let yourself imagine—for just a moment—what it might feel like to say those words aloud, to finally speak your truth. To finally close that tiny, unbearable distance between your heart and his, letting him see you clearly. But the words still felt fragile, dangerous; you couldn’t risk shattering this careful closeness just yet.

Instead, you took a slow breath and tried to steady your racing heart.

“So why are you up anyway?” you asked, nudging Adrian’s shoulder lightly, trying to keep your voice casual even as your chest tightened. “Doesn’t the infamous Vigilante need his beauty sleep?”

Adrian shrugged one shoulder softly, his bare skin still pressed warmly against yours. He shifted a little closer, seemingly without realizing it, as though seeking reassurance through touch.

“The bedroom was too quiet,” he finally admitted, voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head slightly, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Too quiet?” This house, this street was so far from being too quiet.

He smiled sheepishly, eyes shifting to the ground for a second before reaching over and snatching the last piece of your muesli bar from your fingers, popping it quickly into his mouth. You narrowed your eyes playfully, and he gave you a small, mischievous grin in return.

“You weren’t snoring,” Adrian continued teasingly, swallowing with a dramatic flourish, “and it felt too quiet. Kinda freaked me out, honestly.”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes even as warmth bloomed in your chest at his gentle teasing. “I don’t—I don’t snore.”

Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, raising his brows in mock seriousness. “You definitely snore. Loud. Honestly, it’s kinda soothing—in a chainsaw-y, white-noise-machine kinda way. It’s comforting.”

You scoffed gently, heat rising slightly to your cheeks. “I do not snore—”

“And,” Adrian interrupted pointedly, shifting his weight and nudging your shoulder with his again, this time more purposefully, “I realized I had more blanket than usual, and since you usually steal most of it, I put two and two together and figured out you weren’t in bed. See? Detective skills.”

You shook your head, struggling not to smile at how ridiculously proud he sounded. “I don’t know whether to be offended or endeared,” you murmured, glancing up at him with an amused expression, the soft glow of the stove light casting shadows across his face. “Actually, maybe I should be shocked you can even put two and two together at all.”

Adrian laughed softly, genuine and warm, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Wow,” he murmured through a teasing grin, “Rude.”

You shrugged innocently, fighting a grin. “Well, I definitely don’t snore,” you insisted stubbornly, “because if I did, your other best friend—Peacemaker—would’ve already called me out for it. Remember last month when I fell asleep after that stupid thing we helped everyone out with?”

Adrian chuckled again, the sound vibrating pleasantly in his chest, a gentle hum that you felt as much as heard. He leaned in closer, pressing his shoulder firmly against yours, his voice lowering conspiratorially, “Oh, he did mention it. You were snoring like crazy. Everyone noticed. John, Leota, Harcourt.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide with playful shock, mouth falling open in mock offense. “I don’t know if you’re lying or what.”

“What?” he said innocently, shrugging again but keeping his arm deliberately pressed to yours. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Number one bff remember?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, warmth flooding your face at the casual affection in his voice, the unthinking ease with which he declared he wouldn’t lie to you, that you were his number one. You bit your lip, looking away quickly before your expression betrayed how deeply those words affected you.

“I don’t snore,” you muttered softly, hiding a smile as you shook your head.

Adrian gently bumped your shoulder again, playful yet soft, nudging you affectionately. “It’s fine, we all have our quirks,” he reassured, the teasing fading slightly into sincerity.

The silence settled between you both again, but this time, it was softer, less strained. You stayed there quietly for a moment, leaning comfortably against each other in the dimly lit kitchen. Eventually, Adrian shifted slightly, turning his head just enough to glance down at you.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly, voice dropping into something gentle and tender, almost vulnerable. “If it helps you sleep better, I’ll even let you have the good pillow tonight.”

You glanced up, startled by the softness in his eyes, the quiet care beneath his teasing offer. You swallowed thickly, the intensity of your feelings pressing painfully against your ribs. Adrian rarely gave up the good pillow without complaint—always dramatically declaring it essential to his sleep and vigilance, even though you suspected it was mostly a stubborn pride thing. Offering it now, so easily, made your chest tighten even more, made your pulse quicken in your throat.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmured, heart aching, “I know you like that pillow. Plus you won it fair and square this time around,” You smirked.

Adrian shrugged again, softer this time, his eyes carefully fixed on yours. “Yeah,” he said gently, smile fading into something more serious, “but I like you more.”

Your breath caught sharply in your chest, heart pounding loud enough that you wondered if Adrian could hear it. For a moment, the air thickened between you, filled with quiet truths you hadn’t fully spoken aloud. But you couldn’t—not yet, not tonight. Instead, you forced a gentle smile, hoping he couldn’t read how desperately your heart was screaming at you to close that last bit of space between you both.

“Come on,” Adrian murmured, reaching out carefully and lightly taking your wrist in his, “You need sleep, and I need to know you’re snoring again so everything feels normal.”

You rolled your eyes fondly but allowed him to gently lead you back toward the bedroom, his hand never leaving your wrist. His thumb brushed softly, rhythmically, over your pulse point, sending tiny, electric shivers through your skin. Adrian seemed utterly oblivious to what he was doing, the small gentle motion of him rubbing the inside of your wrist, or the effect he had on you, unaware of the way your breath caught softly in your throat, or how your heartbeat quickened beneath his touch.

When you finally stepped quietly back into your bedroom, Adrian didn’t hesitate; he simply, silently, swapped the pillows, deliberately placing the good one—the one you both secretly favored—in your spot. He did it without comment, without teasing, his movements strangely tender and careful, like he wanted to take care of you even in this small, quiet way.

Adrian settled under the covers beside you, lying down carefully but deliberately close, close enough that you could clearly feel the comforting heat radiating gently from his body, chasing away the chill of the night air. You swallowed, your throat tight with the ache of longing, the silent wish that this closeness could mean more than just casual familiarity.

You closed your eyes slowly, forcing yourself to breathe deeply, steadily, even as your heart pounded loudly, betraying every carefully hidden emotion you held inside. You focused on the rise and fall of Adrian’s breathing beside you, slow and gentle, the rhythmic sounds comforting yet painfully intimate.

He shifted quietly beside you, the mattress dipping softly beneath his weight. And then, just for a brief, fleeting moment, you felt the gentle brush of his fingertips against your wrist beneath the blankets. His touch lingered there, hesitating—soft and questioning—like he wanted desperately to reach out and hold onto you but wasn’t quite sure if he should or even could.

Your breath caught silently in your throat, chest tightening as you stayed perfectly still, afraid to shatter this delicate, uncertain moment. Your eyes stayed shut, body tense, acutely aware of the tiny, careful way Adrian’s fingertips ghosted along your skin, tracing gently over your wrist, warm and impossibly tender, before slowly pulling away again.

After another long, quiet moment, you felt him shift again, gently rolling over onto his side, his bare back facing you. You released a small, shaky breath, chest aching painfully with a mix of longing and resignation as you slowly, reluctantly rolled over the opposite way, your heart still hammering desperately inside your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, forcing yourself to breathe deeply, to steady yourself, trying desperately to ignore the lingering heat of Adrian’s shoulder pressed lightly against yours beneath the sheets. Your fingers curled softly into the fabric of your pillow—the good pillow, the one that smelled faintly yet unmistakably of Adrian, soap, and sleep, and something warm and reassuringly familiar.

Your stomach twisted slightly, throat tightening as you inhaled deeply, savoring and hating the painful intimacy of it all. You desperately tried to ignore how every part of your body seemed magnetically drawn toward his, how every single nerve ending screamed at you to turn around, close that tiny, unbearable gap between your bodies, and curl yourself into the comforting warmth Adrian always radiated.

But you stayed still, stubbornly holding yourself away, your breathing carefully controlled. You listened to the soft, steady rhythm of Adrian’s breathing slowly deepening into sleep, focusing on it like an anchor, a lifeline—something solid and real, even when everything else felt impossibly fragile.

Your heart still raced, painfully aware of the quiet, devastating intimacy of lying here with him, feeling so close yet worlds apart. You pressed your eyes shut tighter, fighting the ache in your chest, silently wishing you could summon the courage to speak, to reach out, to let him finally see just how much he meant to you.

Thursdays—those thick, heavy, awkward Thursdays you’d always hated—felt unbearably painful for an entirely new reason.

Because Thursdays were nights you couldn’t pretend. Thursdays were nights when the ache inside you felt overwhelming. Thursdays were nights when every innocent touch, every soft laugh, every whispered goodnight brought you dangerously close to spilling your secret out loud.

Thursdays weren’t just thick anymore. They were suffocating. Now, Thursdays were the nights you lay awake beside him, afraid of losing everything by saying too much, and just as afraid of staying silent forever.

And each Thursday night, as Adrian’s breathing grew slow and steady beside you, and wished bitterly you’d never noticed how deeply you’d fallen in love with your best friend. Because now, you couldn’t sleep—not like before, not like when Adrian was just Adrian and sharing a bed had been so simple, so easy.

[futuristicyouthvoid]

I fell in love

for the better | james potter [7.7k]

james potter x fem!slytherin!reader

requested by anonymous wherein james’ love for harmful pranks is the one thing that keeps y/n and james divided.

warnings; alcohol & food consumption, swearing, james being a bit james, mentions of someone like drowning a bit, she / her pronouns used for the reader.

a/n: i’m not really confident on the actual quality of my writing here or this fic at all really, but oh well. have it anyway xxx

James Potter elicited conflicting sentiments from Y/N. He could be selfish, conceited, and aggravating but, in spite of that, he could also be considerate, charming and amiable. Nevertheless, his fondness for immature pranks could infuriate her to the ends of the Earth. He and his friends could oftentimes overdo it, push it much too far, and Y/N could never understand the enjoyment they experienced from humiliating others. 

But on the other side of it, the side where James Potter could charm her into almost anything, she saw the sense of fun he sought from everyday life. She saw the young man who thought deeply about things, who could plan meticulously, who was strangely organised and clean. She saw someone who could make her feel as if the only adoration he relished was her own.

But, still, Y/N maintained her vigilance. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” called James, spotting her amongst the littered students of the Sunday morning breakfast rush.

Y/N stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall and exhaled, turning around to see the cocky grin stretching across James Potter’s face. With a quick sarcastic smile in return she continued on her way to the Slytherin table without so much as a word. 

She could barely admit to herself that she hoped he would follow. 

“Oi!” James called after her. “Can’t get away that easily, Y/L/N.”

James delighted in the thrill of the chase. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Y/N rolled her eyes, turning to face him before she reached her friends who would tease her endlessly for entertaining him in the first place.

James caught up to her with a little jog, ignoring the Slytherins giving him a distasteful eye as he whisked past them. 

He shook his hair about, letting it fall back into its natural place. “Er, just wondering if you’d…started the Potions assignment yet,” he shrugged, clearing his throat. 

“Really, James? You wanted to know if I had started the Potions assignment, due tomorrow, that much?” She cocked an eyebrow. 

Well, of course not, James thought. He just wanted to talk to you. “Yeah, thought you could give me some pointers, if you had.”

She shook her head, strolling further down into the Great Hall, avoiding her friends’ mocking stares. “Yes, I’ve finished it, actually. And no, why don’t you ask Remus?” 

“Lost a bet with him. Can’t get any help off him for another two weeks,” admitted James, sighing.

“Well, you’ll have to find someone else, then. Or just…do it yourself?”

James feigned a breaking heart and winced. “You’d do that to me?”

“You’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for, Potter. Now piss off, I want to eat.”

James stood still.

“Go on!” She shooed. 

This time, he scurried off, obeying his instruction. But when he reached Sirius, Remus and Peter, he was not himself. They could spot it immediately and their eyes honed in on the Y/N across the Hall laughing with her friends. They turned quizzically back to James who was more than happy to reveal the reason behind his altered demeanour.

“She complimented me,” James swelled with pride. “I told you I’d get her to come round.”

Sirius didn’t believe it for an instant. Remus cocked a suspicious eyebrow, and Peter was busy eating his cereal. James looked at the three of his closest friends, the boys he would do anything for, and their disbelieving expressions with disappointment. It was betrayal.

“You’re all dead to me.” 

Remus sighed, putting his novel down. “Now, Prongs, what else did she say?” he probed.

James spluttered, scoffed and waved his hands. What did it matter? She complimented him and she meant it. Everything else was simply besides the point, a mere subtext to the main event. He picked up two slices of toast, buttering them rather aggressively as Sirius and Remus waited for an answer. 

“She told him to “piss off,”” said Peter between mouthfuls. 

James chortled in pure disbelief, almost choking on his first bite of his freshly buttered toast. He quickly looked to Remus and Sirius who hid their smirks rather pathetically. “How did you know that’s what she said?!”

“I didn’t, but that’s what she usually says,” laughed Peter, joined by Sirius and Remus. 

“Just you wait,” James promised.

It had taken nearly six years for James to seize Y/N’s attention. These days she’d actually have a conversation with him, she’d even laugh at the jokes he made just for that very reason. That, and to watch her smile grow. He hadn’t thought much of Y/N in the beginning, considering she was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor. But as he grew older, a little wiser, both him and his friends had realised these divisions weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Sure, some Slytherins really were evil, but a lot of them weren’t. Some Ravenclaws were rather dopey, some Gryffindor’s a little too cowardly. 

It didn’t matter to him anymore.

As Remus headed to the library and Peter to the dorms, James chatted with Sirius, bringing up the idea of a prank to shake up the Monday morning to come. Sirius wasn’t so sure, but he could easily be persuaded. They walked through the halls of Hogwarts brainstorming ideas all afternoon, winding through the corridors before finally heading outside to enjoy the June sun. 

“It’s perfect, Padfoot, we just need Moony and Wormtail in on it too.”

“You know them, they’ll be up for it,” winked Sirius, lying back on the patchy grass not far from the Whomping Willow.

James leaned against the trunk of a tree, fiddling with a daisy in his hand as he thought of Y/N, now that his distraction had taken its leave. If only he could make her see he was worth her while. He pulled blades of grass from the soil below, ripping them to shreds as he thought of some way to make her see that she was missing out by not giving him a chance. He could be utterly perfect for her. 

“What are you two doing being so quiet?” Asked Y/N, blocking the sun from Sirius’ face as she stood over him. 

“Relaxing, Y/L/N. You should try it some time, maybe you wouldn’t be so uptight,” remarked Sirius without even opening his eyes. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to James. “Something on your mind or?” She nodded to the pile of ripped up grass at James’ feet. 

He looked down sheepishly. “No,” he said bluntly, unable to think of an excuse or a sarcastic response to keep the conversation flowing. 

Y/N felt a small pang of embarrassment and went to go on her way. Had she upset him earlier? They always spoke that way to each other, she thought, it was just part of their banter.

James hit his hand to the floor muttering a profanity under his breath as he shot up. He hesitated before going after her. Over the past weeks he struggled to know what to say to her like he used to. For a while he thought he was losing his touch or that something in her manner had changed his own. But she was just as she was before. It was him who had changed.

“Wait up, Y/N!” He shouted. 

Y/N spun around, scrunching her brows together in confusion. As she waited for James to catch up, she wondered what he could have to say to her that he couldn’t have said before when she was clearly making an effort to talk. 

“Sorry about before,” James said, “Don’t know why I just said that.” 

She melted into his apology. “It’s okay. Are you alright?” 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m all right. You just caught me thinking, that’s all,” James laughed, taking slow steps with her towards the castle. 

“What were you thinking about?” Asked Y/N. “Not your Potions assignment, surely?” She laughed. 

James laughed too. Merlin, he did love to hear her laugh. “Of course not, I’ll just get an extension for that or something. No, just thinking about what Sirius and I have planned for tomorrow.”

Y/N tensed. She hated that they were always scheming, that he was. “Not another prank?”

James quickly felt himself become defensive, though he wished he could have stopped it. “What’s wrong with that?” He snapped.

Y/N stopped, turning to James. Behind him was the view of the tumbling Scottish hills, shades of green spilling over onto one another, all the way down to the water that shimmered in the sunlight. She leaned over the side of the bridge, and James followed her.

“I just don’t get it, James,” she started. He loved it when she called him by his name, his first name. “School is hard enough, you know? We’re all just trying to make it through to the end when we can finally feel safe enough to be ourselves. For most people, they can’t be themselves here, they’re just trying to fit in so things aren’t so hard. You and your mates make it that much harder for all of us. You always seem to single out the people who just want to be invisible.”

James felt almost as if he was being attacked. She’d never said anything like this before. “You never seemed to mind before,” James grunted. 

“Just because I didn’t say anything doesn’t mean I didn’t have an opinion. Just thought you’d grow out of it, is all,” she shrugged, continuing her slow walk back to the castle. 

So really, this whole time he never stood a chance. She was baiting him? He couldn’t help but take this as a personal attack, as much as he wanted not to do so. “I don’t understand-”

“No, you won’t understand,” sighed Y/N. “I’m not trying to attack you.” 

She traced his thoughts as easily as a well-worn path. 

“I’m just saying I don’t think you realise how harmful your stupid pranks can be for people who already have it hard.”

“They’re just pranks.”

“But they’re not. Publicly humiliating people is not a prank, it’s cruel. Haven’t you ever thought, after all these years, there’s other ways to make people laugh without hurting them?”

James was taken aback. She’d suggested something no one ever had done before. Did he really do this sort of thing just for attention? Sure he liked the way it made him feel, the way people laughed because of something he had done, the way people greeted him in the corridors, knew his name before he had introduced himself. But he hadn’t realised it might have all started because he wanted people to see him. It was just fun, wasn’t it? 

That’s all it was.

But before he had the chance to tell this to Y/N, the person whom he needed to convince, she was gone, thinking perhaps it really was best to keep her distance.

- - -

James had spent days thinking over what Y/N had told him, about the can of worms she had opened inside him. He didn’t go through with the prank he had planned for that Monday morning, and had not thought of following through on any of the ideas the rest of his friends had come up with either. All he could think about was Y/N and what she had said. 

The hours he spent mulling over it had done some damage. Perhaps he was just in it for the way it made him feel, knowing so many people adored him or at least liked him. The way first years knew who he was before any of the professors, the way they looked up to him. The laughter he brought to the school and the swell of pride he felt in hearing it. But after he thought of this with much gratification, he lingered on the other side of it. 

How many people had he left crying in their dorms, frightened to come to class and see him again? He remembered one Slytherin he’d fed vomiting candy to - Merlin, they spewed their guts up all over the classroom. He had never once thought how he would feel if it had happened to him, because his friends would never do that. They were the instigators, not the receivers. He wondered how many students avoided him any chance they could. He wondered at the empty seats next him in the lessons he didn’t share with Sirius or Remus.

It was tedious, he had never had to think of all these repercussions before.

“James, mate, what is wrong with you lately?” Sirius asked, settling into an armchair by the common room fireplace. 

James shook his head, twirling his wand between his fingers, eyes pouring into the fire in front of him. “What if we changed the way we pranked people?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Sirius, waving Remus and Peter over.

- - -

The next morning James enacted his plan. It was elaborate in the way that he had to be up nearly all night with Remus, Sirius and Peter to make sure it worked. He hadn’t really spoken to Y/N much since their conversation nearly a week ago but he was desperate to see her smile. He was desperate to make her smile, in the hopes it would break the tension between them.

Being the reason for her smile made him feel as if he had accomplished something worthwhile. 

The four of them sat in the Great Hall, anxiously eating their breakfast as they waited for it to begin. Sirius was not at all confident - it was so unlike them, so ‘off brand’ as he had described it. Remus, on the other hand, quite liked the idea and was committed to its success. Peter hated it, but didn’t care as long as James stopped dragging through the days - for he had been awfully boring as of late, Peter thought.

James fought to look behind him to the Slytherin table, but at least twice every few minutes he failed. He watched her for as long as she permitted him to - for as long as he went unnoticed. It was Y/N, in fact, that alerted him to the beginning of their stunt. She turned to the doors of the Great Hall as the first of the owls swooped in, dropping various letters at a plethora of tables. 

“I’ve got a howler,” a student gasped from the Hufflepuff table. 

One of their friends consoled them with a pat on the back and a sigh. “Just get it over with.”

The Hufflepuff was about to rip open the sealed letter when another student behind them declared they had received one too. At first, they had imagined it as coincidental bad luck, but there began a chorus of students admitting the same fate. Y/N looked around in confusion as students began to stand and show their respective howlers. And then she knew. Her eyes flickered to James in a silent rage, knowing he had not grasped the gravity of her words, that he had absorbed nothing, and that her words that day had been taken by the wind, scattered amongst the hills of the highlands.

None of the students had opened their howlers as of yet, waiting for the last of them to be delivered from the owls still filtering in and out of the hall. She watched James through the rain of letters, keeping her eyes fixed on him until a letter of her very own fell onto her plate.

As the last owl departed, students began looking around apprehensively at each other, soundlessly deliberating on who would be the first to open their howler or if anyone would open one at all. But it was a Slytherin who opened theirs before anyone else, watching as the letter assumed sentience and hovered in midair. It said nothing, simply popped with a quiet bang and exploded in confetti. The Slytherin watched it, speechless and in shock.

One by one, students began opening their howlers, and the hall was soon filled with low pops and colourful confetti. The coloured pieces of paper hung aloft, painting the bland stone walls in coloured refraction as the sun shone through the tall windows. Y/N watched the scene with a radiant smile that had slowly drawn across her face. Finally, Y/N opened her own howler and watched it pop, exploding with confetti and flowers, floating down from a short distance above her table down over her hair and plate. 

She caught James’ eye across the room, laughing with her friends. She said nothing, mouthed nothing, gave him nothing but a smile. But to James, this was enough. 

They were talking again like they used to, becoming more intimate than they had ever been. Something had shifted within their relationship and James felt the more he learned about her, the harder he began to fall. Y/N felt as if distance from James Potter was the last thing that would make her happy.

He talked to her about music, muggle movies, even books, though he had read very few. They talked about their ambitions, about their favourite foods and hobbies, their favourite ways to spend a sunny afternoon.

“A bunch of people are going down to the Black Lake this Saturday,” Y/N said, looking at James, “Are you going?”

“I might be,” James smirked, “Do you want me to?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “Don’t get too cocky, Potter.”

Yes, James thought, she wanted him to. Good.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said softly.

“Good.”

James felt his stomach churn as a warm rush swirled through his body. His heart beat with such ferocity at the mere notion of Y/N wanting to be near him. He was both intoxicated and exhilarated from the mere presence of her. How he yearned for Y/N. If only he could prove himself to be worthy of her. He knew she would only bring out the best in him, he knew she would open his eyes to new ways of living which before, he could but dream of. 

James knew he needed her, he just wished she wanted him.

- - -

He could not wait another minute to head down to Black Lake. She was probably already there, and he was losing precious minutes. There were simply not enough seconds in the day for him to admire Y/N the way she deserved to be admired. He rushed with heat in his cheeks and warmth in his heart to the lake, his friends flagging behind. He saw her from a distance, lounging on a picnic blanket with her friends, a nearby tree providing them with shade, though the both of them sat in the sunlight that everyone knew was not to last in Scotland and must be taken advantage of. 

He felt his heart pumping the blood through his body. She looked truly beautiful. 

“James is staring at you,” Y/N’s friend teased. 

“Good,” she laughed. 

The sun shone through him, she could see his beauty even from this far. Though she knew the moment she woke up that this was going to be a good day, and that she was happy in the friends she had and the life that she had built, she didn’t really feel happiness until she saw James. Yes she was happy, but he made her feel so.

“He’s coming over,” her friend hissed in excitement.

“All right, Y/N?” Asked James, strolling over to their designated tree. 

“Just fine, Potter. You’re here a bit late, you know? All the good trees have gone.”

James laughed, looking around. “Shame. Wonder if anyone would be willing to share.” 

Y/N looked around at the many students that had flocked to the lake to enjoy the sun. They were all in their own worlds, enjoying their own days. “Doesn’t look likely.”

Y/N enjoyed the moments that led up to what she wanted. “Oh, you mean you want to share with us?” Y/N looked toward her friend who only rolled her eyes. 

She had given prior permission had James acted out this very scenario.

“I suppose you can share with us, if you have to.”

“My goodness, Y/N, how kind of you,” James bowed in thanks, eliciting a small chuckle from her. 

He waved his friends over and settled next to Y/N and her friend beside their tree. James sat nearest to Y/N. He stared at the side of her face, the way her neck accentuated when she turned her head, the way her cheeks plumped when she smiled. 

After nearly an hour chatting amongst themselves, Sirius and Peter left to walk down to the shore. The two of them were complaining of the heat and fancied a cool down. Soon after, Remus offered Y/N’s friend to join him in dipping his feet in the shallow shoreline. She obliged his request, winking at Y/N before she left.

Her cheeks flushed as she waved her off dismissively. 

“And then there were two,” laughed James. 

Y/N laughed too, turning to really focus all her attention on him for the first time since he had joined them nearly an hour ago. James suddenly felt under a spotlight, it was as if perfection was asking for him to imitate her to his greatest ability, and yet he knew he was to fall short. 

“Err, I- You look nice,” James stuttered.

It was amusing to see him this way, but she almost took pity. “Thanks,” laughed Y/N. 

She put him at ease, just the way she looked at him as she always did. He fell into his usual rhythm, chatting and teasing and joking with her. He felt more connected to her than he ever had been. He shifted closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. It ignited her with such an intensity she couldn’t help but shift uneasily, fiddling with her fingers and breathing a little more unevenly than before. James could think of nothing more natural to do at this moment. And as it so happened, there was nothing he longed for more than this.

He leaned in, breath hitching as he caught the scent of her perfume she’d applied hours before in the early morning. He watched the fine hairs on her neck stand up on end. As his eyes flickered to hers he realised her gaze had softened, her pupils wide, anticipating his next move. 

“James!” Sirius called from the water. “He’s gonna kill me!”

Upon hearing his name James turned to its origin. Peter was waterboarding Sirius. 

“Fuck,” he breathed under his breath. 

Y/N had already been snapped from her reverie, and was laughing awkwardly as Sirius flailed around in the water. James, though extremely disappointed, laughed along with her before dragging himself up and heading to the shoreline. 

The moment was lost.

Y/N watched intently as James stripped his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, for he had not thought he would be entering the water that day. He preferred staying dry. With her mouth agape, Y/N examined the grooves of his body and the way his skin stretched over his toned muscles. How she wished they hadn't been interrupted. It felt as if she had waited a lifetime to embrace James - there was always something in their way.

More often than not, it was James himself.

James launched himself in the water, coming up for air and sweeping his sopping hair back. After a few moments of tearing his friends apart, Y/N watched the three of them discuss something. She instantly became nervous, but checked herself and calmed down, believing James to have taken her advice on board. But as she watched the three of them lift their wands, she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat.

Sprinkles and spirals of water danced above the students in the lake, forming creative and pretty shapes, conjured by James and his friends. While everyone was distracted by the shimmering water droplets playing a scene in front of them, none of them noticed the series of waves headed towards the body of students. 

In an unrelenting sequence, towering waves crashed the shallow end of the lake, filling it almost to neck height. Students screamed and laughed, swimming to safety. Some chuckled in annoyance, some in good humour. There were few who cursed James out and others who scurried away in a quiet rage. But Y/N, with her heart pounding and legs carrying her faster than they ever had before, was screaming in terror. 

“Stop! Stop!” 

She forced herself into the water, sinking below the surface, swimming with such purpose. James had not noticed her yet, too caught up in the heat of the moment with his friends, taking pleasure in their antics. It was Remus who first caught a glimpse of Y/N waving frantically before launching herself back under the water, seemingly searching for something. 

“James! Stop!” She pleaded.

Y/N searched desperately for the Slytherin girl. Desperately in fear. Finally, with one more piercing scream for James to stop what he was doing, he heard her, and put a stop to the incoming waves in an instant. Y/N looked around the water, searching and searching for signs of movement as the height of the lake slowly decreased and returned to normal. 

A hand reached above the surface, silently pleading for some sort of relief. Y/N rushed forward, grabbing her with such a force, pulling her to the surface. The poor girl coughed and spluttered, accumulating as much as oxygen as she could in a single breath. 

James and the others rushed towards her, helping Y/N drag her out of the water. Though the girl clung to Y/N as she reached safety, she left her in the capable hands of her friend. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

“What is wrong with you? She can’t swim!” bellowed Y/N. 

She threw her hands to her head, shaking it in shock and disbelief, trembling with adrenaline and fury. She really thought James was susceptible to change. “I thought you were done with this sort of shit, James. She could have died! She could’ve-”

Oh, but it didn’t matter. What was the point of screaming when it all fell to deaf ears? Sometimes people weren't meant to intertwine.

But still she felt so disappointed in someone she saw such capability, such potential in, that she thought she could cry there at that very moment in front of everyone. The moment she felt as if he really was lost to her.

“This is over, Potter.”

- - -

James had not been himself for weeks. 

He could not forgive himself for what he had done - to the girl, to Y/N, to himself. He cursed that day as his undoing. He was unkempt, uncaring and could think of nothing but Y/N, though now she would not even grace him with a look. He had never seen someone so disappointed in him, had never cared for others disappointment in him. He had never learned the type of humility that came with adhering to the expectations of those who esteemed him. 

He had never wanted to.

He enjoyed where being selfish got him. At first, Sirius tried to persuade him that James shouldn’t want Y/N to change him anyway, that he shouldn’t have to, just for some girl. And he was right, he shouldn’t have to change. He didn’t want to change. He wanted to be better, for her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose what made himself James Potter.

Pranks had become the way in which James expressed himself. And it was the only way he knew how to communicate with Y/N now. 

After weeks of self pity and wallowing, James pulled himself together, more determined than ever before. This wasn’t about a feeling he wished to maintain, about a popularity he desired to be upheld. It was about admitting he was wrong and that he could do better.

He started off slow, cautious. He knew this was important to win back her trust. He started by pretending to be McGonagall’s secret admirer - flowers, chocolates and love letters written on her black board all causing sniggers in class whenever it was brought up. Harmless fun.

Then he moved onto bigger things. 

James managed to steal a few personal items of some fellow students. A pair of shoes, a quill, a textbook. When people finally began to realise, James announced at dinner that he had hidden these personal items and would offer a Galleon to all those who managed to locate the whereabouts of their personal belongings. If they did not succeed in the next twenty four hours, they were not to fear, James would return them all safe and sound. 

James’ efforts had not escaped Y/N’s notice, not in the least. She wished beyond anything it could be enough to fix what he had broken, to mend what he had handled so carelessly. She had almost resigned herself to the notion they didn't belong, but a glimmer of hope kept her awake during the nights, hoping she might be wrong after all.

She could feel him watching her, gauging to see whether her feelings toward him were changing. She kept her cards close to her chest, and gave nothing away, hoping James would not see through her carefully constructed shield. 

While she valued his efforts, it was not enough. She still felt as if she had overstepped her boundaries and that she should have left well enough alone. Besides, she couldn’t begin to trust him again until he did the unthinkable. 

“Apologise?!” James scoffed. 

“It’s a completely logical solution!” Remus retorted. 

“I know! Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that? But I- I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say,” James sighed and shook his head. 

He’d never had to apologise above more than a quick, half-hearted “sorry, mate” with a slap on the back and a swift moving on. He didn’t know how to truly convey his feelings into an apology, how to make it sound like he meant it. 

“All you’ve been talking about is making it right with her,” Remus reminded him. “This is your chance.” 

James knew he was right, but this did not take away from the fact he still did not know how. 

- - -

Y/N had been trying to study for three hours now, but was always distracted by something outside the castle walls or some sound within the library. She couldn’t concentrate, she could think of nothing else but how much she wished James could understand or at least show that he was trying. But, as violently as she craved this, she didn’t want to force some kind of change on him and end up being resented for it in the end. 

She shouldn’t have to change someone in order for them to fit her standards. And James shouldn't feel obliged to change for her either.

If she wanted him to change at all, it was only to see him succeed.

Change. So complicated, so understudied. What did it mean to change? What really was it, at its core? What did it mean to her, to James, to love and to hate? How closely and blurred the lines of love, hate, desire, and resentment really were.

For another hour she tried to write notes on the theory of Charms. In the end, Y/N thought, she just wanted to talk to him, to hear his thoughts and listen. Even if nothing came from it, she yearned for some sort of closure. At least then, she might be able to move on.  Nonetheless she pushed James to the sidelines, pushing that small sliver of hope down into the depths of her memory.

Meanwhile, James was pacing the Gryffindor common room. Everything sounded wrong, fake and disingenuous. Regardless, James began to search the grounds of Hogwarts for his target, practicing some sort of speech in his head as he did so.

“Y/N?” Someone pulled her from her day dream. 

James himself. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Can we talk? Can I talk?” James asked. 

Y/N nodded to the seat in front of her. She closed her textbook and waited for what he had to say. 

“Look, I’ve always been a bit…selfish, a bit shallow. Never really thought to be anything else ‘cause everything’s always worked out for me the way I wanted it to,” he began. “I-” James shook his head. This was pointless. 

“Fuck. Okay, I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened. Not just because it upset you and it might have ruined my chances, but I’m sorry about the girl and for what I did to her. I’ve already set things right in that respect and don’t get me wrong, it felt good to do that, but I’ll never be right until I fix things with you. Or at least try to,” he explained, rambling. “I don’t want you to feel as if you’ve changed me or that I have to change for you, I don’t think that’s how it should work. But since I’ve gotten to know you I’ve wanted to be better and I have been. I like the way you make me feel, I’ve liked the way I’ve felt from doing things differently. Merlin, anyway, now I feel stupid. I’m just sorry.” 

Y/N listened without judgement, without interruption. She thought for a moment, letting James absorb the silence. He was certainly going lengths to make amends, and she appreciated his candor, his efforts. She couldn’t help a small smile perch upon her lips as she looked over at James, so sullen. What she was afraid of was not coming to fruition.

The person she desired could still be hers if she wanted him to be.

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

James lit up. “You forgive me?” He asked. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think too. I think it was unfair of me to put those kind of standards on you. And I don’t think it was your intention, for once, to hurt anybody that day. It was reckless but it wasn’t malicious. Yeah, I forgive you.” 

“Thank Merlin,” James let out a sigh of relief and he knew he could put his final plan into action. Something he had been planning since the day he met her, he just didn’t know it. "By the way, you didn't force anything on me. I didn't change for you, but you showed me the person I could be and I liked the way he looked."

Y/N didn't know what to say, only smiled softly.

“I um-” James rubbed the back of his head. “I missed chatting with you.” He could actually feel the heat burning in his cheeks. 

“Me too, Potter.” 

She felt the familiar feelings she had for James bubble to the surface once more. She was no longer concerned with keeping them in check. So easy it was for James to earn her forgiveness.

- - -

Y/N saw James again the next day at breakfast, just as she was finishing up. She headed over to his table, greeting his friends before asking if she could sit. 

James found this a little odd, she’d never bothered with his mates before. 

“All right?” James asked, playing it cool. He didn’t want to embarrass her, whatever she was doing. 

“Yeah, thanks. So listen, my friend is throwing a small party tonight down by the Forbidden Forest. I know, I know, probably a bad idea but there’s a few people going, not just Slytherins,” Y/N eyed the four of them. “She said we could invite people, so I wondered if you guys might like to go?” 

Remus and Sirius smirked at each other knowingly, while Peter eagerly accepted her invitation. James stared at her, a brilliant smile adorning his features. 

Merlin, she was beautiful. And she wanted to spend quality time with him.

“Yeah, we’d love to go,” James answered for the rest of the group. 

James spent the rest of his day deciding what he should wear and thinking about the possibilities this party could present. Down by the Forbidden Forest, Y/N drenched in firelight. His mind swam amongst the potential. 

“Ready to go, Prongs?” asked Remus. 

James nodded, flicking the collar of his jacket up. He was as ready as he’d ever be.

Y/N waited by the fire, eyeing the direction of the castle, keeping her eyes fixed to the last piece of land the fire illuminated. She’d been waiting a mere ten minutes but it felt like an age. Where was he? 

She didn’t quite know why she had been so bold as to invite him and his friends to this party. She wasn’t sure what she thought it would achieve, if it would achieve anything. What she knew was that she liked the way James made her feel, she liked that she felt important to him.  

“Can you chill out? Have a beer or something,” her friend offered her a freshly opened bottle.

Y/N took it off her hands and took a swig, turning from the empty abyss ahead and instead focussed on the party. Her friends were already a few beers down by the time she had arrived; she had a little catching up to do. 

Meanwhile James had taken a shot of firewhiskey on the way down as liquid courage. Sirius was patting him hard on the back, hoping this would somehow help the spluttering that followed his single shot. 

“Wimp,” Remus sighed. 

“Fuck of, Moony.” 

Remus shook his head in disappointment, taking a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle and moving onwards towards the Dark Forest. Peter caught up with him, asking for a drink, but Remus only laughed. 

James recollected himself, smoothing down his hair and flicking the collar of his jacket up once more, ignoring the burning in his stomach. He continued down the hill to the Dark Forest, seeking the light of a blazing fire until finally, he saw a flicker of orange in the distance. There, Y/N would be waiting. 

“Why do you even bother with Potter?” Asked her friend. 

“I don’t know. There’s more to him.” 

“There’s not much more, lad’s a kiddy pool.” 

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” 

“Whatever,” her friend laughed. “If you’re hung up on him, then I’ll support you.” 

“Hung up on who?” asked James, approaching. 

Y/N smacked her friend’s arm, she’d done that on purpose. “No one!” Y/N lied, turning to face James. 

He looked…nice. 

James let it go. “All right?” 

Y/N nodded. “I’m a couple bottles down, so yeah, I’m pretty good,” she laughed. “Want a drink?” 

“I’d love one.” 

James and Y/N all but abandoned the party for each other’s company. They talked more than they had for quite a few weeks. James was elated with how easily they fell back into rhythm. It was so easy to talk to her, he felt he could reveal his deepest secrets without even knowing he’d done so, even if she hadn’t asked. But, he didn’t really have any. He was, for the most part, an open book. 

And this is what Y/N liked. James was all on the surface. And because of this, sometimes it was hard to see who he was, because he laid it all out on the table, everything mingled together, everything messy and unorganised. One really had to look at James to understand him. 

But she read him like he was a language only she knew how to translate. 

The embers of the fire still burned hot, but the fire itself had long fizzled out. The cold summer air nipped at Y/N’s skin, and James could see the shivers trembling through her body. Most had returned to their dorms, but there were the odd few still sitting around the fire, chatting with their friends. 

“Here,” James wrapped his jacket around Y/N’s arms. 

She shifted closer to him as he wrapped his coat around her, looking up at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. He looked like someone she could love. Y/N had been waiting at a crossroad, stoic in this stillness as she waited. James, sometimes lost in the detours, had finally reached her. This moment had been building to its peak for an age.

“Y/N-” but he was brutally interrupted.

“Filch!” 

Everyone scattered. James took Y/N’s hand and led her behind a tree on the edge of the Forest away from the light of the fire and safe from Filch’s wandering eyes. He’d no idea where his friends had gone, and Y/N had no idea where hers were either. What she was agonisingly aware of, was that James had pushed her against a tree, watching the surrounding areas for any movement. He hadn’t realised how close to her he was. But she had. 

She felt James’s entire body flush against hers. His hand wrapped around her wrist, his neck pulsing with concern. The snap of a twig sounded in nearby proximity, and James instinctively brought his hand to Y/N’s mouth, silencing the gasp he knew was about to pierce the silence and alert someone as to their whereabouts.

Y/N felt her blood pumping in her veins, the heat rising to her face, her heart pounding in her chest.  She wanted him.

“Prongs? Is that you?” Someone whispered. 

James seemed to know what this meant, and responded with a low ‘yes.’ 

The marauders and Y/N snuck their way back into the castle without being caught and James left the rest of his friends to escort Y/N back to her common room. She thanked him at the door, finally letting go of his hand that she had been clasping ever since they had been hiding in the Forest. 

James wished he could have kissed her then, but he let her close the door behind her, and walked away with a quiet ‘good night.’ 

The next morning however, he spurred his plan into action. He spoke to people he never thought he’d have to, and never wanted to again. But it was worth it for the outcome he was hoping for.  

He knew this was to be his most elaborate “prank” yet. And if it was successful, it would be his most rewarding. 

The weekend could not come fast enough. Throughout the week he and Y/N shared lingering looks, caught each other staring from across the classroom, passed stupid doodles, laughed at cheesy jokes and pick-up lines that James had learnt from Sirius. He sat in the library with her while she studied; he watched, mostly.

And while the week had been one of the best he’d had so far, he couldn’t help but wish for it to go faster. And when Saturday morning finally arrived, he was more than ready. 

Y/N woke early in the morning, preparing for a day of studying, again. She showered quickly, got dressed and headed out of her common room for the Great Hall. 

“Hi Y/N,” her friend greeted, handing her a rose. 

“Uh, what’s this?” she asked. 

“A flower? Are you stupid?” 

“Bite me,” she chuckled. “Thanks?” 

But she only smiled and walked away. Odd. 

She carried on her way, heading up the great staircase, happening upon no one else until she reached the top. 

The Slytherin girl said nothing, simply handed her another rose and scurried off. Y/N stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the two roses in her hand before shrugging it off and walking onwards. People are weird, so what? 

When she reached the Great Hall doors, one of her Ravenclaw classmates called out to her. 

“Wait up!” He called, holding out a rose for her when he caught up. 

“What the Hell? Are you asking me out or something?” 

“No,” he sniggered. 

Y/N took the rose and watched him walk off, more confused than ever. She almost wanted to turn back to her common room and stay there for the rest of the day, safe where no one could find her. Something was off. 

But upon hearing her stomach growl, she braved the Great Hall and entered cautiously. Big mistake. Before she even got to her table, she’d received three more roses, practically holding a bouquet now. She just couldn’t understand this. Was there some kind of holiday she didn’t know about? 

Quickly shoveling down two pieces of toast, Y/N took herself and her roses out of the Great Hall and all but ran to the library where she could study in peace. But on her way she encountered two more people with two more roses. She couldn’t take this anymore, what was going on? 

It wasn’t until she saw Remus, Sirius and Peter standing at the doors in the library, a rose in each of their hands, that she realised this was all a joke, a mindfully constructed prank. She couldn’t help the smile that rose to her lips as she neared the boys. Accepting each of their roses, she thanked them. Following her thanks, they each outstretched their arms, inviting her inside where James awaited. 

Rose petals adorned the library floor, all the way to the aisle she had been studying in for weeks now. There, upon the desk that was wedged between the bookshelves, was a bouquet of roses. And James. 

He smiled effortlessly, a single rose in hand. 

“Hey,” she laughed in disbelief. 

“Hello, Y/N,” James smiled. 

“How’d you pull this off?” She asked, in awe of his efforts for her affection. 

“Doesn’t matter, love. What matters is whether you will agree to go on a date with me,” he said, handing her the last rose as an offering. 

“Where?” 

“That’s for you to find out, if you accept.” 

Y/N laughed, giving into her instincts. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his skin against her face, his arms holding her, running up her back. 

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes, holding him tighter, relishing in the feeling of finally having him.

Such relief. Y/N felt her new peace, her home wrapped in skin and flesh and a heartbeat. James.

She could feel him pulling away from this embrace, and she loosened her grip to look at him. His eyes were hooded, taking all of her in. 

“Finally,” he laughed, connecting his lips with hers in a fiery embrace that set their bones on fire.

tags 🏷️: @foolexby

to join my tag list !

[futuristicyouthvoid]

When the pile of clothes on the chair in the corner starts looking suspiciously person-shaped in the dark:

[futuristicyouthvoid]

Kili x Elf Reader

Summary: While the days were going very calmly and peacefully in Rivendell, the visit of the dwarves accompanied by Gandalf interrupted this. However, over time, you begin to get close to a certain dwarf.

As you followed Lord Elrond and Gandalf, you smiled at their little banter about 'dressing appropriately'. While they were settling down at the table, you walked over to your cousin Lindir and gently clasped your hands in front of you. "Your face looks like you're in pain..." you said loud enough for him to hear. He glanced at you briefly. “It's not wrong… I'm just… wondering how this would turn out.” You wanted to laugh at his attitude but you didn't, yet you couldn't help but try. "I honestly expected better from you, your expression is still a bit soft. Try not to waste yourself too much." You gave a small smile as he shifted uneasily.

You watched the surroundings, or rather the dwarves, throughout the meal. You weren't very familiar with them, so you wanted to observe. In any case, it was not difficult to predict that things would explode at some point. They were quite rambunctious… in one word, attenuated.

You were talking softly with Lindir, at this moment you came face to face with one of them. It was obvious that he was much younger than the others. When you didn't look away for a while, he smiled at you and then winked. You were amazed at first by his bold attitude, but then you reminded yourself that he was a dwarf. Of course it would happen. He looked surprised when you went beyond your limits and gave him a small smile. He never thought that you would respond to him, especially after a few unsuccessful attempts... Your sensitive ears had heard his conversations with his friends, which were louder gossip than they thought anyway.

At some point things really broke out. Suddenly all hell broke loose, a food fight broke out between them, accompanied by the dwarf who climbed onto the table and sang. You'd never admit it, but it seemed kind of fun. Poor Lindir's horrified expression amused you even more, and you almost laughed, but held yourself back again.

As you were about to turn around, you froze in place as a piece of food hit your chest. The front of your light-colored dress and the curls hanging down the sides of your face were stuck. There were some dwarves who noticed this. One of them was that young dwarf...

His eyes were wide open and confused as he looked at you. Embarrassment... that's what happened and he was definitely the one who accidentally threw that food at you. You left there with Lindir. You quickly went to your room and cleaned up.

You did not meet the young dwarf for the next two days. At some point you realized he was running away from you.

The next day, after doing your work, you went out to the balcony, the sun was setting. You leaned your hands on the railing and began to watch the view you always see.

Just then, you heard a pair of footsteps. It was definitely not an elf. You slowly turned and looked.

It was that young dwarf. You saw him looking at you with the same embarrassment. You were the one to break the silence, "Your name is Kili, right?" He nodded and agreed. “Yeah, that's me… well…” you then gave him your name and added, “What are you doing here?” He took a few more small steps towards you. "I owe you an apology... I'm sorry. For what happened at dinner. I swear I didn't do it on purpose... I- believe me, it happened by mistake." He arranged the words one after another. You weren't actually really angry, you knew it was a mistake. You had incredible patience and were not easily angered. You were calm again now, but your facial expression was not that soft. This made him even more nervous. "I have a condition." He jumped right in, "Sure, whatever you want."

"Tell me your story, from the beginning. Where did you come from? What have you done? Where are you going? What will happen next? I have heard some things, but I want to hear it from a dwarf myself, I must know it all. Maybe then I will forgive you for what you have done, young dwarf." The nervous look on Kili's face was gone, replaced by a smile. You gave a small smile and invited him over. You sat together and started talking while watching the view. He literally told you everything he could think of. You listened to him with interest. You made occasional comments and laughed at some of his jokes. It was almost night when you were there. You lost track of time, but it was the first time in a long time that you enjoyed it like this. The same was true for Kili. He watched you while talking. You were so perfect... in fact, you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. He had flirted with many women throughout his life, he had seen many women, but you... you were completely different. The moment he saw you he was speechless, almost choking on his own saliva. No one could fault the beauty of the elves walking around, but you were on a different level. So much so that you were considered one of the most beautiful elves.

Kili fell in love with you even more that night. He was the kind of guy who fell hard. You caused him to fall seriously hard. He made some flirting attempts when he dared. He was trying you. You also gave him small feedback. It was unclear whether this would go anywhere, but you went with the moment. You've been living for centuries, and by now, of course, some people came your way, but you never went forward with any of them or allowed yourself to be courted. You thought you had more time for this. Maybe one day it would... but after you met Kili, you started to realize things about yourself. Were you falling in love with this dwarf? Some thoughts began to haunt your mind and continued as the days progressed.

You both started meeting on the same balcony at night. Almost every day for two weeks. But you knew it would end because he had to go and they didn't have much time left. The day of Durin was approaching.

You walked to the balcony and paused at the entrance. Kili was standing by the fountain, looking at himself in the reflection of the water pooling below. You had noticed that he often played with his hair and face. But it wasn't like arrogance, it was more like insecurity. You directed your steps towards him. "You may have a sweet face, but such arrogance hits hard." There was a hint of mischief in your voice. Kili jumped when you spoke, startled. "Oh! Mahal!" Then he quickly recovered and smiled at you. "Did I ever mention that you float almost like an angel? Do your feet touch the ground?" You giggled happily as you approached him. "I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't." in a mischievous manner. You laughed.

Then a silence fell and as the silence fell you were looking at each other. Instinctively, you slowly reached out your hand to the strand of hair that fell in front of Kili's eyes and combed it to the side with your fingers. Even this small movement caused Kili's breathing to hitch. He swallowed. It was you again who broke the silence, "They need to be shortened a bit. They cover your face." He barely heard what you said at the time, in fact it only sounded like a mumble.

"You are so beautiful... flawless. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life." he said softly. He seemed fascinated. You looked absolutely ethereal as the starlight reflected on your face, illuminating your pure white skin, full pink lips, and long dark curls. You looked like you came out of the most beautiful fairy tales and Kili was fascinated by your appearance. His eyes were pensive and he was watching you with admiration. For a moment he thought he was in a dream, in fact he felt that way most of the time he spent with you because you were too wonderful to be real to him. Your beauty, your kindness, your deep and velvety voice, your awe-filled gaze... At the same time, your knowledge and experience gained over the centuries you lived, your advice and stories were interesting. He lost himself in you. He was becoming more certain with every second he looked at you.

He had fallen in love with you.

What you heard had filled your heart with excitement, and those looks you received had increased it even more. There was something much different in those eyes now... more serious. Yes, Kili was a fun guy and you had definitely seen similar things in him, but this time it was different. The rhythm of his heartbeat changed.

“Kili…” you mumbled his name softly… soon Kili slowly pulled away, looking away from you. You frowned slightly, trying to understand. "Please talk to me."

Kili was so caught up in all these moments that he forgot the facts. You couldn't love him... how could you? Such a perfect and immortal being had no business being with an ugly - by dwarf standards - dwarf like him. Yes, he was incorrigibly flirtatious and outgoing, but deep down, his self-confidence was sometimes slipping. By dwarf standards he was considered ugly, he didn't have a proper beard and he certainly couldn't grow it, and his hair wasn't long enough. He didn't have as much hair on his body as there should have been. He wanted to be like his brother and uncle, but it was impossible, he could never be like them. Any woman would never be with someone who wasn't masculine enough, right? You wouldn't like it either.

He thought so, but he didn't realize how wrong he was. "You can never love me... why would you? I have nothing to love... I don't even have enough beard. I'm a hopeless person..." sentences suddenly came out of Kili's mouth. He looked at you, realizing what he said. You even thought it was cute that he could make such a simple thing such a big problem with his childish attitude, but of course, from his point of view, this was a serious thing. Well, this was normal for his young age.

He was about to get up, but you held his arm with a gentle smile on your face. "Oh Kili... you're so naive. Did you really think I would make a problem with this? I'm not a dwarf or a human. The things that bother you about yourself are not for me." He looked at you confused and thought about what you said for a while. Then you added again, "I'm an elf, and the things you mentioned don't apply in elven culture. But either way... you're beautiful just the way you are." You reached out your hand and placed it on his cheek. “You are so beautiful… in everything. I swear.”

Kili's eyes filled with tears at your attitude. He had never heard such things from anyone before, except his mother. But that didn't really count. He watched as his wet eyes found yours, he knew you wouldn't lie to him. Maybe someone else would make fun of him feeling such intense things and developing a sense of confidence in such a short time, it might seem like nonsense, but it wasn't like that. He trusted you and you always approached him with all your sincerity. He closed his eyes and leaned into your soft touch. He could stay like this forever and never complain. You gently caressed the side of his head with your thumb.

In some moments words were not necessary, you could only find peace in silence. It was exactly like that right now. There was no need for words. There was peace.

You and him.

Just the two of you.

The distance between the two of you was closing with each passing second and finally, as your eyes closed, both of your lips slowly met. His hand found your soft hand. Kiss was full of tenderness. You were as close to each other as possible. You both broke the kiss to catch your breath as your lips burned like fire. Foreheads met.

Kili whispered against your lips, "Amrâlimê"

And you whispered, "Meleth nîn"

[futuristicyouthvoid]

Kili x Elf Reader

Summary: While the days were going very calmly and peacefully in Rivendell, the visit of the dwarves accompanied by Gandalf interrupted this. However, over time, you begin to get close to a certain dwarf.

As you followed Lord Elrond and Gandalf, you smiled at their little banter about 'dressing appropriately'. While they were settling down at the table, you walked over to your cousin Lindir and gently clasped your hands in front of you. "Your face looks like you're in pain..." you said loud enough for him to hear. He glanced at you briefly. “It's not wrong… I'm just… wondering how this would turn out.” You wanted to laugh at his attitude but you didn't, yet you couldn't help but try. "I honestly expected better from you, your expression is still a bit soft. Try not to waste yourself too much." You gave a small smile as he shifted uneasily.

You watched the surroundings, or rather the dwarves, throughout the meal. You weren't very familiar with them, so you wanted to observe. In any case, it was not difficult to predict that things would explode at some point. They were quite rambunctious… in one word, attenuated.

You were talking softly with Lindir, at this moment you came face to face with one of them. It was obvious that he was much younger than the others. When you didn't look away for a while, he smiled at you and then winked. You were amazed at first by his bold attitude, but then you reminded yourself that he was a dwarf. Of course it would happen. He looked surprised when you went beyond your limits and gave him a small smile. He never thought that you would respond to him, especially after a few unsuccessful attempts... Your sensitive ears had heard his conversations with his friends, which were louder gossip than they thought anyway.

At some point things really broke out. Suddenly all hell broke loose, a food fight broke out between them, accompanied by the dwarf who climbed onto the table and sang. You'd never admit it, but it seemed kind of fun. Poor Lindir's horrified expression amused you even more, and you almost laughed, but held yourself back again.

As you were about to turn around, you froze in place as a piece of food hit your chest. The front of your light-colored dress and the curls hanging down the sides of your face were stuck. There were some dwarves who noticed this. One of them was that young dwarf...

His eyes were wide open and confused as he looked at you. Embarrassment... that's what happened and he was definitely the one who accidentally threw that food at you. You left there with Lindir. You quickly went to your room and cleaned up.

You did not meet the young dwarf for the next two days. At some point you realized he was running away from you.

The next day, after doing your work, you went out to the balcony, the sun was setting. You leaned your hands on the railing and began to watch the view you always see.

Just then, you heard a pair of footsteps. It was definitely not an elf. You slowly turned and looked.

It was that young dwarf. You saw him looking at you with the same embarrassment. You were the one to break the silence, "Your name is Kili, right?" He nodded and agreed. “Yeah, that's me… well…” you then gave him your name and added, “What are you doing here?” He took a few more small steps towards you. "I owe you an apology... I'm sorry. For what happened at dinner. I swear I didn't do it on purpose... I- believe me, it happened by mistake." He arranged the words one after another. You weren't actually really angry, you knew it was a mistake. You had incredible patience and were not easily angered. You were calm again now, but your facial expression was not that soft. This made him even more nervous. "I have a condition." He jumped right in, "Sure, whatever you want."

"Tell me your story, from the beginning. Where did you come from? What have you done? Where are you going? What will happen next? I have heard some things, but I want to hear it from a dwarf myself, I must know it all. Maybe then I will forgive you for what you have done, young dwarf." The nervous look on Kili's face was gone, replaced by a smile. You gave a small smile and invited him over. You sat together and started talking while watching the view. He literally told you everything he could think of. You listened to him with interest. You made occasional comments and laughed at some of his jokes. It was almost night when you were there. You lost track of time, but it was the first time in a long time that you enjoyed it like this. The same was true for Kili. He watched you while talking. You were so perfect... in fact, you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. He had flirted with many women throughout his life, he had seen many women, but you... you were completely different. The moment he saw you he was speechless, almost choking on his own saliva. No one could fault the beauty of the elves walking around, but you were on a different level. So much so that you were considered one of the most beautiful elves.

Kili fell in love with you even more that night. He was the kind of guy who fell hard. You caused him to fall seriously hard. He made some flirting attempts when he dared. He was trying you. You also gave him small feedback. It was unclear whether this would go anywhere, but you went with the moment. You've been living for centuries, and by now, of course, some people came your way, but you never went forward with any of them or allowed yourself to be courted. You thought you had more time for this. Maybe one day it would... but after you met Kili, you started to realize things about yourself. Were you falling in love with this dwarf? Some thoughts began to haunt your mind and continued as the days progressed.

You both started meeting on the same balcony at night. Almost every day for two weeks. But you knew it would end because he had to go and they didn't have much time left. The day of Durin was approaching.

You walked to the balcony and paused at the entrance. Kili was standing by the fountain, looking at himself in the reflection of the water pooling below. You had noticed that he often played with his hair and face. But it wasn't like arrogance, it was more like insecurity. You directed your steps towards him. "You may have a sweet face, but such arrogance hits hard." There was a hint of mischief in your voice. Kili jumped when you spoke, startled. "Oh! Mahal!" Then he quickly recovered and smiled at you. "Did I ever mention that you float almost like an angel? Do your feet touch the ground?" You giggled happily as you approached him. "I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't." in a mischievous manner. You laughed.

Then a silence fell and as the silence fell you were looking at each other. Instinctively, you slowly reached out your hand to the strand of hair that fell in front of Kili's eyes and combed it to the side with your fingers. Even this small movement caused Kili's breathing to hitch. He swallowed. It was you again who broke the silence, "They need to be shortened a bit. They cover your face." He barely heard what you said at the time, in fact it only sounded like a mumble.

"You are so beautiful... flawless. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life." he said softly. He seemed fascinated. You looked absolutely ethereal as the starlight reflected on your face, illuminating your pure white skin, full pink lips, and long dark curls. You looked like you came out of the most beautiful fairy tales and Kili was fascinated by your appearance. His eyes were pensive and he was watching you with admiration. For a moment he thought he was in a dream, in fact he felt that way most of the time he spent with you because you were too wonderful to be real to him. Your beauty, your kindness, your deep and velvety voice, your awe-filled gaze... At the same time, your knowledge and experience gained over the centuries you lived, your advice and stories were interesting. He lost himself in you. He was becoming more certain with every second he looked at you.

He had fallen in love with you.

What you heard had filled your heart with excitement, and those looks you received had increased it even more. There was something much different in those eyes now... more serious. Yes, Kili was a fun guy and you had definitely seen similar things in him, but this time it was different. The rhythm of his heartbeat changed.

“Kili…” you mumbled his name softly… soon Kili slowly pulled away, looking away from you. You frowned slightly, trying to understand. "Please talk to me."

Kili was so caught up in all these moments that he forgot the facts. You couldn't love him... how could you? Such a perfect and immortal being had no business being with an ugly - by dwarf standards - dwarf like him. Yes, he was incorrigibly flirtatious and outgoing, but deep down, his self-confidence was sometimes slipping. By dwarf standards he was considered ugly, he didn't have a proper beard and he certainly couldn't grow it, and his hair wasn't long enough. He didn't have as much hair on his body as there should have been. He wanted to be like his brother and uncle, but it was impossible, he could never be like them. Any woman would never be with someone who wasn't masculine enough, right? You wouldn't like it either.

He thought so, but he didn't realize how wrong he was. "You can never love me... why would you? I have nothing to love... I don't even have enough beard. I'm a hopeless person..." sentences suddenly came out of Kili's mouth. He looked at you, realizing what he said. You even thought it was cute that he could make such a simple thing such a big problem with his childish attitude, but of course, from his point of view, this was a serious thing. Well, this was normal for his young age.

He was about to get up, but you held his arm with a gentle smile on your face. "Oh Kili... you're so naive. Did you really think I would make a problem with this? I'm not a dwarf or a human. The things that bother you about yourself are not for me." He looked at you confused and thought about what you said for a while. Then you added again, "I'm an elf, and the things you mentioned don't apply in elven culture. But either way... you're beautiful just the way you are." You reached out your hand and placed it on his cheek. “You are so beautiful… in everything. I swear.”

Kili's eyes filled with tears at your attitude. He had never heard such things from anyone before, except his mother. But that didn't really count. He watched as his wet eyes found yours, he knew you wouldn't lie to him. Maybe someone else would make fun of him feeling such intense things and developing a sense of confidence in such a short time, it might seem like nonsense, but it wasn't like that. He trusted you and you always approached him with all your sincerity. He closed his eyes and leaned into your soft touch. He could stay like this forever and never complain. You gently caressed the side of his head with your thumb.

In some moments words were not necessary, you could only find peace in silence. It was exactly like that right now. There was no need for words. There was peace.

You and him.

Just the two of you.

The distance between the two of you was closing with each passing second and finally, as your eyes closed, both of your lips slowly met. His hand found your soft hand. Kiss was full of tenderness. You were as close to each other as possible. You both broke the kiss to catch your breath as your lips burned like fire. Foreheads met.

Kili whispered against your lips, "Amrâlimê"

And you whispered, "Meleth nîn"

[futuristicyouthvoid]

[futuristicyouthvoid]

[futuristicyouthvoid]

Kili x Elf Reader

BLURB

While the days were going very calmly and peacefully in Rivendell, the visit of the dwarves accompanied by Gandalf interrupted this.

As you followed Lord Elrond and Gandalf, you smiled at their little banter about 'dressing appropriately'. While they were settling down at the table, you walked over to your cousin Lindir and gently clasped your hands in front of you. "Your face looks like you're in pain..." you said loud enough for him to hear. He glanced at you briefly. “It's not wrong… I'm just… wondering how this would turn out.” You wanted to laugh at his attitude but you didn't, yet you couldn't help but try. "I honestly expected better from you, your expression is still a bit soft. Try not to waste yourself too much." You gave a small smile as he shifted uneasily.

You watched the surroundings, or rather the dwarves, throughout the meal. You weren't very familiar with them, so you wanted to observe. In any case, it was not difficult to predict that things would explode at some point. They were quite rambunctious… in one word, attenuated.

You were talking softly with Lindir, at this moment you came face to face with one of them. It was obvious that he was much younger than the others. When you didn't look away for a while, he smiled at you and then winked. You were amazed at first by his bold attitude, but then you reminded yourself that he was a dwarf. Of course it would happen. He looked surprised when you went beyond your limits and gave him a small smile. He never thought that you would respond to him, especially after a few unsuccessful attempts... Your sensitive ears had heard his conversations with his friends, which were louder gossip than they thought anyway.

At some point things really broke out. Suddenly all hell broke loose, a food fight broke out between them, accompanied by the dwarf who climbed onto the table and sang. You'd never admit it, but it seemed kind of fun. Poor Lindir's horrified expression amused you even more, and you almost laughed, but held yourself back again.

As you were about to turn around, you froze in place as a piece of food hit your chest. The front of your light-colored dress and the curls hanging down the sides of your face were stuck. There were some dwarves who noticed this. One of them was that young dwarf...

[futuristicyouthvoid]

feeling called out today

credit: _ADWills

[futuristicyouthvoid]

They were devils to each other.

Alana knew Roose. But Roose didn't really know her.

The two of them had embarked on a dangerous road together. Both would suffer, but their ruthlessness and cunning drew them together.

In the end, Roose might regret compromising his hard heart. But he had found his equal, perhaps more sinister.

Depends on where you look at it.

When the world begins to fall into darkness, you must choose which way to go. There's always something lurking in the shadows.

[futuristicyouthvoid]

Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Another guest was unexpected when Thorin Oakenshield's company gathered in the tiny hobbit hole.

At least it wasn't expected by the dwarves and the hobbit.

Surely the cunning mage knew. He was crouched on one side of the table full of dwarves, where the king sat at the head corner. Bilbo was on the verge of losing his mind as he studied the contract when the atmosphere got heated again as the meeting continued. Taking a deep breath, Thorin got up from the table and paced around, his arms folded across his chest. Just then, he heard the sound coming from the door. When no one was there, he advanced and opened the door.

In front of him stood a tall figure dressed in black. Before he could open his mouth, the other person broke the silence as he lowered the cap of his cloak.

"Good evening, master dwarf. Gandalf invited me here for a meeting. I hope I'm not too late."

Thorin looked intently at the owner of the gentle voice. It was a human woman. Thorin finally managed to break in.

T: Your timing is not very good.

Just then, Gandalf's voice was heard from behind.

G: Oh dear friend! You finally made it, I was starting to think you disappeared!

As he approached the door, he made Thorin stand aside and let her in and closed the door. The woman looked at the mage with a slightly mischievous expression.

"I thought this was your job, my dear friend."

Gandalf laughed with delight. Meanwhile, when Thorin and the woman came face to face, she greeted him briefly.

"I am Y/N, a Dúnedain ranger of the North. I am at your service."

Thorin returned the salute.

T: Thorin Oakenshield.

~~~

It had already been a few weeks since Y/N had set off with the company. They were trying to find a suitable place to camp now. At first Thorin and some of the dwarves from company were reluctant to accept him. Being a woman had a big part in this, of course, but she was also part of the uncanny rangers. Although these two elements caused great prejudices at first, they were broken over time. He had the opportunity to prove himself. Now the dwarves had acknowledged his existence. Bilbo had agreed from the very beginning. First of all the dwarves, Balin had shown him a kind of kindness, the most sensible of them. Then the princes Fili and Kili, Ori and Bofur followed him. Dori and Nori brought the sequel. In fact, Dwalin's ice had melted after a while, but his relations with Thorin were volatile. He was a mean and stern dwarf. He was stubborn and domineering, sometimes even rude and hurtful.

However, Y/N seemed to tolerate this side of him with his composure.

When a suitable place for the camp was found, everyone determined a certain corner and left their belongings. The fire was lit and the division of labor was done. By the time the food was eaten, most of the dwarves were already asleep. Kili and Fili were sitting on the bottom of a rock near the fire. Balin and Ori were chatting in a corner, while Thorin and Dwalin were sitting in the far corner of the others. Gandalf was sitting under a tree, smoking his pipe, watching the scenery. Bilbo was back on his pony again.

Y/N had gone to look around as part of his duty. When he turned, he came out of the darkness and proceeded to the place where the fire was. He knelt by the flames and reinforced the wood, along with some wood he had brought with him. At this moment, he was aware that two pairs of eyes were watching him, and he slowly got up and went to his corner. It was his first watch.

Dwalin nudged his distracted friend lightly and said, "You're doing it again, Thorin." she muttered softly so only he could hear. Thorin snapped out of his thoughts and refused. "No I don't."

He fidgeted restlessly, struggling not to meet his friend's eyes, but without success. Dwalin grunted. Thorin reluctantly agreed, showing his displeasure. "Yes I did."

Dwalin had known his friend for a long time, and it was the first time he had seen him like this. "You can't take your eyes off her. Thorin…it's clear this isn't about insecurity anymore. Whatever it is, this needs to be settled."

Thorin let out a shaky breath as he listened to his friend. Then the strong hand gripping his shoulder showed his support. "We have enough trouble. This is neither the time nor the place, Dwalin."

Dwalin added, "Then it's better for him to gnaw at you. Then you may not have the opportunity." Thorin thought he had said too much and immediately returned to his inner world. He sighed as his gaze wandering over the floor shifted back to the body sitting in the darkness.

As Y/N sat on the top of the rock watching the surroundings, feeling overwhelmed, he slowly turned his gaze to the right. Here again the same thing happened. He made eye contact with Thorin. This time, however, was different because Thorin wasn't the first to look away. This had been happening, especially lately, and Thorin was usually the first to look away. However, he did not cut off the contact. When their eyes were locked for a while, they exchanged a short smile at each other. Although there were arguments, mostly due to Thorin's stress, they also managed to have decent conversations a few times. Yet there were still crackles, and at times he even thought that Thorin hated him.

Y/N was the first to catch his gaze. He had to keep his mind off and go back to his vigil.

As the hours passed, the dwarves' snores began to echo more and more. It was literally a headache, even their sleep was chaotic. It was at such times that his longing for the peace of Imladris increased. He took a deep breath.

After a while, he turned in that direction when he heard footsteps near him. He was a little startled to see that it was Thorin approaching him, but he didn't show it.

"An hour until your shift. Looks like you're having trouble sleeping again." said the woman.

Thorin smiled and asked permission to sit down. When the confirmation came, he sat down. "You should have noticed by now."

The woman shook her head. "You're right, stress brings dark clouds over everyone. I can understand that."

Thorin was silent for a moment. In the midst of this silence, he cast some glances at the woman. He looked like he was going to say something, but the woman broke the silence.

"What reason do you have for hating me, Thorin?"

Thorin wasn't expecting this, as he looked up in surprise. Then he answered without delay, "Of course I don't hate you. Do you really think so?"

Her eyes fell on him. "You didn't give me any other choice. It's okay Thorin, that's not my problem. I'm going to say that I'm here on duty. You may not realize it, but I know what it's like to be homeless and tossed around. I accepted the offer as soon as I heard it because I wanted to help. I asked you to come back, with all my heart and I will keep my word."

As Thorin turned his full attention to the woman speaking, his expression began to soften his uncomfortable expression. There was even a slight smile. His eyes didn't lie, though he had proven himself to the company all this time and helped them many times over.

"Erebor will be restored to its former glory. The dwarves will return to their homeland. Until then, we must support each other. It will be easier if we are united and respectful. Then we will part ways and I will leave you alone. Now just allow me to help, I have no further requests. "

The dwarf king's face fell towards the end. A sense of unease came over him again. Of course, separation... Their paths would diverge at some point. This human warrior would have to return to his realm, and it strangely disturbed Thorin. While saying these, Y/N couldn't help the bitterness in him.

He watched the expression on the man's face. Then their eyes met. The woman mustered up her courage and placed her hand lightly on the man's wrist, intending to quell the restlessness. Thorin seemed startled at first, not expecting contact, and held his breath for a moment. The feeling of warmth that then spread through him burned him, actually both.

Thorin's expression softened a little, and he smiled as he watched her face.

Then he began to speak, "Thank you for everything." Then he added, "And I'm sorry... for everything."

Now it was her turn to be surprised. Had Thorin really just thanked and apologized? This is seriously unusual, but he soon realized the importance of it. Thorin had rarely done this, and he was completely sincere. It was definitely one of those rare moments. The woman smiled. "I will remember this moment for the rest of my life, Thorin. It was unusual." lightly stuck. This made Thorin laugh.

With the withdrawn hand, the warmth in his wrist had disappeared. He almost seemed to protest, but of course he remained silent. Instead, they both enjoyed each other's laughter.

They sat there chatting for a considerable time. They understood each other a little more. The warrior woman told some things about her past without going into details. Over time, the duo found more in common.

They sat until late at night. Even Thorin's watch had passed, and Bofur's watch had come. Thus ended the night. In fact, they had a lot more to talk about, even something they had to resolve between themselves. But they had set that aside. They dispersed and settled into their beds, relaxed, with smiles on their faces.