#THE FIRST FRIEND SHE CAN PROPERLY RELATE TO

[captainsaltypear]

for legal reasons caine needs to give pomni her own marketable gummipoo plushie. as a treat.

[thebluebygracieabrams]

when the competition is making me cry in 10 seconds and your opponents are my parents

[twilightofthesandwiches]

…So we do have some implications that Kris… at the very least, does not care for Ralsei as much as they care for Susie, or as much as Ralsei cares for them. Most notably with Chapter 2’s Teas;

I think also maybe their tendency in the recent chapters to point out the differences between Ralsei and Asriel might be related to it. They don’t want to compare Ralsei to their beloved older brother.

But I wonder if that’s beginning to change. Most notably with all the scenes of Kris and Susie comforting Ralsei and encouraging him to be himself… Obviously we are the ones telling Kris to say the words, but... it seems like it was their choice to give him a hug.

Which kinda reminds me of our first indication that Kris genuinely considers Susie their friend.

Plus, like, sure we CAN force Kris to say certain things, but they can also subtly rebel against it by saying things 'weirdly'

or immediately contradicting our words with their own.

So.... not only do they don't really resist this attempt to help Ralsei, here is how they react if you try and pick one of the most flagrant "no Ralsei you and your feelings don't matter (:" options.

They are literally fighting against the Player's control to try and emotionally support Ralsei.

I wonder if this was a matter of Kris' thoughts about Ralsei actually mirroring many Players, that they also thought he was weird and shady and that his niceness was too-good-to-be-true and that he's probably manipulative and evil. And with the revelations about Ralsei and the way he thinks about himself and his reasoning for keeping secrets in Chapters 3 and 4, it's only now that Kris is starting to let their guard down around him and allows themself to like him.

Or if it's a matter of... clearly Kris' situation with the SOUL (AKA us) is a very unhappy one for them. Even if it also seems to be part of the plan Kris and Evil Phone Voice are on, it is not a pleasant experience for Kris. It might be that the thing that endeared them to Susie so much in the first place is the way that she also chafes and rebels against being 'railroaded' by the prophecy stuff all through Chapter 1 - and therefor they were always put off by Ralsei's happy-peppy lack of resistance to following anything the prophecy said....

Hell... we STILL don't know what these two talk about when the SOUL is away following Susie... if Ralsei told Kris they need to put on a happy smile and accept being a 'Cage' for an Amoral Time God, that will certainly sour their relationship.

But now Ralsei is opening up to how much this fatalism has caused him pain, and now he's starting to push back against it. And maybe now Kris can understand that Ralsei is also in the same boat as them and Susie, that they are kindred spirits.

Or maybe... that whole deal with Kris and the Evil Phone Voice seems to indicate they might've known about Dark Worlds and how they work before the story of the game properly starts, and at least that they understand them more than Susie does. Maybe Kris themself thought of Darkners the same way Ralsei thought. Maybe they were distant from Ralsei because they saw him as not 'real'. And watching Ralsei unlearn this mindset is causing Kris to reconsider the way they were thinking of Dark Worlds and Darkners.

Or... well... it could just be as simple as Kris seeing how much Ralsei matters to Susie. We have constant reminders through these two chapters of how much Susie cares for Ralsei and how much she sees them as a trio. So even if Kris just doesn't Vibe with Ralsei, thinks he's annoying or weird or creepy or whatever, Kris cares for Susie, so they know they have to care about her other very best friend.

I wonder if the reason behind the Person-Flavor-Teas being 'Rotten' past Chapter 2 is because Chapter 3 and 4 actually have a lot of subtle shifts in the characters' relationships and it would've been unpractical to keep track of them all, or simply narratively unsatisfying to spell them numericaly out like that.

[holyschnitzel]

Hi holyschnitzel!

A friend showed me the game's demo and I absolutely loved it, I got really obsessed with the character Damon. The game's background is really interesting, so I started following you to keep up with the lore and updates.

However, when I started looking into things, I was surprised that MC basically end up in a three-way relationship with DG and Damon, which isn't apparent in the game.

I don't really like this idea and wanted to ask if this will stay this way or if there will be individual routes where they haven't slept together before (like I see in posts about him taking her virginity) and have just been friends… I saw them as a family and it feels like incest.

I've found out that quite a lot of people think the same.

Thanks a lot for your time

Blastic is having trouble explaining this properly, so I'll take over :)

First of all, thank you for your interest in Broken Colors and for sharing your thoughts. I appreciate your enthusiasm for the game and especially for Damon's character <3 You seem to have some misunderstandings about the relationships in the game, so I'd like to clear that up for you!

Let me clarify that DG and Damon are absolutely not family or related in any way. They are explicitly established as friends (with benefits) who met as adults. There is no familial connection whatsoever between them, so your concern about "incest" doesn't apply to them. Just because you consider them family doesn't make it incestuous, this is not how it works, you naughty little thing you! ;P

Next, regarding Damon's personality and behavior: While Damon does have attachment issues and can be intensely possessive, his relationship with DG is unique and established before the events of the game. Their dynamic is special precisely because DG is the only person Damon trusts enough to consider sharing someone with. This is actually consistent with his character - he's not casually sleeping with multiple people; he has one deeply trusted connection (DG) that allows for this specific arrangement aka poly-relationship.

About the possible routes in the game:

There will be a route where MC ends up with DG.

A route where MC ends up with Damon.

And a poly-route option with both of them.

You're free to choose whichever route appeals to you most. If you prefer a one-on-one relationship with Damon, that route will be available to you. The poly route is simply an additional option for players who might be interested in that dynamic :)

Of course, we understand some players may have different preferences or interpretations, but Blastic wants to stay true to her characters and world she has created. Everything you have read are intentional aspects of the narrative and character development!

Well! I hope this clarifies things. Thanks again for your support and for engaging with the game so thoughtfully, eleipsis! ^o^

[marauroon]

𝟏 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟎𝟎 — 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑. (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬)

two boys send you a series of letters over the course of the school year. one, a sweet ravenclaw boy who wants to get to know you. The other, well— you don’t know, but he already knows you.

eventual james x fem!reader | 14.0k | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

CW | the marauders are… reasonable human beings? technically oc love interest for plot reasons, james is a yearner, girlhood in its truest form

The first morning back is crisp and golden—the sort of late summer day that makes Hogwarts look like something out of a painting. You’ve just arrived off the train, your trunk bouncing along behind you, and the air’s got that unmistakable scent of lakewater, freshly-polished wood, and the beginnings of autumn. You’d missed it. Even if you’d never admit that to anyone.

Lily walks beside you, chattering about her summer, about Petunia being an absolute nightmare (what else is new), and how she’s already dreading the mountain of work that NEWTs are supposed to be.

You hum along at the right places, nodding as if you’re paying attention, but you’re mostly distracted—scanning the crowd ahead, watching as students laugh and jostle their way toward the carriages. You can already see the back of Sirius’ head, black hair tied back with a ribbon someone must have dared him to wear, and James beside him—his usual mess of curls half-tamed under a Gryffindor scarf, even though it's hardly cold enough for it yet.

They’re not causing trouble.

And that’s… strange.

You don’t realise you’ve slowed down until Lily stops too, blinking at you.

“You alright?”

You shake your head, smiling faintly. “Yeah, yeah. Just… forgot how much taller everyone’s gotten. They look like seventh years,”

She snorts. “Speak for yourself. Potter still looks like a fifteen-year-old with too much energy and not enough shame,”

You glance back at the group of boys as they vanish into one of the thestral-drawn carriages. The usual suspects: James, Sirius, Remus, Peter. The ‘Marauders’—still the stupidest name you’ve ever heard. Though you have to admit (not aloud, obviously) that it suits them. Or… used to.

Because something’s changed.

It started at the end of last year, when James had pulled you and Lily aside—separately, mind you, in an unusual display of emotional intelligence—and apologised. Properly. Not with a joke, not with a smug smirk, but with sincerity so unsettling that it had rendered you both speechless for a good few moments. You’d shared looks with Lily afterward, both trying to decide if it was a prank, some elaborate ruse meant to throw you off-guard.

It wasn’t.

And he hasn’t gone back on it either.

Which is why you’re currently standing in the entrance hall of the castle, shoulder to shoulder with your friends, and you feel a little… off.

Because things are peaceful. For the first time in years, things are actually peaceful.

The Marauders aren’t hanging hexed signs on people’s backs, they aren’t enchanting staircases to flatten when someone climbs them, they haven’t even thrown water balloons from the Astronomy Tower. And sure, they’re still winding up Severus at every opportunity—but even that’s been reduced from full-scale ambushes to petty jibes and muttered comments in the corridors.

It’s quieter.

Less… annoying.

And that should be a good thing.

It is a good thing. Probably.

—

You settle into sixth year like slipping on an old jumper. The classes are harder, of course—double Potions is hell on earth, and Charms seems to have tripled its expectations overnight—but there’s a rhythm to it.

You get up, you go to class, you spend time in the common room with the girls, laughing and playing Exploding Snap or braiding Dorcas’ hair while Marlene does impressions of the professors.

There’s no chaos. No Marauder-related distractions. And no James Potter, appearing behind you to tug on your robes or ask if you’re sure you didn’t drop your dignity in the corridor somewhere.

It’s… peaceful.

But peace, you realise after the third week, is a little boring.

No one’s called out your name in a loud, humiliating spectacle at dinner. No one’s nicked your favourite quill only to return it days later enchanted to sing show tunes. No one’s bewitched your name onto the Prefect noticeboard with the title “Most Likely to Hex You for Breathing Too Loudly.”

And no one’s watching you anymore.

Not in that way.

Because even when it was annoying—especially when it was annoying—there was something almost flattering about it. That attention. That sense of being seen, even if it was by someone like James Bloody Potter. It made you feel... well, not special exactly. But noticed.

You’d never admit it out loud. Not to Lily, not to Marlene, not even to yourself if you could help it. But in the quiet moments—when the library’s too silent, or the common room too tame—you find yourself missing the noise.

It’s deeply inconvenient.

—

The girls are thriving, though. Lily’s top of every class (no surprise there), Marlene’s got half the Hufflepuff Quidditch team vying for her attention, and Dorcas has taken to sketching everyone in increasingly dramatic poses. She caught Sirius with his eyes closed in History of Magic and drew him like a fallen angel; he signed it and stuck it to the back of Peter’s chair.

Even that felt nostalgic.

Because back in the day—not even that long ago—Sirius and James would’ve been howling with laughter, probably doing impressions of Binns until the man floated out in exasperation. Now, they seem more subdued. Not boring exactly, but... more grown up. As if they’re slowly starting to realise the world doesn’t revolve around them.

Well. Not entirely.

You still catch James showing off in the corridors sometimes—trying to balance a stack of books on his head while walking backwards or charming Remus’ tie to change colours during class. But it’s gentler now. Less abrasive. Like he’s finally learning the difference between being funny and being cruel.

And the strange thing is: you think you might actually like this new version of him.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

—

You’re sitting by the window in the common room, watching the storm pelt against the glass, your Transfiguration notes spread across your lap and a blanket tucked round your legs. The others are upstairs—Lily’s doing prefect rounds, Dorcas is in the bath, and Marlene’s probably flirting with the Ravenclaw Beaters again.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You stare at your notes, then out the window. Somewhere down by the greenhouses, you think you can see Sirius running through the rain, jacket over his head. You squint, and sure enough, James follows a moment later, slipping slightly in the mud but catching himself with a laugh you can’t hear.

They’re soaked.

They’re laughing.

And they didn’t come bother you once today.

You look back at your notes. Your quill sits idle in your hand.

You’re being ridiculous. Pathetic, even. You hated when they bothered you. They drove you mad, especially James. The constant attention, the teasing, the half-jokes that toed the line between affection and annoyance—it was exhausting.

But it also made you feel like someone had your name in their mouth. Like someone saw you.

You press your lips together.

No. You’re being selfish.

You wanted peace, didn’t you? You got peace.

And now you’re here, sulking because a boy hasn’t thrown a dungbomb near you in three weeks.

Brilliant.

—

Lily finds you later, your notes long forgotten, the storm still raging outside.

“You look like someone drowned your owl,” she says lightly, collapsing onto the sofa beside you.

You blink. “Just tired,”

“Mm,” She eyes you. “You’ve been a bit… quiet lately,”

You shrug. “Just getting used to the workload,”

“You sure it’s not something else?”

You hesitate. Then: “Do you think James actually changed?”

She tilts her head. “Honestly? Yeah. I do,”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She picks at a thread on the blanket. “He’s still a prat, obviously. Still immature and annoying and thinks the sun shines out of his arse, but… he’s not mean anymore. Not like he was,”

You nod slowly.

“And he apologised,” she adds. “That meant something to me. To you too, I think,”

It did. It still does.

You think back to that moment at the end of fifth year—James, red-faced and stammering, looking more like a boy than he ever had before. You remember how he wouldn’t meet your eyes at first, how he said your name like it mattered. And how for the first time, he didn’t laugh at the end. Didn’t wink. Just waited.

You’d told him it was fine. It wasn’t, but it was getting there.

Now, it might actually be.

But still.

“I kind of miss it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Lily looks at you, confused. “Miss what?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Just… never mind,”

She doesn’t press.

But later, when she goes upstairs and you’re alone again, you look back out the window. The rain’s slowed to a drizzle, the sky dark and drowsy. You think about James—how he used to be, how he is now. You think about how, somewhere in that strange in-between space, you stopped dreading his presence and started noticing his absence.

And the worst part is?

You’re not even sure when it happened.

—

It’s a dull, grey Thursday in early December, the kind that makes you want to burrow into your scarf and pretend the rest of the term doesn’t exist. You’re in the Great Hall for breakfast, half-asleep, cradling a mug of tea between your hands and trying to pretend that the mere idea of double Potions doesn’t make you want to fling yourself into the Black Lake.

Around you, the usual morning chaos unfolds: first-years bickering over toast, owls swooping in with letters and parcels, and Marlene arguing with Dorcas over who used the last of the strawberry jam. Lily’s scanning the Daily Prophet with her usual “this world is doomed” expression, and you’re debating whether or not to try and eat a banana when—

A piece of parchment glides gently through the air in front of you and lands, neatly, on your plate.

You blink. Then stare. Then blink again.

It’s folded perfectly, sealed with a little silver charm in the shape of a star, and it is absolutely not yours.

The table goes very still around you. Lily sets her paper down. Marlene pauses mid-swipe at the jam pot. Dorcas leans in with her eyebrows already raised.

You glance upward, half-expecting someone to shout “surprise!” or for Peeves to come crashing down from the ceiling, cackling. But there’s no sign of trickery. Just a few owls flapping overhead and a Ravenclaw table full of students minding their own business—or appearing to.

“Open it,” Dorcas hisses, eyes wide.

“I—what if it explodes?” you whisper back, only half-joking.

“It won’t,” Lily says. “Look at the charm. It’s a standard animation seal. Whoever sent it used proper magic,”

“That just makes it more suspicious,” you mutter, but your curiosity’s already gotten the better of you.

You peel the charm off and unfold the parchment.

The handwriting is careful, slanted slightly to the right, and clearly someone’s taken their time with it. The ink is deep blue and slightly shimmering at the edges—someone’s fancied this up a bit.

You begin to read.

Hi, sorry to send this in such a dramatic way, but I figured a floating letter was better than stammering at you in person and making a complete idiot of myself. I know this is kind of out of nowhere, but I’ve… well, I’ve noticed you. And I was wondering if you’d maybe want to write to me over the holidays? Just letters, nothing weird. Or, you know, more, if you’re up for that. No pressure though. I just think you’re kind, and funny, and I’d like to get to know you. From, Nick (Ravenclaw, sixth year, dark blond hair, sits near the windows in Charms—just so you can place me, if you want to).

You stare at the letter.

Then read it again.

And a third time, just to be sure it says what you think it says.

It does.

You make a noise somewhere between a squeak and a choke, and immediately try to stuff the letter under your plate, but Lily’s already yanking it out of your hand.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, skimming it with wide eyes. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever read,”

“Wait, wait, let me see—” Marlene leans across the table, grabbing the other side. “‘Just letters, nothing weird’—what does that even mean? Is he worried about sounding like a creep? Oh, this is brilliant,”

Dorcas is fanning herself dramatically with her napkin. “Do you think he wrote a rough draft? This is totally a rehearsed letter,”

You hide your face in your hands, the heat of your cheeks threatening to set fire to your fringe. “Stop. Please stop,”

“I will not stop,” Lily grins. “You’ve got an admirer. An actual, charming, respectful admirer who wants to write to you like it’s the 1800s. That’s romantic,”

“It’s embarrassing,” you groan.

“It’s amazing,” Marlene corrects. “And you have to write back,”

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point!” Dorcas says. “He wants to get to know you. He gave you a perfect way out, he’s not assuming anything, he’s just interested. That’s rare,”

They’re all smiling now, all leaning in, and you can’t help it—you laugh, a little helpless and a lot flattered.

Because it’s sweet. It is. And no matter how much your face is burning, there’s a fizzy, fluttery sort of feeling in your stomach you can’t quite ignore. You glance up again, eyes scanning the Ravenclaw table.

You spot him almost instantly.

Nick: dark blond hair, just as described, pale eyes, face mostly hidden behind a book, though he’s clearly not reading. He looks up. You look down. He looks away quickly, ears going pink.

You smile without meaning to.

“Right,” Lily says, dragging her bag into her lap. “We need paper. A quill. What colour ink should we use?”

“I’m not writing him back in the middle of breakfast,” you hiss.

“Why not?” Marlene’s already pulling a little bottle of silver ink from her satchel. “Strike while the iron’s hot! He’s probably dying of anxiety over there,”

You hesitate for a moment too long, and then the decision’s made for you—because Dorcas finds a clean piece of parchment, Lily’s already got your hand in hers, and Marlene is dictating a reply out loud while you splutter about how this isn’t how people normally handle these things.

You’re still trying to snatch the quill back when a voice drawls from behind you:

“What’s all the noise about, then? Secret girls-only plot to overthrow the Ministry?”

Sirius.

Of course.

You twist in your seat and find him lounging half on the bench, half on the table a few seats down, chin in hand, eyes glinting with nosy curiosity. He’s got toast in one hand and mischief in the other.

Lily lifts her chin and says, very primly, “None of your business,”

“Oh, now I have to know,” he says, kicking his legs up beside you.

You glance to your side—and there he is.

James.

Sitting quietly at the Gryffindor table, a few seats down, half a piece of toast hanging forgotten in his hand as he watches the scene with a blank expression.

It’s only a second, but you see it. That flicker of something behind his eyes.

Recognition.

Understanding.

And something sharp that he swallows before it can show too clearly.

Because James Potter knows what giggling girls and secret letters mean. He knows.

And it shouldn’t matter—it really shouldn’t. You’re barely even friends. Civil, maybe. Tentatively polite. But whatever it is between you now, it’s not enough to warrant the sudden, stiff way he turns back to his plate.

It shouldn’t sting.

But it does.

—

You finish the letter with the girls' help. It’s nothing dramatic—just a polite reply saying you’d be happy to exchange letters over the holidays, and that you appreciate his kindness. You keep it short and friendly and completely avoid saying anything that might sound too enthusiastic.

(Which is a lie. You’re a bit enthusiastic. But you don’t need them knowing that.)

Dorcas folds the reply with military precision, Lily reattaches the little star charm, and Marlene volunteers to deliver it on your behalf—“to spare you the embarrassment,��� she says sweetly, already halfway across the hall.

You look down at your plate, appetite long forgotten.

“Alright?” Lily asks, nudging your shoulder.

You nod. “Yeah. I think so,”

“You’re allowed to be excited, you know,”

“I am excited. I’m just… surprised,”

She smiles. “It’s nice though, isn’t it?”

You glance again toward the Ravenclaw table. Nick’s looking at Marlene like she’s an incoming Howler, his whole face red to the ears as he takes the letter from her hand.

You smile again.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “It is,”

—

Across the table, James doesn’t look up.

He doesn’t need to.

Because he saw the whole thing. The letter, the blushing, the girls all but bouncing in their seats. He saw Marlene walk across the hall with that parchment and Nick take it with shaking hands.

And it’s stupid. Petty.

But it hurts.

Because it’s been nearly two years since he realised he might actually like you—properly, not just in the annoying-you-is-fun way, but in the way that meant he started watching you when you weren’t looking. Noticing when you got a haircut. Learning the way your nose scrunches when you’re trying not to laugh.

He apologised. He grew up. He’s trying.

And it still wasn’t enough.

You’ve got someone now. Or the beginnings of someone.

And he’s just James Potter, watching from afar with jam on his toast and something bitter on his tongue.

He shoves the toast in his mouth and doesn’t say another word for the rest of breakfast.

—

You don’t expect the first letter from Nick to come so quickly. It arrives the morning after you get home for the holidays, hand-delivered by a glossy, silver-feathered owl you don’t recognise. Your name is written in the same neat, slanting script, and it still makes your stomach flip just a bit.

The note is folded crisply, the parchment thick and expensive-feeling. You hesitate before opening it, standing by the kitchen window with snow dusting the garden outside, everything quiet.

First off, thank you for not laughing at me. I thought I’d regret sending that letter the second I did it, and I very nearly snatched it out the air mid-flight to get it back. But you were so... kind. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t kindness. So thank you. It feels a bit odd writing like this, doesn’t it? But I also kind of like it. There’s no pressure when it’s just words. I don’t trip over them this way. So, here’s me: I like Charms best. I once accidentally set my robes on fire in Herbology (don’t ask), I’m allergic to pineapple, and I think people who can fall asleep on trains are borderline magical. Tell me something about you? Anything. Something silly, or secret, or both. Yours (nervously), Nick

You smile like an idiot for a full five minutes before you even think about writing back.

And so it begins.

The letters come every few days, sometimes short and scrawled in rushed excitement, sometimes long and meandering with little sketches in the margins. He tells you about his mum’s failed attempt at decorating the tree with actual enchanted snow, and how it flooded the sitting room. You send back a drawing of a dog dressed in a Father Christmas hat (badly drawn, but Nick says it’s ‘profoundly moving’). He tells you he’s rereading Hogwarts: A History just for fun, and you reply with a list of reasons why that’s definitely unhinged behaviour.

Sometimes he signs off with ‘Yours, Nick.’

Sometimes with ‘Yours (hopefully).’

Once—‘Yours (unless the owl’s eaten this and you never see it).’

You find yourself checking the sky for owls more often than you care to admit.

It’s not dramatic. Not whirlwind, heart-racing, can’t-breathe kind of love. But it’s nice.

And after the year you’ve had, ‘nice’ feels revolutionary.

—

You return to Hogwarts with a small box of letters tucked at the bottom of your trunk, tied neatly with a silver ribbon courtesy of Dorcas, who insisted they deserved to be “presented like the delicate artefacts of flirtation they are,”.

The minute you’re back in the dorm, you’re swarmed.

“Show us everything,” Marlene demands, already bouncing on the edge of your bed.

“Yes, come on, let’s see what your secret Ravenclaw Casanova had to say for himself,” Lily adds, mock-prim, though she’s clearly grinning.

You hesitate only a moment before reaching into your trunk. The box feels warmer than it should, like it’s soaked up some of the good from the past few weeks.

You hand it over, and the girls descend like a pack of curious Kneazles.

“Oooh, look at this one—‘Yours (unless the owl eats it)’—alright, he’s cute,” Dorcas says approvingly, flopping onto her stomach with the letter held aloft.

“Is this a little sketch of a Thestral wearing a party hat?” Lily giggles. “He’s got your sense of humour. That’s weirdly adorable,”

Marlene sniffs, mock-serious. “I give it two weeks before they’re holding hands by the lake,”

“Two? You’re being generous,” Dorcas snorts. “I give it until Sunday,”

You hide your face in a pillow. “You’re all horrible,”

“Don’t change the subject,” Lily grins. “Have you written him since we got back?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Told him I’d meet him after lunch. Figured we could, I don’t know… actually talk in person,”

They cheer like you’ve just won the bloody House Cup.

—

You find Nick leaning awkwardly by the courtyard archway, his hands stuffed deep into his robe pockets, and his scarf trailing loosely over one shoulder. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps—and immediately fumbles to straighten up.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” you smile.

It’s quiet for a moment, but not the awkward kind. Just the sort of quiet where snow mutes everything, and your breath fogs the air between you, and the castle feels suspended in time.

“It’s nice to see your face,” Nick says finally. Then pauses. “I mean—obviously I’ve seen your face before. Loads. I’m not, like, suddenly surprised you have a face,”

You laugh.

“I know what you meant,”

He exhales, relieved. “Good. I wasn’t sure I’d manage to string two sentences together without turning purple,”

“You’re only a bit pink,” you tease. “That’s manageable,”

You end up walking the long way around the courtyard, snow crunching underfoot. It’s a bit stiff, at first—he trips over his words, you don’t know where to put your hands—but something about it feels... promising. Like maybe the letters weren’t just a fluke.

He makes you laugh. You make him stammer in a way that’s far too endearing. It’s not dramatic, and it’s not sweeping—but it feels nice.

And when he says, quietly, “I’m really glad I wrote to you,” you don’t hesitate before replying, “Me too.”

—

From then on, you start seeing him more often. You meet by the greenhouses for walks after Herbology. You sit beside each other in the library, sometimes talking, sometimes just reading in companionable silence. You laugh when he fumbles his words or stutters a bit too quickly, and he blushes when you compliment his handwriting.

It’s soft. Sweet. Easy.

And that ease is what James hates most.

He doesn’t mean to. Really, he doesn’t. But every time he sees you and Nick tucked away in a corner, talking with your heads bent close, something in his chest twists too tightly.

He tries not to look. He tries.

But he always does.

He catches glimpses of you in between lessons, notices the way your smile tilts differently when you’re with Nick, the way you lean in without thinking. He sees the way you laugh, just slightly quieter than with the girls, more private.

He sees all of it.

And it kills him.

Because Nick doesn’t look nervous anymore. Not like he did in December. He looks like he belongs next to you now, like he’s settled into a space James never even realised was open.

And James?

James is still stuck in the same place, staring from a distance and pretending he doesn’t feel like his lungs collapse a bit every time your eyes skim past him without stopping.

The worst part is that Nick’s not even unlikeable. He’s polite. Respectful. He doesn’t show off or brag. He’s never hexed someone. He’s the kind of boy you should be with.

Which makes James feel like even more of a twat for hating him.

But he can’t help it.

Because you’re slipping further away with every shared smile and hushed conversation, and James Potter—Golden Boy, Quidditch Captain, supposed heartthrob—is left standing on the sidelines, too late and too cowardly to do anything about it.

Not that he deserves to.

Not really.

Not after everything he used to be.

—

There’s a quiet little path just past the edge of the Forbidden Forest, winding between thickets of tall grass and old stone walls from Merlin-knows-when. It’s not quite on the Marauder’s Map because it’s not technically a shortcut or a secret passage — it’s just peaceful. Removed. The kind of place couples start to frequent when they want to be left alone.

You and Nick have discovered it recently.

It’s become something of a habit, heading out there after classes with a thermos of tea or stolen pastries from the kitchens, bundled up in scarves and gloves, talking about everything and nothing as the winter wind rushes through the trees. It’s your space now, and it’s lovely. Safe. Uncomplicated.

You don’t notice the stag at first.

He’s standing far off at the treeline, half-hidden behind some low-hanging branches. Massive antlers, golden-brown fur, eyes sharp even from this distance. He looks almost surreal — like he belongs in some enchanted forest painting, too noble and elegant to be real.

Nick notices your distraction. “What is it?”

You tug his sleeve and point. “Look!”

His head turns, eyes following your finger. When he spots the stag, he startles slightly. “Blimey,”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you say, smiling. “It’s just a deer,”

“That’s not just a deer, that thing’s the size of a carriage,”

You laugh. “Don’t scare him off,”

You take a slow step forward, fascinated. The stag doesn’t move. Just watches you, eerily still.

There’s something oddly… familiar about him.

And James — because yes, of course it’s James — is having what could only be described as a full-scale emotional breakdown inside his stupid stag body.

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Not exactly.

It had started out harmless enough — a little sulking, a bit of brooding, the usual staring-longingly-across-the-classroom-at-your-empty-chair sort of behaviour. And then Sirius had made some off-hand joke about how you and Nick probably had a “special little spot” by now, and James had laughed like he wasn’t actively dying inside.

Cue: terrible decisions.

Because obviously the most reasonable response to your blossoming teenage romance was to follow you in his Animagus form. Spy on you. Lurk.

Real mature.

But he couldn’t help himself.

There you were, sitting beside Nick, cheeks pink with cold, smiling in that soft way James remembered from last year when he made that ridiculous fireworks spell in Charms just to make you laugh. And Nick — bloody Nick — looked like he’d won the lottery.

It should’ve been him. He should be the one making you smile like that.

And then you turned, eyes catching the movement in the trees. James froze. For one horrible second he thought you recognised him, that somehow you could see straight through the fur and hooves and spot him for who he really was — awkward, lovesick, completely out of his depth.

But instead, you grinned.

Properly grinned. That wide, sparkly-eyed smile that had always made something in James’ chest flutter.

“You know stags are a sign of good luck,” he said, smiling softly at you.

You tilted your head. “Are they?”

“In some places, yeah. Seeing a stag’s supposed to mean… well, something sacred. Or new beginnings,”

James, still very much standing there like a massive idiot, nearly snorted.

New beginnings, his arse.

You took a step closer to Nick, hands fiddling with your scarf. “How fitting,”

Nick’s cheeks flushed red, even under the pale winter sun. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

James felt the moment before it happened.

There was a hush in the air, the kind that hangs between two people right before something changes. A kind of invisible pull. You leaned in—just slightly—and Nick moved at the same time, closing the space with a nervous sort of determination.

And then you were kissing.

It wasn’t a dramatic, spin-you-around kind of kiss. It was tentative. Careful. Sweet.

But it wrecked James all the same.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he felt as though he physically couldn’t. He wanted to disappear, but he was literally a giant animal. Instead, he stood there, paralysed, watching the girl he loved kiss another boy while he pretended to be a woodland creature.

You pulled away first.

Nick, ever the gentleman, looked nervous again.

“Sorry,” He muttered, hands fumbling. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, I did, obviously, but I didn’t want to make it weird. Was that… alright?”

You stared at him for a moment, lips parted. “It was,”

Nick smiled, visibly relieved.

And James—full of repressed feelings and bad decisions—bolted.

He galloped full-tilt back through the trees, hooves skidding over frosty ground, lungs burning with the kind of emotion that didn’t make sense in this form.

When he finally transformed back, he nearly punched the wall.

—

He storms into the dormitory, robes askew, hair windswept and damp from snow.

Remus looks up from his book. “Alright there?”

“No.”

“Did you fall in the lake again?” Sirius asks from his bed, chewing a Sugar Quill and looking thoroughly unconcerned.

“No,” James grinds out, pacing the room. “Worse.”

Peter sits up. “Worse than the lake?”

“I watched her kiss him.”

There’s a pause.

Sirius, now mildly interested, swings his legs over the side of the bed. “You what?”

“In the forest,” James says, throwing his arms up. “I was— I don’t know—just following—walking—I didn’t mean to stay that long, but then I saw them and I couldn’t move, and then he kissed her.”

He collapses into the armchair with the weight of a man who’s just seen war.

“Mate,” Remus says gently, closing his book, “you followed her?”

James groans. “Don’t say it like that.”

“In Animagus form?”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Sirius is cackling now. “James, my boy, you absolute idiot,”

James throws a cushion at him. “Do you want me to cry?”

Peter’s eyebrows are high on his forehead. “So… you watched them snog and then what? Ran off crying in your stag form?”

“Yes, Pete, that’s exactly what happened, thank you for summing it up so eloquently,”

Remus sighs. “Look. I know this is hard. But what did you expect to happen? You’ve been watching them from afar for weeks, acting like you don’t care, and now you’re surprised that she’s moved on?”

James sulks deeper into the chair. “I didn’t think it would hurt like this,”

Sirius tosses a Bertie Bott’s bean at his head. “Then do something, mate,”

James blinks. “What?”

“Tell her,”

“I can’t,”

“Why?”

“Because!” James flails his arms. “She hates me,”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Remus says calmly. “She was just… wary. And to be fair, you earned that. But you’ve changed. She sees that,”

“Lily’s talking to you again,” Peter adds. “That’s a massive shift from last year,”

“She’s dating Nick,” James mutters.

“So?” Sirius shrugs. “Relationships end all the time. Especially school ones,”

Remus shoots him a look. “Not exactly the message we want to send right now Pads,”

“Sorry, Moony, but it’s true. James has been pining for her like a tragic protagonist in a bad romance novel for years. If he doesn’t say something soon, he’ll combust. Or do something even stupider than stalking her through the forest,”

James groans. “You’re making it sound so much worse,”

“You made it worse, mate. You literally watched her kiss another boy from the bushes,”

He buries his face in his hands. “What do I even say? ‘Hi, sorry I was a git to you for years, but now I fancy you and have no idea how to act like a person anymore’?”

“Honestly,” Remus says, “not a terrible start

James peeks up between his fingers. “I can’t just tell her,”

“Then write,” Peter suggests, surprisingly earnest. “You’re always better in writing,”

The room falls quiet.

James slowly lifts his head.

“…Do I have to sign it?”

Remus frowns. “You want to send it anonymously?”

Sirius leans forward, interested. “Like a secret admirer?”

“No, like… a vent. I get it all out with no risks,”

“You think she’d read it?” Peter asks.

James shrugs. “She might,”

Sirius leans back, chewing on his quill now. “Alright. An anonymous letter. Bit dramatic, but very you,”

“You think it’s stupid,”

“I think,” Sirius says, “it’s better than sitting here moping while she falls in love with someone else,”

James doesn’t reply.

Instead, he stands, walks to his trunk, and pulls out a piece of parchment.

And a very fancy quill.

Because if he’s going to tell you the truth—even secretly—he’s going to do it properly.

—

It arrives one cloudy morning at breakfast, right between a plate of toast and a half-soggy letter from your mum asking if you’ve remembered to send your Nan a Christmas thank-you.

You barely register it at first—the slip of parchment settling onto your plate with an elegant little flutter, the ink shimmering faintly as if kissed by starlight. You glance up, expecting to see an owl flapping off, but the air above the Gryffindor table is clear.

Weird.

You look down again. It’s not a scroll, not a Howler, not a folded scrap from Lily asking about Herbology notes. It’s stationery. Thick, cream-coloured parchment that feels almost too nice for Hogwarts post. The edges are trimmed with delicate gold foil. The writing, when you unfold it, gleams like the surface of the Black Lake at midnight.

And it is… a lot.

You don’t know me. Not properly, anyway. Maybe you think you do, and maybe that’s my fault, maybe I’ve made sure you didn’t want to. Maybe I got too used to being the kind of boy people only like in theory. I can be a bit of a twat, but if I’d ever had the courage to actually be honest with you, this is what I would’ve said: I notice everything. I notice the way you chew your lip when you're thinking. The way your handwriting changes when you’re writing something personal. I notice that you give away half your dessert even when you complain you’re starving, that you always carry extra hair ties in case your friends need one, that you hum when you’re nervous. I’ve noticed that you like thunderstorms more than sunshine, and that you pretend not to care when people don’t listen to you, but it bothers you. I wish it didn’t. You’re not just pretty, you’re brilliant. You’re clever in ways people overlook, and kind in ways that make them assume you’ve never been angry. But I’ve seen it. I’ve seen your temper flare and your spine straighten and I’ve wanted to be someone who could stand beside that, not against it. I used to think if I just waited long enough, you’d look at me the way you look at the pages of a good book — like something worth opening. But I don’t think you ever will. And I’m tired of pretending I’m fine with that. So this is me. Being honest. Finally. I hope you’re happy. Even if it’s not with me.

You read it three times before you even breathe.

It is—quite literally—the most intense thing anyone’s ever said to you. And they didn’t even say it. They wrote it. Anonymously. No name. No initials. Just… left it here like a bloody emotional bomb.

“Oh my God,” Marlene breathes, peering over your shoulder. “Who wrote that?”

You blink, still dazed. “I don’t know,”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Dorcas is already reaching for the paper. “Let me see,”

Lily sets down her tea. “That’s not Nick’s handwriting,”

You snatch the letter back instinctively, folding it like a guilty thing. “It’s not from Nick,”

“Oh hell no,” Marlene says, loud enough to turn heads from the other end of the table. “What kind of coward doesn’t sign their name to something like that?”

You flush, tucking the letter under your plate. “Can we not do this here?”

“No, sorry, we’re absolutely doing this,” she says, hands in her hair. “You just got the Hogwarts equivalent of a bloody sonnet and we’re supposed to ignore it?”

You shrug, trying for breezy but failing miserably. “It’s probably a joke,”

“It’s not a joke,” Lily says, eyebrows furrowed. “No one puts that much effort into a joke. That was… honest. Painfully so,”

Dorcas whistles low. “I can’t believe someone’s been carrying all that around. And didn’t even sign it,”

“They should’ve,” Marlene says. “You don’t get to say all that and then disappear. It’s manipulative,”

“It’s anonymous,” you say quietly. “Not manipulative,”

“They want something from you without saying who they are,”

You shrug. “I don’t care who they are,”

Which is, of course, an outright lie.

Because for the next two weeks, you read the letter every single night after the others have gone to sleep.

You tell yourself you’re just curious. That it’s like solving a puzzle, trying to piece together who might’ve written it based on the phrasing, the details. You go through every male voice in your head like a bloody index file: is it someone from your year? Another House? Is it someone who sees you more than you realised?

And worse: is it someone you’ve hurt without knowing?

Because how long has this boy—whoever he is—been noticing you? Caring about you from some hidden distance? How long has he been watching you laugh, cry, argue, love your friends… and stayed silent?

Because now that someone has said those things to you—someone who wants your laugh, your bad handwriting, your bloody spare hair ties—you’ve started comparing. And Nick, for all his sweetness and quiet charm, hasn’t said anything remotely like that.

Nick likes you. He likes your face, your smile, your laugh. He likes sitting next to you at lunch and holding your hand when you walk to class. He likes being liked.

But whoever wrote that letter doesn’t just like you. They see you. In this terrifying, intense, specific way that makes your stomach twist every time you reread it.

And that’s the problem, really.

Because now every interaction feels dimmer by comparison.

When Nick compliments you, it feels too rehearsed. When he kisses you, you wonder if he’s noticed the freckles on your shoulders, or if he’s just decided that kissing you is nice. You still like him. You do.

But you also can’t stop thinking about the letter.

—

Meanwhile, in the boys’ dormitory, James is slowly unraveling.

He hadn’t meant for the letter to actually get to you.

Well, he had, obviously. That was the plan. Fold it all up, pour his heart onto the page, let the Marauders deliver it like some weird emotional owl service. But he hadn’t expected it to work. He thought maybe you’d read it once and toss it in the bin.

But you didn’t.

You read it. And then you kept reading it.

James knows because he keeps watching you. Not stalking—definitely not stalking—just… observing. From across the common room. Or the Great Hall. Or occasionally (and he hates himself for this) while pretending to tie his shoelaces in corridors you happen to be walking through.

You’re thinking about it. He can tell.

You’ve gone quieter, more introspective. You still hang out with Nick, still smile when he tugs you along to some late lunch in the courtyard. But the spark in your eyes when you look at him doesn’t quite reach the edges like it did before. Not like it does when you’re reading.

James sees you in the library with it tucked into a Transfiguration book.

He sees you smiling at it in Charms when Flitwick isn’t looking.

And every time, it hurts.

Not because you know it’s from him—but because you don’t.

You’re holding a piece of his soul and you don’t even know it’s his.

The Marauders are no help.

“Just tell her,” Sirius keeps saying. “It’s not going to kill you,”

“Yes it will,” James mutters into his pillow. “Instant death. Right there. You’ll have to plan my funeral,”

“Moony can write the eulogy,” Peter suggests. “Something tragic,”

“I’m not writing him a eulogy,” Remus says dryly. “I’m writing him a howler if he doesn’t grow up,”

But James doesn’t want to grow up. He wants to hide.

Because this is worse than being rejected. This is watching you choose someone else while still holding onto the most vulnerable thing he’s ever written and having no idea it’s from the boy who used to trip over his words around you.

He thought writing it would help.

It hasn’t.

If anything, it’s made everything worse.

Because now he knows how close he got. And how far away he still is.

And you— well, you’ve got a letter folded fourteen times and stashed in your pillowcase like some embarrassing secret. You’ve got Nick waiting for you after class and your friends teasing you about mystery boys and you’ve got no idea that the person who sees you best is someone you’d written off two years ago.

But you’re starting to wonder.

Because whoever wrote that letter knew things even you hadn’t noticed about yourself.

They knew how you listen harder when people talk about books, how you write longer sentences when you're nervous, how you care more deeply than you let on. That kind of observation doesn’t happen overnight.

That kind of thing takes years.

—

There are times in relationships when it feels like the edges of your life blur together, and the lines that once separated who you were from who you are in someone else’s eyes start to fade. It’s a strange and subtle thing. At first, it feels like you’re merely adjusting — slipping a little to fit more comfortably into someone else’s world. But gradually, as time passes, the edges of that world begin to shape you. And in the process, you start to lose sight of where you end and they begin.

That’s what happened with Nick.

At first, you thought it was something gentle — a sweet, budding connection. After all, the letters had been lovely, hadn’t they? The way he wrote about things you’d never noticed, the way his words seemed to speak to you in places where you hadn’t realised you were waiting for someone to. He was kind, he was funny in his own way, and he tried his best to get close to you. Really close.

But the truth is— he tried too hard.

You hadn’t noticed it at first, or if you had, you dismissed it. After all, it was sweet, wasn’t it? The way he wanted to take you to Hogsmeade every weekend, the way he seemed to try to do all the right things, say all the right words. He’d bring you flowers—small, simple ones from the Greenhouse, wrapped in brown paper. You’d smile, thank him, and tuck them into a glass jar on your windowsill.

But soon it wasn’t just flowers. It was sudden plans to study together for hours, even when you weren’t sure if you really needed to. It was long conversations about everything and nothing, always turning into late-night talks that kept you tethered to him, even when your mind wandered to other things—or to other people.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but the truth crept in. Little by little, things started to change. At first, it was just the fact that when you sat with Nick, it was easy to forget. You didn’t think about the boy who’d written you that anonymous letter, you thought maybe this was enough—that Nick was enough. But after a while, something started to feel… off.

It wasn’t his fault, not exactly. Nick was a genuinely good person. But somewhere along the way, he began to push harder than you could keep up with. And rather than reassuring you, that energy felt suffocating. The careful gestures, the predictability, the pressure to move things forward.

You began to realise that you weren’t sure if you wanted to move forward. Not with him. Not like this.

The shift became obvious one cold afternoon in the library, when Nick tried again—really tried—to kiss you. His hand brushed yours as he leaned in, but instead of feeling that warm flutter you’d always read about in romance novels, you felt yourself stiffen.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. You did. But with each moment that passed, the picture you’d once thought was perfect started to crumble. In that space between the kiss and the hesitation, you saw what was missing. It was like the world suddenly tilted. You realised you’d been holding on to something that wasn’t quite real, a dream of what could be, rather than what was.

You pulled away.

“I think…” you started, the words heavy in your throat. “Maybe we need to talk,”

Nick paused, his expression flickering with concern. “Talk about what?”

“I think I’m not really sure what I want anymore,” you said quietly. It wasn’t easy. It never is. “I think I’ve been… confused. I don’t want to lead you on,”

He blinked, his lips parted as though he was about to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. “You’re saying this now?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner,” You looked at him, trying to make it hurt less. “But I think maybe we both rushed into this, and now… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for this. For us,”

There was a long silence, his face softening, eyes full of something like defeat. And then he spoke, his voice quiet but steady.

“I think I knew, somewhere in the back of my head,” he admitted. “I wanted to be the one to make you forget. To make you forget the other person. The one who… knows you. Like that letter,”

You froze at his words, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

Nick shifted uneasily, rubbing his neck, looking around as if he wanted to find some kind of answer in the shelves of books. “I mean…” he said slowly, “You were never really mine, were you? Not in the way I wanted. Not in the way I needed,”

A knot tightened in your chest. He was right, but it hurt to hear it. “You’re not wrong,” you murmured, your heart sinking. “I don’t know what I was looking for. But I don’t think it was this,”

Nick gave a soft, resigned chuckle. “Yeah, I think I figured that out a little too late,” He paused. “I tried. You know? I tried to make it work, tried to be what you needed. But I guess… you’re right. I couldn’t compete with someone who really knows you,”

“I’m sorry, Nick.” You said the words because they were true, because you did care about him, but you also knew that this wasn’t right anymore. You couldn’t force it to be something it wasn’t.

He nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “I just… I don’t think I can keep pretending I’m okay with the idea of you still thinking about someone else. I’m not him, am I?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No. You’re not,”

For a moment, you both sat there in the quiet of the library, the sounds of students working, the soft scratch of quills on parchment. It was a peaceful kind of sadness, though. Not dramatic or explosive — just two people who had tried, who had cared, and who were now realising that they had reached the end of the road.

Nick exhaled softly, meeting your eyes. “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me,” he said quietly. “I think you need to find the person who really gets you. The person who sees all of you, like that bloody letter,”

You felt something tighten in your chest at his words. “I want you to be happy too. I’m sorry,”

He smiled faintly, his eyes soft. “Don’t be. It’s just… I think we both knew this wasn’t going to last, not like this. I care about you. I always will. But I can’t be the person who’s always second best. I can’t compete with someone who sees you the way you deserve to be seen,”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I get it,”

“Good luck,” Nick stood up, dusting off his robes. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Even if it’s not me,”

And with that, he walked away.

—

It took a few weeks for the aftermath to settle in. You weren’t sure if you’d done the right thing. But as time passed, you started to understand. You’d never been in love with Nick. You’d never been in love with the idea of him, either. And even if you hadn’t fully understood what that letter meant—the one you’d read so many times, the one you’d kept hidden under your pillow—you were starting to.

You’d tried. You’d tried to make it work, to make Nick fit, to make everything make sense. But in the end, you couldn’t ignore the cracks that had formed the moment you started comparing his kindness to the depth of someone else’s words.

You hadn’t found it yet, whatever it was that you were looking for. But you knew you would. It wasn’t about finding someone who could match Nick’s sweetness, or someone who could take his place.

It was about finding someone who saw you.

—

The Marauders had a plan. A very misguided, very well-meaning plan. And, naturally, that plan revolved around James.

They were determined to fix him, to make him move on, to help him forget about the girl who had (without him knowing) already managed to ruin him. But, as usual, they hadn’t bothered to take into account the very real fact that James didn’t want to move on. At least, not in the way they thought he should.

Ever since his brief but very real heartbreak — the one that no one, especially you, knew anything about—James had been moody. His attempts at pretending he was fine fell flat. He acted like he was fine, smiled like he was fine, but everyone who knew him could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t fine. He was not fine.

But the Marauders, being the Marauders, had an answer. They were going to find him someone to kiss, someone to distract him from you.

James had tried to shrug it off. He had told his friends, repeatedly, that he wasn’t interested in anyone else. He didn’t want to be fixed, and he certainly didn’t want to forget you, not when he couldn’t forget that letter, not when every little thing about you still echoed in his head.

But the Marauders were insistent.

“Mate, you’ve got to move on,” Sirius said one evening, sprawled across the couch in the Gryffindor common room. He was half-teasing, but there was a seriousness to his voice that James couldn’t ignore. “You’ve never kissed anyone else. Never shagged anyone. How do you know you don’t like it, huh?”

James shot Sirius a dry look. “I don’t need to shag anyone to know I’m not interested in anyone else,” he muttered. He had been hoping to avoid the topic altogether, but Sirius, as always, was relentless.

“You don’t know that until you try, Prongs,” Sirius said, winking as he nudged James in the side. “Besides, you can’t just pine over her forever. You’ll drive yourself mad,”

James clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. “I’m not pining,” he growled. “I’m just… not interested in anyone else. It’s that simple,”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so,” He flashed a grin. “But you’re coming to the Quidditch after-party tonight, right? I’ve got a plan to fix this. You need to at least try,”

And that was how James ended up, several hours later, at the Gryffindor Quidditch after-party, reluctantly swept into the chaos of his friends’ scheming. There was no getting out of it. Sirius had insisted. Remus had given him a knowing look. Peter had simply nodded along, looking vaguely terrified of being left out of the plan.

James had been forced to accept that the Marauders weren’t going to leave him alone until he did something. So, with as much reluctance as he could muster, he gave in.

The party was rowdy, with a thrumming energy that could only come from a Gryffindor Quidditch victory. It didn’t take long before Sirius had dragged James into a conversation with a fifth-year Gryffindor girl, a girl James vaguely recognised from the common room. She was nice enough, but James wasn’t interested. Still, he followed through because, well, Sirius had already set it all up.

"Just give it a try, mate," Sirius whispered, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up from across the room. “You might actually enjoy it,”

James barely suppressed a groan. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of kissing anyone but you felt wrong. There was a tightness in his chest every time he tried to think about being with someone else.

He didn’t know what it meant, whether it was the letter, or the way you had slipped so easily into his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be here. That he wasn’t supposed to be kissing someone else.

Nevertheless, after some awkward small talk, the girl leaned in, and there it was. His first real kiss, forced and strange, under the loud cheer of the party around them. It lasted barely ten seconds before he pulled away, completely baffled by the sensation. She smiled at him, clearly pleased with herself, but it didn’t feel right. The kiss, the girl, the situation, none of it.

It wasn’t until Sirius erupted from across the room, clapping and cheering loudly, that the full weight of the absurdity of the situation hit James. Sirius, always the showman, made it a scene—announcing loudly that James had officially kissed his first girl, and proudly pointing at James with a triumphant grin as if it was some massive accomplishment. It was a joke, sure, but it made James cringe.

You were standing near the punch bowl with Marlene and Dorcas at that very moment, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as the whole situation unfolded in front of you.

There was something about the way Sirius made a spectacle of it that rubbed you the wrong way. The obnoxious cheering, the over-the-top comments, the way everyone turned to look at James and the girl like they were stars on a stage.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it bothered you so much. Maybe it was the sheer lack of subtlety. Maybe it was the fact that James didn’t seem to care much for the girl at all, or that he was only doing this to prove something. You couldn’t quite place it, but something about it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You found yourself staring a little too long, a little too intently, at the scene. Maybe it was the stupid party. Maybe it was the fact that James had always been so full of himself. But whatever it was, it didn’t sit right with you.

Your friends noticed. Marlene raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You okay?”

You blinked, startled by the question. “Yeah, of course,” you said quickly, though your voice was a little too sharp to sound convincing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she and Dorcas exchanged a knowing look, and you felt a flush of embarrassment rise up your neck.

You glanced back at James, still awkwardly standing with the girl, still the centre of the attention. You looked away, the feeling in your chest growing uncomfortable. You didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way this felt, or the way it made you feel. And yet, you couldn’t deny the slight tug of something — something more complicated than you were willing to admit.

After the party, James felt it too. The awkwardness. The discomfort. The wrongness. He sat with the Marauders, and despite the fact that they were celebrating his “success,” James couldn’t shake the feeling that it had all been for nothing.

“I don’t know what I expected,” James admitted, dropping his head into his hands as they all sat around in their dorm. “It didn’t feel right. I didn’t… I didn’t enjoy it,”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, an almost sympathetic look crossing his face. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“No,” James muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt wrong. It wasn’t the same,”

The Marauders exchanged glances, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Of course it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same. Not when his mind was still filled with someone else. Not when James wasn’t ready to let go.

“Well, mate,” Remus said softly, “I think we all know what’s really going on here,”

James shot him a look of frustration. “I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else,”

“Alright,” Sirius said, his voice suddenly serious, “If you’re really not ready then we’ll leave you to it,”

James sighed, rubbing his eyes in defeat. “I don’t want anyone else. I just… I don’t know what to do about it,”

The Marauders fell into a thoughtful silence, each of them looking at James with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. There was nothing they could do for him, not unless he was ready to confront the real reason he was so stuck.

And, for now, James was content to wallow. He didn’t want to move on, and he wasn’t about to let anyone push him into it.

—

There was a strange sort of silence to James’ heartbreak. It didn’t roar like his laughter or crackle like his temper. It didn’t come out in jokes or pranks or the boisterous chaos that usually followed him around like a second shadow.

No, this was something different. Something quieter. Quieter than anyone had ever expected of him. There was a whiteness to it, an absence, a stillness—a kind of stillness that looked out of place on him.

He didn't speak to anyone about it anymore. The Marauders had tried—Sirius, mostly, with his not-so-subtle nudges and jabs—but James had stopped responding. He didn’t mope, exactly. He just grew more introspective. Not solemn, not angry, just… somewhere in between. And every time someone mentioned your name, something behind his eyes would flicker and then dim again.

It wasn’t until he overheard you, Marlene, and Lily chatting in the corridor near the library that everything shifted again.

You were trying to be quiet—your voice low, tone calm, your words slightly hesitant. But James had always been good at picking you out from a crowd. It was something he hadn’t even realised he’d trained himself to do until recently. So when he passed by that corridor and caught your voice, he paused. And then he heard it.

“Well, it wasn’t like Nick did anything wrong. He’s sweet. I just…” You sighed. “I don’t know. It stopped feeling like it was about me, you know? He was chasing something, not necessarily me. And after that letter turned up, it just made it worse,”

James stopped breathing. That letter.

“You still don’t know who it’s from?” Lily asked, a note of intrigue in her voice.

You huffed out a laugh. “No. And it’s driving me mad. I feel like… whoever wrote it knows me better than I know myself. And I don't even know his name,”

Marlene scoffed. “If he knew you that well, he’d grow a spine and tell you who he is,”

“He’s probably scared,” Lily offered gently. “Those letters aren’t just passing notes. They’re—intimate,”

James ducked into an empty classroom before they could spot him, heart pounding. His palms were damp. His whole body felt too hot, too aware. You'd broken up with Nick. Because of him. Not that you knew it was him, but still. His words had changed something.

He had told himself, after that first letter, that it was a one-time thing. A catharsis. An exorcism of all the things he couldn’t say to you out loud. But after his revelation. He found himself itching to write another. And another.

The second letter had come days after he saw you in the courtyard laughing at something Dorcas had said, your head thrown back in a way that made his chest ache. He’d gone back to the dorm, heart full and throat tight, and written about it—how he wished he could be the one making you laugh like that. How he’d never seen anything brighter than the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

Then came the third letter, and the fourth. And soon, it had become a habit. A ritual, almost.

When he couldn’t sleep, he wrote.

When he saw you in class and wanted to say something but couldn’t find the nerve, he wrote.

When you passed him in the corridor and gave him a polite, almost friendly smile, he wrote.

And the letters changed. They weren’t just emotional ramblings anymore—they were layered with observations, with memories, with confessions he had never let himself say aloud.

You wore your hair different in Potions today. I liked it. But I think I would’ve liked it even if it looked awful, which is… probably not a great thing to admit, is it? You’ve got this little crease between your brows when you’re concentrating—it only appears when you’re really focused. I don’t think you know you do it. When you walk down the corridor, I can tell what kind of mood you’re in before I even see your face. It’s in the sound of your steps. In the rhythm of it. Happy-you walks different than annoyed-you.

You never responded. You couldn’t. There was never a return address, never any way to send anything back. But James didn’t care. He didn’t need a reply. Just writing to you—being able to express it, even anonymously—felt like enough.

Sort of.

Because the truth was, as much as it helped to write the words down, it also hurt. Every letter was a reminder of everything he wanted and couldn’t have. Everything he’d spent years pretending not to feel—buried beneath jokes and hexes and all the noise of adolescence.

And you? You kept every single one.

You didn’t tell the girls about it. Not really. Not after the second letter. You pretended it was over, that it had been some sweet, silly little mystery. But in truth, you’d hidden them. All of them. In a little shoebox under your bed, wrapped in an old jumper. Some were creased from how often you unfolded and re-folded them. Some had the faintest smudge in the corner from where you’d cried, unexpectedly, at something you hadn’t realised you needed to hear.

You didn’t know what to do with them. You weren’t over Nick—not really. That kind of closeness doesn’t disappear overnight. But it was impossible to keep pretending that he had understood you like this anonymous writer did.

Whoever he was, he had seen you. Not just the version of you that most people acknowledged—the smart, sharp, sometimes-sarcastic girl who was always one step ahead of a comeback. No, this person had paid attention to the margins of you, the unnoticed edges. The things you didn’t even know were there until he wrote them down.

I think I started liking you back in fourth year. You were defending someone in the corridor—some little second-year who’d dropped their books, and some Slytherins were laughing at him. You didn’t even hesitate. You stepped right in like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That’s when I knew. Only I’m not sure if I just like you anymore. It’s something more. Something I don’t know how to name. Is it pathetic to say that I hear your voice before I see you? That I can pick you out of a room before I even look up? I don’t mean to. It’s just—it’s like my ears are tuned to you. Like a frequency I can’t ignore.

You lay awake most nights now, reading the letters again after the others were asleep. You tried to analyse the handwriting. You wondered if it was someone in your year. You made a list of suspects in your head and crossed off half of them, even though it didn’t bring you any closer.

Sometimes, when you caught James looking at you from across the room, you’d wonder. But then you’d scoff at yourself, because James Potter? Really? He was… well, James. All swagger and messy hair and cocky grins. You’d made peace with the fact that he wasn’t half as insufferable anymore, but he was still James.

And yet…

The letters were not the work of someone who didn’t care. They weren’t careless. They were intimate in a way that left you breathless. Each one revealed a little more—each sentence brushing up against truths you hadn’t admitted even to yourself.

They came like clockwork now—one every week, always arriving in the oddest of places. Slipped inside your Arithmancy book. Folded neatly on your dinner plate. Once, even tucked inside your scarf in the common room, which really freaked you out because it meant he was closer than you thought.

It was terrifying and exhilarating. And the worst part? You were beginning to need them. Crave them, even. His words had become a constant, something you looked forward to with equal parts dread and hope.

The box under your bed grew heavier by the week.

And James? He was slowly losing his mind. Every time he saw you reading a letter—head tilted, eyes flicking across the page, your expression soft and unreadable—it hurt in the best and worst way. You liked them. He knew you did. But the longer he went without saying anything, the more impossible it felt to tell you the truth.

Because what if knowing ruined it? What if it stopped being magical the second his name was attached?

He was a coward. Marlene had said so, loudly, and James knew it was true. He could face down a rogue Bludger, duel a seventh-year, prank Filch and escape with a grin—but he couldn’t tell you he was the one who had been writing to you.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

He poured his soul into those margins. Into those pages that would never carry his name. Because it was the only way he could tell you the truth and survive it.

And maybe that was enough.

Or maybe, eventually, it wouldn’t be.

—

You didn’t mean to tell them. Honestly, you had every intention of keeping the whole thing a secret forever. But Marlene had a sixth sense for drama, and Dorcas had a sharper nose for mystery than a trained bloodhound. So when your bed-curtains had rustled suspiciously in the middle of the night and Marlene had caught a glimpse of shimmering ink through the crack of your open trunk, it was game over.

You’d barely managed to shove the letter beneath your pillow before she pounced.

“Aha!” she whispered in triumph, yanking back your curtains with no regard for your sleep schedule. “I knew you were hiding something!”

“Marlene, go away,” you groaned, but Lily was already sitting up, blinking owlishly, and Dorcas was dragging her own blanket across to your bed.

“Nope,” Dorcas said brightly, sliding in beside you with terrifying ease. “Spill it. Is it more letters?”

You were betrayed by the silence. The way your face didn’t even have time to arrange into a proper lie before the truth fell across your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Lily whispered. “There’s more?”

“There’s loads more,” Marlene said, shoving aside your blankets and finding the shoebox tucked beneath your bed like a woman possessed. “Holy hell, you’ve got a whole bloody collection.”

You didn’t fight it. Not properly. Not after the fourth letter was unfolded and read aloud in a reverent hush, the girls falling completely silent around you—save for the occasional sniff or soft exhale of disbelief.

“He watched you drop your quill and memorised how you tucked your hair behind your ear,” Dorcas said, practically vibrating. “I thought blokes only noticed when girls breathed near them,”

“It’s beautiful,” Lily whispered. “It’s like something out of a novel,”

“Romantic,” Dorcas agreed.

“Terrifying,” Marlene added. “I mean, what if it’s Mulciber or something?”

You almost choked. “Please don’t even joke about that,”

Thus began the unofficial—and entirely chaotic—formation of The Girls’ Detective Agency. It wasn’t your name for it, obviously, but once Marlene had made badges (from parchment, glitter, and sheer manic determination), you didn’t have much choice in the matter.

The mission was clear: uncover the identity of your mysterious letter-writer.

Their methods, however, were… questionable.

They started with handwriting analysis. Marlene attempted to casually wander through the library, requesting to borrow ink samples from boys “just out of curiosity,” and Lily spent an afternoon in the common room “helping” people with their Transfiguration essays so she could examine their penmanship. Dorcas, who had stolen your Divination notes under the pretext of “astrological clarity,” tried to match the emotional tone of the letters to various star signs.

“I’m telling you,” she said one night with complete certainty, “this is a Cancer Sun, maybe a Pisces Moon. This is water sign poetry,”

You didn't know what a Pisces Moon was meant to mean, but Dorcas said it like gospel, so you just nodded.

Meanwhile, Marlene was not subtle. At all.

“What if it’s Remus?” she hissed once across the common room, loud enough for three people to turn around. “He’s broody. And he reads so much poetry,”

You swore you saw Remus twitch.

But you shook your head. “No. It’s not him,”

You were sure about that. Remus was clever, kind, thoughtful—but the letters didn’t sound like him. His voice was steadier, more deliberate. The person writing to you was something else entirely—someone who struggled with the weight of what he felt, who was reckless with his emotions in a way that wasn’t controlled or clean. Someone who wrote like he was bleeding onto the page.

There were flashes—little things—that made you wonder if maybe, maybe, it could be James.

But every time the thought flitted across your mind, you swatted it away.

James Potter didn’t write letters like this. James Potter was a menace with a Quidditch obsession and a lopsided grin. James Potter, who had only recently evolved into someone tolerable, wasn’t exactly someone you pictured lying awake at night, pouring his soul into parchment.

Sure, he wasn’t as obnoxious as he used to be. And sure, there was something softer in the way he looked at you lately—but you’d chalked that up to the fragile peace you’d made after last year’s chaos. There was no way he was the one leaving notes beneath your scarf.

Besides, if he’d written something this vulnerable, he would’ve shoved it into your hand and dared you to read it aloud just to watch you squirm. Right?

So, no. Not James.

You were wrong, obviously.

But that wasn’t the point.

—

The final week of term came faster than expected. sunlight glittered on the edges of everything—floating house flags outside the Great Hall doors, open windows letting in a soft breeze, a warmth that seeped into your bones. Everything felt a little too warm, a little too bright.

And still, the letters kept coming.

The last one arrived on the morning of the train home.

It was simpler than the others. A small square of parchment, no shimmering ink this time. Just words. Words that didn’t try to be anything other than honest.

I don’t know if I’ll write again. I think I might be running out of ways to say it. I miss things I’ve never had with you, and that’s a strange kind of grief. Have a nice holiday. Try not to overthink things. I know that’s rich coming from me. Yours, always— even if you never know who.

That was it.

You folded the letter carefully, hands trembling, and slid it into the shoebox with the others. And then you stared at it for what felt like hours, until Lily touched your arm gently and said, “We’ll miss the train,”

And that was that.

—

James watched you leave through the frost-smeared train window, his heart quieter than it had been in months. The Marauders were deep into a loud game of Exploding Snap, Sirius laughing at every blast, Peter shouting protests, Remus rolling his eyes fondly.

None of them knew he’d written another one.

James had stopped telling them after the fifth or sixth. It felt private. Sacred, almost. Sharing it would have made it real in a way he wasn’t sure he could handle. So he kept it to himself—his stupid little secret. His confession scrawled across parchment instead of spoken out loud.

He knew he was being a coward. That had become obvious. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not when he saw the way you read them, all curled up with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Not when he noticed the way your hand trembled slightly on the paper. You felt something. He was sure of it.

But he also knew that eventually, you’d want more. And he couldn’t keep offering faceless intimacy forever. So he wrote the last one. Said goodbye. Sort of.

And then he sat on the train with his forehead pressed to the glass, pretending he didn’t care that you hadn’t figured it out. That you were probably leaving for the summer thinking about someone else entirely. That maybe, despite everything, he’d never actually be enough.

—

Back at home, the days grew longer. The pace slowed. The house was warm, the food good, the sleep long and uninterrupted. And yet every night, without fail, you found yourself at the window.

The box of letters came out the first night you returned. You told yourself it was for closure.

It wasn’t.

You read them again—each one from the beginning. Chronologically. Like chapters in a book. You traced the handwriting with your fingers, letting the words sink into you slowly.

He loved you. That was the truth of it.

Maybe he hadn’t said it directly. Maybe he hadn’t signed his name. But no one wrote like that without meaning it. No one watched you so closely, noticed so many tiny things, remembered throwaway moments from years ago unless they’d been in love with you for a long, long time.

And you were still no closer to knowing who he was.

That was the worst part.

How could someone be so close and still so invisible?

You stared out the window into the night, watching your breath fog up the glass. The snow fell softly outside, blanketing the world in silence. Somewhere out there was someone who had seen all of you—really seen you—and hadn’t asked for anything in return.

And you missed him. Terribly.

Not Nick. Not the quiet comfort of that easy romance.

But him. The one who knew the cadence of your footsteps. Who listened for your voice before he saw your face. Who remembered fourth year like it was yesterday and noticed how your hands trembled when you were angry.

You missed someone you didn’t know. And it felt like the loneliest thing in the world.

—

I know I said I wouldn’t write you anymore, but I’m afraid I can’t help myself. The truth is, I’ve been terrified of saying it out loud, of giving you something you don’t need or want. But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve loved you for so long, in ways that I can’t even put into words. I’ve watched you, really watched you, every day, and I’ve noticed things about you that no one else ever could. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, the way you hum softly to yourself when you’re studying, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you care about. I’ve memorised the way your voice sounds when you laugh, the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed, the way you frown when you’re trying to figure something out. And I’ve done all of this because I care about you. So much more than I should. I’ve tried to get over you, to forget you. I’ve tried to date other people, to move on. But none of them were you. None of them could be. I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if I’ll ever send it. But I need you to know that I’ve been here, always here, loving you in the quietest ways, the most secret ways. Maybe this is selfish. Maybe it’s unfair of me to ask you to care about someone who has never had the guts to say this to your face. But I don’t know what else to do anymore. I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter to me. Because it does. You matter to me, more than I can say. I’ve always been here, waiting, in the margins of your life. Maybe that’s where I belong. But if you ever look up, I’ll be there, still waiting. —James F. Potter

He stopped writing. Blinked down at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

His hand hovered over the signature. It looked too sharp, too obvious. Too final.

He stared at it for a long time.

Folded the letter in half.

Then unfolded it.

Folded it again.

“Mate, you’re torturing yourself,” came a groggy voice from across the room. Sirius, of course. “Just send it to her already,”

James looked up. “She won’t want it,”

“You don’t know that,”

“She might hate me,”

Sirius yawned and flopped back down onto his pillow. “She definitely won’t hate you. That’s the worst-case scenario you’ve built up in that tragically romantic brain of yours. And even if she did… so what? At least you’d know,”

James looked down at the folded parchment.

He could send it. He could sneak into the Owlery now, under his Invisibility Cloak, and you’d get it tomorrow. And then you’d know. Everything.

But then you’d know.

He imagined your face when you opened it. The surprise. The disbelief. The way you’d go back and read every single letter again, this time with the truth laid bare. Would it be relief? Would it be disappointment?

Or worse—would you already know, and just not want to face it?

James tucked the letter into his pillowcase and lay back down.

His heart was racing.

He didn’t sleep.

He didn’t send the letter, either.

Not yet.

Maybe never.

—next part.

[cherspastries]

Cher!! I love your writing and you aesthetic so much :)

You’re a graphic designer yeah? What driver do you think would work well with a graphic designer reader, and on that note, what occupation do you think each driver’s s/o would have?

And do you do emoji anons? 👀 If so can I be 🫧?

I LOVE HER AS SHE IS,

DOING HER THING!

WORK IT!

2025 Grid x Reader

SUMMARY 𐙚 What jobs I think each driver’s girlfriend would have + how you first met.

WARNINGS 𐙚 Fluff, reader is described with feminine terms, mentions of alcohol / handling alcohol, not proofread

WORD COUNT 𐙚 6.3K

A/N 𐙚 Hi!! Tysm I love my theme, and yes I do accept emoji anons! Hello 🫧 !! Also, before I actually write, I love all the WAGs and respect their jobs, but I wanted to romanticize this a bit so… All the drivers are getting hypothetical new girlfriends with weird and interesting occupations and personalities

DIRECTORY | MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN

RedBull ෆ

Max Verstappen

Bartender

You cannot convince me this man isn’t always in need of a drink. Whether he’s celebrating or he’s upset, Max likes a good gin and tonic. Sure, he can make his own, but nobody makes it as good as his lovely girlfriend: a bartender. That’s right! He met you at a club in Monaco, of course. It was after he had won a grand prix, and he kept coming back for more and more alcohol until he was blackout drunk. You had to call him a cab home, and he kept mumbling about how beautiful and perfect you were. When he came back to retrieve his lost phone the next day, he apologized and properly asked you out.

But it’s also nice because Max’s favorite way to relax with you is to lay across the couch, drink in hand, and watching a show you both enjoy. He doesn’t want to overwork you, but if you offer to whip something up real fast, he’s definitely not going to say no to your hard work and encourage you to keep doing what you love. Side note, I genuinely think he loves being able to party at the club you work at. He loves getting to enjoy a night out, but also being able to visit you whenever he wants. His friends have stopped wondering where he’s ran off to after they found out who was behind the bar. They shouldn’t be surprised when he disappears every five minutes to go chat you up again. Sometimes regular patrons give him dirty looks because they think he’s hitting on you inappropriately, but then you flash the matching set of rings and they simmer down.

Yuki Tsunoda

Seamstress

I’ll be honest, I was unsure about this one, but I honestly think it makes a lot of sense. Yuki has really good style, so I had a feeling his partner should be related to fashion. However, seamstress was a bit of a stretch. I think you’d make a lot of clothes for him, which is why he has such great style to begin with. He’s wearing handmade, high quality patchwork hoodies and jeans and shoes that you decorated yourself, all made by you! So yeah, whenever someone compliments his very fitting form of fashion, he lets you know that the people are certainly admiring your work. Do we all remember when the internet went crazy over Yuki wearing his RedBull shirt unbuttoned? Yeah. All you.

He first met you when you were still just a fan. Some might argue the dynamic seems inappropriate, but you were never a huge fan of him specifically. Just… An F1 fan. You sewed shirts for the RedBull team, and they weren’t the typical tacky wear that the team usually received. These had lots of thought and enthusiasm put into them— He could only imagine how hard and how long you have slaved away making those, so he wore it with pride… Even if it was a tad bit too big. After that, he kept seeing you in the paddock, communicating with various engineers and drivers, collecting autographs like it was your job. He complimented your work, you introduced yourself, and the rest was history. So yeah, you ended up falling for the irresistible charm of Yuki Tsunoda, and honestly who can blame you?

Mercedes ෆ

George Russell

Graphic designer

Yes, okay. This is my line of work, and I honestly believe George would be the most supportive for a graphic designer out of everyone. I mean, he at least thinks he knows fashion and technology, so he assumes that he’s being helpful. I can see the two of you being high school sweethearts that pursued different paths, but stuck together. Of course you knew George was into racing at the time, because he was karting even back then, but you never expected him to reach such fame. He even managed to get to a job with the FIA, designing graphics for winners and podiums and such, so yeah. People have been silently appreciating your work for years. You’re the one who gets to see all the unused winner graphics.

Whenever you’re working on a project, you consult George. Even though half the time you don’t listen to his advice, it’s nice to get somebody else’s opinion and support. You know he’ll be honest instead of giving you that “it’s perfect the way it is” bullshit, so his unfiltered opinion is just what you need to get a sense of what the right direction might be. He used to sugarcoat it, but you eventually told him that his honesty wouldn’t hurt your feelings, and he started to be more open. Not that it was rude, because his opinions were still helpful and polite! He always tops it off with a kiss and a wish of good luck. He knows you’ll make the right decision.

Kimi Antonelli

Tutor

Alright. We all have fun joking about Kimi needing a math tutor, but what if he doesn’t. Because his girlfriend is one. You know? You’re still in school, just like him, so you make a lot of money by people paying you to help them out in classes. Yes, Kimi needs a nerd girlfriend I feel it in my SOUL. Now, contrary to popular belief, you actually don’t tutor him. Why? Because he gets distracted by you very easily. He can’t stop looking at your pretty eyes, your plump lips, and your soft hair. All he wants is to bury his face in your neck and lay on top of you 24/7/365, because you’re so soft and warm. So no, you don’t tutor him. You can’t tutor him. You’ve tried. You’ve failed.

He brings you to the Imola Grand Prix, happily showing you off and introducing you to all of his track mates with that huge boyish grin. He tells them all that you’re just his tutor, and that afterwards you’ll be in his drivers room teaching him the pythagorean theorem (which he doesn’t even know how to pronounce in any language, mind you, so he’s just stumbling over syllables to get the idea out.) You correct him and politely let them know you’re actually his girlfriend. They all tease him, insisting that this whole story was just an excuse to sneak you into his room for a cheeky make out session, which you both quickly deny with flushed cheeks and slight stutters. Looks like he’s been caught before he could even try.

Ferrari ෆ

Charles Leclerc

Fashion designer

Now this isn’t to say that Charles doesn’t already have good fashion sense, because he definitely does. However, I do think that after the two of you started dating, there was a noticeable change in his choices. He started to dress in a manner that was suitable to his… Well, everything. He had custom made clothes with logos pertaining to him on them, everything matched his face and body shape, and he was dressed to an absolute T. All thanks to you! He doesn’t even have to ask, you just quietly sketch up designs for jackets and shirts that he can proudly show off at races, and you’ve even helped him customize merch that is both affordable, and fits the aesthetic of most of his fans. Goodbye trashy t-shirts with a logo lazily slapped on, and hello well thought out designs.

You were definitely hired to design some of his merch after the team saw your concept sketches. He was completely clueless to your arrival, but once he saw you he knew there was something irresistible that surrounded you. Your aura was undeniably attractive, and you were a genius when it came to your job. Of course. He loved your sense of fashion, so Charles discreetly asked you out to go get coffee and discuss things some more. Except, the two of you ended up talking and laughing the entire time, so of course you had to reschedule. And then you had to reschedule again because the same thing happened. Then finally you realized what he was doing, and asked him out on an official date. From then on, he proudly showed you off as his girlfriend. No more hiding!

Lewis Hamilton

Makeup artist

Yes, both of the Ferrari boys have their fashion girlfriends. I think if they existed in the same universe they’d be really good friends, too. I think Lewis loves to listen to you rant about different qualities of makeup, and how different makeups can affect break-outs on skin, and how to prevent all that. There’s a lot that goes into your line of work, and he never gets tired of hearing it. I think his favorite thing is hearing you talk about different color palettes and how you decide what colors suit a client best. You’ve definitely done similar things on him, and he stays true to your advice and tries to mix those colors in to his outfits. He also refuses to hire anyone but you to do his makeup for events, and he brings you everywhere he can. Trust that you were attached at the hip during the Met Gala, and that he was announcing to everyone he met that you did his makeup, and how talented you are. Watch out because you’re gonna have so many clients coming your way.

Unlike Charles and his girlfriend, you were not hired to work for him when you met. It was actually more of a meet cute— He was asking for advice in your local beauty shop, because he figured you looked like you knew what you were doing and could tell him what the correct shade of blush was for his niece, who was clinging to his side. You were in awe because holy shit, the Lewis Hamilton was asking you for advice, which you gave while stammering to an embarrassing extent. He thanked you, and asked for your number with the excuse that he might need more advice in the future. You did not hesitate to give it to him, and while he didn’t call for advice, he did call to ask you out properly. Your dynamic is very much so “girlfriend who knows a lot about fashion and boyfriend who pretends not to so he can hear her ramble.”

McLaren ෆ

Oscar Piastri

Food critic

Oh yes, the two of you are most certainly bonding over a shared love of food. Oscar Piastri doesn’t present himself as a foodie, but it’s more of a hidden pleasure of his. I won’t lie, when you first mentioned your occupation he thought it was somewhat funny. Reviewing food for a living seemed like something simple. He took it at the base level ideation and assumed that’s all it was. However, when you got really invested with talking about it, Oscar was quick to learn there was so much more. You discussed about different types of recipes, and methods when it came to baking. You ranted about cuts of meat and how each one had its own taste. With your influence, he quickly became quite the enthusiast himself. So, every time you guys went to a restaurant, you both ordered something entirely new to compare and contrast to past dishes. It was fun getting to try new things with you.

When you first met, it was in a restaurant. One of those crowded places where you ended up shoulder to shoulder with a random stranger because of how busy it was. For you, that random stranger ended up being famous racer Oscar Piastri. Although it was awkward at first, you sparked up soft chatter about the meal. He told you he was having the same thing he always did: pasta. You explained your meal, which was exotic to the both of you. When you expressed your disinterest in the taste he teasingly asked what made you so qualified to comment on such a thing. That’s what he found out. Intrigued by your charm, and your passion for all things food, Oscar couldn’t help but ask for your number.

Lando Norris

Teacher

Lando, in my firm opinion, is fantastic with children. He’s a little immature himself, which gives him that natural charm that makes getting along with children easy. He has no troubles throwing on that enthusiastic tone that lights their brains up. One morning in particular, Lando’s dear friend Max had a huge favor to ask of him: Take Penelope to school. Kelly was out for work, and he was running a high fever, which meant ‘Uncle Lala’ was on duty for the day. Admittedly she was a little late, and she showed up with a smoothie from Lando’s favorite coffee shop and a brand new pair of shoes. While he’s good with kids, he’s terrible at saying no. He walked the young girl into her classroom, and he damn near lost his mind. You were perfect— radiant, kind, soft-spoken but not timid. The dream girl that mirrored him perfectly. Even though you playfully scolded them both for being late, all he could focus on was how beautiful you were.

From that day forward, Lando made it painfully clear that something was up. He offered nearly everyday to take Penelope to school, which Max and Kelly would not complain about. She always returned with a huge grin on her face, recommending that her uncle take her again because he was so fun. However, when she started talking about the flirty comments he’d exchange with her teacher, they realized why he was suddenly taking an interest in the life of their child. Lando loves hearing about your day and listening to the various interactions between the kids in your class. He’s smitten with you and your ability to flawlessly interact with children— Unfortunately this means your relationship is destined to be filled with baby fever from you both. 24/7.

Aston Martin ෆ

Fernando Alonso

Wedding planner

As expected, you meet at the wedding of a mutual friend. You planned everything from the venue to the number of flowers in each arrangement, and both the bride and groom were eternally grateful for your help. It was always much easier to have someone else do a majority of the planning for you while you got to sit back and nod along to every suggestion made. In short, your efforts paid off immensely. When you sat down at your assigned table, you were surprised to see the Spanish man in question not far behind you. He seated himself across from you, reaching a hand out to shake yours politely. He was charming right off the bat, his flirty comments flowing with ease. You almost wondered if you were intentionally set up to sit beside this guy, because your fun-loving personalities matched up nicely. He matched your vibe and you matched his.

Now you were going 20 years strong, each anniversary celebrated more profound than the last. You were teased nonstop by friends and friends of friends about the lack of a ring on your finger. “Twenty years and he still hasn’t made it permanent?” was something you heard more often than you were willing to admit, but in all honesty, neither of you were interested in the concept of marriage. Your love was all you needed to seal the deal. You didn’t require a fancy ring to know that. But finally, after years and years of waiting, Fernando dropped down to one knee to give you the opportunity to finally plan your own damn wedding, and you happily accepted. You harbored no anger towards his decision to wait, because ultimately it made the experience a lot more special. You finally got to be on the other end of things and understand firsthand why people hire you to begin with: Planning your own wedding is not all it cracks up to be.

Lance Stroll

Author

Lance needs the peace and quiet that an author girlfriend brings to his life. He’s a well known introvert, which has yet to go unnoticed by anyone that he’s met. Lance prefers to keep to himself, and tends to distance from individuals who are overly loud. While opposites tend to attract, such an ideal is not the case for this fellow. He dreams of a romantically quiet life, and you’re there to fulfill that for him. You meet in the most cliche spot possible: a library. He’s not even that big on reading, but the spot was quiet and it gave him an excuse to brood in a corner and listen to music. You happened to be doing a book signing that day, which made the joint just a tad bit louder than he would have liked. However, when he saw you sitting at a table with a line extending outside the door, a cute smile on your face… Lance was utterly captivated. Your voice was low, your smiles were awkward, and your hands were trembling. Maybe it was weird, but that was everything he yearned for and more. When people started to clear and you started to pack up, he made a move.

Safe to say that said move was successful. The early stages of the relationship were less than ideal with both of you waiting on the other person to initiate every single thing, but finally you warmed up to each other and fell into a comfortable rhythm with your everyday lives. He cherished the days where he came home from loud engines and bustling crowds to the soft clicking of your keyboard, and the occasional flipping of pages. At the end of the day, no matter how stressful things get, Lance will always be grateful for the safety of your warm embrace as you hold him close to you at night. You’re his rock and his anchor, keeping him safe from the extroverts of the world. The media finds the two of you to be the ideal celebrity couple. Matching aesthetics, personalities, and beliefs. Your relationship is private, but it’s far from a secret!

Alpine ෆ

Pierre Gasly

Social media manager

I thought I was funny for this. You’re not a very good manager, because you’re always sitting there beside him, giggling at every post he scrolls by that’s related to him. With that being said, you always reach out and double tap the screen, liking whatever stupid thing had you guys giggling to begin with. So, to the people who wonder why Pierre is always liking every F1 related post, it’s actually your doing. You’re less focused on your actual job, and more on whatever content other people have managed to come up with. It’s really funny, in your defense. You guys first met because you were hired as the Alpine social media manager, but you always ended up laughing just a tad bit too much with Pierre over your ridiculous ideas that he kept building on to. Half the time you barely were able to execute said ideas, and ended up going with something entirely different.

Pierre loves that he found someone to match his energy and be okay with his teasing, along with tease him back. You’re fun— sometimes even more fun than him. Everyone in the paddock would agree. He loves filming videos and taking pictures with you for social media pages, and he loves even more than you get a little bit more freedom with his personal account and have directly spiced up all of his most recent content. Pierre fans have been wondering why most of his stuff has been a lot more enjoyable. Little do they know, you’re quietly working your magic behind the screen. Sorry Pierre, you get no credit. Although, having a hilarious muse does make it much easier.

Franco Colapinto

Florist

With this little flirt, knowing a lot about flowers actually proves to have some value. Franco’s always going out of his way to impress you: fact. He loves bringing home flowers, especially after triple headers, or just generally weekends that felt extra long without you right there beside him. It’s a new bouquet every time. While it is handpicked and arranged by him, it’s safe to say that Franco actually has no clue what he’s doing; his decisions are based off the initial beauty level of the flower. But, we can’t rule out that he intentionally picks randomly, because he does seem to love hearing you lecture him about flower language. He’s got roses being romantic burnt into his memory, but he can’t quite remember that yellow carnations are supposed to mean rejection. He does remember your face the day you brought them home, though, so he decides based on that. You sounded so sad as you explained the initial idea, and Franco was quick to make something up. So now, you guys decided they meant the love of Franco Colapinto— Yeah. He got his own damn flower.

You, as expected, had a meet cute as well. It came straight from a tacky hallmark movie. You had simply been arranging your outdoor stand one day, when a particularly fast biker flew by, clipping the edge of your stand and sending flowers flying through the air. You were devastated to see your hard work flying through the air and drifting away from you. Thankfully, one kind passerby stopped to help you pick up the lost work. He was handsome in his own, unique way. Somewhat familiar, you were sure. He laughed with you as he helped you set things back up, dropping a few flirtatious remarks that had your cheeks growing increasingly warm. It wasn’t until he dropped a joke related to racing that you picked up on it and breathed out a rather distressed, “Oh my God you’re Franco Colapinto!” He barked out a laugh and nodded to confirm your suspicions. He insisted you take his number. You know, just in case you need help dealing with a runaway biker again. It had nothing to do with the fact he thought you were the most beautiful person alive. No, no way.

Williams ෆ

Carlos Sainz

Baker

Get this man a beautiful baker girlfriend who can make him all the sweets in the world. No, but I did have a thought process for this. First date, he still doesn’t quite know that you’re a professional baker, so he’s going on and on about his incredibly pancake recipe when you mention that it’s your favorite breakfast food. You have a recipe of your own, of course, but you’re intrigued by the way he seems so cocky with said recipe, so you let him make you some when you visit him. And honestly, they’re really quite good! You’re considering replacing your own recipe. You repay his kind offer by baking him sweets— and I mean you really got busy in that kitchen, because you’re probably about to hand over 10 large containers full of sweets with flushed ears that tell him everything he needs to know. He’s a little embarrassed that he was ranting about his tasty pancakes to someone who makes them professionally, but he was happy to hear you sincerely liked them.

Now imagine Carlos’ embarrassment when he recounts how the two of you met to begin with. After a long night, he stopped by a local café to pick up a pick-me-up. You were there, but you weren’t behind the counter. You were standing off to the side, leaning over it as you chatted to the barista with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached the register, and you both paused your conversation so said barista could assist him. When Carlos pondered on a dessert from the display case, you very casually suggested that he take a croissant with that ‘trust me’ sort of vibe. He teases you— asks you what makes you a master of breakfast pastries, and you just shrug nonchalantly and tell him that maybe you have ‘insider’ information. He assumes you’re a regular by now, and accepts your suggestion. He gets the croissant. And your number. And a first date… And the embarrassment of finding out way too late into your relationship that you’re the damn baker for the café. That was your insider info.

Alex Albon

Veterinarian

The more obvious choice, yes. While I was afraid this might be too on the nose, I think it makes a lot of sense, really. He has a lot of pets. What does a guy with a lot of pets often do? He takes them to the vet. Alex already takes great care of his pets, so this visit was a little out of the ordinary. His cat had fallen ill, and he needed to get the proper medicine to care for her. But there was you, the newest hire at the clinic who seemed so good with his pet. You gave her treats to keep her distracted as you checked her out, ensuring the man that this was just a common sickness and would pass, but if he wanted he could slip some allergy medicine into her food next time. He was forever grateful. But then, suddenly his pets were falling injured or ill left and right. A man who rarely visited the vet was now becoming a regular, always coming up with some sort of concern. “Doesn’t her leg look weird?” “Nope, looks good to me.” You eventually caught on, and told him that at a vet clinic there was no rules against dating clientele. Now, there was rules against dating patients, but that was because your patients were animals.

He works well with your nonchalant charm. You’re easygoing and laidback, and that’s just what Alex needs. He appreciates having someone he can chill with because his life is often so chaotic that it’s hard for him to take time for himself. Therefore, he has you now. Plus it’s always nice to no longer have to visit the vet when you can now just stop by his house for a quick check up. It becomes even easier when you move in with him, because instead of being worried he can just rely on you to tell him when things are wrong and need to be taken more seriously. All in all, he found an absolute keeper, and the internet won’t stop encouraging him to put a ring on it to ensure nobody else does. Although, not sure anyone needs a veterinarian quite like Alex Albon does. So, I think he’s safe for now.

Visa Cash App Racing Bulls ෆ

Liam Lawson

Actress

I like to think you actually met when filming the F1 movie. You’re a background support character in the film, and Liam was just there to play himself, much like all the other drivers. You two managed to bump into each other, and it seemed like day to day conversations started to take place. You’d share a joke you heard while standing behind him at the coffee making station, or catch him up on the latest set gossip in passing. He was charmed by your wit, and you were charmed by the way he cluelessly fumbled over words around you. Imagine how surprised he was when you asked him out. He felt somewhat disappointed because he had been hoping to have that honor for himself, but he was glad that you reciprocated his feelings.

I think Liam with an actress girlfriend just makes sense anyway. He’s all for the drama you bring to the table, and loves watching every single film you star in, whether it’s a big or small role. He’ll go to every premiere, red carpet, and gala you’re invited to as your plus one. Not only does he love to show his support, but he also realized early on that he gets to meet a lot of his own idols this way. You have lots of connections, and he now has a stack of autographs from famous celebrities at home. It’s a win-win.

Isack Hadjar

Photographer

Your first time meeting Isack was actually a little chaotic. The team hired you to shoot some shots from the first practice on Friday. It was experimental, because it was their first time hiring you, and it was your first time working for a huge company, let alone shooting athletic shots. When it started raining, you hadn’t even noticed. You were so focused on capturing everything perfectly, and with the right settings, that eventually you were completely drenched without a care in the world. It was really down pouring. Subsequently, teams were pulled in from the nasty weather to dry off and warm up. You, however, were still perched in the stands out in the rain, laser focused on your camera. Isack, ever the gentleman, came out with an umbrella and held it over your head. You hadn’t even realized he was there until you felt his shadow cast over you. You looked up, and nearly dropped your camera. You were stuttering all like “Oh- It’s- Oh no, it’s you- Gah, I’m so sorry!” Which only confused him more. You explained you were meant to be taking shots of his team today, but all the ones you got were bad. You were better with portraits. He was stunned by you too. You were beautiful, even with your wet hair plastered to your face and your clothes soaking wet. So, with red cheeks himself, he invited you in to take some portraits, which would hopefully give you a chance at staying with the team. And you did! Which then gave him enough time to work up enough courage to make a move.

You’re a little scatterbrained, it’s true. Every-time you come to the paddock, you’re in a panic as you ramble about how you accidentally left your SD card at home in your laptop, and that your whole reason for coming was now ruined because you didn’t have a way to take photos. Isack reassured you that missing one race wouldn’t be the end of the world. Besides, he ended up finding your SD card in your purse when you asked him to grab your phone. You’re lucky to have found him, because he certainly helps keep you grounded. You’d probably have floated off into space without Isack there to hold you down and keep you steady.

Kick Sauber ෆ

Nico Hülkenberg

Sommelier

You were evidently flawless at your job. You knew everything there was to know about wine, and all of its pairings with food. It was an elegant and refined drink to be saved for fancy events, much like the one you met your beloved at. Your relationship has been in the making for about three years now, and despite its… Awkward start, the two of you have been developing nicely. There was an event for F1 drivers hosted at a vineyard, and you were hired to take care of the wine: a rather simple job. Famous people weren’t a surprise to you anymore, but as you were sharing with your audience the history behind the drink you picked out, you felt your breath leave your body in an untimely manner. That was when he walked in, stealing away your attention. Salt and pepper stubble, a lazy smile, and an appearance that screamed ‘just woke up from a nap in the sun’ in the most endearing way possible. You, a normally charming and easygoing woman, were caught off guard and ended up muttering something stupid like “this wine is… fermented” followed by a nervous laugh, which cued your audience to chuckle along with you.

He teased you later. Of course he did, because how could he not notice the way you’d freeze as you quietly eyed him. When you were setting up glasses, he approached from behind, and you immediately turned around at the sound of his voice, which consequently sent one of the glasses flying. Nico, a man trained in his reflexes, caught it with ease that made your heart flutter. Thank God you managed to snatch him up, because nobody had ever made you feel such a way. It didn’t matter if he didn’t win on the track, because everyday he came home to the most beautiful woman possible, who’d shower him with lots of well deserved love. Plus, you always knew what wine would suit his mood. Yeah. He made the correct choice.

Gabriel Bortoleto

Streamer

We know how brain-rotted Gabriel is. You can’t tell me he doesn’t have a favorite streamer too. It’s you. Before you guys started dating he was a fan. He found your unique commentary on games to be interesting and the way you played— yada yada. Truth be told, he just thought you were pretty and funny. He even suggested through donations (under a secret account name, mind you) that you play one of the F1 games. With the money you earned from the donation, you bought it and showed the whole world just how awful you were. Gabriel secretly messaged you on instagram, claiming he had just found you when you were playing F1 24, and would love to come properly teach you how to play on stream. You agreed, of course. And it was a success. After the cameras turned off, he shyly admitted that he had actually been a fan of yours for awhile, because he felt bad for deceiving you. You just thought it was cute, and offered him the opportunity to come back if he so wanted.

Now, Gabi is a frequent feature on your streams. Not necessarily just as your partner in multiplayer games, but he can be seen on your face cam. Maybe he’s sleeping in the background, or he just happens to pass by. Sometimes he’ll even come give you a kiss in front of thousands of viewers, acting like he forgot you were streaming when in reality it was done intentionally. Sneaky bastard. Your fans love him, but Gabriel also loves to remind them that you’re a happily taken girl. You don’t mind anyway. It’s nice to see your longterm fanboy staking his claim in a way he thinks is secretive. Trust that you know… You always know what he’s up to. There’s no hiding it. Don’t be surprised if he starts spamming your chat with italian brainrot. Imagine having to explain to newcomers that it’s a regular thing, too.

Haas ෆ

Oliver Bearman

Artist

This is a pair nobody expected, to be honest. The Haas team was directed by PR to show up to an art event. Apparently the establishment was sponsoring them for the next race, and it was the polite thing to do. Oliver didn’t really care— He wasn’t a fan of PR events and media. He was outgoing and charming, but he tended to keep his life private for the most part. But he was glad he went, because when he saw you on a shaky ladder hammering in a stubborn nail with frustration, he knew you were someone to keep him on his toes. You had on overalls covered in paint. Some was fresh, but most of it seemed deeply imbedded in the fabric, like you wore them just to get them dirty. Your arms, too, were covered in colors. It was quite the sight. When you saw him, you dropped your hammer. Right on your foot, and then it tumbled down the ladder to fall unceremoniously on the ground. You hissed as you descended the ladder, jittery with excitement. You greeted him with a very enthusiastic handshake, announcing how you didn’t think he’d show up. You kept rambling, and he kept listening. Eventually you asked him if he could sit still, and he said yes, to which you replied with, “I wanna sketch you, then. You have this beautiful angelic vibe and I need that.” So, if that’s not forward I’m not sure what is.

It’s true. You’re his joy, and he’s your muse. And, for what it’s worth, Ollie was right. You certainly do keep him on his toes because he never really knows what’s next with you. You’re vibrant and fun and you love nature— The stereotypical small town girl who falls madly in love with a city boy. You like to run through tall grass barefoot and paint in the middle of giant fields whatever your heart desires, and now you’re dating Oliver Bearman. But it’s a good thing, because you both have changed each other in the best way possible, and even though you’re so different, you work harmoniously in a healthy relationship. You’re both happier than you’ve ever been, truly.

Esteban Ocon

Model

This man is TALL. He needs a tall girlfriend to sit by his side, and that just so happens to be you. You met at a huge gala for F1, where various other celebrities were invited to bring more attention to the sport. You’ve always been a fan, so you were glad to have the opportunity to meet a lot of the people you had admired for so many years. One of those people was Esteban Ocon. He was hated by his own community, regarded as one of the least likable people around, but you saw through that. This was a sweet guy with a bad reputation over one incident that took place many years ago. He was a bit surprised when you intentionally sat down beside him and introduced yourself with a huge smile and a delicate handshake. You were beautiful. It was almost too good to be true. He couldn’t let go of an opportunity like this, so he clung to you the entire night and asked if you’d be willing to see him again. Of course you would.

He supports your career through and through. He admires your skill, and all the thought that goes into modeling. It’s truly impressive. In turn, you support his racing career. You frequently feature his races, and while you do try to avoid the cameras, it’s impossible to not be featured when reacting on occasion. You have a loving dynamic— almost the perfect couple, and everyone in the paddock knows it. You’re the type of people to solve every disagreement by calmly talking it out. You’re the type of people to live by the rule “never go to bed angry.” You both get bad reps. In his community’s mind, Esteban is cruel and vicious and impossible to like. In your community’s mind, you’re stuck up and bossy and rude. So, together you make a perfectly misunderstood pair that understands one another. Delightful, right?

[eye4katz]

You Don't Even Care || Daniela Avanzini

Pairing: D. A. x KATSEYE 7th Member Fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, smut, slight fluff

Content Warning: language, alcohol usage, internalized homophobia (self denial), hate sex (?), cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, dubcon

Word count: 3.8k

Synopsis: The connection between Daniela and Y/N has never been the same since that day—tangled with buried emotions, unresolved tension, and unpredictable miscommunication. In a world where actions speak louder than words, the two navigate the blurred line between friendship and something deeper. Will they ever find the courage to dig the hidden feelings and finally get the closure they both secretly hoped for?

part 1

Manon's voice was belting out a song while doing her hair in the mirror. This caused Y/N to wake up groggily.

"If we never try~!"

Y/N looked around, finding a certain someone who should be in her arms.

"How would we know?!"

The Latina always stayed with Y/N until she woke up, but not today, probably.

Maybe she's out in the studio practicing their new choreo, she thought.

"Baby, how far this thing could gooo~!"

The younger member finally managed to throw a pillow at Manon, groaning due to the interruption of her sleep and also the frustration of not seeing Daniela. "Can you shut the fuck up?!"

Manon gasped at the unexpected disturbance. "Oh wow, hold your horses!" she tried to sound offended.

"Good morning first, hoe!" Y/N groaned again, throwing the duvet over her face. This kept her warm and also hid the frustration that was becoming visible.

"Shut it," she added.

Manon just laughed as she continued to do her hair. "Why so grumpy in the morning?"

"..."

"Is it 'cause of Danilili Avanzini?"

Manon used their inside joke, which was turning all the members' names into an Italian brain rot.

"Oh, fuck off!" Y/N turned around and pushed a pillow against her face, hoping to shut the voices (Manon's).

The Swiss just laughed again, enjoying the annoyance she caused the younger member. "Or is it because you relate to the song I'm singing?" Y/N's reasons were definitely both.

"Okay, fine!" Y/N finally managed to exclaim and sit up to properly face Manon.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you're right that I do have feelings for—"

"Ooh, our Y/N got feelings for who? Got a crush, huh?" She got interrupted by Megan.

"No, I—it's not a cru—"

She got interrupted AGAIN, but by Daniela, the person whom she least expected. Great!

"Crush? Y/N’s got a crush?"

Y/N suddenly became hyperaware of her surroundings, especially now that the Latina was in the room.

"You got a crush?" she repeated. A hint of curiosity and a subtle annoyance were heard in her voice as she approached her own bed, where Y/N was lying.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" she added.

Her eyebrows scrunched, which caused an expression she rarely used on Y/N.

Manon felt the change in the atmosphere, sensing the palpable tension between her two members. She kept her mouth shut, not wanting to interlude between the two girls.

Well, Megan... It is still Megan! She's oblivious to the ongoing pull of air. Before Megan could even speak, Manon immediately grabbed her toward the bathroom so they could do each other's makeup.

The situation left Daniela and Y/N in the room as if the two were a couple lost in an argument, barely noticing the disappearance of the other two members.

Seeing Daniela frown and question why she hadn’t said a thing about this whole crush thingy triggered her.

"Why does it matter?" Y/N asked, confusedly—and, well, frustratedly.

Her question earned a scoff from the Latina as she paced back and forth in the room.

"Do you really need to ask that dumb question?" Her hands then found their way to her hips.

"It does matter because I'm your best friend!" she exclaimed.

Y/N's hands flew, trying to understand what she was fuming about.

"Not everything I do or feel should be said out loud, Dani!"

"Oh, yeah? But you would tell your crush to Manon?!"

"Why not? I feel comfortable sharing it with her!"

"Oh, so you're not comfortable with me now?!"

The amount of miscommunication present in the room could break the ceiling. Y/N was walking on eggshells, not wanting to reveal the thing she had kept in the vault for weeks, perhaps months. Slipping with a confession was her biggest fear, and that's the last thing she wanted to do right now.

"It's not like that, Daniela! I thought low-maintenance friendship is what we are!" she exclaimed back.

"We are! But not when it comes to important things like this!" Daniela exclaimed, her voice growing louder each second.

She just wants to be the first one to know about Y/N's thoughts and feelings. Okay, maybe she's also a little upset that her member got a crush on someone.

Her yelling was Y/N's last straw. She didn’t really expect her member to burst out like this.

"Like you said... WE'RE JUST FRIENDS! WE'RE NOT ANYTHING—NOT EVEN A SITUATIONSHIP—TO BE TELLING EACH OTHER ABOUT EVERYTHING!"

Dani paused, staring into the pair of orbs Y/N had. She couldn’t speak—or maybe she wanted to, but she really couldn’t.

The earlier noise of Manon's voice and the yelling between Daniela and Y/N was now replaced by an unstable quietness.

The Latina finally managed to speak out, her hands shaking due to the adrenaline of the heated yelling.

"Yeah... y-you're right."

"Dani..." Y/N sighed and closed her eyes. It’s true, but she didn’t intend to hurt her!

"You know I don't mean it like that..."

Daniela let out a dry chuckle. "You're fucking right. Yeah." She then walked out of her own room, leaving the other one's head pondering in questions.

Why was it a big deal for her?

Did she feel the same way as Y/N did for her?

Was she just jealous of Manon?

Why was it so confusing to figure her out?!

These thoughts kept repeating in her head, pushing Y/N's sanity to the edge.

Luckily, Manon and Megan came out of the bathroom to keep her grounded. They heard everything, after all, since their voices were loud. There's no shame—they’re her family already.

"Gagged..." Manon said as she took a seat on her bed. Megan followed suit, sitting beside Y/N.

Y/N just whined her own frustration out to them. "It makes me more guilty since I'm on her freaking bed!"

The two just laughed softly. They were trying to lift Y/N's mood by making sure she knew they were right there when she needed them the most.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Seconds, minutes, hours.

Days, weeks, months.

Y/N couldn't remember when the last time she talked with Daniela was. Yes, they talked to each other in public to be civil and professional, but in private? Don’t expect their relationship to be the same as before. The girl’s just scared of rejection, especially from her close friend. She’s still clueless about what the Latina truly felt, after all.

Too many questions clouded Y/N's mind. The only thing that kept her sane was her work: the choreography, the singing, the promos—all that shit just to distract herself.

One night, the Kats were celebrating Manon's birthday. There was loud music, alcohol, food, and dancing.

The party was held only in the Kats' shared dorm, so the girls weren’t worried if the fans caught them drinking their minds off. Of course, YoonChae stayed with her Sophia unnie, who kept her safe from the alcohol (we love a responsible leader, whoo!).

Daniela used this opportunity to get wasted. After all... This was like a rest day for them. Times like these were rare due to the tough schedule they had.

She just enjoyed herself to forget work.

Or was it actually about work?

Y/N, on the other hand, was a careful drinker. She despised alcohols that were too strong, especially those that didn’t have any flavors.

She only drank soju with Yakult or gin mixed with flavored powder that Sophia brought.

She stayed sober through the whole night, watching her members sing karaoke loudly.

They were sitting on the couch as Lara belted out a song Y/N had never heard of. Her other members were mostly drunk—especially the club girls.

After a moment, Y/N decided to recharge her social battery by being on her own, so she went to her bedroom.

As she swung the door open to her room, she saw the member—her crush—whom she recently had a feud with, drunkenly lying on her bed. Vodka was in her glass as she stared at the ceiling, seemingly not noticing Y/N coming in.

"Daniela? What... are you doing here?"

The Latina finally turned her head towards her before sitting up. A red tint could be seen all over her face—lips, cheeks, and eyes.

"So? You don't care anyways," she replied.

This made Y/N mad, though she couldn't deny the little tinge in her heart that hurt.

"What do you mean I don't care? First, you're literally drunk on my bed, and you're even making yourself more drunk!" Y/N stated as she eyed the half-full glass of vodka before continuing. "Second, I do care about you, Daniela Andrea Avanzini Llorente."

"Then why didn’t you come and check on me after the incident in our room?!" she whined as she sat up, her face etched with a visible frown on her forehead.

"Because I wanted to give you space, for fuck’s sake!" which was actually... a lie.

"Space? Or you just didn’t want to acknowledge me? There’s a whole-ass difference there!"

"Even if I acknowledged you, you wouldn’t even care if I explained my side!"

"Now I’m the one who didn’t care?!"

The alcohol was definitely doing all the work for Daniela’s sober thoughts now.

"You know what, Y/N?" She stepped closer as she grabbed the back of her member’s head.

"I always deny these weird-ass feelings you always give me. I hate it. I like men, okay?! I fucking like men!"

She yelled in front of sober Y/N. These statements made a punching bag out of Y/N’s heart. She always knew that Daniela liked men—she just didn’t want it plastered on her face like that.

"Oh, and the moment you started ignoring me..." the Latina continued, "I started to fucking chase you, hoping every day you'd start to approach me—as if I'm yearning for your love. That made me hate it more, you got that?"

She pushed Y/N’s head even closer to hers. Their distance was too close for two people arguing, but neither of them moved away.

"Did you plan this? To make me fucking crazy? Why did you just ignore me?!" Daniela exclaimed out of frustration. The more the conversation went on, the more the alcohol made its effects visible.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. Her lips quivered.

"I— I... I'm just afraid. Afraid of you, afraid of your rejection, I don’t know?! I just... don’t have the guts to walk to you." She stared into the Latina’s hazel eyes as if hypnotized to speak the truth. "For a long time now, I have... loved you."

"And I hate you."

"I hate you for loving a straight girl like me."

Before Y/N knew, Daniela pressed a harsh kiss on her lips, almost claiming Y/N in a possessive way. (keyword: almost 💔)

She pushed her member to the bed before crawling on top of her, straddling her hips. Y/N's lips were smudged with Daniela's lipstick, now a little swollen due to the rough kiss she never expected.

"Oh, look at you now, covered in my lipstick. You've fantasized about this moment, no?" The Latina looked down, admiring the messy masterpiece she did on her personal canvas. Y/N, well, she's embarrassed yet didn't say a word.

The woman above her didn't like the silence, so she grabbed her jaw with one hand. "Aren't you grateful that I'm talking to you, you little piece of shit? Answer me when I'm asking like you're supposed to."

Y/N whimpered at the tight grip from her. "Y-yes, I did fantasize about this." This earned a slightly amused scoff from Daniela. "Predictable. I knew how much of a slut you are for me."

Daniela crashed her lips against Y/N again. She didn't wait for her member to part her lips; instead, she trespassed on her mouth as she explored every spot inside. Y/N could taste every drop of Daniela's saliva, the strong vodka adding flavor to the kiss. This time, Y/N didn't complain about no flavor in her alcohol.

The Latina managed to get her lips down on Y/N's neck and collarbone, sucking and marking every possible area she could land her lips on. Her hands roam around her body as she does so, trying to remove the fabric that has been a barrier for her.

After a few bites and hickeys, Daniela finally managed to toss Y/N's top to the floor, not caring where it might land. She moved to the girl's tits, her oral fixation self is happy!

Y/N was now a whining and moaning mess beneath her, and Daniela wasn't even on her kitty yet. She arch her back as soon as she felt the Latina's mouth on her sensitive peak, the other one being knealed by her hand as if she's a professional baker.

Daniela looked up to meet her member's eyes, wanting to see how much a sub she was. Her tongue swirls, her mouth sucks, and her teeth works on her nipple. She moved on to the other one, giving the same attention as she did on the first.

Her hands also did a work: squeezing Y/N's tit and rolling her nipple between her thumb and index while the other one on Y/N's mouth, the two fingers playing with her tongue imitating a blow job.

The woman beneath her moaned against the fingers that were shoved in her mouth.

Once Daniela's satisfied (she never was, actually.) with her loved titties, she sitted up again and pulled her fingers out with a pop.

She glared at Y/N before she started to suck on her two fingers covered with Y/N's saliva. Y/N's face was now redder than the person who drank more alcohol than her.

The latina wiped the slick of her fingers on Y/N's stomach, earning a soft sigh from the girl beneath her.

She then crawled lower until her face was near where Y/N needs her the most.

"The fucking skirt stays on." She said with a hoarse voice, pushing Y/N's legs to her chest to give her the full view.

If Y/N didn't know any better, she would moan just from her Latina's voice. Her wetness was already on her thighs, and she couldn't help but not be shy when someone was admiring the wet spot on her pink panties. "Do-Don't stare." She managed to let out.

This made Daniela chuckle. "Oh, no. I was just thinking how would I rip this shit off."

Without a word, Daniela reached out and quickly teared Y/N's ruined panties. "Oops." She said with a lustful grin.

Daniela didn't waste a second to dive inside Y/N's folds, making the girl suddenly put her hands on her head due to the pleasure she caused.

Her tongue lapped every juice Y/N produced, swirling in tight circles on the bundle of nerves. She flicked her clit using the tip of her tongue, enjoying the other one squirm beneath her.

To be honest, she's a messy eater. She's not only drunk on alcohol, but she's also drunk on Y/N's pussy. She ate her member with her full mouth, switching between sucking and flicking her clit.

These actions made Y/N sensitive. Daniela took this opportunity to flatten her tongue against her pussy, dragging a long lick starting down and up to her clit.

Y/N arched and moaned very loudly, increasing her grip on the Latina's hair.

She really lost it now that Daniela was thrusting her tongue inside Y/N's folds, swirling around her walls. Her hand came up to massage her bean tight and rough.

Y/N was now bucking her hips, overwhelmed by the pleasure she was receiving. She gripped the sheets beneath her as she moaned uncontrollably.

"Fu-fuck! C-close!" She exclaimed, which made Daniela pull away.

Y/N whined at the sudden loss of sensation. "Why did you stop?" She asked before groaning, her cunt grinding against the air, hoping for friction.

"This is a reminder for you that I hate you. I hate that you fucking loved me." There goes another humiliating sentence from Daniela. This just made Y/N more eager for her release.

Daniela removed her clothes in a hurry, only leaving on her short skirt. "It must be a shame if your past self knew that you're fucking your best friend, and guess what, you're the sub!"

She grabbed Y/N's legs down before settling on her thigh. You can feel her slick on your skin as she starts to grind rashly. Her hands automatically flew over Daniela's hips, helping her to find more friction.

Daniela let out her sultry and loud noises, not caring if they could be heard by the other members.

"You damn slut," moan. "Always so—" moan. "Ready to please me," moan.

Y/N bit her lips as she watched her Latina in awe. Her hands then reached the cute, perky breasts she had. She pulls Daniela's chest over her face as she starts to suck on the swelling peaks.

"Mhff!" The Latina moaned even louder as she felt her release nearing.

Before she could even orgasm, she gathered her strength and suddenly got off to grab Y/N's leg. Daniela pushed it aside to place her own cunt on top of her member's.

The two women moaned at the contact of each other's swelling and needy pussies, their juices mixing. Daniela initiated moving her hips, putting in a lot of work to hate Y/N.

Y/N, on the other hand, tries to move. The pleasure is just too strong, so she let the Latina do all the work; her hips don't lie, after all.

The scene in the room was euphoric as it filled with the smell of sex—and maybe a bit of yearning. Two girls could be seen scissoring on top of a bed with their skirts still on.

One word: messy.

Daniela's face was now as red as Y/N's. Their mascara and eyeliner were running down their eyes, as well as the lipstick that was smudged on their lips. Their juices reached their thighs as they exchanged saliva. The Latina leaned in to catch Y/N's mouth, making out with her as if there would be no tomorrow.

"I'm gonna— gonna cum," Y/N whimpered in between kisses.

"I want to feel your cum against mine, baby," Daniela managed to reply. "Please, come with me."

Their kiss was filled with desire and passion, the warmth and love they buried months ago now resurfacing.

They came both at the same time, releasing loud groans and moans. Y/N didn't know Daniela was a squirter, so she's a little surprised when a flush of liquid comes showering her, making the sheets drenched beneath them.

Daniela fell down on Y/N's chest. She had stamina—earned from her dances—but for now, she was too tired to have another round, partly due to the alcohol. She closed her eyes as Y/N took care of her.

Even if Y/N was tired herself, she reached out for the tissue on her nightstand without slipping Daniela off. She then wiped them both clean, shooting the crumpled tissue into the trash bin like a basketball player right after. She pulled the blankets over their naked and vulnerable bodies.

Y/N looked down at her chest to admire the sleeping Aphrodite above her.

"I hope you won't get out of my arms when I wake up like you did months ago," she mumbled to Daniela before softly kissing her forehead.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to follow Daniela to dreamland. They were both satisfied with how the night ended up—even without admitting it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The next morning, Y/N opened her eyes and was thankful that Daniela was still beside her. She was curled in a ball like a cat sleeping. The large amount of vodka definitely did its work.

Y/N couldn’t help but press a soft kiss on her forehead like she did last night. Maybe this was closure for her—if it really was closure.

She then rubbed her eyes, trying to get the sleep off. She was also thankful that she didn’t drink too much. No hangovers, unlike her member, which meant she could take care of her. Yay!

Y/N then sat up, looking around the room. She noticed the clothes they were once wearing last night on the floor. Damn, they really did enjoy it.

As she turned her head, she saw two meals, two glasses of water, and medicine—probably for the hangover—on a tray with a note beside it.

She managed to reach out and grab the note without having to stand up.

“Even though you two were loud last night, here’s for you two. — Sophia.”

The content of the note made Y/N’s face flush, knowing that (all) the members now knew what was going on between them.

She couldn’t help but fall face-first into the pillow and groan quietly. This was really embarrassing—especially since her members were such teases.

When Y/N grabbed the pillow to properly let her embarrassment out, she noticed a sky-blue envelope that looked like a letter underneath it.

"Huh?" she muttered confusedly, grabbing it as she sat up again.

"From Avanzini."

Oh.

That’s why she was here last night.

Y/N thought.

[rose-maidenn]

⋆✿˖°Pick a Pile : What do People dream of you ⋆✿˖

Hey guys here in this reading I dive into various kinds of dreams people have about you some can be very clear and other can be eerie , select any Pile using your intuition and all of it might not reasonate as it is a collective reading

Masterlist | old masterlist

Want a longer reading or another reading book at

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Pile 1 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read).

Manhattan, 444 , deli , delhi, psychedelic rock , chappal roan , Manu, sweet 16 , Anna karenina , Malcom and Marie, Mr and Mrs Smith, sweet blond jesus , sundays , 1970s , breakfast , clear cut diamonds , heist , monetairy affair, mole on the left side of cheek , glittery dress , you're wearing pink or yellow or black as you read , you have birthday on 5,21,8,5,12 of the month , you're born on Wednesday.

The first dream about you is dreamt by a young girl or a female friend you admire a lot , it's about shopping and spending time together in a cafe and having doughnuts and chatting about how so many changes have befall you yet how close the both of you feel to each other . I see the symbolism of the fan maybe this conversation is carried out as you guys look at the ceiling .

The next dream about you is dreamt by your mother about you being successful, maybe in a business industry or the singing industry , you might be an alto , I see peonies being represented (wealth and prosperity) , she also might have received a task to do to ensure that something involving writing a small chit and placing it somewhere maybe in the altar, money bowl etc .

The third dream I tap in is dreamt by an online friend , blond or red hairs , they dream of you in a garden harvesting fruit with them I see a lot of red around, this could be sunset time or the colour of the realm is red . I see that they relate to you a lot and want to spend time with you . They keep you in their prayers a lot and hence they dream of you so vividly.

Pile 2 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Cobra Kai , 555, Birth of venus , a purple car , crown , eatery , devilish sweet , idiocracy , self made star , faraway land , willow , apples , yule ball , Saraswati, Athena, yellow , Azul, attar , dogs , bed bugs, blond hair , Birth mark on bosum or scalp , you're burning a candle as you read , you're wearing white , blue or green as you read . Born on 31 , 3 , 7 , 6 , 17 of the month . Born on Tuesday or Friday

The first dream about you is dreamt about you is a weird competitive and erotic dream , it's dreamt by a colleague who has been dreaming to overthrow you , they're so obsessed with you it has turned psychosexual , I'm not getting into details but you might need to do a cord cutting , I feel you're also experiencing dreams about them , honey go ahead and cleanse yourself.

The next dream about you is from an admirer I see them taking you on a helicopter or a private jet to an island and talking with you all day long , they play with your hairs make you food mainly pasta and give you a head massage. They get continuous dreams about you , in other dates they visit museums and sit by rivers talking to you about classics , their childhood and your wishes and wants , sweet so sweet .

The third dream about you is dreamt by a teacher or a guru or a superior, it's related to your academic or spiritual journey , you're on your way to unlock new horizons and the teacher is being asked to prepare themselves to guide you properly . They also see that you place them in your success story and make them famous much like they becoming famous because their student made it big in life .

Pile 3 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Sylvia plath , danger , conceit , burrow , red alert , sapphires, skin , the substance , weaving , crocheting , barbie in the 12 dancing princesses , Trans, bi , blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb , lack of communication, berries , rainbows , horses, manifesting generator , wedding bells , piercings and snake or quote tattoos , you're wearing pyjamas as you read . You're wearing red , sheer , beige , pink as you read . You are Born on 1, 18 , 19 , 25 , 13 , you are Born on Thursday, Monday .

The very first dream is by a friend you are cut off from or just fell apart from , they're dreaming of you near a fountain or a water body giving them advice or consoling them about something this person is having a bad time actually they sleep really less , maybe you should talk if they aren't bad or toxic . They also dream of you both being In a concert maybe guns and roses

The next dream is by someone who is actively manifesting you , it's crazy and eerie , they don't see your face , could be a soul mate or someone from your soul tribe, they see you spending their time with them and talking about various subjects , also going on a travelling journey also see some arguments and casino is also seen . Guys it's 1:11 am hehe a confirmation

The third dream is an absolute action packed banger of a dream could call it a batman coded superhero dream , it is being dreamt by a past admirer or a childhood friend who still likes you, you're being upheld by a monster who keeps eating your skin and then he /she comes along and protects you and heals you through some dna regeneration technology and then yall kiss and call it a night.

Thanks for reading hope it helped 🌸✨️

[solxamber]

Hi hi solxamber!! (Is that spelled right?) I hope you’re having a lovely day/night! if you would allow me too I’d like to make a request/ask, ignore this if you wish!

But freshwater stingray yuu! She’s so sweet with everyone (even though she may be such a quiet person) and super calming too! But she’s so misunderstood (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ). Kinda like how a lot of humans now treat wild stingrays, they think she’s dangerous and always aggressive! But really she just wants a friend (；へ：). Oh! And she’s also very tall too! Like Floyd tall, since freshwater stingrays are some of the biggest known rays in the world! She also has a long, whip-like, stinger (tail) that she can’t control even in the water! Maybe this in a small one-shot form (if you do that!) with Octavinelle and Diasomnia? I feel as if specifically Malleus and her would relate to each other very well with them both feeling isolated and feared because of something that they really can’t control!

Please feel free to ignore this if you wish! You are under absolutely no obligation to respond to my request! Sorry if it was really long (I’m severely hyperfixated on any form of marine life) 人(_ _*)

And do you do anon names? If so could I be a 🪼anon?

Octavinelle, Diasomnia with Freshwater Stingray! Reader

hi! yeah you can be 🪼 anon! and don't worry about the length at all, the more detailed, the more fun i have writing it! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3 and it's spelled right! you can just call me sol tho!

Azul Ashengrotto:

You sit in the quiet corner of the Mostro Lounge, sipping tea and trying to keep your long tail from accidentally knocking anything over. It’s always the same—people giving you wary glances, as if you’re a threat just waiting to explode. Your tail, with its unpredictable movements, has always been a point of misunderstanding, and despite your calmness and sweet demeanor, most people steer clear of you.

Azul has been watching you for a while now, his sharp eyes glinting behind his glasses. He finally makes his way over, that ever-confident smile in place as he sets a fresh cup of tea in front of you.

"Everything to your liking?" he asks, voice smooth as ever, but there’s a hint of something more—genuine curiosity, perhaps?

You look up, startled. "It’s fine," you mumble, trying not to let your tail twitch in nervousness. But of course, it does, brushing lightly against the floor. You freeze, pulling it in tightly to your side.

Azul’s eyes follow the movement, and instead of the discomfort you usually see in people, there’s only understanding in his gaze. He leans in a bit, resting his elbow on the table. "It must be difficult," he says softly, "having to be so aware of your tail all the time, when people can’t see beyond it."

You blink, surprised at how easily he’s put it into words. "Yeah," you admit, glancing down at your cup. "People think I’m dangerous. But I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone." Your voice trails off, soft and sincere.

Azul chuckles, though not unkindly. "I understand more than you think. People often mistake strength for malice. They forget that control takes time." He gestures vaguely toward his own carefully controlled smile, his smooth façade of confidence. "And patience."

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes for the first time properly. "You... you don’t think I’m dangerous?"

"On the contrary," he says with a smirk, "I think you’re someone worth knowing. Dangerously misunderstood, perhaps, but aren’t we all?"

You can’t help but smile a little at that. For the first time in a long while, you feel like someone is seeing you, not your tail or your height, but you.

Floyd Leech:

You’re wandering through the courtyard when Floyd spots you, and of course, he makes a beeline in your direction, grinning like a shark who’s just spotted prey.

"Heyyy, Shrimpy!" he calls out, stretching his arms over his head lazily. You brace yourself, knowing that Floyd isn’t exactly one to respect personal space.

"Hi, Floyd," you say softly, still trying to keep your voice friendly despite the knot of nerves forming in your stomach.

As expected, he immediately slings an arm around your shoulders, oblivious to the way your tail twitches nervously behind you. "Whatcha doin'? Lookin' all serious. You plannin' to sting someone with that big tail of yours?"

You blink, startled by how casually he brings it up, but you know Floyd doesn’t mean any harm by it—he’s just Floyd. "No," you say quickly, "I don’t sting people. It’s not like that. I don’t want to hurt anyone."

He gives you a curious look, then laughs. "Aw, I know, I know! I’m just messing with ya!" His grip tightens slightly as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But y'know, if anyone’s ever giving ya trouble, just say the word, and I’ll help ya take 'em down. Sting 'em, punch 'em, doesn’t matter!"

You blink again, unsure how to respond to Floyd’s unique brand of... support. But something about his carefree attitude puts you at ease, and you find yourself smiling despite everything. "Thanks, Floyd," you say quietly.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "No problem, Shrimpy! Let’s go find someone to mess with, yeah?"

Jade Leech:

It’s in the depths of the Coral Sea when you first meet Jade properly. He’s calm and composed, as always, but there’s a calculating gleam in his eyes that makes you nervous. You’ve always been wary of people who observe more than they say—those are the ones who usually misunderstand you the most.

"Ah, you must be the freshwater stingray everyone’s been talking about," Jade says with a polite smile, his eyes scanning your tall form, lingering on your tail for just a second longer than usual.

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. "Yes. And you must be Jade."

"Indeed," he replies smoothly. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard quite a few interesting things about you."

You wince internally, imagining all the rumors about how "dangerous" and "unpredictable" you are. But Jade doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "It must be difficult," he muses, "being constantly misunderstood because of something you cannot control."

You blink, caught off guard by his words. "Y-yes," you stammer, "it is. But I try not to let it bother me."

Jade’s smile widens, and for the first time, you see a genuine warmth behind his usual calculating demeanor. "That is a wise approach. I believe there is much more to you than others realize. Perhaps we can... learn more about each other."

You feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. Maybe this encounter isn’t so bad after all.

Malleus Draconia:

You’re floating near the edge of the lake when you sense someone watching you. You turn slowly, and there, standing by the water’s edge, is Malleus, his dark eyes focused on you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

You’ve always felt a strange connection to Malleus. Both of you are feared for reasons beyond your control, and both of you know what it’s like to be isolated because of it.

"Good evening," he says softly, his voice deep and soothing.

"Good evening, Malleus," you reply quietly, moving closer to the shore. "What brings you here?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he gazes out at the water, his expression thoughtful. "I often find solace near the water," he admits. "It’s... calming."

You nod in agreement, understanding exactly what he means. "It’s the same for me. People seem to think we’re dangerous just because of how we look. But the water... it doesn’t judge."

Malleus turns to look at you then, his eyes softening. "Yes," he murmurs. "We are not so different, are we?"

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable silence, sharing an unspoken understanding that words could never fully capture.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he glides through the air, catching sight of you as you swim quietly near the edge of the lake. He lands gracefully on a nearby rock, grinning widely. "Ah, my dear stingray! How does the evening treat you?" he calls out, his voice filled with playful energy.

You blink in surprise, unused to such cheerfulness, but you offer a small smile in return. "It’s... peaceful," you reply softly. "I like the quiet."

Lilia chuckles, sitting cross-legged on the rock as he watches you, his eyes glimmering with curiosity. "You always seem so quiet and calm. Yet I hear rumors—some people say you're dangerous!" He laughs at the absurdity of it, as if the idea is nothing but a joke to him.

You sigh, glancing down at the water, your long tail swaying gently beneath the surface. "They think I’m dangerous because of my tail. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but… it’s hard to control sometimes."

Lilia hums thoughtfully, leaning forward a bit. "Ah, but isn’t that the way with most things in life? The most wonderful, powerful things are often the ones most misunderstood." He winks at you, as if sharing a secret.

You can’t help but smile at his words. There’s something so comforting about Lilia’s playful wisdom, and you feel your usual anxiety melting away. "Maybe you’re right," you say quietly. "It’s just… hard."

Lilia nods sagely. "Hard, yes. But don’t let that stop you from being who you are. Strength and kindness aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. You remind me of myself in my younger days!" He laughs again, the sound bright and infectious.

You chuckle softly, feeling a bit lighter. "Thank you, Lilia."

He winks again, standing up with a flourish. "Anytime, my dear! Now, shall we play a game? I bet you can’t catch me!" Before you can protest, he takes off into the air, leaving you laughing quietly at his endless energy.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver is resting under the shade of a large tree when you spot him, his eyes closed as he naps peacefully. You hover nearby, not wanting to disturb him, but your tail accidentally swishes too close to a branch, causing it to rustle loudly.

Silver’s eyes blink open slowly, his gaze finding you immediately. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh… it’s you," he murmurs, his voice still soft with drowsiness.

"Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed that you woke him up. "I didn’t mean to… my tail…" You trail off, trying to tuck your tail away behind you, but it flicks out again despite your best efforts.

Silver shakes his head, giving you a gentle smile. "It’s okay. You didn’t wake me on purpose."

You feel a warmth spread in your chest at his understanding. Silver is always so calm and kind, never judging you the way others do. "Still, I’m sorry," you say, moving closer to sit beside him.

He watches you for a moment before speaking. "You don’t need to apologize for something you can’t control," he says quietly. "I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. People think I’m lazy because I fall asleep a lot, but it’s just… how I am."

You look at him in surprise. "I didn’t know that. I thought you just liked to nap."

He chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. "Maybe a little. But it’s more than that." He pauses, then turns to you with a soft smile. "I don’t think you’re dangerous. You’re just… you."

His words are so simple, but they mean more to you than he knows. You smile back at him, feeling a little lighter. "Thank you, Silver."

Silver nods, his eyes closing again as he drifts off into another peaceful nap, leaving you to quietly enjoy the moment beside him.

Sebek Zigvolt:

You’re swimming near the edge of the lake when Sebek marches over, his loud voice cutting through the peaceful air. "Ah, there you are! I’ve been searching for you!" he declares, arms crossed and chin held high.

You blink, startled by his abrupt arrival. "O-oh, hello, Sebek."

He stares down at you, his expression serious as usual. "You must stop hiding yourself away like this! It is unbecoming of someone with such... size and stature!" His tone is as sharp as ever, but you know he means well—he’s just... Sebek.

You glance down at the water, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I’m not hiding. I just like the quiet."

Sebek huffs, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "Nonsense! You should be standing tall and proud! You are far too... graceful to be skulking about like some common creature of the sea!"

You blink in surprise at his words, unsure how to respond. "Um... thank you?"

Sebek’s eyes narrow, as if he’s not quite sure you understand his point. "Do not mistake me! I am simply saying that you are far too formidable to let others fear you so easily!" He pauses, his voice lowering slightly. "It is... their loss if they cannot see that."

Your heart warms at his unexpected compliment. Sebek might be loud and brash, but his words hold a certain sincerity that you can’t ignore. You smile up at him. "That’s... really nice of you to say, Sebek."

He stiffens, his cheeks flushing slightly as he clears his throat. "W-well, I am merely stating the facts! Now, come! We must train! A creature as powerful as you should not waste your time in solitude!"

Despite his usual intensity, you can’t help but smile. "Alright, Sebek. Let’s train."

With a proud nod, Sebek leads the way, his loud voice echoing through the air as you follow, feeling just a little bit more understood.

Masterlist

[alotofpockets]

Different loss, same grief | Beth Mead x Reader & Renee Slegers x Platonic!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "I don’t need you to fix me, I just need you to hold me."

Warnings: talks of parental loss, and absent parent

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.4k

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You thought you had been good at hiding your emotions, only showing them when no one was around. It had worked at home, you didn’t think Beth had any idea of what was going on in your mind. But now you’re on the pitch, running your drills, and you can feel Renee’s eyes on you.

Not the regular way a coach would watch you, no she was watching you as a friend. A friend who knows your tells way too well for your liking. Renee used to be your roommate back when you both played for Linköping, so you knew each other quite well before she joined the coaching staff at Arsenal. She sends you a questioning look, but you quickly shook your head, silently asking her not to get into it right now.

After that short interaction with Renee, you focus back on your training. You hope no one caught on, because you were really not in the mood to share your feelings with the rest of the girls. You loved them dearly, but you just were not wanting to talk about it.

For the next drill, you were playing a little 1v1 drill. By pure chance, you were paired with your girlfriend, but you had a feeling that Renee had a say in the pairs. Everyone lined up, one of the duo on each side of the balls that were lined up in the middle. The game was simple, a version of the head, shoulders, knees, and toes game. The twist was that the ball would be amongst the body parts named, first to get the ball will win a point. Beth was properly excited and egging you on about being faster each time she got the ball first.

Once training on the pitch was done, everyone had their own individual plans. You didn’t have anything specific on your schedule, so you decided to go for a jog around the pitch. Usually running helped clear your mind, but today it only seemed to focus more on the parts you were trying to set aside.

That’s how you found yourself at Renee’s office. After training she always had her door open to any player who wanted to come talk to her, and you had taken her up on that quite a few times since she became head coach.

She’s focussed on her laptop, so you knock on the door softly. “Do you have a moment?” You ask when she looks up at you. She closed her laptop right away, “Of course, my door is always open.” She smiles as you step inside and close the door behind you. “Manager or friend?” Renee asks as you sit down on the sofa in the corner. “Friend, please.”

Renee walks over and sits on the other end of the sofa. “Alright, what’s on your mind?” You stay quiet for a moment and then take a deep breath.

“You remember the whole story of my dad walking out on us?” Renee nods, her face turning more serious. She remembered how much you used to struggle with it when it had still been recent, but she hadn’t heard you mention him recently.

“Last week I saw this video on TikTok about a girl saying ‘I don’t wanna be like my dad, but with anything football related, I become my dad’. I don’t know why it got to me so much, like my job has been playing football for a long time, yet somehow my brain went back to little me doing everything surrounding football with my dad.” Tears were welling in your eyes now, so you wiped them away quickly before continuing. 

“And of course this is all around Father’s Day, where everywhere you go there is something about dad’s being great, amazing, or the best, and mine wasn’t. Mine isn’t. He left and started a new family without us, and I am stuck here with another Father’s Day approaching, without a father I am in contact with.”

Renee, who was quietly listening, put her hand on your shoulder to offer you some comfort. “I’m sorry that’s been going on in your mind. Have you talked to Beth about it?”

With a shake of your head, the tears finally start spilling. No more holding them in now. “I want to talk to her, I need her. But I can’t. I can’t tell her.” 

Renee gives your shoulder a quick squeeze before she brings you in for a hug. For a moment you just cry in her arms, but when your sobs fade away, Renee asks you why. 

“Because she lost her mom, like really lost her mom. I can’t be upset about losing a parent, because I chose to go no contact, to someone who had no choice in losing her parent.” You sit back up and lean against the back of the sofa.

“While you have experienced different kinds of losses, it doesn’t mean it’s not allowed to ache the same way. She might be one of the few people that truly understands the pain you’re feeling.” Renee said, and you let her words sink in. “Maybe you’re right.”

You sat with Renee for a while longer, just sitting on the sofa while she continued her work. Her words were wise, and convinced you that maybe talking to Beth about your feelings could actually be beneficial to you. Beth left training earlier than you because she had a session before practice, and you just wanted to go over how you wanted to tell her everything.

When you finally deemed yourself ready, Renee hugged you once more before telling you to go talk to your girlfriend, and get the comfort you need for her. You thank her again for being there for you, and make your way out of the building.

Once you opened the door to your home, you could smell a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. Beth had started on dinner, and was quietly singing along to the music that was playing in your home.

You walked to the kitchen and took in the sight around the corner. Beth chopping up some vegetables, the sleeves of her hoodie bunched up at her elbows, and her hair up in a ponytail. 

She smiled when she noticed you. “Hey babe.” She turned to you and her smile instantly fell. “Are you okay, darling?” Apparently you couldn’t hide it as well as you thought you could for the short time before you were going to tell her.

“I’m okay.” You said and walked closer to her. Beth quickly wipes her hands on the kitchen towel. “Are you sure?” You nod. “Did someone piss you off? Is your knee hurting again? Do I need to tell someone off?” Beth’s smile grows as she is trying to use humour to get you to open up.

“Come on, love, what can I fix?” She is standing right in front of you as she asks you, one of her hands reaching out to your arm. That’s when you break again, tears streaming down your face. "I don’t need you to fix me, I just need you to hold me." Beth takes less than half a second to pull you in for a hug. She holds you tight while she rubs her hand up and down your back.

“Dinner can wait, let’s sit down.” She walks you over to the sofa and pulls you down with her. You tell her what you told Renee as well, between sobs, hoping that Beth is able to puzzle it all together as one clear story. 

Once you’re done saying it all, Beth is quiet for a moment to take it all in. Hearing that you weren’t sure if you could come to her, left her heart aching. “Oh baby, you know I will always be here to listen to you and to hold you. Our situations are different, but that doesn’t take away that your situation hurts you. You can always come to me, and I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

Her arms around you feel grounding. She presses a long kiss to the top of your head, you know that she meant every word of what she said. “You never have to carry anything alone, I promise.” You hug her a little tighter, a non-verbal way of thanking her.

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[kuurechr]

notes: naoya is your little brother, but reader is only mentioned, this is mostly just a cute meeting for tsumiki megumi and satoru

Satoru, for the first time in a while, was struggling. Usually things came easy for Satoru. Toji had to wear him down to beat him, and even then he wasn't properly beaten. Suguru affected Satoru because of their connection. So for his other so-called struggles, he had excuses.

But with kids, apparently, all his skills were lacking.

The Tsumiki girl was definitely kind. She was laughing at his half assed jokes, and reassuring him about what he was doing. Satoru told the kids they could get whatever they wanted, and Tsumiki chose the cheap options for her brother.

"What do you want?"

"Me? I can... are you sure?"

"You can get anything you want."

"I'll take what Megumi's getting as well."

Megumi hadn't spoken at all, instead opting for glaring at Satoru, looking down at his food, or frequently glancing at his sister as she ate her food.

The two clearly cared for each other. They had each other's backs, in a way that Satoru did with his close friends. It was a bit odd seeing this sort of bond between two kids, especially when he lacked it until he went to high school. But they needed to develop it, being on their own.

They were tough kids, not by choice. So Satoru didn't blame them for being the way they were. He just needed to make them feel comfortable. And that was hard to do, because he'd never done this before.

Tsumiki was speaking to him though, about their schools, and their regular routines. Satoru nodded, answering questions, trying to ask them what they'd like to do.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Satoru-senpai?"

Satoru opened his mouth to answer, smiling as he was about to gush about you, but he was interrupted by his least favourite person ever. The one who was unfortunately related to his most favourite person.

"Now what do we have here?"

Satoru scowled at the sound of his voice, and immediately Tsumiki and Megumi glared at the man as well. It made Satoru grin a little, seeing how defensive the kids had gotten with someone he clearly disliked. Maybe that was a sign that the kids trusted him already.

"Gojou Satoru and," Naoya looked over at the kids, grinning. "Children." He grabbed a chair and sat next to Megumi who was fully scowling now. Tsumiki pulled his chair closer to her side, amusing Naoya. "What is this? Did some whore leave the kids with you?"

Yeah. Satoru wanted to say. Your cousin.

"I'm taking them in," Satoru answered briefly.

Naoya furrowed his brows. "To do what? Teach them? The girl is a regular civilian. The boy..." Naoya narrowed his eyes at Megumi. He had his suspicions now, clearly.

"I'm sure you know of your infamous cousin with no cursed energy," Satoru interrupted Naoya's thoughts. "And about what happened. These two are the kids of his first and second wives. I'm taking them in."

"They're his kids?" Naoya asked, his eyes widening. "Zenins?"

"They're his wives kids," Satoru shut him down. "Fushiguros."

Naoya sighed, clearly a bit disappointed, but he kept his stare on Megumi. "This one seems to have cursed energy though."

"He does," Satoru agreed. "I heard you had your birthday recently. How was that first drink?"

Naoya grinned. "I did! Honestly, I passed out so I don't remember that night all that well! And you know, for it being my party, everyone was getting busy talking about Y/N."

"Y/N?" Satoru repeated.

"Yeah, you might know her. She's a bit too weak to be on your radar though."

"Yes, you're older sister. She has a great innate technique, and she's quite strong. I'm- well, we're friends, at least."

Megumi squinted at Satoru, trying to decipher his words. The glasses threw him off at trying to read the man.

"Why're you wasting your time with her? She's going to get married off to someone soon. About time, they should've been planning the minute she turned sixteen but she ran off to your little school. Why she'd sabotage herself that way, I do not know."

Tsumiki and Megumi glanced at each other as they saw Satoru clench his fist, with his jaw clenched as well. Tsumiki turned back. "Megumi and I have to go to the bathroom!"

Satoru's head whipped to the kids. Tsumiki grinned at him, while Megumi's face still seemed indifferent, but they both were clearly faking this for him. "Alright then," Satoru grinned. He stood up quickly, slapping Naoya's back harder then he should have, before taking the kids away, heading towards the public bathrooms.

"You know we don't actually need to go to the restrooms," Megumi pointed out. "And the exit is the other way."

Satoru grinned. "I know. But I want to show you two something quickly." Satoru squatted down. "Megumi get on my back."

Megumi scowled. "No."

Rolling his eyes, Satoru went ahead and picked up Tsumiki, who squealed as he did so. He was fairly tall so she was pretty high up off the ground, and being a little scared, she gripped onto him tighter. Satoru tightened his hold on her to reassure her. "Hold onto my leg then, 'Gumi."

Ignoring the nickname, Megumi wrapped one of his arms around Satoru's legs, confused as to what Satoru was about to do.

However the minute he warped, Megumi quickly gripped Satoru's legs with both of his arms as his heart beat quickly, feeling it drop to his stomach.

As quickly as it happened, Megumi realized they were in a completely different place. Megumi let go. "What was that?!"

"Teleporting," Satoru answered, a confident lilt to his tone. But when did he not sound cocky?

"You can do that?!" Tsumiki exclaimed, clearly giddy from the experience. They were two elementary schoolers who had just teleported after all! Without explaining all the math and the technicalities of the skill, it was really cool. Satoru just made himself out to be a superhero, and even though he'd had no plan to do so before, he was glad they had to do this.

"You're so cool!" Tsumiki fawned. "You can teleport anywhere?!"

Satoru nodded, smiling widely.

"Oh my god, Megumi, we should make a list of everywhere we want to go! Where do you want to go?!"

"The library."

"I said anywhere!"

"And I said the library."

"Well!" Satoru clapped his hands together. "You can make the list at the library right, Tsu?"

Tsumiki hesitated. "Um, yeah." Satoru was confused at the hesitation, so Megumi filled him in.

"She prefers Miki."

"Oh alright!" Satoru said, quickly. "You can tell me that stuff, okay, Miki?" 

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, before grabbing Satoru's leg and making a superman pose. "Now let's go!"

You can read more of this on AO3 ! Nothing Special

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

The beginning.

THE 2019 SEASON

Melbourne, Australia, 2019

I was nervous, I knew you shouldn't be, but I was.

The sun was shining bright down at the Melbourne Circuit, you could hear the delighted conversations from fans just outside of the motorhome. Everyone was excited for the upcoming season of Formula 1, with new drivers and grid line up changes. And I was one of the new faces at the paddock, although not a driver.

I’ve been no stranger to this whole life at the paddock and following Formula 1. I grew up with it as I’d follow my father around since the moment i learned how to walk.

Jenson Button, former Formula 1 driver and world champion. I carried my last name with pride, I love my dad more than anything in the world, but the moment I showed genuine interest in the motorsport world people started to talk.

So now, I can't help but wonder, what is everyone going to say the minute you walk into the paddock as not a guest, but as a McLaren intern.

Sure, I will be the first to admit that having the Button last name did help I get this internship, but I conclude the training to be here on your effort, with my intelligence, my studies and everything I prepared myself for.

I knew working at the PR department didn't come easy in the motorsport world, I not only had to deal with PR, reporters, FIA, and the drivers, but you had to understand the dynamic of the sport, of the car, and everything else in case I needed to step up to give a statement on behalf of a driver or the team.

I spent countless days, in 2018, going over the FIA regulations, learning about the cars, all while taking classes in UNI and juggling the McLaren PR training.

Someone called out my name in a soothing manner. I lifted your head, meeting Sophie's smile. Behind her there were two men, one standing tall and proud and the other a bit more awkwardly. I knew very well who they were as I will be working close to them.

"Hi, Sophie." I smile at her "Would you like to join me for coffee?"

She nods, taking a sit across from me and gesturing the two men to do the same.

"I wanted to introduce you three properly since you'll be working close together." She says "These are our 2019 drivers, Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. This is Y/n, she is our new PR intern."

I smile at both of them.

“It’s nice to finally meet you both.”

Carlos smiles “Likewise, I hope we get along well, the three newbies of McLaren.”

I laugh at his little joke and Lando follows suit with his own laughter that is a bit too contagious.

He seems a bit shy, maybe it’s because it’s his first season in Formula 1 and he feels like he has a lot to prove. In a sense I relate to him. We’re both here to show we’re good and deserve to be here.

And without even speaking for more than 5 minutes with him, I can already feel that we’re going to be friends soon enough.

Xangai, China, 2019

I have my back turned to the door of McLaren hospitality as I fumble with the coffee machine. It’s very early in the morning on Friday, a few hours away from the start of free practice. I am feeling exhausted from the long flight from England to China and the different time zones.

“It seems like the coffee machine is winning the fight.” A voice cut through the silence of the hospitality.

I turn around to find Lando standing beside me with a smile on his face, showing his dimples and amusement.

“I can’t get it to make coffee, I think it’s broken.” I complain with a huff

“Did you turn it on?” He asks me amused

“What?”

“Did you turn on the machine?”

“Of course I…” He reaches his arm across from me, pushing a button and the coffee machine beeps before finally brewing my coffee. I feel my cheeks go warm in embarrassment “Sorry, I’m uh still half asleep.”

He giggles, that infectious laugh of his that I always find myself smiling and giggling along whenever I hear it. If there is one thing I have already learned from Lando, it's that it’s nearly impossible to be serious around him. He carries this natural good natured aura, and he’s funny and likes to make jokes and see the good side of things. And whenever I’m around him I find myself a giggling mess.

We grab our cups of coffee and take a seat at one of the comfortable arm chairs at the corner of the room.

“You look tired.” Lando points out, sipping his coffee.

“I’m jet lagged, and I had a paper to turn in for uni so I stayed up until late and I only got a few hours of sleep on the plane because I had to review the questions for yesterday’s press conference.” I tell him, basically chugging down my coffee “Do you think I’d get fired if I drank Red Bull?”

He shakes his head.

“You should get some sleep during FP1.” He tells me

I sigh “Yeah, but it’s not really worth the drive back to the hotel, I will probably only manage a twenty minute nap before I have to come back here.”

“You can nap in my driver's room.” He offers, a friendly smile on his face

“Oh, no, I can’t accept it.” I shake my head “Thank you, thought.”

Lando smiles, leaning over the armrest of his seat to get closer to me.

“I insist. You need sleep to be on top of your game. Come on.” He stands up offering his hand. I eye it for a moment before accepting it. He pulls me up to my feet.

He guides me through the corridors of the hospitality until we reach his driver’s room. He opens the door and I’m a bit surprised at how neat it looks. I half expected it to be a mess of clothes.

“Here, you can sleep on the couch, it isn’t much but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you.” I smile, sitting on the couch and taking off my shoes.

I get into a comfortable position, curling up on the couch and instantly closing my eyes. I feel something soft covering me and I open my eyes a bit confused.

“I don’t have a blanket.” Lando says, his cheeks turning red. “So I uh… covered you with my jacket.”

I feel my chest grow warm at his sweet gesture. I smile at him.

“Thank you, Lando.”

He smiles back at me, and at that moment, I think is when I started to have a crush on him.

Barcelona, Spain, 2019

I should have expected Spain to be a bit insane considering the fact that I work with a Spanish driver. The minute I stepped out of the car with Carlos following behind me, the fans started to scream and throw themselves at us.

I’m not unfamiliar with the whole passionate fans wanting pictures and autographs, but since I used be a toddler or a child, they at least head the decency to not push and pull at my dad because I was clinging to him.

But now I am an adult, and they don’t care about those things anymore and I had never been mobbed by fans before without having my dad or my uncles by my side.

The fans screamed at Carlos who was doing his best to attend each and every single one of them. And things only got worse when Lando arrived and they suddenly wanted pictures of the best new funny duo of the grid.

They pulled at me, shoving pictures on my face to get them to sign since I worked with them, and they yelled questions about what it was like to work with the both young drivers.

I tried to step away, get away from them fans, but I was stuck in between the mass of people and to make matters worse they managed to separate me from Carlos and Lando who were looking at me concerned over the chaos.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck is going on?” A harsh loud voice cut through the yell of fans “Stop pulling at her! Get your hands off of her!”

Suddenly a tall blonde man dressed in red was pushing the fans away from me, shielding me with his body as he yelled.

I cling to the back of Sebastian's Ferrari shirt, telling like a little girl again, but completely relieved that he was there with me with his familiar force of comfort he always knew how to bring me.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, gluing me to his side and I knew if I wasn’t 20 years old anymore he would have picked me up and carried me like a toddler out of this mess. He glared at everyone who tried to get in our way and stirred me inside the paddock.

“Prinzessi.” Sebastian called me the same nickname from when he first met me as a newborn “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head “No, I’m… I’m fine.” I say, but my voice is shaky and he can tell that I’m holding back tears.

He places his hands on my shoulders, peering down at me with intense concerned eyes as he scans my body to look for any injury.

“What the hell is wrong with you both?” Sebastian yells the minute Lando and Carlos finally catch up to us “They were eating her alive!”

They look sheepish and terrified of being scolded by the German who looks lived with anger.

“She’s your PR assistant, but you’re supposed to keep your fans in check to keep her safe!” Sebastian continues with the harsh tone “She could have gotten hurt! They were touching her and shoving her! That was so reckless from the both of you!”

They nod, stiffly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vettel.” Lando says, eyes wide “I promise this will never happen again. I’ll- I’ll make sure she is safe at all times from now own. I- I swear!”

Sebastian doesn’t correct him on the Mr. Vettel name calling, he nods still with a glare.

“Come on, prinzessin.” He says in a much more soft tone, his arm resting against my shoulder in a protective parental manner “Let’s get you to Ferrari, uh? I will get you one of those chocolate pastries you love so much.”

With one final glare Sebastian takes me away from them. The McLaren drivers share a confused look as they watch me walk away.

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 2019

The Monaco Grand Prix is always a big event. Lots of celebrities and former drivers gather in the city to watch the historical race, and that’s how I find myself sitting at the McLaren hospitality chatting away with uncle Nico while my dad gets us drinks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the race from Mercedes, uncle Nico?” I ask him, making my best innocent look that always got me away with things when I was younger and probably until this day when it comes to the drivers who watch me grow up.

“No, of course not.” Nico Rosberg shakes his head, a found and almost proud smile on his face “This is the first race I am watching this season in person and you’re officially a Formula 1 employee, I’m staying all weekend here with you at McLaren.”

I want to argue with him that I’m not technically a F1 employee as I’m just an intern, but he gives me a pointed look and I only nod.

“So, what is this that I hear about you and a rookie driver?”

I widen my eyes as I look at him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Nico laughs at me “Seb has told me that you’ve become inseparable from the rookie McLaren driver, Norris.”

I huff, I should have known uncle Sebastian would open his mouth and gossip about me to his retired friends.

As if being summoned, Lando walked into the McLaren hospitality, wearing his cap backwards and smiling big as always. Carlos is beside him as usual and they both make their way over once they spot me.

“Hola, pequenita.” Carlos greets me, ruffling my hair affectionately before spotting Nico sitting across for me and getting a bit embarrassed.

Lando stands beside me ready to make a joke when he notices Carlos’ expression and widening his eyes when he sees Nico as well.

“Hello, Nico.” Carlos greets him

“Carlos, always good to see you.” He smiles before turning to Lando “And you must be one of the 2019 rookies, Lando?”

Lando nods quickly “Yeah, yeah. That’s me, nice to meet you Mr. Rosberg.”

Nico’s smile widens as Lando addresses him as Mr. Rosberg, feeling pleased with himself. I shot him a warning glare.

“Please, join us.” He says, motioning for the boys to the empty seats.

Lando sits beside me as Carlos sits across from me, leaving one empty space at the head of the table.

Nico makes light conversation, asking mostly questions about Formula 1, but I could see the glint in his eyes every time he asked Lando something, who seemed incredibly shy at receiving attention from a World Champion.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get the drinks, I ran into some old friends.” My dad says walking to the table with a glass of my favorite refreshing drink to have in Monaco “There you go, sweetheart.”

I smile, accepting the drink “Thank you, dad.”

Lando and Carlos both choke on their saliva at the same time when they hear me call Jensen Button my dad.

“Ah, just the men I wanted to meet!” He exclaims “Carlos, Lando, you both have been doing such good jobs here at McLaren. My daughter talks a lot about you.”

I watch as they become flustered over the news. My dad smiles, taking a sit at the head of the table.

“I heard you both let her get swamped by a mob of fans?” He asks with a smile, but I can see the hard look in his eyes.

“Dad!” I scold him “Uncle Seb already gave them a hard time!”

My father chuckles, soon being followed by Nico. Carlos and Lando’s eyes are wide and they look terrified.

“I know, I know.” My dad lifts his hands in surrender “I’m just messing with them. But I still have eyes and ears on the paddock so…”

“Dad!” I scold him once more.

He laughs again and finally switch subjects, talking about the new grid line up of this year and asking questions to Lando and Carlos who seem to become a bit more comfortable at the presence of Jenson Button and Nico Rosberg.

Hockenheim, Germany, 2019

Lando was in a bad mood, I could tell it from far away. He was moving frantically around the garage and he had a scowl on his face.

The past five races have been of ups and downs from him, he had two DNF, one race out of top ten because he got p11 and two races where he scored points. But he was pissed off still from his p11 on his home race in England.

It also didn’t help that the reporter he got placed with decided to improvise some questions that wasn’t pre approved and it made Lando uncomfortable with the way he was pressing on the matter of him doing a bad job at his home race.

And then, to make matters worse, he DNFed again today.

“Lando.” I say his name in a soft tone

He whips his head quickly towards me, a deep frown on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I say, I place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in reassurance “It’s raining terribly today, everyone is spinning.”

He huffs annoyed.

“I should be good at racing in the rain.” He complains.

“How many times have you raced in this circuit?” I ask him, calmly.

“Well- this was the first time, but…”

I cut him off “And how many times have you raced in the rain in a Formula 1 car?”

Lando blinks at me as he answers “This was also the first time.”

I nod, my thumb rubbing sof circles on his forearm.

“And how do you expect to be good at something you’re doing for the first time?”

He looks away from me, and I can tell he is staring to consider my words.

“Valtteri has been doing this for a long time and he also crashed.” I tell him.

That get him to look at me again, his frown turning into something a bit more hopeful.

“Bottas didn’t finish the race?”

I shake my head “No, he didn’t. Even the experienced ones are having a hard time out there. This is only your first race in the rain, Lando.”

He sighs, and slowly he nods his head. He shifts his arm, making my hand slide down and towards his. His hand is much bigger than mine and it’s warm despite the cold weather from the rain. He squeezes my hand.

“Thank you. I just-…”

I smile at him, squeezing his hand back.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

And for the first time since he DNFed, I saw Lando’s dimples as he smiled at me.

Marina Bay, Singapore, 2019

Singapore has always been a hard circuit. The warmth and humidity did no good for the drivers to be racing for long periods of time. Still, it’s one of my favorite circuits because I find it beautiful to watch the race at night.

I’m watching from the McLaren garage, this time considering the hot weather conditions, they allowed the PR team to wear lighter clothes, so I’m in a simple dress, standing close to the AC and sipping water every few minutes.

I wince when I watch Carlos spin and crash into the barrier. The garage grows quiet for a minute.

“He’s ok!” His race engineer announces and we all finally breath normally again

A few moments later Carlos enters the garage with an annoyed look on his face. He places his helmet on one of the shelves and go to speak to his team.

I keep my eyes trained on the screen to watch Lando’s progress while I look for the schedule of reporters who want a world with Carlos after his DNF.

I accept the request of two journalists and move over to where Carlos is.

“Hey… you ready for some interviews?” I ask, eyeing him

He clenched his jaw before nodding and following me out of the garage and onto the media pan.

I give out instructions to him on the way there and step back when he positions himself to give the interviews. I watch intensely, jotting out necessary information on my iPad and ready to intervene at any given moment, but despite the bad situation, the interviews go smoothly and soon enough we’re back at the garage.

Carlos excuses himself to go shower and change clothes, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

In a blur of moments I watch as uncle Seb wins the Singapore Grand Prix, a proud smile on my face. Lando finishes in p7 which is great since he’s on the pointing zone.

“Congratulations, Lando. You did a really good job today!” I tell him

His smile grows bigger “Thank you, thank you!”

Even though he’s happy, I can notice the tiredness ok his face. He’s completely drenched in swest and I can see the slightly tremor of his hands, probably about to begin an hypoglycemic episode without even realizing.

“Hey, why don’t you take a sit?” I say, gently grabbing both his arms and walking him to a chair. I move quickly as I push my water bottle into his hands and search for a snack “Here.”

Lando looks at me a bit confused, but obliged.

“Oh.. wow.” He chuckles “How did you even know how to do this? I didn’t even realize I was feeling weak.”

I smile, my hand twitches at my side as I feel the want to run my fingers over his curls.

“I’ve been on the watching side of this sport since I learned how to walk. I learned a thing or two.”

He nods, still munching on the chocolate protein bar I gave him.

“Yeah… I uh sometimes forget you’re the Jenson Button’s daughter.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Lando tilts his head to the side, confused, but doesn’t say anything and I’m grateful for that.

Austin, United States, 2019

The season is coming to an end, thankfully. All the traveling, working and university studying at the same time has been taking a toll on me. It is too much, and I could see it every time I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror. The circles staring back at me.

My body was sore, my throat scratchy and my head hurt. I knew the flu was making it’s way to dominate my body.

Still, I put on makeup to cover up my sickness face and went to the paddock for media day.

“Buenos dias!” Carlos greeted me once I entered the van and sat across from him and beside Lando who was bouncing with energy on the seat

“Good morning.” I say, cringing a little at the way my voice sounded

Lando frowned, pushing his face close to mine to examine me.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a low voice, his brows furrowing

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Still, he kept analyzing me. From the corner of my eyes I could see Carlos lips turn upwards in a smile he hid behind his phone as he scrolled through it.

Lando said my name slowly, softly.

“You look sick.”

I pout slightly as I say “Geez, thank you for saying I look terrible.”

He huffs, clearly not finding my attempt to brush it off as funny as I did. He lifted his hand up before placing it on my forehead.

“You’re hot.”

“Oh, so now I’m…”

“Stop trying to deflect it.” Lando cuts me off before I can make another joke. “You’re sick. Why didn’t you say anything? You should be in bed resting.”

I shake my head, getting away from his hand.

“I’m not sick. I’m great. I’m just jet lagged and a bit tired, nothing some coffee won’t fix.”

Lando frowns and it takes me by surprise to see the irritated look on his face directed at me. Sure, I’ve seen him mad before when the race doesn’t go the way expected or when the media gets too much, but never aimed at me.

“I’ve seen you jet lagged and tired before and this is not it.”

I say his name in a sigh and he says my name in a warning. We stared at each other for what feels like forever, before Carlos giggles at us and says we arrived at the paddock.

The minute I get out of the van I start to quickly walk inside the paddock, scanning my pass, knowing the guys will stop to talk to the fans and I will be free of Lando’s questioning. I start to make my way to the McLaren hospitality when I feel a large hand land on my shoulder.

I flinch in surprise, whipping my head around and finding Lando beside me, still frowning.

“Lando.” I try to sound stern as I say his name, but it gets mixed up with a cough I try to hold in.

That only makes his frown deepen. He starts to drag me somewhere.

“You’re going to the medic center now.” He says, stern.

I complain and try to stand still, but he is taller, bigger and much stronger than me so he basically drags me.

I can see some people turning around to look at us, but I keep telling him to let go.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sebastian shows up in front of us, hands on his waist and I know that behind his sunglasses he is glaring at Lando. “What is going on here?”

“She’s sick and she’s being stubborn about it.” Lando says, still holding onto my shoulder “So I’m taking her to the medic center.”

Sebastian frowns, placing his sunglasses on top of his head as he takes a step closer to me.

“I’m not sick.” I say “Lando is being dramatic. Tell him to leave me alone.”

“She is sick! She even has a fever!”

Sebastian looks between the two of us, but he knows me long enough to know I am lying. He places a hand on my forehead.

“Norris ir right, you do have a fever, prinzessin.”

“No I don’t.” I say stubbornly.

He arches an eyebrow, as if challenging me.

“Do you want me to carry you to the medic center like you’re still a tiny baby?” He asks and I shake my head quickly, knowing very well he isn’t bluffing “Then let Norris take you and follow everything the medics say.”

“But Sebby!” I whine.

“Prinzessin.” He gives me an unimpressed look “Go to the medic center with Norris, now. And I’m not asking, I am telling you to go.”

I huff with a pout, knowing I won’t win this argument so I let Lando take me to the medic center while Sebastian watches from the distant as the McLaren rookie fusses over me.

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2019

The paddock was busier than ever, so many people with so many big smiles and shouts of happiness.

It’s the last race of the season and it leaves a bittersweet feeling on my chest. On one hand I am extremely happy that the season is finally over and I will be able to go back to a somewhat normal routine, going to college everyday, normal sleep schedules, as normal as an university student sleep schedule can go, and staying at home for a bit.

But at the same time, I am upset about being away from Formula 1 for the time being. I got used to seeing Lando and Carlos everyday, they are already a big important part of my life. I like the thrill of being in a different place every other week, of learning new things and watching the races.

I’m sitting at the VIP lounge section at the rooftop, overlooking the paddock bustling with activities. I’m sipping an Italian soda while I soak in the last moments of the 2019 season.

I don’t say anything as Lando slips quietly on the seat beside me. He has dark sunglasses perched on the top of his nose and he’s wearing a black McLaren shirt. His thigh brushes my slightly to gather my attention.

I shift in my seat to look at him and he already has that dimple smile on his face.

“It’s been a long year, huh?” He says quietly

I nod, smiling softly at him.

“It has been… feels like it was yesterday that I meet you and Carlos on my first day at the paddock.”

He hums, reaching out for my glass of Italian soda and taking a sip without even asking for it. I don’t mind, it’s normal between us by now.

“How was your first year as a Formula 1 employee?” He asks

“Better than I expected to be honest.” I tell him, playing with the hem of my dress “I didn’t get bad words from people for being Jenson Button’s daughter.”

Lando nods, understanding what I’m hinting at.

“You’ve been doing a good job, I think you’ve proved yourself here.”

“No, I haven’t yet.” I tell him. “But what about you? How was your first year as a Formula 1 driver?”

His smile widens “It was insane. Sometimes still feels like I’m dreaming. I know the results I’ve been getting aren’t ideal yet, but being here… it’s great.” I can tell he’s happy by the way his eyes lit up “I got so luck to have a good teammate.”

I nod, he sure indeed found a friend in Carlos.

“And even luckier to have the most beautiful and incredible PR intern.”

My cheeks grow hot the minute my brain register and processes his words. I lift my eyes to look at him, his cheeks are also tinted pink and he was a sweet smile on his face.

We stare at each other for a moment, only gazing in each others eyes. I reach for his hand and he squeezes mine in his big one.

“Will you be here with me next year?” Lando asks in a soft tone.

“Yes.” I breath out “I’ll be here with you next year.”

[back2bluesidex]

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices. 

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment. 

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly. 

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown. 

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case. 

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him. 

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at. 

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him. 

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken. 

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions. 

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”  

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love. 

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.” 

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time. 

But wrong… you were. 

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door. 

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three. 

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.” 

But again.. Again you were disappointed. 

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much. 

Why will it never be you and always be her.  

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound. 

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason. 

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not. 

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon. 

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior. 

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you. 

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.  

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening. 

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried. 

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that. 

How you wish… he would love you like that. 

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

 “Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.” 

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.  

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful. 

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled. 

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much. 

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him. 

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together. 

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood. 

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act. 

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover. 

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down. 

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you. 

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you. 

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves. 

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

[twilightofthesandwiches]

I'm thinking more about... how Deltarune Chapters 1 + 2 seemed to have set up certain... Patterns for the game, which a lot of the fandom kinda took for granted that they would apply for all of the following chapters as well.

Y'know, one Dark World for each Chapter, it's going to be based on a location we haven't explored before, each Dark World has it's own Ruler and it's own Super Secret Shadow Crystal Boss and we're gonna finish the game by sealing the Dark Fountain and then walk around Hometown a whole bunch.... Even stuff like the Darkners being motivated by some form of resentment or anxiety about being abandoned by the Lightners and the Super Secret Shadow Crystal Boss being 'fallen from grace' and driven mad by the influence of Someone...

And then Chapter 3 and 4 are both kinda set around slowly dissolving down this seemingly-established formula.

Chapter 3 doesn't have a real Light World Exploration segment at all, it ends before we properly seal the Fountain, and it's Super Secret Shadow Crystal Boss is actually the main route's Supposed-To-Lose-Fight with the Actual Main Villain the Roaring Knight. (Who... we simply don't know enough about to know if they have any narrative parallels with Jevil or Spamton.)

And then Chapter 4 has TONS of Light World content, including gameplay segments against SOUL-less Kris, we get to explore the Church just before the Dark Fountain opens, the Darkners don't seem to feel abandoned or neglected and we also have, like, MULTIPLE Dark Worlds, albeit ones based on the same Light World location. Gerson/the Hammer of Justice fills in both the 'leader' role like King, Queen and Tenna but also the Super Secret Shadow Crystal Boss Role (while also being clearly VERY narratively different than Jevil and Spamton).

And I think... I think that outside of Lore speculations, I think from a narrative perspective it relates to Susie's musing at the end of Chapter 4

of how she wishes things will stay the same forever, cause that'll mean she can keep being friends with Kris and Ralsei.

Like, the patterns, the formulas, they make things feel safe, because you know on some level that the next day (the next chapter) will be familiar on some level, because some things (like having a Weird Little Freak to fight, or the friendship between our main trio) will have to remain the same.

And when they start breaking apart, it's distressing. We know the changes are gonna herald more changes. And, since we are past the halfway point, we know things will end eventually.

Obviously Susie is probably not distraught about the lack of a proper Deranged Freak Shadow Crystal Holder. But these two Chapters have been a massive shift in the way she sees the Dark World and her adventures. She's starting to notice the darker undertones beneath the surface and the Actual Real Stakes involved, rather than this just being a fun magic adventure.

Since most of the audience has actually noticed these darker moments before and has been speculating about them for years, the departure from the formula is the thing that helps to put us in the mindset that Susie is in right now, that things are different than how they were in the first two chapters (days), and those times will probably never truly return.

[foolinafable]

It's for the best .ೃ࿐

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader Synopsis: locked in a cell, the white paladin remembers her happier times and hopes that she can make it back to a certain black paladin. Word count: 3.7K Tags: slight angst, flashbacks, mentions of torture but not graphic, set tentatively around season 4 Notes: Apparently, vld is having a resurgence so send in some requests!

You knew it was for the best. Sat cross-legged in the confines of your cell with a small smile on your lips, contented, knowing that you have done everything you could, that this wasn't in vain- rather it was what was supposed to happen. For the betterment of the entire universe, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You remember telling Keith something similar during one of his many brooding moments. Now wishing that you could remember which conversation it was or maybe just that you had paid more attention to your time together, especially now you didn’t think you would ever see the boy with the mullet again. 

You were sat next to Hunk, the pair of you looking up giddily at Takashi Shirogane, the famed astro explorer. He was speaking to the class about his recent accomplishment as he had just broken the record for the fastest orbital velocity. Everyone had tried the flight simulator and despite not being able to get passed level 3- like the rest of the class you were still excited by the prospect of meeting the youngest pilot to ever lead a mission in space. Even more happy that you had done better than James Griffin in the simulator- as he never stopped going on about his good grades and how much better he is. So to wipe that smirk off his face made it all worth it. As you and Hunk were fangirling in the corner you heard Griffins whining causing your attention to go back to the simulator, where apparently one more person was having a go. The pair of you walked towards the commotion as the annoyed brunette sounded out “No way! Keith made it past level five?! Thing's got to be broken.” That was the first moment you saw him, well properly at least. The young boy with a mullet and a ‘disciplinary issue’ if you were to listen to what your teachers told you. He walked away from the training simulator with a grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile too. Especially when he looked your way as he walked off. 

‘He doesn't even know you're gone’ you muse to yourself, and it’s true. The last you had heard from him was on the other side of a screen during a planning meeting with the Blade surrounded by your teammates, who similarly had yet to know the fate of the white paladin of Voltron. They would soon realise when you don't return through the wormhole and when they find your lion broken and alone. But then it will already be too late, as the galaran ship that held you prisoner was already galaxies away taking you towards inevitable doom. You think you're pathetic, as you are already giving up but what else can you do, your weapon is gone, lion missing,  and you are locked in a cell with only your body inside of it with nobody even knowing where you are- not even you. Worry roots deeply inside of yourself as you think of your friends, a lump in your throat growing at the thought of them discovering that you're gone- they have all lost enough already. You’re sure Lance would try to be enthusiastic, claiming that they found Shiro so they could find you. Still, even he would know the saddening truth that the galarans won’t make the same mistake twice as he tries to hide his tears from Pidge who would be clinging to Hunk, begging him to tell her it’s not true- she only just got her brother back and now she has lost her sister- blood related or not. You knew it would destroy the team if you couldn’t get back to them and what worries you is that you're struggling to see a way that you can.

It was nerve-wracking, waiting to find out who Iverson and the rest of the teachers decided to team you up with for the simulators. It was a big deal, as this was going to be your team for the rest of your time in the Garrison. Last year you couldn’t wait for this moment, but maybe that was because you were certain that the boy with the mullet would be by your side as you were as Shiro put it “the only person that can put up with him” but he left, dropped out without so much of a goodbye, and you could understand, the loss of Shiro, Matt and Sam was difficult for everyone but nobody took it worse than Keith and you suppose it made sense as Shiro was all the boy had. You shook the thoughts of him out of your mind when Iverson finally came into the room, twiddling the rings on your rings on your fingers as you stood near Hunk who looked ghostly pale and going on queasy as you both prayed that the older man would do you both a solid and put you two together. You listened as he called names into groups, feeling somewhat better when Griffin was put in a group that didn't include you. Then your name was called and you were told to stand next to a tall Cuban boy wearing blue, you smiled as you walked up to him and he smiled back seemingly just as nervous as you were, then a smaller boy with round glass and a green jumper joined the group, your eyes squinting when looking at him, almost as if you had seen him before but you couldn’t place where. But before you could question it Hunk's name fell out of Iverson’s lips, you looked up in alarm as you saw Hunk coming towards your group, shocked that your prayers had been answered. The fear that was eating away at you was dulled slightly as he came to stand next to you. Sure it wasn’t the team that you wanted but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Being in space has always made your internal clock question how long has passed, but it seems to be worse when alone in this cell. You believe it has been a few days based on the number of trays of food delivered to your cell, the only interaction with another you’ve had this whole time. At least you think, as you find yourself waking up exhausted with pains and aches all over your body, but you have no memory of doing anything or even anyone coming into your cell in the first place. You thought you would've been face to face with Zarkon or his witch by now, but as time passes, you struggle to believe that would happen at all, which causes a pit to develop in your stomach as the unknown of your future begins to dawn on you.

You can still hear the conforming hum of your lion in the back of your head, trying to reassure you that all is well but as the days pass by you begin to believe it less and less simply repeating to yourself that it was for the best.

“Things could’ve been a lot worse” you theorised. Sat with Pidge in this trash heap with your lions completely shut down. At least you were together and there were (up to now) no enemies trying to kill you both. To be honest, you wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anyone else. After Pidge finally revealed to everyone that she was in fact a girl, something you had figured out back in your garrison days, not long after you had become a team and saw the photo of her and Matt taken prior to the Kerberos mission, but you only knew because he had shown it to you first, during one of his many tutoring sessions with you. You liked to think that while Shiro was Keith’s mentor, Matt was yours. A sentiment he very much enjoyed, so much that Pidge later told you that she had already known who you were when she met you. A fact that made your heart swell. Your friendship with Matt was one of the many reasons that Pidge thought of you like a sister and the main reason you looked after her so much- you wanted to look after her for him while he couldn’t and while this mindset got you into many arguments with Keith over putting her safety over your own you wouldn’t change a thing because you knew it was the right thing to do (Also Keith couldn’t really say anything as he constantly put himself in harms way for everyone on the team.) You couldn’t help but feel protective over her as she was the youngest out of your ragtag bunch and was annoyingly the only one you could baby as you were the second youngest of the group as Lance loved to remind you. While being here with Pidge definitely made you feel a little better, you couldn’t help but be relentlessly worried for the rest of the group, as they always found some way to get into trouble- especially Lance and Keith. It was like trouble sought them out, always getting into some sort of issue whether it be with aliens or with each other. So you couldn’t help but double over in laughter when Pidge using her junk-made paladins started an argument between the fake Lance and Keith.  Eventually, you both decided that you had waited around for help long enough and decided to try and find your own way back to the castle. Pidge made you gather together materials to make a home beacon signal in hopes that it could reach the castles of lions to allow them to find you two. No surprise to you Pidge’s brilliance worked its magic as the castle of lions appeared in the sky from a wormhole, the pair of you hugged each other happy knowing that you weren’t going to grow old on a trash pile as you had both dramatically claimed. You two were more than ready to return to the fight against Zarkon to save the universe and hopefully, find Pidge’s family.      

You dream of him, black hair, violet eyes and his grumpy temperament clouding your thoughts as you try to rest. But, when you wake cold and alone in that dark cell you are reminded of the present and how you need to try and stop yourself from dreaming of the past.

Thought it was “just goodbye for now” you bitterly mumbled as you awoke from another dream of him. This time the memory sticks with you- of the goodbye you shared as he left to find himself with the blades, those were the words he uttered to you as you blanketed him in your embrace. That it was temporary, that you two would come back together again and you remember how you smiled through your sadness nodding at his words, believing him truthfully- as you always did. But you are now struggling to believe it anymore and you don't know if you are more mad at him for uttering those words or yourself for trusting them to be true. Up to now, all attempts to contact your lion have failed miserably but you can still hear your lion if you concentrate enough- as though you two are connected to the same string and you pray that it never snaps, clinging onto it like a lifeline.

You were buzzing, tapping your hands against your legs as you bounced on the balls of your feet, waiting for Pidges Lion in the cockpit while the rest of the team looked at you, amused. Lance, clearly feeding off your joyous attitude, ruffled the hair on your head, messing it up slightly. You turned to the boy, pouting as he withdrew his hands, using your own to try to flatten whatever mess he had made as he giggled at your reaction. A smile quickly returned to your face when Pidge stepped out of her lion with a familiar boy following behind her, you ran towards the pair, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders in welcome, your smile only increasing when he hugged back with just as much gusto, you could hear Lance muttering something about someone being jealous if they were here to Hunk and Shiro but you weren’t paying close enough attention to anything he said, instead, you were very happy that the man who you would call a brother was really okay and just like Shiro had survived the Kerberos mission. When the family reunion had ended Pidge introduced Matt to the rest of the group, except for Keith as he was yet again away on some mission with the Blades. You watched amused as Matt’s eyes landed on Allura and something similar to what you see in a romcom played out as he screamed “You are so beautiful!” you struggled to keep the giggles to yourself as you saw Coran turn red in anger, clearly seeing this as an inappropriate way to talk to the princess and finding humour in Lance’s clear jealousy as Hunk made the boy walk away from the group. You decided to do something similar telling Pidge to give Matt a tour of the castle ship as you walked away with Coran and Allura, pulling both the alteans away with your hands.

Calming down an angry altean was albeit harder than you expected, especially when Allura was of no help at all as she was just laughing at how worked up the older man had become, but you understood it was because he felt so protective over her especially since there was no Alfor to help him and she was like Coran’s little girl so nobody would ever be good enough, you whispered just as much to him as Allura was talking to her mice and that seemed to make him less annoyed, knowing that somebody else understood him. It wasn’t until later when gossiping with Allura about your lives before all this, that she mentioned that it wasn’t just Matt’s interaction with her that annoyed Coran but also his interaction with you, claiming that he always got annoyed when others in his eyes tried to “flirt” with you, her or Pidge. However, she quickly noted that he never got annoyed or got Lance and Hunk to intimidate Keith like he did anyone else when it comes to you a comment made your cheeks burn.   

You startle awake to the sound of your cell door being opened, eyes darting towards the light, confused when the door continues to open, eyes squinting from the light now surrounding you for the first time in weeks as you try to identify the body in front of you when a voice gasped out and a familiar voice spoke your name. All worry evaporated from your body as Matt Holt wrapped you in a hug and you knew for the first time in weeks that everything would be okay and that maybe Keith was right- it was just goodbye for now.

You now sat in the control room of the ship you had been captured in surrounded by freedom fighters. After hearing over hacked intercoms about it carrying ‘precious cargo’ for the emperor, they had infiltrated and taken control of the ship.

“And that was me was it?” you mused looking towards the Holt boy to which he cracked a smile sending you a simple nod in response. You had changed into your white and silver spacesuit and your bayard had been retrieved for you. Now more than ready to return home to the castle of lions, to the paladins and to him. 

The first thing you saw, unsurprisingly, as the ship came out of the wormhole was your lion, growling in happiness, bounding towards her paladin only stopping when she was at the front of the ship, eyes locked onto you. You smiled gleefully at your lion feeling your connection stronger than ever, as though the string that attached the you two was unwavering, unbreakable. As soon as the ship reached the castle of lions you were enveloped in the paladin’s embrace, you would’ve fallen over when Pidge launched herself into your arms, legs wrapped around your middle like a koala,  if weren’t for Lance keeping you balanced by surrounding you in a hug from behind. Hunk joined the misfit group of cadets finishing off the group hug similar to how they used to in the Garrison when they, for once, completed the training simulator much to Iverson’s shock. Thoughts of worry could be seen swimming through Shiro’s eyes as you caught them when looking up, he nodded at you, the tension flinging off him like water down a hill as you turned back to your family holding Pidge and Lance by the backs of their heads, smiling and reassuring them that this was real, that you were real as tears dropped from the twos eyes. You could feel Hunk’s laboured breaths, clearly trying to stay strong for the group as the rest were blubbering messes. Walking away from your embrace and towards the freedom fighters with Shiro shaking hands and thanking them for getting you back to them as the trio dropped towards the floor, holding onto each other like it was the last time. 

It was only later when you had changed into your everyday wear, speaking with Allura and Coran holding both of their hands, stroking them gently that the paladins noticed the new scars decorating your arms and some scorch marks adjourned your neck along with bruising that you wouldn’t comment on. Or rather that you couldn’t as you claimed to not remember anything except for the dark room you were kept in and then Matt saving you. Another change was your hair, which had a white streak in it, you simply chuckled at the development turning to Shiro claiming "We match now" causing everyone to laugh and they supposed it fit you well - “As she is the white paladin” Lance claimed.

It was only when Coran transferred your memories temporarily into a crystal that they all saw what you endured on the ship, you were beaten and tortured for answers, electrocuted, burned for sport and tested on by some druids. At that point, they stopped watching as Shiro was looking rather green, probably from remembering his own time with those vile creatures. But you mused that you were lucky as you still had all your limbs and according to Coran who looked at your scan results from the healing pod whatever they were trying on you didn’t work as you were the same as you were before, “except for a few scars and a new hair colour that is” He pondered twiddling his moustache. And he was right of course you didn’t feel any different, maybe a bit more anxious at night and a few more nightmares but who could blame you after being trapped in a dark room for weeks. Of course, the memory loss was slightly concerning but they all believed it to be a coping mechanism to keep you sane and you were glad that you could only properly remember the dark room, that it was all that really haunted you at night and that those things you saw on the screen projected from your mind didn’t and you hoped it stayed that way.

The entire universe that was apart of the coalition let out a sigh of relief when it was revealed by Allura on comms to the members of the alliance that the white paladin of Voltron had been found and returned mostly unharmed.  However, nobody’s relief could be felt greater than that of Keith Kogane who had been fighting with Kolivan for weeks when they received the information of your disappearance and probable capture, he remembers the way his legs nearly gave out from under him when during a meeting with Allura the altean claimed that Voltron couldn’t come to the rescue this time as they were missing a paladin- missing you. He Surprisingly didn’t even need to sneak out on a blade ship to try and find the castle of lions to see if it was true, rather Kolivan who was probably fed up with his moping simply turned to the boy and gave him ship and co-ordinates simply asking him to back in time for the next meeting. The older Galaran didn’t think he'd see the boy move so fast, mumbling annoyed about how much more work would get done if he did. 

You didn’t hear him on comms asking for Coran to allow him into the cockpit, too busy in the training deck with Shiro and Allura showing them that despite being out of action for a few weeks you were ready to get back out there because as you told them “the galra don’t wait for anyone” and that “this revolution wasn’t going to fight itself.” You didn’t even hear your teammates asking for you to come to the control room over comms, far too busy fighting the training dummies and your comms device left on the side. What you did notice was when you were lifted from behind, a pair of pale arms grabbing you by the waist causing a gasp to erupt from your throat, You spun around ready to attack until your eyes met his, and then your sword dropped to the floor as Keith held you in his arms, staring intensely at you as if you would disappear if he dared to look away for even a second. You quickly returned the embrace, arms circling his back as you threw your head onto his chest, almost unbelieving that he was there, his arms moved, crowding around your head pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he noticed the white strand of hair, his fingers pressed against it confused as he rested his nose atop your head, breathing you in, reminding himself that this was in fact, real and not just one of his sick dreams he has been having since finding out you were gone. 

Being held in his arms made everything real, and you thought that if you had to through everything all over again just to have this moment, in his arms, you would. It was all be for the best if you ended up in his arms at the end of it all.

[dollypopup]

even more things I love about Colin Bridgerton

-his taste in waistcoats is genuinely A++

-he cares so much about the women around him. brought his mum an expensive, sentimental gift. supported Eloise's pursuits to learn about feminism. gave Fran sheet music to show he cares and listens to her passions, compliments Penelope and refuses to let her say bad things about herself

-even when he's mad he's never disparaging. the absolute worst thing he's ever called a woman in the entirety of the show was 'cruel'. he called his older brother an ass in defense of a woman, and that might be the meanest thing he's said to anyone in the show

-his swoopy curls

-how much he values and respects consent and honesty. He just wants to be his whole self with Penelope and is so incredibly vulnerable with her

-THAT HE APOLOGIZES. I was watching a comedy special and they dropped the line 'Do you know how rare it is for a powerful man to apologize when someone's not threatening to take something away from him if he doesn't?' My god, how refreshing is it that we have a man who apologizes wholeheartedly and earnestly so many times? to his mother, to his friends, to his sisters, to his ex, to his wife, and he does it with his WHOLE CHEST. I need Colin Bridgerton to run tedtalks on how to properly apologize, it is sexy as FUCK

-he feels things so deeply because he's so emotionally sensitive, and didn't want to be intimate with Penelope in anger because for him, intimacy with her is special and a positive thing and he didn't want to colour that with negative emotion

-he cries when he's upset, he's a sad crier, and he's an *angry* crier. Like how is anyone ever meant to win a fight against him? The man just has to blink his wet soppy seal eyes at me and I'm a goner

-he can't stay mad for long. he's too empathetic

-he can be awkward and silly

-his silly puns (we shall gallop along, i oiled my way right in)

-he tries to see things from other people's perspectives. He came to Cressida trying to understand and relate to her, he reads Penelope's letters and tries to understand her choices and merge her and LW in his mind

-HE ASKED FOR ELOISE'S BLESSING!!!!

-for the most part, Colin doesn't ask for emotional labour from the people around him. he tries to cope with his concerns on his own. he is not afraid to do that work on himself first

-he pushes back against the male machismo of his peers. he's not just respectful to the women in his immediate circle, but also the women who are out of it. he's nice to the debutants but maintains his distance so as not to lead them on, he defends Marina even though she broke his heart, he's just a good dude

-he holds everything. . .so gently? cups, quills, his wife

-he's a total sweetheart, how can you not love him???