#You know i guess this a little bit. I see it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

impactrueno · 3 days ago

Note

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia deetz #beetleposting #beetlebabes #<- added for those who would prefer to not see this stuff but i didn't intend this to be a shippy post #spoilers: it's very one sided. but it IS all from his POV so you can kinda expect him to be...him #if you're a shipper who's just checking the tag then uhhh hi! i feel like i'm intruding lmao

390 notes · View notes

rmadridcore · 3 days ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: Another request I had on my list that came just in time lmao 🤍 Enjoy, anon!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Jude is practically a ritual. No matter how intense the moment, he makes sure you end the night feeling cherished and at ease. He’s meticulous — cleaning you up with a warm cloth, whispering soft reassurances as he gently wipes away any lingering mess. If he’s gone rough, you’re guaranteed a warm bath where he’ll tenderly wash every inch of you, his touch as gentle as his words, massaging your skin with care. Jude gets extra affectionate afterward; he wants to be close, savoring the post-intimacy warmth with his arms wrapped tightly around you. For him, holding you is almost like another way of saying "I love you" and he needs you to feel that just as deeply.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, Jude is truly torn. He adores your eyes, especially how they’re filled with love, but also how they look when he’s making them roll back. Then there’s your hair — soft and fragrant, perfect for his hands to pull when he’s got you on all fours or on your knees. Naturally, he’s captivated by your body, your curves, but if he had to pick a favorite, it’s your lips. Those soft, inviting lips that kiss him tenderly, speak words of love, and do...other things that drive him crazy. The way your lips look wrapped around him or just lightly kissing his fingers, or how they brush over his sensitive spots; it’s irresistible.

For himself, it’s between two: he loves his hands, for what they can do to you — massaging, exploring, or lifting you closer when you’re arched back. And, well, his other favorite…take a lucky guess. But those hands of his? They’re his pride and joy when it comes to you.

C = Cum (anything to do with come, basically)

Jude’s favorite place to is definitely inside you. It’s like he’s on another level when he feels your warmth around him, holding him close — he loves how intimate and possessive it feels, and nothing compares to hearing you ask for it. That alone drives him wild. But if he’s feeling extra smug, he’ll finish on you, usually your face. He loves seeing his release on your lips or the stray drops on your lashes, and the way you look with him still covering you leaves him in awe.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jude loves marking you, even if he rarely admits it. Knowing the hickeys he left are hidden away on your thighs or chest makes him feel smugly possessive. When he’s in a more playful mood, though, he’ll leave them somewhere visible and watch you try to hide them the next day. Seeing you subtly covering up the spots, his love bites just barely hidden, makes him lose his mind.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jude’s had his fair share of experiences, he’s learned a lot over time and he definitely knows what he’s doing. But with you, he’s dedicated to learning you — he’s incredibly observant and pays attention to all the tiny details about what you like. Every sigh, every shiver, he notes it down mentally, building a whole guide to pleasing you specifically. His experience shows, but he doesn’t coast on it, he’s always looking to make each moment even better, to discover new ways to make you feel good. He’s invested in making every time together feel like it’s just for you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves anything that lets him see you. Whether it’s missionary, or having you on his lap facing him, or you riding him, Jude is addicted to watching you. Seeing your face flushed and eyes struggling to stay focused on him? It’s everything he wants. The way your expression changes when he’s deep inside you, seeing every little reaction up close — it just drives him to keep going, to watch you unravel bit by bit under his touch.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous etc.)

Jude’s mood is flexible, sometimes he’s lighthearted, laughing softly and whispering silly things to make you giggle. Other times, he’s intensely focused, his full attention on you, dead serious about making you feel every inch of his passion. But no matter the mood, his smugness is always there; he can’t help those teasing remarks and that cocky grin, even at the height of intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is definitely a man who takes pride in keeping himself well-groomed. His hair on top is always styled and maintained, and it’s no different down below. He keeps everything tidy and natural, making sure he’s clean and presentable for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

With Jude, it’s all about intimacy. He knows that true intimacy is about genuine connection, and he feels that connection with you. His favorite moments are when he’s as close to you as possible, his gaze holding yours if you can keep your eyes open long enough. He’s deeply romantic, telling you all the things he adores about you as he kisses down your body. His intensity and passion grow when he’s with you — nothing matters more to him than making you feel cherished and loved.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jude likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? When you’re not around, he’ll definitely take matters into his own hands, but he much prefers if you’re on the other end of a phone or FaceTime call with him. If that’s not possible, he has a stash of Polaroids he’s snapped of you, his favorites that he keeps hidden away to help him out when he needs it. To him, nothing compares to the real thing, but he’ll make do when he’s missing you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man has the most obvious praise kink. When you tell him how good he’s making you feel or how much you love what he’s doing to you, it’s all he needs to melt into a mess. The more you praise him, the more he ramps up his efforts, practically obsessed with hearing your approval. There are moments when your compliments even make his cheeks heat up, and that vulnerability drives him to work harder, making him practically feral in his need to satisfy you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he’s up for a lot as long as you two have privacy, his favorite place will always be the bed. It’s where he can fully take his time, exploring you without limits. The bed gives him the freedom to do whatever he pleases with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s honestly everything about you, he’s helplessly attracted to every detail. However, nothing drives him crazier than seeing you in his jersey, with his name and number on the back. He can’t get over the sight of “Bellingham” and “5” emblazoned across your shoulders; it’s a powerful reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. If you wear it around the house, you’re almost guaranteed to end up pinned against a wall, bent over a counter, or pulled onto his lap as he can’t resist making the most of the moment.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s quite open-minded and loves experimenting with new things together, but he has hard boundaries, and bringing other people into your sex life is a firm no. He’s fiercely protective over your bond and can’t even stomach the idea of sharing you with anyone else. Naturally, anything that might hurt or make you uncomfortable is off the table; that goes without saying.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jude’s mouth was made to worship you — or so he often tells you with a smirk. He’s got serious skill, and he knows how to use it. When he’s between your thighs, it’s his favorite place, and he’s almost desperate as he laps you up, savoring every moment like it’s his last. He’s obsessed with making you come on his tongue and has to physically restrain himself from keeping his mouth on you for hours.

As for you going down on him, that’s a whole different high. Seeing you on your knees, with that gleam in your eyes and your tongue teasing him, brings him to his limit almost instantly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace varies with his mood, and he loves mixing it up. If he’s been yearning for you all day or feeling a bit possessive, he can get lost in a faster, rougher rhythm, his need for you overpowering everything else. But when the moment’s tender, like on your anniversary or after he’s missed you, it’s slow, steady, and dripping with affection. Every thrust is measured, intimate, filled with soft kisses, whispered promises, and hand-holding. He knows exactly when to be soft or rough, and it keeps things electric between you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Though quickies can be fun, Jude doesn’t favor them. He loves savoring every moment and finds it hard to rush through it; he’d much rather have the time to build up and bring you to the edge slowly. For him, foreplay is essential, and when he doesn’t have the time for all that care and buildup, he’s usually happier waiting until you can fully enjoy each other. That way, the anticipation only makes everything feel even more intense.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You and Jude are both open to some risks, but you two tend to prioritize safety and privacy. The thrill is there, but he’d never want you both to risk getting caught in any real trouble. However, that doesn’t mean he’s a complete angel: he’s sneaked a hand under your dress at a fancy dinner, given you that mischievous smile, or pressed his hand over your mouth in rooms where you could easily be overheard. Those little thrills are more than enough for him, and they make every private moment afterward even more cherished.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Jude’s stamina is borderline legendary. He’s trained as a top athlete, and while he’s only human, you might be convinced he’s superhuman with how long he can last. He has a strict rule of making you cum at least once before he even thinks of reaching his own high, ensuring you’re completely taken care of. He’s always ready to go for more rounds than you might expect, coaxing you to “give him one more,” until you’re out of breath and only his name remains on your lips.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He enjoys keeping things interesting, so he has a few favorites like handcuffs, a blindfold, and a vibrator for when he’s in the mood to tease. But more than anything, he loves relying on his own body, his hands, mouth, and everything in between, to make you scream his name. He believes his personal touch is more satisfying than any toy could ever be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jude is, without a doubt, the king of teasing. This is because he has learned all the tiny, almost unnoticeable things that turn you on and he exploits them like a motherfucker. He’ll make you flustered with a single look, drag out the anticipation until you’re practically begging, and won’t even touch you until he knows you’re fully aching for him. He loves seeing you on edge, desperate, and completely at his mercy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He knows how much you enjoy his sounds, so he doesn’t hold back. His deep, husky grunts, the way he moans in that accent, and his whispered, filthy words keep you coming undone. He’s vocal because he knows his sounds drive you wild, and he loves to let you know exactly how good you make him feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s got a thing for mirror sex. He loves watching you watch yourself as he has his way with you, making you see just how needy and beautiful you are. It’s a game for him — if you close your eyes or look away, he’ll slow his pace and tease you until you’re back to looking at the reflection. It’s a control thing, and he absolutely relishes seeing you struggle to keep your eyes open.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“Impressive” doesn’t quite do him justice. Jude’s perfectly large and proportional, the kind of fit that has you thinking about him hours after he’s left. When he’s fully hard and deep inside you, it’s a feeling you never get used to, almost as if he’s about to split you in half.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jude’s sex drive is fairly high, almost perpetually ready to show you how much he loves you. If he’s not dealing with major stress from his career, he’s pretty much down anytime, anywhere. Just a hint of flirtation or a touch from you is often all it takes to get him started.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As much as Jude loves sleep, he never nods off until he knows you’re completely settled. Watching you fall asleep in his arms, seeing your breathing slow and your face at ease — it gives him his own kind of peace. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable and content, then he lets himself drift off, happy to have you curled up beside him.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #football player x reader #football fic #jude imagines #imagine #real madrid #rma #rmafc #football imagine

274 notes · View notes

lnfours · 3 days ago

Note

🍰 happy birthday!! i love your writing so much ♡ can i request for #2 + #12 from prompt list three? it's missing lando hours for me and him being clingy just gets me in the feels :")

thank u nonnie!! 🥹🥹 i hope you enjoy!! <33

prompt #2- when they're a big clingy baby who's cold on the outside but all pouty with you prompt #12- "i like the way you uplift me"

jordan's birthday sleepover!

the music in the house was loud, everyone talking loudly to be able to hear their conversations. you had found niran and ethan when you went to make another drink, stopping to talk with them in the kitchen.

little did you know, your boyfriend was currently scoping the house looking for you. he was tired and ready to go, the only thing on his mind was the idea of cuddling up next to you in bed and falling asleep.

but of course, he needed to find you in order to do that.

you were mid conversation when a pair of arms wrapped around your middle, "hey, baby."

you smiled, leaning into his touch as you tilted your head back to meet his eyes, not noticing the glances the other two boys shared. they had never seen this side of lando, the real side that not one everyone got to see. the side that showed off how he really was, a softie who was obsessed with you, not just their slightly intimidating boss.

"hey," you smiled, "sorry, i meant to come find you, but i ran into niran and ethan."

lando smiled softly at his friends, "i see that," his curls were tickling your cheek and you ignored the way he squeezed your middle a little bit tighter. the other two boys had found themselves in their own conversation, prompting lando to lean in closer to your ear to whisper softly, "can we go?"

you nodded, turning around in his arms. you noticed the one unruly curl that had fallen out of place, fingers moving to brush it back, "yeah, we can go,"

he smiled, taking the cup from your hands before replacing it with his own hand. he turned to his friends, "we're heading out, see you later!"

"see you, mate!"

"have fun you two!"

he was practically dragging you out of the house, you trailing behind him as you waved goodbye to some familiar faces. he unlocked the car once you were both outside, opening the passenger side door for you. you stood on your tiptoes, kissing him as a silent 'thank you' before climbing in.

the drive back home was silent other than the music softly playing through the speakers.

his voice was soft as his thumb stroked the back of your hand, "i guess i didn't realize it until now, but i like the way you uplift me. like how you make me feel, how you're always there."

you smiled, bringing the back of his hand up to your lips, "i love you, lan,"

"i love you more, baby."

269 notes · View notes

writingbuckets · 3 days ago

Text

The Hot Take: Part 3

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 2.8k

a/n: the only i have to say is that i shocked myself with my flirting... enjoy!

**********

After your night at the game, it feels like the internet has exploded. Your mentions are on fire with fans on both sides—some praising your brutal honesty about Paige, others calling you out for downplaying her talent. It’s only natural that you decide to dedicate an entire podcast episode to the experience.

You settle into your recording setup, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves—after all, tonight is a first. Across the table sits Paige Bueckers, cool and composed, though you catch a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusts her mic. You take a deep breath and lean in, grinning at your co-host before addressing the audience.

“Welcome back to The Hot Take! And tonight, we’re in for a treat. As you’ve probably guessed, we’ve got a special guest in the studio… the one, the only, Paige Bueckers!” You gesture toward her dramatically, and your co-host plays a quick soundbite of applause and crowd cheers, adding to the show’s theatrics.

Paige laughs, crossing her arms as she glances at you. “The crowd goes wild. I didn’t think you’d actually let me come on here, considering all the things you’ve said about me.”

You shoot her a mock-offended look. “What things? I’m nothing if not fair and unbiased.”

She raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, totally. Because your comment was so fair and unbiased.”

Your co-host snickers. “Well, Paige, you’re in the right place if you want to get your revenge. Y/N here is known for her ‘brutal honesty.’ But hey, tonight might be a chance for you to change her mind.”

“Is that a challenge?” Paige asks, leaning forward, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Depends. You think you’re up for it?” you reply, meeting her eyes head-on, enjoying the charge of the challenge between you two.

“Oh, I’m always up for a challenge,” she responds smoothly, flashing a grin that has you momentarily caught off guard.

Your co-host breaks the tension with a laugh. “Alright, alright, let’s jump right in. Y/N, you’ve had plenty to say about Paige in the past. Care to share some of those hot takes now that she’s here to defend herself?”

You clear your throat, trying to hide your smirk. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” you say, addressing both the mic and Paige. “As much as it pains me to admit this…” You pause dramatically, shooting a look her way. “Bueckers actually impressed me the other night.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? I didn’t think you’d ever admit that.”

“I know, it’s shocking, but credit where credit’s due,” you continue. “I mean, you’re quick on the court, you know your angles, and—dare I say it—you know how to work a crowd.”

Paige laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, so you were paying attention. Here I was, thinking you came just to judge.”

“Oh, I absolutely came to judge,” you reply, grinning. “But I also got to see you actually back it up with skill. It was… not as overrated as I’d assumed.” You shoot her a wink, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“High praise,” she replies, feigning a look of being overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize tonight was all about showering me with compliments.”

Your co-host jumps in, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Wait, Y/N, are you actually going soft? Compliments? Feeling a little flustered, maybe?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying, maybe I underestimated you.” You turn to Paige. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I’m not here to just hype you up.”

Paige leans back in her chair, looking entirely at ease. “Don’t worry. I can handle a little constructive criticism. Hit me with your best shot.”

You take the opportunity, leaning forward with a smirk. “Alright, if you insist. Here’s my take: For all that talent, you could be a bit more creative with your moves. Sometimes it feels like you rely on what’s tried and true instead of taking risks.”

She smirks back. “And sometimes critics don’t realize the importance of consistency,” she counters smoothly. “Winning isn’t about impressing people—it’s about doing what works.”

“Touché,” you reply, though you’re secretly impressed by her response. You decide to press a little further. “Alright, so if it’s all about winning, how do you handle the pressure that comes with it? Isn’t there a part of you that wants to switch things up now and then?”

Paige leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I get that all the time. But you know, winning takes priority. Switching things up? That’s for off the court.” Her gaze holds yours, and for a second, you wonder if she’s talking about more than just basketball.

Your co-host notices the silent exchange and interrupts with a grin. “Okay, okay, I feel like there’s a whole vibe happening here that I did not sign up for!”

The comment pulls you back, and you laugh, brushing it off. “Nothing happening here,” you insist, stealing a quick glance at Paige.

Paige holds back a smirk, shrugging. “Sure, whatever you say.” But the gleam in her eye says otherwise.

Trying to keep things on track, you steer the conversation back to basketball, although the flirtatious edge remains. “Alright, Bueckers, one more thing. I’ll admit, you’ve got talent. But do you ever worry about being put in a box? People see you a certain way, and that’s how they’ll always see you.”

Paige pauses, and for a moment, the playful banter takes on a serious note. “Yeah, I get that. People think they know you, based on what they see online or on the court. But the truth is, they’re only seeing one side.”

It’s unexpectedly candid, and you nod, finding a bit of yourself in her answer. “Yeah. I get that. People always think they know everything from what they see online, but there’s always more, right?”

Paige’s gaze softens just slightly, and she nods. “Exactly. Sometimes I think it would be nice if people saw more than the ‘player’ version of me.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the hint in her tone. “So… what would that look like, Bueckers?”

She gives you a playful smirk, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’ll find out if you’re lucky.”

Your co-host interjects, clearly amused. “Did I miss something here, or is this turning into a date?”

Both you and Paige laugh, shaking your heads in sync. “Not quite,” you say quickly, though your heart skips a beat.

Before wrapping up, you give Paige the last word. “Alright, Bueckers, we’ve had our fun. Any final words for our listeners?”

She leans toward the mic, glancing at you with a grin. “Only that this isn’t the last time you’ll hear from me, Y/N. I’m sticking around to make sure you don’t underestimate me again.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, bring your best game, then. I’ll be ready.”

The episode wraps up with lingering tension and the audience buzzing with intrigue, speculating wildly in the comments and social media. As you both step away from the mics, Paige meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Nice job,” she says, extending a hand.

You shake it, feeling the warmth of her grip, the playful energy still sparking between you. “Likewise, Bueckers. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

She gives you a wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**********

Not even an hour after the episode goes live, the reactions flood in. Your notifications blow up with fire emojis, heart-eyes, and endless comments as fans dissect every word, every sly look you exchanged with Paige, and every playful jab you threw her way. People seem to be either thrilled by your shift in tone or mourning the sharper edge of your usual critique. But there’s one thing they all seem to agree on—your chemistry with Paige was undeniable, and they’re dying to see where this dynamic goes next.

Then come the memes: screenshots of you glancing at Paige with a mix of disbelief and amusement, clips from older episodes where you roasted her, and side-by-sides comparing your expressions with Paige’s iconic moments on the court. One of your favorites is a split image of you with an exaggerated, eye-rolling expression, paired with Paige’s confident smirk from one of her highlight games. People are clearly having a field day, and you find yourself chuckling at the creativity as you scroll through the tag.

But just as you’re considering logging off for the night, a notification grabs your attention. It’s a comment from none other than Paige herself.

@PaigeBueckers: “Glad to see you’re finally catching on, Y/N. Game recognizes game, right? 😏”

You smirk, typing back a quick reply.

@notY/N: “Don’t get too comfortable, Bueckers. I’m just warming up. 😏”

Paige responds almost instantly, and suddenly, it’s a back-and-forth on full display for everyone to see.

@PaigeBueckers: “Comfortable? Nah. Just giving you something to talk about on that next episode of yours.”

@notY/N: “Who says you’re interesting enough for a second episode?”

@PaigeBueckers: “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, then. Challenge accepted?”

The thread quickly spirals as fans jump in, hyping up every comment exchange, adding their own captions, and stirring up theories about your “rivalry.” By the time you close the app, #YNPBChallenge is trending, with people eagerly waiting for your next move. And though you won’t admit it, you’re already curious about hers.

Within hours, sports outlets start covering the “feud.” Clips of your episode circulate, paired with screenshots of Paige’s comments. Twitter is filled with fans trying to decode every little interaction, with hashtags like #PaigeAndY/N and #RivalryGoals popping up as the top trends. Some fans eagerly ship you and Paige, while others are taking sides, wanting to see if your critique holds up in future episodes.

Some of Paige’s teammates even get in on the fun, teasing her about the exchanges. Azzi Fudd, in particular, tweets, “So… when’s the first date, @paigebueckers? 👀”

You laugh when you see it, because of course Paige’s friends would be watching the whole thing unfold. You decide to add your own little stir to the pot.

Replying to Azzi’s tweet, you type, “First date? I think she’d need to step up her game a bit first.”

Not even a minute later, Paige replies to you directly: “Challenge accepted.”

The thread is flooded with reactions, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire internet is watching you two flirt in real time. You know it’s all in good fun, but there’s an undeniable thrill to it.

After the whirlwind of social media reactions, you finally step away from your phone, still replaying the day’s events. There’s an undeniable energy to this back-and-forth with Paige. Even through playful jabs and witty comebacks, there’s something deeper simmering—something that leaves you more curious than you’d like to admit.

Just as you’re about to call it a night, a new notification lights up your screen: a direct message from Paige herself. You hesitate for a moment, feeling an odd mix of excitement and nerves, and then finally open it.

Paige: “So… I’m dying to know—did you expect all of this to blow up the way it did?”

Her message catches you off guard. You’d expected something more competitive, maybe another cheeky comment. But this question feels more open, almost as if she’s genuinely curious about your perspective on all this unexpected attention.

Y/N: “Honestly? Not at all. I mean, I’m used to a little backlash, but this? Everyone’s treating it like it’s the story of the year.”

Paige: “Right? It’s kind of insane, but I have to say, you seem to handle it like a pro.”

A smile tugs at your lips. The words are simple enough, but there’s a warmth there, a hint of respect that takes you by surprise. You hadn’t expected Paige to be this down-to-earth.

Y/N: “I guess that’s part of the job, right? You get used to it, even when it’s… unexpected.”

Paige: “Guess we both know what that’s like. I mean, people see us a certain way, but they don’t really get the whole picture.”

Her message resonates with you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s something you’ve thought about often—the assumptions people make, the way fans and critics alike paint you in broad strokes, not really seeing the person underneath. The more you think about it, the more you realize that Paige might understand that better than most.

Y/N: “True. Everyone thinks they know us based on what they see online, but there’s a lot that doesn’t make the highlight reel, right?”

Paige: “Exactly. It’s easy to play a role, keep it simple. But sometimes, it’s nice to just be real with someone who gets it.”

There’s a pause, a subtle weight to her words that makes you wonder if this is just harmless banter, or something more.

Y/N: “So, you’re saying I’m good enough to get the ‘real’ Paige Bueckers?”

Paige: “I’m saying maybe you’re not as overrated as you think you are, Y/N.”

You can’t help but laugh, the slight warmth of her compliment balanced by her usual dose of teasing. But even as the conversation winds down, a part of you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the start of something… different. The back-and-forth, the playful ribbing—it’s beginning to feel like more than just banter.

You let out a soft laugh, staring at the screen a little longer than you meant to, absorbing Paige’s last message. You’d expected a snarky retort, maybe a playful jab, but this? This is something else, something that has you wondering if she’s just as curious as you are. Before you can overthink it, you decide to keep the conversation going.

Y/N: “Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment—coming from someone who’s probably had a lifetime supply of them.”

Paige: “You’d think so, but it’s funny how most of them don’t mean much. I think I’ve just gotten good at smiling and nodding.”

Her honesty catches you off guard. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, one that’s different from the playful façade you’d seen at the game and in her comments. You find yourself softening, recognizing a piece of yourself in her words.

Y/N: “I get it. People are quick to build you up, but they don’t always see the work behind it. Or the stuff you keep off-camera.”

Paige: “Exactly. Sometimes it feels like it’s just about meeting everyone’s expectations.”

You feel a pang of understanding. Despite the banter, the jabs, you realize there’s a part of her that just wants to be seen for more than the hype, more than the image fans have painted of her. And, you realize, maybe that’s why this little rivalry-turned-conversation feels different than anything you’ve experienced before.

Y/N: “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here for the real version of you—whatever that looks like.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you wonder if you’d gone too far. But just as you’re about to backpedal, her response pops up.

Paige: “Same goes for you, Y/N. Guess that means we’ll have to see what that actually looks like, right?”

Her words make your stomach do an unexpected flip. It’s an invitation, subtle but clear, to get to know her beyond the rivalry, beyond the image. And suddenly, it feels like this whole thing—the online banter, the “feud,” the unexpected DM—has been leading up to this moment.

Y/N: “Guess so. So, next time we bump into each other… coffee? Or are you more of a smoothie person?”

She replies almost instantly.

Paige: "Coffee works, as long as you promise not to trash-talk me in front of the barista."

You laugh, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the banter and everything to do with her openness.

Y/N: “Fine, I’ll tone it down. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m not going easy on you.”

Paige: “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There’s a pause after that, a comfortable silence that feels like both a beginning and a challenge. As you put your phone down, a smile still on your face, you realize you’re genuinely excited to see where this goes.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

258 notes · View notes

russo-woso · 3 days ago

Note

Kim Little angsty but happy end 🙏🫶🏻

Calm down || Kim Little x reader

Warning argument

Summary Kim brings her anger back home after a violent match

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I don’t get it. We played shit, I played shit. And you, you getting a red did not help. It was pointless Y/N, Leah had it covered anyway, you shouldn’t have done a tackle like that. You were stupid.” Kim shouted, throwing her bags on the floor as you walked inside.

I’m guessing everyone wants a bit of backstory, huh?

Arsenal had just played Chelsea at a packed out Stamford Bridge.

The game had been rough to start with. Arsenal conceded early on in the game but somehow managed to equalise minutes later.

The game continued and Arsenal became sloppier and sloppier.

No big game changers occurred until the 80th minute.

Aggie Beever-Jones had a ball played through to her, you and Leah the only ones in front.

Using your initiative, you slide tackled into her, the edge of your boots touching the ball, but as soon as the ref blew her whistle and reached for her pocket, you knew you were done.

You fought back, telling her you got the ball but she was too stubborn.

You left the pitch in tears, too angry to notice the disapproval and anger on Kim’s face.

“I got the ball, Kim, I swear! I got the ball, the ref was too blind to see it.” You shouted back, Kim’s face red with anger.

“You wouldn’t have gotten a red if you did.”

“I’m leaving. I’ll spend the night with Katie and Caitlin. You’re taking the refs side instead of your own wife. Night, Kim.”

Without another word, you stormed out the house, jumping in the car and speeding to Katie and Caitlin’s house.

They welcomed you in with open arms, understanding why you had come to their house.

You had gone up to the spare bedroom immediately, not wanting them to see the tears in your eyes.

Your phone was buzzing with messages from Kim, begging you to come home. You ignored every single one though.

Which lead to Kim making her way to Katie and Caitlin’s house.

Kim managed to watch the replay of the foul, noticing how your foot did in fact clearly get a touch of the ball first.

She stopped at the shop on the way there, buying your favourite flowers and chocolates.

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you.” Katie shouted from downstairs.

You made your way down the stairs, seeing Kim’s face in the door.

“What do you want?” You asked, still mad at her.

Kim brought the chocolates and flowers out from behind her back.

“I’m sorry, love. I should have believed you, I don’t know why I didn’t trust you. Please come home.”

“Kim…”

“I know, I’m sorry I shouted, I’m sorry I got angry. I promise, I’ll never get angry about a game again.” Kim said, guilt in her voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, please can we go home. It’s freezing out here.” Kim joked, beginning to laugh but was cut off with your lips on hers.

“Come on then.” You laughed, dragging her to the car.

“Y/N?” Katie asked, walking into the hallway to see the door wide open but you no where to be seen. “Y/N? Kim? Well, they made up quickly.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #kim little #kim little x reader

233 notes · View notes

mcrdvcks · 1 day ago

Text

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1943 - wounds and whispers

chapter summary: After an attack on the battlefield, Logan wakes up to you as his nurse in Italy during World War 2.

word count: 8.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this one is short, and the ending is a bit abrupt, but i kind of wanted it to be that way- war is unpredictable. also, the ending is a tad bit different from the other endings, you'll see when you read! anyways, next chapter is when things get a little bit more interesting...

warnings/tags: mentions of injuries, fluff, angst, war, character death(s)

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

A mere 43 years later and Logan was already in his second war since you died that last time. Part of him almost wished that he could die, maybe then he’d see you and get to hold you forever. But that just wasn’t in the cards for him; not when he had this healing, not when he was already 111 years old.

Logan's mind was swimming in a fog of pain as consciousness crept back in. The last thing he remembered was the deafening blast of gunfire and the sharp, searing pain that tore through his side as he charged forward in the midst of the chaos. War was hell, and he’d been through more than enough of them to know that. But this—this felt different.

His eyes fluttered open, the bright lights overhead blinding him for a moment as he groaned, trying to push himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, his entire body feeling like it had been torn apart and put back together again.

“Easy there, soldier.”

The voice was soft but firm, and it froze him in place. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, recognition flooding through him even though he knew it wasn’t possible. His vision focused, and then he saw you. Standing right over him, your face illuminated by the dim lights of the field hospital.

It was you.

Logan’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. He’d seen you die—he’d held you in his arms not long before everything faded. The memory of that night, the pain in your eyes, the blood pooling beneath you—it was burned into him. He’d lost you again. But now here you were, alive, standing in front of him like nothing had ever happened.

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “Y/N?” You probably didn’t hear him, given the quiet tone of his voice.

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, your hands working with practiced care to check his wounds. “You’re lucky, you know,” you said, ignoring the way he looked at you, as if he'd seen a ghost. “The shrapnel didn’t hit anything vital. You’ll live.”

Logan swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. He felt a pull, the same pull he’d felt every time he met you in a different life. But this time, it hurt even more. Because this was the first time he’d seen you since the last time you died, and now, here you were, again, as if the universe had decided to toy with him once more.

“Y/N…” he whispered again, his voice rough with emotion.

You glanced at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “How do you know my name?”

Logan hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell you—not yet. Not about the lives you’d lived before, not about the times he’d watched you die. He had to keep it together. You didn’t remember him, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

He cleared his throat, managing a tight smile. “Lucky guess,” he said, his voice strained, trying to mask the tidal wave of emotion crashing through him.

You gave him a curious look but didn’t press further. “Well, lucky or not, you should be more careful out there,” you said, turning your attention back to bandaging him up. “You’re not invincible, even if you act like it.”

Logan nearly chuckled at that. If only you knew. But instead, he gritted his teeth as you finished patching him up. The pain from the wound was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He’d spent so many lifetimes with you, always losing you too soon. Always feeling like there wasn’t enough time.

And now, here you were again, standing so close to him, your hands gentle as you worked. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with memories of you—of your smile, your laugh, the way you’d always found him, no matter the time or place.

But this wasn’t the past. This was 1943, and you didn’t know him. He had to play it cool, keep his distance, even though every instinct in him was screaming to reach out and hold you, to make sure you didn’t slip away again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady.

You gave him a small nod, satisfied with your work. “Well, you’re still not cleared to leave yet, so you’re not gonna get away from me that easily.” You grabbed a small flashlight from your pocket and leaned in a little closer, shining it into his eyes to check his pupils.

Logan grunted, feeling the warmth of your proximity. It was almost unbearable how familiar you felt, even though you didn’t know him—at least not in this lifetime. His eyes followed your movements, the way you focused on him like he was just another soldier you had to patch up. But to him, you were everything.

“You know,” you started, your voice calm but a little teasing, “you really shouldn’t be throwing yourself into the line of fire like that. Kinda hard for us to patch you up if you don’t have any parts left.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, though his heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll heal,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was rougher than usual, like the words were struggling to get past the weight of seeing you again, alive and breathing.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Heal, huh? Well, you’re not invincible, soldier. Trust me, I’ve seen men think they’re untouchable, and they don’t last long in a place like this.”

Logan looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the sound of your voice. He didn’t want to make this harder on himself than it already was. “Guess I’ll just have to be more careful, then.”

You chuckled softly, finishing your check-up and tucking the flashlight back into your pocket. “Yeah, you do that.” There was a hint of amusement in your tone, but you were still clearly all business. “Now,” you looked at a clipboard in your hands, “James, you have a different name you’d like to go by?”

Logan grunted, his gaze fixed on you. The name ‘James’ felt foreign now, like a remnant of a past he didn't quite belong to anymore. His eyes flickered to the clipboard, then back to your face. The memories of every life you'd lived flashed through his mind, each one ending the same way, with you slipping away from him.

“Logan,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than he intended.

You looked up, scribbling something down. “Logan, huh?” You nodded, writing it down. “Suits you better than James… I think.”

Logan gave a small grunt, a mix of acknowledgment and the emotions he was keeping buried. He couldn’t tell you how much it hurt hearing you say his name, knowing you didn’t remember him at all. Every time he heard your voice, it was like a punch to the gut—a reminder that no matter how many times you came back, he was always starting over, and you… you were always slipping away.

“Glad you approve,” Logan muttered, his eyes drifting away from you. He was trying hard not to stare, trying not to let the overwhelming rush of memories take over. You looked the same, almost exactly as you had the last time—before George pulled that damn trigger.

You didn’t seem to notice the tension radiating from him, too focused on the task at hand. “Well, Logan,” you said, setting the clipboard aside. “You’ll need to stay here for observation, at least for the night. Make sure your body’s handling the recovery properly. We’ve seen some soldiers who think they’re fine, and then—” You made a gesture, mimicking someone fainting, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the floor, suppressing the mix of emotions threatening to boil over. That small smile—the one you always had, no matter how many lives you lived—was painfully familiar. Each time, the same softness, the same warmth. But this time, it cut deeper because he knew how this would end. You’d be gone. Again.

“You’re real good at this, aren’t ya?” Logan said, his voice low, trying to sound casual despite the weight of everything between you two, or at least, everything he carried alone.

You shrugged, your smile widening just a little. “I’ve had a lot of practice lately. War isn’t exactly kind to anyone.” Your eyes softened for a moment, like you were remembering someone, but you shook it off, standing straighter. “But, yeah. It’s what I do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to tell you everything, to scream at the universe for pulling you into his life only to tear you away. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had to play along, had to act like this was the first time he’d ever met you.

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Guess we’re both used to it, then. War and all.”

You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Yeah?” There was a pause as you sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You seem… different from the other soldiers I’ve patched up. Seen a lot, huh?”

Logan leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against the place where the ring still rested in his pocket. He hadn’t taken it out in years. “More than you’d believe.”

There was a quiet moment between you, your gaze lingering on him as if trying to figure him out. “Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s hope you don’t add anything else to that list while you’re here.”

Logan couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped his throat. If only you knew what was on that list already. If only he could tell you how many times he’d seen you die, how many times he’d watched your life slip through his fingers. But instead, he just nodded again.

“I’ll try,” he muttered, though the words felt hollow.

As you stood up, preparing to check on the next patient, you paused, glancing back at him. There was something in your eyes, something almost familiar. But then, you smiled again—kind, unaware of the history Logan held with you—and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Logan exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He had to stay strong, had to keep his distance. But deep down, he knew he was already caught, already tangled in the same painful cycle.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the engagement ring he’d never had the chance to give you.

Maybe this time, he thought. Maybe this time, you’d survive.

But Logan knew better than to hope.

---

You checked in with one of the doctors when Sandra, your friend and fellow nurse, put a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face her.

“Does he have a nice voice?”

You snorted, shaking your head at Sandra. "A nice voice? That’s what you want to ask?”

Sandra grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. “Well, I saw the way you were looking at him. Thought maybe he had some mysterious, deep, soldier-thing going on.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a clipboard from the nearby desk. “He’s just a patient, Sandra.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sandra leaned in, lowering her voice. “You didn’t exactly hurry out of that room.”

You shot her a look. “I was doing my job.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. “So... does he?”

You sighed, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto your face. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little. He’s got that gruff, low thing going on.”

“I knew it!” Sandra nudged your shoulder, her expression smug. “You’re into the mysterious types.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, flipping through the papers on your clipboard, though none of it really held your focus. Your mind drifted back to Logan’s face—his eyes, the way he carried himself like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. There was something about him, something that felt... familiar. But you brushed it off. That wasn’t possible.

“I’m not into anyone,” you said quickly, snapping back to reality. “Especially not a guy I’ve known for like five minutes.”

Sandra raised her hands in surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” But the teasing gleam in her eyes suggested she wasn’t done with the subject.

You gave her a half-hearted glare before heading off to check on another patient. But as much as you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. The way his voice had this gravelly edge to it, how it felt like he was holding something back every time he spoke. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he recognized you, like you were someone important.

But that couldn’t be right.

---

You came to check on Logan later that night before you’d head back to your quarters for some rest. The makeshift hospital was quieter now, just a few murmurs from patients in the distance. Your shift had been long, draining, but something about checking on Logan felt... different.

You pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Logan was sitting up on the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared at the floor. His posture was tense, like he was carrying the weight of more than just a few injuries.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked softly, keeping your tone professional despite the strange pull you felt toward him.

Logan looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should. “Better. You know, thanks to you.”

You gave a small smile, stepping closer to the bed. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze drifting back to the floor. “Still, you’re good at it.”

There was that same heaviness in his voice, like he was holding back more than just gratitude. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about him felt... familiar. It was strange, like you knew him somehow, but you brushed the thought away.

“You should get some rest,” you said, checking the bandage on his side. Your fingertips lingered on the spot where the bloody wound had been earlier, but there was nothing—just smooth skin, as if it had never been there at all. Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly in disbelief. You’d seen the gash when they’d brought him in, deep and ugly, impossible to heal so quickly.

Logan’s muscles tensed under your touch, and when you glanced at him, his expression was guarded, like he was bracing for something.

"That’s... impossible," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It was bad earlier. There should at least be... a scar."

Logan shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but the movement was stiff. "Guess I got lucky."

You pulled your hand back slowly, still frowning. “Lucky doesn’t cover it. I’ve never seen anyone heal like that.” You tilted your head, curiosity edging into your voice. “How?”

His jaw tightened. "It happens."

“That’s not much of an answer.” Your arms crossed over your chest, and the edge in your tone softened just a bit. “You’ve got to admit it’s... weird.”

Logan gave you a look, one that made you feel like he was sizing you up, trying to figure out how much he could say. Or maybe how little. "Weird, yeah," he muttered, voice low. "Not much I can do about it, though."

You knew a deflection when you heard one, but you let it go—for now. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to trust him, but there was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that made it impossible not to.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you shook your head with a faint smile. "Well, however it happened, you’re lucky I didn’t call the doctors in to see this miracle." You gave him a teasing look. “You’d be their new favorite science project.”

A ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of Logan’s mouth, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I’d rather avoid that."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. There was something strangely easy about being near him, like you’d known each other for years. You glanced at his hands—rough, calloused, like they’d seen more battles than you could imagine—and wondered just how much he’d been through.

"Why do I feel like there’s more to you than you’re letting on?" you asked softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. "You ever meet someone and feel like you’ve known ’em before?"

His words struck a nerve, sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed, the strange familiarity between you two suddenly harder to ignore. "Yeah... I guess I have."

Logan nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He rubbed his thumb against the curve of his knuckle—a nervous habit, maybe. Or just old memories surfacing.

"You should get some rest," you said quietly, almost reluctantly. It felt wrong to leave, like there was more to say, even if you didn’t know what.

"I’m not good at rest," Logan admitted, voice low.

You gave a soft laugh. "No one is these days."

As you stood up, Logan’s hand moved slightly—just enough that the tips of his fingers brushed yours, barely a touch but enough to make your heart skip. You looked down at him, surprised by how natural it felt, like you’d been standing this close to him a thousand times before.

For a moment, it seemed like Logan might say something—something important. His hand hovered near his pocket, where a small, heavy object pressed against the fabric. But then he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as if he’d changed his mind at the last second.

"Goodnight," you whispered, your voice softer than before.

Logan gave you a short nod, but his eyes followed you as you stepped away, like he was memorizing the moment—like it might slip away from him if he looked away for even a second.

---

The next morning, when you went to check on Logan, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, buttoning up his shirt over his white beater.

“Hey—wait.” You stepped in front of Logan, your hands instinctively finding his forearm as he finished buttoning his shirt. “You’re not cleared to leave yet.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, something passed between you—like the echo of a memory, distant but familiar. He gave you a half-smile, the kind that looked more like a grimace, and kept working on the last button.

“Gotta go,” he muttered. “Don’t do well sittin’ still.”

You crossed your arms, not budging. “Doesn’t mean you get to walk out of here half-healed.”

His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as if biting back words. You could tell he didn’t like being told what to do, but there was something more in his expression—something haunted, buried beneath that tough exterior.

“You think I can’t handle it?” he asked, voice low, gravelly.

“It’s not about what you can handle.” Your eyes softened, a hint of frustration slipping through. “It’s about what’s smart. I’ve patched up enough soldiers to know that leavin’ too soon isn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched, like he might argue, but then he stilled, studying you with a strange intensity. The weight of his stare made your breath hitch for a second, but you refused to back down.

“Stay,” you insisted. “At least for another day. Let the wound close properly.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, like it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with you. “You always this stubborn?”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Part of the charm.”

Logan huffed, a reluctant laugh buried somewhere in the sound. He leaned forward slightly, his knees brushing yours where you stood between his legs. The air felt heavier—charged with something neither of you could quite name.

“Y/N...” The way your name left his mouth was different. Familiar, almost reverent, like he was tasting the sound of it after a long time.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “What?”

Logan’s hand drifted toward his pocket, hesitating just for a beat. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned back, propping himself on his palms like he was trying to keep his distance.

“Nothing.” His tone was gruff, evasive, but you knew there was more he wasn’t saying.

You stayed where you were, close enough to feel the warmth of him. “You’re not really going to leave, are you?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Shouldn’t stick around too long.”

“Why not?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. “I just shouldn’t.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, like they carried the weight of something unsaid—something important. But before you could push further, Logan shifted on the bed, brushing past you as if putting space between you would make it easier.

“Look...” His voice softened just slightly, almost apologetic. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up seemed to crack, just a little. He looked at you like you were someone he wanted to hold onto, but couldn’t—like you’d slip through his fingers if he let himself get too close.

You leaned in just a bit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help, Logan.”

The way his name fell from your lips sent a flicker of something through him—something dangerous, vulnerable, like it meant too much. His breath hitched, and for a second, you thought he might tell you whatever he was holding back.

But instead, he gave you a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You already have.”

It felt like the conversation was teetering on the edge of something, but neither of you were ready to tip it over just yet.

“You win,” he muttered finally, his tone rough but resigned. “I’ll stay... one more day.”

You grinned, victorious. “Good. I’ll hold you to that. Maybe I’ll even let ya accompany me to the mess tent for lunch.” You held up a finger, playful but firm. “But only if you’re good.”

Logan gave a soft huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d gotten out of him all day. “You makin’ the rules now?”

“That’s right,” you said with a smirk. “I am the nurse, after all.”

He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Fair enough.”

You lingered a moment longer than necessary, and Logan didn’t move away. His hand twitched near his knee, like he was thinking about reaching for you. It wasn’t the kind of gesture that strangers made—it felt too familiar, too intimate, like muscle memory.

“See ya at lunch, then,” you murmured, trying to shake off the strange pull toward him.

Logan gave a small nod, but his gaze stayed on you as you turned toward the door. Just as you reached it, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“You better not sneak out while I’m gone,” you teased, though part of you wasn’t sure it was really a joke.

Logan’s lips quirked at the corner, but the look in his eyes was heavy, weighed down with something you couldn’t quite place. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

By the time lunch rolled around, you were half-expecting Logan to be gone—off on some stubborn mission to leave the hospital before you could stop him. But when you returned, there he was, sitting up on the bed and rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his forearms.

"Kept my end of the bargain," he said, giving you a crooked grin that was more shadow than smile.

“Guess that means you earned lunch.” You gestured toward the door, and Logan pushed himself off the bed with an ease that didn’t match the severity of the injury he'd arrived with. You gave him a skeptical glance but decided to let it slide—for now.

The two of you walked through the makeshift hospital in comfortable silence. You noticed how other soldiers gave him nods or muttered greetings in passing, even though none of them really knew him. Something about Logan just demanded respect—maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the way his eyes seemed to see right through you.

At the mess tent, you grabbed two metal trays, handing one to him. “Hope you’re not picky. The food’s... not exactly five-star.”

Logan smirked. “I’ve had worse.”

You sat together at a small table, away from the loudest group of soldiers. For a moment, it was almost peaceful, like the war outside didn’t exist. Logan picked at his food absently, and you couldn’t help but study him—how his hands moved, how his jaw clenched like he was always bracing for bad news.

“So... you’ve done this before?” you asked, breaking the quiet. “The soldier thing, I mean.”

Logan glanced at you, something flickering in his expression. “Yeah. A few times.”

A few times. The way he said it made it sound like more than just a couple of tours.

“Must’ve been rough,” you murmured, stirring your soup. “I can’t imagine coming back to it over and over.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on you, and for a second, you felt pinned under the weight of it. Like he knew something you didn’t. “You get used to it,” he muttered, but the sadness in his voice told a different story.

There was a beat of silence, and then you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You ever... think about what you’d do, you know, if you weren’t here? If the war wasn’t happening?”

Logan stared at his tray, his jaw tightening like he was biting back something painful. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Once or twice.”

The way he said it made your chest ache, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “What would you do?”

Logan’s thumb brushed along the edge of his tray—a nervous habit, like he was weighing whether to tell you the truth. “There’s someone,” he said slowly. “Someone I thought about settlin’ down with... a long time ago.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. “What happened?”

Logan looked away, his expression hardening like a door slamming shut. “Didn’t work out.”

It wasn’t the whole story—you could tell that much. But you didn’t push. There was something in the way he said it, like the loss was still raw, even if it had happened years ago.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unsure why you felt the need to say it.

Logan gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. But you knew better. It did matter. It mattered a lot.

---

After lunch, the two of you lingered outside the tent, neither of you in a rush to return to the chaos inside. The sun was warm on your face, a rare moment of peace in a world that had been anything but peaceful lately.

“You’re not what I expected,” you said suddenly, glancing at Logan.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’d you expect?”

You shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know. Maybe someone more... closed off. But you’re not as much of a mystery as you think.”

Logan chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You’d be surprised.”

You bit your lip, studying him. “You feel... familiar,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan went still, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off with some sarcastic comment. But instead, he looked at you with that same haunted expression you’d seen earlier—the one that made your chest tighten.

“Maybe we have,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words sent a strange chill down your spine. You stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. But Logan didn’t offer any more answers. He just stood there, watching you like he was waiting for something.

Before you could ask, Sandra’s voice called from the distance, snapping you both out of the moment. “Y/N! Doctor’s looking for you.”

You sighed, giving Logan a small, reluctant smile. “Duty calls.”

Logan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Better get to it.”

You hesitated for just a second longer, something inside you screaming that there was more to this—more to him. But instead, you gave him one last smile before turning away.

---

When Logan was alone again, he pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers. The weight of it was familiar, comforting in a way that only hurt more now.

He’d carried it through battles, through lifetimes, always hoping—maybe this time. But hope had a way of slipping through his fingers, just like you always did.

Logan clenched the ring in his fist, his jaw tightening. He knew better than to hope. He always did. But still... here you were.

For now, at least.

---

The next day you begrudgingly cleared Logan and showed him to where he would be staying before he got called away for another fight. It was a small quarters, shared with some of the other guys, but it was better than the hospital bed.

You should know. Sometimes you’ve taken power naps on those beds—when the hospital got too busy or you needed a break but couldn’t leave. They were uncomfortable as hell, but after long hours, you didn’t have much choice.

Logan tossed his bag on the bunk, eyeing the cramped quarters. It wasn’t much—just a room with a few cots and a flimsy curtain dividing it from the rest of the barracks—but he didn’t seem to care.

“You’ll be all right here,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Logan smirked, glancing at the bed like it was just another obstacle in his way. “I’ve had worse.”

You gave him a sideways glance, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound doing strange things to your heart. His presence was so... solid. Like he’d been through hell and back, yet here he was, standing in front of you like nothing could break him.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you added with a smirk. “There’s always a chance you’ll end up back in the infirmary if you’re not careful.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that made the muscles in his forearms flex under his rolled-up sleeves. “You worried about me, nurse?”

“Maybe I am,” you teased, keeping it light even though part of you was serious. “I don’t want to have to stitch you back up.”

He laughed again, softer this time, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than just casual. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll heal.”

The words hung between you, something unspoken settling in. There was always something deeper with Logan, like the surface of his words barely scratched at the things he carried underneath.

Before you could respond, a couple of soldiers passed by, giving Logan nods of acknowledgment as they went. You noticed the way they looked at him, like he was someone who’d earned their respect without even trying.

Logan pushed off the wall, moving past you toward the door. “Thanks for the room,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But I could use a drink.”

You laughed. “Well, good luck with that. This isn’t exactly the Ritz.”

He stopped just outside the door, turning back to you. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer underneath. “You wanna join me?”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Are you askin’ me out, Logan?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly.”

You let out a small huff of laughter, shaking your head as you grabbed your cap and followed him. “Fine. But if you’re looking for whiskey, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel road filling the air. The base had quieted down a bit as the sun dipped lower, the day easing into a calm that didn’t come often in a warzone.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Logan from time to time, trying to figure him out. He was so... different. From anyone you’d met. From any soldier you’d treated. And yet, he felt so familiar.

You found a small spot near one of the mess tents where a few crates had been stacked up like makeshift seats. Logan grabbed a canteen from his jacket, unscrewing the cap before taking a long drink. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“That better be water,” you joked, taking a seat beside him.

Logan handed you the canteen, smirking. “Try it and find out.”

You took a cautious sip, then immediately coughed, the burn of the alcohol catching you off guard. “God—what is this?”

“Something I picked up,” Logan said, eyes gleaming with amusement as you wiped your mouth. “Figured it’d help take the edge off.”

You gave him a playful glare, handing the canteen back. “Next time, a little warning, maybe?”

Logan shrugged, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re trouble, Logan.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the crate. “Been called worse.”

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, passing the canteen back and forth. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever tasted—not by a long shot. And it did what Logan said it would—it took the edge off.

You studied him for a moment, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was sitting still. “You feel familiar,” you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the soft sounds of the base around you. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan’s expression shifted—just for a second. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from you and toward the horizon. “Maybe we have,” he murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it.

The words sent a strange, unexplainable shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but before you could, he stood up, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking something off.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice lighter now, almost like he was forcing it. “You ready to head back?”

You blinked, still caught in the haze of the moment. But you nodded, standing up and brushing the dirt from your uniform. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you walked back toward the barracks in silence, the air between you feeling heavier now. Something had shifted—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you knew it wasn’t nothing.

When you reached the barracks, Logan stopped at the door, turning to look at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice rougher than usual, like he was wrestling with something inside him. “If... if things ever get bad, you find me. Got it?”

You frowned, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Logan, what—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “You find me. No matter what.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I will.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, then nodded, like he was satisfied with your answer. “Good.”

Without another word, Logan turned and headed inside, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

What did he mean? Why did he look at you like he knew something you didn’t?

You lingered there for a moment before finally heading to your own quarters. But even as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Logan’s words echoed in your mind.

You find me. No matter what.

---

The next few days were a strange mix of routine and tension. Logan stayed around the base, mostly keeping to himself, but you found yourself crossing paths with him more often than you expected. Every time, there was that same intensity in his gaze, like he was watching you, waiting for something.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. But it did make your chest tighten every time you saw him.

One evening, as the sun began to set, you found yourself wandering toward the edge of the base, needing a moment to clear your head. The war, the patients, the constant pressure—it was all getting to you. And Logan... well, Logan wasn’t making things any easier.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Need some company?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jeez, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, pushing off the tree and walking over to stand beside you. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You sighed, glancing out at the fading sun. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there beside you, his presence solid and reassuring. After a few beats of silence, he spoke.

“You doin’ all right?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s just... a lot sometimes, you know?”

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah. I get it.”

There was something in the way he said it—something that made you believe he really did get it. Like he knew exactly what it felt like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“Thanks for asking,” you said quietly, your gaze still focused on the horizon.

Logan was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I meant what I said before,” he murmured. “You ever need anything... you come find me.”

You turned to look at him, the seriousness in his voice catching you off guard. “Logan... why are you doin’ this? Why are you looking out for me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and rough. “Because... you’re important. More than you know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Important? How? Why?

Before you could ask, Logan stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “Just promise me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me you’ll come find me if you need to.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I promise.”

Logan held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your head spinning with questions.

You’re important. More than you know.

What did that mean? Why did Logan feel so... familiar?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there, your mind racing. Logan had secrets—secrets you weren’t sure you were ready to uncover. But one thing was clear: whatever was between the two of you, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

---

On another day, you spotted Logan on the outskirts of base, sitting against a truck’s wheel with a notebook in hand.

He looked almost peaceful, maybe the most peaceful you’d ever seen him since he got here. Judging by the way he was moving his pencil, you assumed he was drawing something. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but your curiosity got the better of you.

"Didn’t peg you for an artist," you said, walking over and leaning against the truck beside him.

Logan didn’t look up right away, just kept sketching, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "You learn a lot when you’ve got time," he muttered.

You glanced at the notebook, catching glimpses of rough lines and shadows. “What’re you drawing?”

He paused, almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to show you, then turned the notebook just enough for you to see. It was a sketch of the base—a surprisingly detailed one, with the buildings and surrounding trees, even some of the soldiers milling about.

“Not bad,” you said, genuinely impressed. “Didn’t know you had this in you.”

Logan shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Like I said, a lot of time.” He looked at you then, and for a brief moment, there was something more behind his eyes, something deeper. “Keeps me grounded.”

You studied him, wondering what that really meant. Logan had always been a bit of a mystery, but there were moments—like now—where it felt like there was so much more to him than he let on.

“You ever thought about doing something with it? You know, beyond just sketches?” you asked, half teasing, half curious.

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not the ‘show-off my art’ type. It’s just... for me.” He glanced back at the drawing, his expression softening in a way you didn’t often see. “Helps me forget.”

You nodded, feeling a tug at your chest. “Forget what?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Everything.”

The weight in his voice told you there was more to that statement—more than you could guess. You’d learned over the past few days that Logan was carrying his own kind of burden, just like you were. And yet, somehow, it felt like his was so much heavier.

“Must be a lot to forget,” you said softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you thought he might actually open up. But instead, he just gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to his sketching.

You watched him for a while, feeling the comfortable silence settle between you. It was odd, but Logan’s presence had become... something you looked forward to. Even with all the unspoken tension, being around him made things feel a little less overwhelming.

“I never thanked you,” you said after a while, breaking the quiet. “For, you know... looking out for me.”

Logan’s pencil paused again, and he glanced up. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you insisted, your eyes meeting his. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Logan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude, but his eyes softened. “I told you. You’re important.”

That word again—important. You wanted to ask him why, wanted to press him on what he really meant by that, but something in his expression told you he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

“Just… stay outta trouble,” Logan said, his voice dropping into something rougher, more serious. “I’d rather not have to pull you out of any more messes.”

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “I’ll do my best. But, you know, being a nurse in the middle of a war, trouble kinda finds me.”

Logan let out a soft huff of a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The sky was growing darker now, the last traces of sunlight fading. You knew you should probably head back to the barracks soon, but something kept you rooted to the spot, standing beside him. The air between you felt charged, like there was something unspoken hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Logan,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “Why does it feel like you’ve been watching me? Not just looking out for me, but... like you’ve known me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. His eyes shifted, as if he was deciding whether to answer that. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response.

“I haven’t,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

The way he said it made you frown. “What does that mean?”

Logan’s gaze held yours, intense and searching. There was a flicker of something there—regret? Pain? Before you could figure it out, he looked away, his fingers tightening around the edges of the notebook.

“It means… I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Not again.”

Again. There it was—a crack in the wall he’d built around himself. But before you could push him on it, Logan stood abruptly, tucking the notebook under his arm.

“You should get some rest,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “Long day tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift. “Logan—”

But he was already walking away, his back stiff and his pace quick. You watched him go, your mind spinning with more questions than answers. Something was going on with Logan—something bigger than you’d realized.

And you had a feeling you weren’t going to let it go until you found out the truth.

---

The next morning you found out that Logan had already gone on some mission to Sicily. You weren’t sure why you felt sad, maybe a bit betrayed that he left without saying goodbye, but you did.

You had only known him for a few days, but somehow it seemed longer.

You couldn’t just stand around and dwell on Logan leaving without a goodbye. There was work to do. You made your way to the medical tent where a doctor had been prepping for a surgery. As you stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic hit your nose, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N, glad you’re here. We’ve got a soldier with a bullet wound to the abdomen," the doctor said, his tone brisk. "I need your hands steady and sharp today."

You nodded, pushing thoughts of Logan to the back of your mind. "Got it, Doctor."

The surgery went on for hours, the steady rhythm of your breathing matching the precise movements of your hands as you assisted. It was intense, but you had no time to be distracted. Life and death were real here, and your job was to fight for life.

When the surgery was finally over, the soldier stabilized, you stepped outside the tent to catch your breath. The sky was still overcast, and the damp air felt heavy. You leaned against a wooden post, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Logan was gone, but the memory of him lingered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d left something unsaid. There had been too many moments—too many heavy, unspoken words between you. You tried to brush it off. It had only been a few days since you’d met him, after all. But somehow, it felt like more.

"Y/N."

You looked up to see one of the other nurses approaching. "Yeah?"

"You’ve been requested to assist with another unit. They’re setting up a temporary hospital closer to the front lines. It’ll be rough, but they need experienced hands."

You hesitated. The front lines meant more danger, more chaos. But the soldier in you—the part that was here to help, to make a difference—knew you couldn’t say no.

"When do I leave?" you asked, straightening up.

"Tomorrow morning, first light."

You nodded, giving a small smile. "Thanks for the heads-up."

That night, you tried to sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Logan. To his last words before he’d left—"I don’t want you to get hurt. Not again." What had he meant by ‘again’? It kept echoing in your mind, nagging at you.

---

The next morning came quickly, and before you knew it, you were being packed into a truck heading closer to the front lines. The landscape passed by in a blur, and the closer you got to the new camp, the louder the sounds of war became. Shells exploded in the distance, and the ground seemed to vibrate with tension.

You spent the next few days in a haze of blood, bandages, and exhaustion. There was barely any time to think, let alone dwell on Logan. But still, every once in a while, your thoughts drifted to him—wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe.

It was late one night, a few days into your new assignment, when the unexpected happened. The sirens had started to blare, lights flashing around camp. That could only mean one thing- you were under attack. And judging by the loud engines overhead, none of you were going to make it out alive.

---

Logan had gone with other soldiers to Sicily for Operation Husky. He didn’t want to leave you, but part of him thought, hoped, that maybe he was your bad luck charm.

Logan stared at the coastline of Sicily, but his mind was elsewhere. The mission was straightforward—get in, clear the path for the troops, and secure the area. But no matter how focused he tried to stay, thoughts of you kept creeping back in. He wondered if you were safe. He hoped, for your sake, that you weren’t thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.

It was torture, being away. But deep down, Logan believed it was better this way. Maybe him being around was what doomed you every time. You had died three times before, and each time, he had been there. Maybe this time, distance would keep you safe.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting you. The thought of your smile, your laughter, the way you challenged him—it made him ache with something deeper than just desire. It was like an old wound that never healed, no matter how fast the rest of him did.

One of the soldiers called his name, pulling him from his thoughts. “Logan, you with us, man?”

He grunted in response, nodding toward the others. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good,” the guy said. “We’re heading out.”

Logan followed, but his thoughts drifted again, back to you. He had promised himself he wouldn’t get attached this time. But it was too late for that. He’d been attached since 1854, since that first smile, that first laugh.

---

It was a few days before Logan made it back to base, one closer to the frontlines. The mission had gone as planned, but something gnawed at him, an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake.

As soon as the base came into view, Logan noticed something was off. Smoke still lingered in the air, and there were fewer people around than there should’ve been. His gut twisted. Something had happened while he was gone.

He found one of the soldiers he recognized, grabbing him by the arm. “What happened here?”

The guy’s face darkened. “We were hit. Bombing raid. Caught us off guard. There... there weren’t many survivors.”

Logan’s heart dropped. “Where’s the hospital unit?”

The soldier hesitated, eyes flicking away from Logan’s intense gaze. “It was one of the first targets. No one made it out.”

Logan felt like the ground had dropped from under him. “What do you mean, no one?” His voice was a low growl, almost dangerous.

The soldier shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. They didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. The world around him blurred as the words sank in. You were gone. Again.

Without saying another word, Logan turned and walked toward what was left of the hospital tent. He had to see it for himself, even though part of him knew it was true. There was nothing left but rubble and debris.

His chest tightened, the weight of it crushing. You were gone. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. Again.

Logan stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the wreckage. He felt that familiar, burning anger rising inside him, but it was mixed with something else this time—grief. Deep, raw grief. He wanted to scream, to punch something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, numb.

He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box he always carried with him. The engagement ring. The one he had never used.

It had been almost ninety years since he bought it. And still, he carried it, hoping one day he might finally be able to give it to you. But every time, every life, you slipped through his fingers.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. How many more times he could lose you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion.

He had thought putting distance between you two would protect you. But it didn’t matter. You were gone, just like the other times.

And now, once again, he was left with nothing but memories and that damned ring.

in this chapter logan is 111 years old and reader is around 24-27 years old.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

218 notes · View notes

fairy-writes · 1 day ago

Note

Hi!! I saw that you write for Arcane and had a really cute idea for Vander. I don’t really see a lot of fics where you get to see Vander’s reactions to the reader either playing with the kids or comforting them, so I thought a fic centered around that might be cute? (I think also having a bit of slow burn would be sweet, like both Vander and the reader like each other but don’t do anything about it until getting a little push from the kids because they ship).

ONE LITTLE PUSH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Bit of a Slowburn, Fluff, Getting Together, Reader is Smaller than Vander (but who isn’t?), Sibling Bickering

Notes: VANDER MY FAVORITE

(No, but seriously, contrary to popular belief, he’s my 1st favorite over Viktor)

JUST IN TIME (kind of) FOR SEASON TWO, LETS GOOOOO

__________________________________________________________________________

Vander wasn’t quite sure why you stuck around for so long.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why you stuck around in the first place.

But… As Vander watches you with the kids. His kids. He begins to understand why.

You were kind, unyieldingly so. Even as Mylo grew to start picking on Powder, even as they fought, you were kind and patient and offered them the unending gentle love they all so craved.

The love he couldn’t afford to give them because who could be gentle in the Undercity? Especially in the depths of the Lanes?

You could.

Vander was in the middle of pouring a drink when Powder tumbled into The Last Drop. She was covered in bruises and dust from something. Or someone. She barely met his gaze as she clambered to her feet and all but sprinted into the back where they all slept. Vander looked through the multitude of customers and spotted you.

You had obviously seen Powder go bolting, worry twisting your face as you glanced toward the bar and met his stare. You arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. You rolled your eyes and sighed before smiling in jest and getting up from where you had been tinkering with the jukebox.

Vander finally manages to get away from his chatty clients and makes his way back into the back room nearly fifteen minutes later.

Only to pause by the door.

“—ylo hates me! He does, I swear!” Powder cries, and you hush her gently, dabbing what looks to be some of the antiseptic you have lying around on her cuts and bruises. Disinfectant was hard to come by, especially in the Lanes, but you were seemingly magic in the sense that you always knew who to talk to to get some. It seems you had worked your magic yet again.

“Did Mylo say that he hates you?” You ask gently, whispering a quiet “sorry” under your breath as she flinched with the sting of the antiseptic.

Powder pauses, thinking what had to be her earlier conversation over,

“Well… No…” She mumbles, and you hum,

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” You ask, and she stills, looking up at you with wide eyes before nodding.

“Aren’t you always honest with us?” She asks. You chuckle at that.

“I suppose I am. But I don’t think Mylo hates you. Does he find you a bit annoying? Maybe. But every big brother thinks that about their younger siblings. I know mine did.” You say, and Powder mulls your words over and over and over in her mind.

She always did overthink things.

“I didn't know you had a big brother.” She says eventually, and you let out a loud laugh at that.

“You are a silly girl for focusing on that. But yes, I came from a big family. And guess what? I was the baby of the family. Just. Like. You.” You say, emphasizing your words with a pinch to her side. Powder squeals with laughter and wriggles away to escape your dastardly tickling.

Vander hangs his head with a huff and a smile before turning to head back to the bar counter. He can hear your conversation continue as Powder escapes your grasp.

“Now, where did you get all these bruises from?”

“Um… Vi taught me parkour from Topside down…”

“Powder! You’re like seven!”

“Seven and a half! And she said I was ready!”

Ever since you began to stick around, you had become something of a parent figure to the four little children Vander had come into care for.

To Vi and Powder especially.

So when Mylo burst into The Last Drop with the words of a fistfight on his tongue, you were the first one out the door.

Vander was close behind.

Mylo led you and Vander deep into the Undercity. In fact, it was so far into the Undercity that Vander was worried they were getting into some dark territory.

Like… Really dark territory.

But soon enough, the sounds of a fight were heard, and soon after, you were deep in the throng of a multi-person fistfight. Everyone paused for a second when they saw you and then stopped altogether when they spotted Vander not far behind.

You began to pull people off and shoved them out of the way. You did this again and again, ducking under a few stray punches until you managed to unearth Vi.

She wasn’t looking too hot.

Her face was bruised and swollen, and the fifteen-year-old spat out a wad of blood as she bared her bloody teeth and prepared to fight again.

At least until she saw you.

It was as if the tension had been released from her shoulders.

She all but slumped into your grasp, and you stumbled back a step with the sudden weight. Vander yanked the last person away from you both and scooped up his adoptive daughter. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and was obviously fighting back tears.

Mylo was hunched over, hands on his knees, and wheezed from all the sprinting.

“Vi? Violet, can you hear me?” You said as soon as you all returned to The Last Drop, and Vander set her down on the couch. Powder and Claggor had been found a block away, fighting off more thugs from whoever sent them after the literal children.

He would've pummeled them to a pulp if Vander hadn’t hung up his gauntlets years before.

Vi’s head lolled from side to side, and you shone a pocket flashlight into her eyes, watching as her pupils dilated and contracted. You were experienced at this, taking care of people, even more so than he thought.

Were you a doctor deep in your past?

As Vander thought about it, he realized he didn’t know practically anything about you. Your past, your likes, dislikes, he knew you were good with machines and medicine and that you came from a big family. But that was it.

And that hurt his heart.

You ended up ushering everyone out of the room while you worked on caring for Vi. Vander closed the bar early and was in the middle of putting chairs on tables when you emerged. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor dropped what they were doing. They scampered to your side, a chorus of “How’s Vi?” erupting from the kids. You offered them a tired smile and patted their heads.

“She’ll be okay. She’s resting right now. You can go in and see her if you’re quiet.”

And then it was the two of you.

Vander set the final chair on top of the table and meandered his way over where you were sitting at the bar, head in your hands.

You looked tired.

“Is she really okay?” He asked, and you grunted, rubbing at your temples.

“She has a broken nose, fractured left arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion. Which, all things considered, she’s very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse.” You say, and he sighs,

“Did she say why she got into the fight?” He replied, and you shrug,

“She was protecting Powder. Then, more people started showing up until it was an all-out brawl. That’s when we stepped in.” You say, and his shoulders sag.

Vi was going to be okay.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But thank you. For everything you’ve done. Taking care of them and all that.” He says, and you just hum.

“You guys gave me a home after everything. I’m just repaying my debt. Well… that and I love those kids.” You say, and he arches an eyebrow,

“After everything?” He inquires, and you glance up sharply as if not realizing what you had said.

Eventually, your gaze casts downward, and you run a hand over your head and through your hair.

“I was a doctor in Piltover before the rebellion. I was caught trying to help the Undercity before they were officially citizens and cast out.” You say, and his arched eyebrow raises even higher.

“A doctor? Were you any good?” You bark out a dry laugh at that,

“One of the best!” Your voice cracks as you speak, and he feels his heart splinter into pieces.

Vander should’ve known that Claggor and Mylo were up to something when they came in with sneaky grins on their faces.

The Last Drop was all but desolate. It was the wee hours of the morning before the people of the Undercity awoke to begin their day. But the door was unlocked, and the kids were allowed to run in and out as they pleased.

Which they had been doing a lot in the last hour or so.

“Vander!” Mylor clamored for his adopted father’s attention, waving an excited hand as he scampered up to the counter. Claggor hung behind, ever the stoic young man. But there was mischief in their eyes and curling the corners of their mouths.

Vander slung the rag he used to wipe the counters down over his shoulder and leaned on the bar counter.

“What did you do now?” He teased, and Mylo all but squawked.

“When have I ever done anything?!” Vander just stared,

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asked, and Claggor snickered at Mylo’s deflated expression. Mylo quickly spun on a heel and jabbed a finger at his adopted brother,

“Not a word outta you, Claggor!” He snapped before spinning back as something dawned on him.

“You gotta come with us!” He demanded, and Vander glanced between the two of them.

“Why?” He asked, and Mylo let out an exaggerated groan.

“No questions! Just come on!” He grabbed Vander’s hand and tried tugging him around the counter and toward the front door.

Vander relented, locking the door behind him as he followed the two boys.

Only to realize very quickly what was actually going on.

His first tip-off was hearing Powder and Vi’s voices, yours mixed in as you asked where you were going, why they were taking you, and what they were doing.

Vi answered no questions. Powder just chirped excitedly. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”

The six of you met in the middle of the street, Powder dragging you by your hand as you followed behind patiently. You glanced up from listening to Powder, and your gazes met. Vander felt his heart skip a beat as he took in your appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly new, but you looked like you had cleaned up some. Your hair was pinned neatly back, and your clothes looked ironed.

You looked… Really nice.

“Vander? What’s going on?” You asked, and Vi nudged you with her good arm. Her fractured left one was still healing carefully under your care.

“We’re setting you two up.” She teased, and you stared dumbly.

“Setting us up how?” You asked, and now it was Powder’s turn to blurt out an answer,

“On a date!”

Before the two of you could react, all four kids all but disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust. Leaving you facing Vander and utterly alone.

It was safe to say he was panicking just a little bit.

“Vander? Do you have any idea what they meant?” You asked gently, and he scrubbed a hand down his face.

“My guess is they want us to go on a date.” He said, fully prepared to hear rejection. Because who would want to go on a date with him? A middle-aged man with a stained past. His lungs twisted as he heard you take a step closer.

A smaller hand slipped into his, and he looked down from where he had been staring at Topside.

Your eyes were lit up, not with disgust at the proposition he was proposing.

But they were filled with hope for the future this relationship would bring.

#vander x reader #vander x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane league of legends #arcane: league of legends #arcane vander x reader #fairy writes

163 notes · View notes

midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 days ago

Text

Welcome Home, Tough Guy

Pairing: Simon “Ghost Riley X Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader acting silly and get to see some humanity in Simon instead of just the soldier we know he is

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i needed to see Simon as more of a human, so… here’s the baby boy

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The past few weeks had been long and lonely without Simon. The countdown to his return felt endless, and in the days leading up to his homecoming, you’d channeled your anticipation into planning a celebration. It was silly, maybe even a little over-the-top, but you wanted to welcome him back in a way that showed him he was loved and that he could let his guard down here.

So, after a lot of last-minute tweaks and second-guessing, you finally set up your surprise: a big “WELCOME HOME, TOUGH GUY” sign, balloons you’d blown up by hand, a lopsided banner, and a snack table packed with all his favorite treats. You knew it might be too much for Simon, who always tried to slip back home as quietly as he could, but you couldn’t resist. After all, he deserved something a little special.

When you finally heard the familiar rumble of his truck pulling up outside, your heart skipped a beat, and you practically sprinted to the door, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. Through the window, you caught sight of him as he stepped out, his tall, broad frame cutting an imposing figure in the fading light. Despite his usual guarded posture, there was something softer in his eyes as he looked up at the house.

As he made his way to the door, he froze, taking in the decorations with a raised eyebrow. His gaze lingered on the crooked banner, the balloons, and finally, the giant welcome sign on the door. His mouth twitched, the hint of a smile breaking through his usually stoic expression.

“Really?” he muttered, his tone deadpan. “A sign?”

“Oh, come on!” you teased, barely able to contain your excitement as he came up the steps. “After all this time away, you think I wouldn’t celebrate?”

He shook his head, clearly fighting back a laugh. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘welcome home party’ type.”

“Well, I’m making an exception for you,” you replied, hands on your hips. “You deserve it.”

He paused, glancing at you with an expression that was somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Deserve a good meal and a quiet night, maybe. Not… all this.” He gestured to the decor, and you could see he was a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh, please.” You gave him a playful nudge as you guided him inside. “There’s even snacks.”

“Snacks?” His eyebrow lifted again as he took in the spread of chips, sandwiches, and a few neatly arranged drinks on the table. “Didn’t know I’d be gettin’ the five-star treatment.”

“Only the best for you, big guy,” you teased, and motioned to the couch where you’d piled up every blanket and pillow you could find. “Now, sit back and let me pamper you.”

Simon sighed but didn’t argue, sinking into the mountain of blankets with a look of amused exasperation. “I feel like I’m at some kind of spa,” he muttered.

“Exactly!” You handed him a cup of iced tea with a tiny, bright pink umbrella sticking out. “A full tropical experience, just for you.”

He stared at the drink, glancing at you with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. “An umbrella?”

“Obviously,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face. “Welcome to paradise.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe any of this was real. Then, with a faint shake of his head, he took a careful sip, holding the tiny umbrella off to the side. You could tell he was trying to keep his usual stoic composure, but the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was impossible to hide.

“Happy now?” he asked, glancing over at you with a smirk.

“Very,” you replied, settling in beside him with a grin. “Now, relax. Let me spoil you a bit.”

Simon gave a resigned sigh, leaning back against the cushions. But as he looked around at the makeshift decorations, you noticed a softness in his expression, a rare ease that he reserved just for moments like these.

“Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low, and reached out to take your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. The simple confession hit you like a wave, filling your heart with warmth.

“Missed you too,” you replied, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know, you really need to take more breaks. You deserve some softness now and then.”

He let out a short chuckle, looking down at you with that rare, affectionate gaze. “Spoilin’ me with pink umbrellas and throw pillows, yeah?”

“Exactly,” you said, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Think of it as a taste of what life could be like if you ever let yourself actually relax.”

He shook his head, but you caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d ever be the kinda man to need all this,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost too soft to hear. “Didn’t know I needed it ‘til I met you.”

The admission made your heart ache with a fierce tenderness, and you reached up to brush a hand across his cheek. “Everyone needs a little comfort, Simon. Even you.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his gaze deep and searching, as though he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, with a rare gentleness, he shifted, slipping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. You nestled into his side, feeling the steady, reassuring warmth of his presence.

In that silence, he started running his fingers through your hair, the slow, soothing rhythm lulling you into a comfortable haze. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the closeness, the softness of him in this moment. It was a side of Simon few ever got to see—the man beneath the mask, the one who craved peace just as much as you did.

After a while, you stirred, looking up at him with a playful grin. “So… what’s next? Movie? Board game? Or maybe I’ll make us some popcorn?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re just lookin’ for an excuse to beat me at somethin’, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, poking his side. “Or maybe I just want an excuse to spend more time like this. With you.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You don’t need an excuse, love. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As he held you, you felt the weight of his words settle into your heart, filling you with a deep, quiet happiness. For tonight, there were no missions, no walls between you, and no expectations—just Simon, your Simon, wrapped up in blankets and silly decorations, basking in a rare moment of pure, unguarded peace.

Here, in this cozy little bubble you’d created together, he wasn’t Ghost. He was simply Simon—the man who loved you, who let you see every part of him, even the sides he tried to hide. And for you, that was the greatest gift of all.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

#x reader #141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #cod 141 #ghost x reader #mw2 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x you

235 notes · View notes

keepingitformyself · 1 day ago

Text

there’s been no way for me to say (that i felt a certain way)

Synopsis: natasha romanoff has loved you for ages and she could never seem to get it right.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: college AU, fluff and angst.

warnings: angst?

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha met you in a very peculiar way.

it started at a friends of a friends party, in some internet starlet’s brooklyn loft.

drinks were going around, the music was loud, the smell of marijuana was very strong. she doesn’t quite remember it— after having been to a bunch of parties they all seem to blur into one— but she knows it was enough to leave a lasting impression on her.

she’d heard your piercing laugh from across the room. you, in a tight tank top and some black slacks. she could see the shine of sweat against your skin, the colorful lighting of the room making you seem so beautifully human.

everything sort of froze in the coming moments. she watched as you took your top off without a second thought. you were about to shotgun a beer and you stood tall as you did it atop the kitchen island. you didn’t need the attention, nor did you want it, but you had it.

it was a simple behavior. but it stayed with natasha long after you had crushed the beer can and tossed it on the floor somewhere.

natasha thinks you never notice her staring for the rest of the night but you do.

weeks later she sees you again at another party.

clint, wanda, tony and everyone else joins her this time. she isn’t surprised when she sees you. it was the same crowd, similar friend groups. but this time you made it easy for her to approach you.

somehow you end standing next to eachother near where all the drinks had been laid out.

"hey," you said, voice casual but warm. "didn’t expect to see you here again."

natasha smiled, though she hadn’t expected to talk to you at all. nor did she think you noticed her. "i guess we have similar taste in parties."

you laughed lightly. “guess so."

there was a beat of silence before you added, “you know, you were kinda staring at me last time.”

natasha froze for a second, unsure how to respond. she hadn’t thought you’d noticed. but before she could stammer out an excuse, you were already grinning.

“i’m just messing with you. it was funny. i didn’t think anyone would care enough to notice me.”

natasha was relieved, yet still unsure if you were actually joking. either way she felt this was going better than she planned.

the night wore on and you guys carried easy conversation. natasha was still unsure how to even approach talking to you. she felt kind of shy. so she improvised by making references to things she didn’t think you’d get, but you almost always did.

you dropped a reference to something obscure, a movie natasha had once obsessed over, and natasha stared at you for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. she couldn’t stop herself.

“you’re really into that, huh?” she said, and just like that, the bond started to form. it wasn’t immediate or instant, not the kind of connection that screams “best friends forever.” no, it was something stranger, something subtler, like two different puzzle pieces that had almost fit, only to get pushed back together by sheer happenstance.

“your references are spot on.” you laughed. natasha smiled at how easy you made it for her to be around you.

you and natasha started seeing each other more, slowly building this weird, unspoken routine. she’d text you at random, making some kind of sarcastic comment or joke only you would get, and you’d shoot back a meme that only someone with your specific sense of humor would understand. over time, you both ended up in the same circles, passing each other in the hallways of the university, at class, at parties—always just a little bit more than acquaintances, but never quite crossing into the territory of “best friends.”

there was something comfortable about it. easy, even. but for natasha, it was also strange. the more she saw you, the more she felt like there was something else there, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge. maybe it was a crush. maybe it was more than that.

it wasn’t as though either of you had been completely oblivious to the passing of time, to the fact that you were both growing older, moving through college with the same bittersweetness that everyone else felt. and yet, there was still this distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you had broken down.

natasha thought about you a lot more than she’d like to admit. how she so badly wanted to cross the line between friendship and something more.

by senior year, natasha couldn’t ignore it anymore. her feelings for you weren’t just fleeting glances or passing thoughts. they were there, constant, sitting beneath her skin, running through her mind like a song she couldn’t shake. but it wasn’t just a crush. it was more. she could feel it. she knew it.

the desperation kept getting worse.

it was a slow burn.

you were months set from graduating, natasha felt it was time she’d try to test her luck.

it was late into the evening at yet another party—music blaring, laughter echoing through the crowded living room, and cups of cheap beer littering the tables. one last semester before graduation, before the "real world" set in. natasha was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back with her legs stretched out in front of her. her eyes roamed the room, scanning for someone to talk to. and then she saw you.

you were in the middle of a conversation with clint and wanda, your hands animatedly gesturing as you told some wild story about a disastrous trip to the beach, the kind of tale that had everyone in stitches. natasha couldn’t help but smile from across the room. there was something magnetic about you—how you lived so fully, how you pulled everyone into your orbit without even trying. natasha had been watching you for months now, always on the edge of your space, always wishing she could be more than just a silent observer.

she didn’t know when it started—when the simple admiration had turned into something else. but now, as she watched you laugh with your friends, something in her chest tightened. this wasn’t a crush she could just ignore.

it wasn’t the first time natasha had thought about asking you out. but tonight felt different. maybe it was the proximity of graduation, the sudden realization that this was it—that you both were on the brink of leaving behind this chaotic, unmoored time in your lives. she could either stay on the sidelines or take the chance.

she stood up, smoothing out her jacket and walking across the room. her friends—clint, wanda, and sam—noticed her approaching and exchanged knowing glances, all but daring her to make a move. natasha could feel the weight of their stares, but she ignored them. she focused only on you.

"hey," she said, stepping into the conversation, a little breathless from the nerves she’d kept hidden.

you turned, giving her that warm smile you always did. "hey, nat! what’s up?"

"not much, just wanted to, uh, ask you something," natasha began, her usual confidence faltering just a little.

“i was thinking about heading to this bar later, just to get away from all… this,” she gestured vaguely to the party around them, “and i was wondering if you wanted to join me? for drinks. just us. you know, before we all get caught up in the whole graduation mess.”

it was casual, maybe too casual. but natasha didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal. not with everyone watching.

there was a pause, just a beat too long, before you looked at her, a faint frown pulling at your brow. you were processing. “uh,” you hesitated, glancing at your friends.

clint, wanda, and sam all turned their heads at the same time, giving you the slightest raise of their brows. you bit your lip, clearly unsure, and natasha’s heart sank a little at the hesitation.

"i mean," you said slowly, looking back at natasha. "we’re friends, nat. i just… i’m not sure."

it was a gentle rejection, but it stung all the same. natasha swallowed, masking her disappointment with a shrug. "no, yeah, of course. no pressure." she let out a quiet laugh, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, trying to laugh it off. "i was just messing with you. don't worry about it."

you nodded, a small, apologetic smile on your lips. "i mean, i’d love to hang out more, just—"

"totally fine," natasha interrupted, her voice light but edged with something that made her own heart ache. she smiled, keeping it neutral. "maybe some other time."

she turned away quickly, but she felt your eyes on her as she walked back to the couch, her friends watching the entire scene unfold. clint raised his brows, and natasha just shook her head, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how deeply that small exchange had affected her.

but inside, it stung. it stung more than she cared to admit. it wasn’t just a small rejection. it was the fear that maybe you had noticed her feelings all along and were just too scared to say anything about it.

that night, natasha tried to sleep, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. you were everything she had wanted, but in this strange, liminal space, neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

weeks passed, the semester came to an end, and graduation day loomed on the horizon. natasha and you both moved on in your own ways, starting to make plans for life after college. but something lingered. something unsaid. life became a little more faster, and faces got a little older.

you reached out to her a few times. it was never the same as before. it was different now, with this strange tension lingering between you both. but you kept in touch, as if you both were afraid of letting go of something that might have been, something that might have still been.

and maybe it was ridiculous, natasha thought, but she was okay with it. she had loved you for years, and maybe that was the most honest thing she could admit to herself.

because even if you two had never been the closest of people, you’d always been there. always in the background, always in between. and somehow, that was enough for natasha. enough for her to hold on to the hope that maybe, one day, you’d both be able to finally figure it out.

it had been two years since you both left the university. two years where natasha had started a career in marketing, constantly moving up, climbing the corporate ladder while trying (and failing) to suppress the things she didn’t want to feel about you. she had dated, of course. a couple of short-term relationships, nothing serious. but nothing had ever lasted, and she had never quite understood why until now. the answer had always been there, hovering just out of reach, in the form of a text, a call, a passing thought about you.

as for you, you’d moved across the country for a job in graphic design. you didn’t think much about natasha at first. life had been busy—new city, new friends, new routine—but every now and then, you'd wonder if she'd thought of you. if she remembered how everything had felt when you were both on the brink of something, but never quite dared to cross the line.

and then it happened.

it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t expected. but one saturday evening, natasha found herself sitting at a bar in brooklyn after a long week at work. she’d had a rough day. one of those days where everything felt like too much. and then, as she nursed her gin and tonic, she heard someone call her name.

it was a voice she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

“natasha?”

she turned, already recognizing the voice before she even saw your face. and there you were, standing in the doorway of the bar like a memory coming to life. your hair had grown a little longer, and you looked different, older in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. but you were still you—the same you who had been in those parties, those late-night study sessions, the one who had always made her laugh with a look or a passing reference.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. just stood there, eyes locking, as if trying to figure out whether this was real.

“i didn’t know you were in new york,” natasha said, her voice betraying the sudden weight in her chest. she couldn’t keep the smile from forming, even though she tried.

“i wasn’t planning on being,” you said, grinning. “work sent me here for a few weeks. i was meeting some friends, but it’s been a while, so i thought i’d just see if you were around.”

it wasn’t exactly casual. but you both knew it wasn’t entirely random, either. it felt like fate had decided that you two were finally going to do this.

you sat down, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had. the awkwardness of the past melted away. you didn’t need to pretend anymore. there were no more games, no more hesitations.

just you and natasha, picking up where you left off, though this time, the space between you felt a little different. there was an understanding now, a quiet knowing in the way you both spoke, a recognition that time had done its job.

“so…how’s life?” natasha asked, pushing her drink aside and leaning in a little closer.

you shrugged, but there was something different about you too, something less guarded. “it’s been alright. busy. but you know how that goes. i’ve been thinking about home, though. about—” you paused, then looked directly at natasha. “about people i should have kept in touch with.”

natasha’s heart was thudding in her chest, but she kept it together. she was a master of hiding emotions, after all. “yeah?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“yeah,” you said, with a smile that made natasha’s stomach flutter. “it’s funny how things work out. you don’t realize what you miss until you’re standing in front of it again.”

time had always been a strange thing between natasha and you—something both distant and close at the same time, like a thread that wound its way through your lives, never quite snapping, always lingering. you’d known each other for years, seen each other at parties, shared quiet moments, and laughed at the same jokes. but all that time, there had always been a hesitation. a space between the two of you, filled with something—something both of you had been aware of but had never dared to name.

it was the kind of thing that was easier to ignore in college, easier to pretend it wasn’t there while you were both busy with classes, with your lives, with the thrill of being young and not yet knowing what you wanted out of the world.

but that something between you had always been there, pulling at both of you, quiet but undeniable. the way you caught each other’s eyes a little too long. the way your conversations turned into something more meaningful without either of you intending it. the way natasha would see you at parties and catch her breath for just a moment. the way you’d smile, as if you both knew, but neither of you was brave enough to act on it.

you’d both dated people. tried relationships. but it had never lasted, had it? there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind—something missing, something not quite right. as if your lives couldn’t fit together because they weren’t ready to yet. you didn’t have the words for it, and neither did natasha. but you both knew. you always knew.

the things that had once seemed complicated—life, timing, fear—suddenly didn’t feel as big as they once had. there was a quiet honesty between you now, as if you both had grown enough to stop pretending you didn’t feel it. the awkwardness, the hesitation, the “maybe” that had been there before was gone.

it was you. it had always been you. and you knew it too.

“so,” natasha said after a beat, her voice softer now, quieter than before. “what are we doing here, really? we’re not strangers. we’ve known each other for, what, almost four years now?”

you looked at her, your lips curling into a smile that didn’t hide the tension in your gaze. “we’ve known each other longer than that,” you said. “we’ve always known.”

“i think i’ve always been afraid of this,” natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “afraid that i’d say the wrong thing, or that it would mess things up between us. that maybe the timing was never going to be right.”

you nodded slowly. “i’ve been afraid of that too.” you paused, then added with a wry smile, “i was never good with timing.”

“maybe we don’t need perfect timing,” natasha said softly, her gaze meeting yours with something she hadn’t let herself feel before—a quiet certainty. “maybe it’s just the right time now. after all this time.”

you didn’t answer right away. you didn’t have to. instead, you reached across the bar, your hand brushing gently against hers, and just like that, it all clicked. there was no more hesitation. no more waiting. you both knew what this was, what it always had been.

“yeah,” you said, your voice low and certain. “i think you’re right.”

and that was it.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff

160 notes · View notes

marauder-misprint · 2 days ago

Text

Checked box

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

13k words

cw: fluff, little bit of snogging, pinning, hurt/comfort (I guess?)

“Black is snogging Eloise Garner in the corridor,” Mary says as she sits down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“Bit early for a snog, isn’t it?” you ask, not looking up from your paper.

“I’d say so,” she responds, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Isn’t that like the third girl this week?” Lily asks.

“Feels like he’s trying to at least snog every girl in our year and then some,” Marlene answers.

The group is silent for a moment as Mary, Marlene and Lily all stare at you.

“Well? Is he?” Lily asks.

“How would I know?”

“Because he is quite literally in your lap every evening?” Marlene replies. “Honestly, if we didn’t know you, we’d say you two were dating. Or at least you’d’ve been the first one he snogged.”

You make a face at that assumption. “My brother’s best friend, believe it or not, does not confide all of his life’s mission to me.”

“You’re probably one of them,” Mary giggles.

“Except I’m basically his sister!”

“Siblings don’t act like that around each other,” Lily says with a smile.

“James!” you call to your brother who is a few seats down from the group. “Does Sirius like me romantically?”

He looks up from his Quidditch book, eyes wide.

“What? What did he do to you?”

He slams his book down and quickly walks down the table toward the girls. He crouches next to you so he wasn’t towering over you.

“What did Padfoot do?”

You laugh at your brother. “Nothing, James. But these three,” you gesture to the girls around you, “think I’m on his to-be-snogged list. I’m not, am I?” Your words were teasing, already knowing that you weren't.

“I’ll damn ensure that you’re not,” he growls, shaking his head.

“But there is a list?” Marlene pipes up. Her eyes glitter with intrigue.

“Not a list, per se… But he does seem to have trouble keeping to one girl for long.”

“And there you have it, folks! No real list and even if there was, I’m not on it.” You turn to look at James who doesn’t seem to be moving from where he crouches behind your shoulder. “Thanks James. You can, uh, go sit down now.”

“Oooh! Speak of the devil!” Mary chirps, looking toward the Great Hall door where Sirius was entering alone.

“Morning, pumpkin,” Sirius says, ruffling your hair. “Girls.”

James had waited until Sirius made it to the girls. The boys went down to their usual spots down the table. Once sat, James bursts into hurried whispers that lead to numerous glances being sent in the girls’ direction.

“How come I can’t call you pumpkin?” Lily pouts. Of all the pet names, pumpkin was your least favorite.

You roll your eyes before answering. “He’ll be reprimanded later for that. Don’t you worry, dearest Lily.”

“Reprimanded in your sex dungeon?” Marlene gasps, a hand over her heart.

You smack her with your paper from across the table. “Don’t you start a rumor like that!”

“I could totally see you having one though!” Marlene insists.

“What is your dominatrix name?” Lily asks, gently bumping into your shoulder.

“You are all too horny this morning. I’ll see you in class.”

You quickly gather your things, take one last sip of coffee and leave the hall. The day seems to go on as usual for you. You sat with the girls in most of your classes. You’re glad the conversation of Sirius’ list had been left at breakfast. There are minor differences in the boys during classes. They appeared to have shuffled their seating arrangements, but it doesn’t affect you until History of Magic. You usually sit next to Sirius. Instead, you were sat next to Peter while Sirius sat on the other side of James. Peter wasn’t your favorite of James’ friends but you could tolerate him.

There was definitely something different about Sirius in the common room after dinner. You usually hung out with her brother and his friends in the evenings. This would often lead to you sitting with Sirius on the couch, one of you draped over the other. Depending on who was sitting and who was lounging, you would play with each other’s hair or do homework or take a brief nap. You liked when Sirius would read you the assigned chapter because you otherwise wouldn’t read it. This evening, however, Sirius sat in an armchair nowhere near you. You frown as you watch him sit down and proceed to avoid your gaze.

The altered seating arrangement and not sitting with you on the couch continues for the next few days. By Friday evening, it is driving you crazy. You need to know what is going on. You wait until most people have gone to bed before deciding to confront him. Sirius was usually one of the last people up so you knew that waiting it out would be okay.

“Black, come ‘ere,” you say.

He looks over at you with a confused look on his face. He had been watching the fire, lost in his own thoughts. When he doesn’t move, you pat the couch cushion next to you. Reluctantly, he gets up and move to sit next to you.

“What’s up, pumpkin?”

“What’s up with you?” you ask, your brows furrowed. “Feels like you’ve been on the other side of the Earth this week.”

He shrugs, looking back towards the fire. “Just following directions.”

“Whose directions?”

“Prongs.”

“And, pray tell, what did that idiot tell you to do?”

“To stay away from you?” he replies, obvious confusion in his voice.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild frustration. “When was this?”

“Uh, earlier this week at breakfast. Made it seem like it was partly at your request?”

You shake your head. “Leave it to James to mess something up. No. He said he would make sure I didn’t end up as another checked box on your list. That would be all him.”

“Another checked box? What list is this?” Sirius asks with a slight chuckle as he looks at you.

“The list of every girl in our year and then some,” you giggle, slightly relieved that it seems like he doesn’t have such a list. “You know, your apparent mission to kiss every one. And maybe get some.”

He quickly turns back to the fire, hoping to hide the brief look of embarrassment that crosses his face. You see it anyway and feel your face flush slightly.

“There’s no list. And you certainly wouldn’t be a box on it if it were.”

“Ouch, Black,” you say with semi-fake hurt. “Cut me deep.”

“Please, I would be neutered if I kissed you.”

You laugh. Your laugh is enough to draw Sirius’ gaze away from the fire again. He loves seeing you smile that widely and knowing it was something he said to get you to.

“Why were you talking about that imaginary list anyways?”

“Mary saw you snogging Eloise and apparently thought I would know if this list existed,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“And James was a part of this conversation?” he asks in disbelief.

“Well, I called him over when the girls didn’t believe that we aren’t romantically involved, let alone never kissed.”

Sirius shakes his head with a small smile playing on his lips. “And that leads to James declaring that I need to be at least a meter away from you at all times?”

“I asked him two questions. Do you like me romantically and was I on your to-be-snogged list?” You pause. “You know, he never actually answered the first one.”

“That would be because he doesn’t know,” Sirius says, turning his head almost 90 degrees to crack his neck. “You know how much he hates being wrong… So he’s not going to give an answer if he doesn’t know if it’s right.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I don’t discuss everything with Prongs. Although, he never has asked how I feel about you.”

You chuckle and nudge Sirius with your shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend like you might have feelings for me. It’s… fine that you don’t.” The words taste bitter in your mouth, but you try to sound genuine. You would be lying if you said you never imagined things developing between the two of you.

“Why do you assume I don’t?” Sirius asks, cocking his head as he looks at you intently.

“Why would you be snogging anything that moves in a skirt if you liked me and you’ve never made a move for me?”

“I thought we agreed that Prongs would have me neutered if I kissed you?” He takes a breath. “And maybe knowing that I could very well lose my best friend if I went after the girl I actually like is the reason I go from girl to girl. None of them make me feel like she does.”

“Wait, what?”

“There’s just more than one reason why you can’t be a checked box on this list,” Sirius says, standing up. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”

He places a gentle kiss on top of your head before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. You stare after him dumbfounded. Has Sirius just essentially told you that he did like you and then leave?

Despite knowing that he was well out of earshot, you still say, “That’s not my name.”

None of the students remaining in the common room pay you any attention as you sit on the couch alone, talking to yourself now. You slump into the cushions and take over Sirius’ habit of staring into the fire. You understand why he does it. The way that the flames dance and flicker and radiate heat is calming.

You are distracted all weekend by what Sirius had said. You bury yourself in homework and use it as an excuse to avoid the Quidditch game. It’s Slytherin against Hufflepuff so your absence isn't insulting to James. Despite being tucked away in a distraction-free corner of the library, you make little progress on your homework. Your mind kept wandering back to Sirius and what he had said. You had worked hard to bury all of your feelings for him years ago, assuming it would never happen due to his close friendship with James. Your feelings continued to remain buried as he got closer with you and never hinted that he might like you more than a friend.

In your dorm, you ignore the comments from Lily and Mary that for someone who spent all weekend in the library, you made such little progress on your assignments, or that they were done extremely poorly.

On Monday, you really do try to pay attention in class, but it is futile. Even after a weekend of him on your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to Sirius, who is in most of your classes. Even worse, you come to realize that you have no one to talk to about it so you can only let your mind spin as it had for the past two days. You think you disguise your distraction fairly well in classes until Remus grabs your hand in Potions before you can tip an ingredient into your cauldron.

“Are you trying to blow up the classroom?” he hisses at you.

You blink at him and then look at what you had been about to pour into your brew. He is right. If you had dumped it in, your cauldron would have blown up and severely damaged those around you. You give Remus a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Remus… Been a bit distracted lately.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You give him a look. “Is it obvious?”

“You didn’t bother to apologize or clean up your spilled inkwell in Transfiguration,” he says with a soft smile. “If Lily hadn’t quickly cleaned it up for you, McGonagall would’ve given you detention.”

“Huh… I’ll have to thank her later…”

“What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing too important,” you lie.

“If I’m almost blown up over it, it must be important.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I just don’t have anyone to talk to about it so it’s… festering.”

Remus turns back to his own potion.

“Must be quite the topic if you have no one to talk to about it.”

You scrunch your face as you add the correct ingredient to your potion, causing it to turn a pleasant blue color.

“What does that mean?”

“You have plenty of people who care for you. And if none of us are good enough, you could probably have your pick of first years who would love to listen to your problems.”

You chew at the dead skin of your bottom lip, looking at Remus and knowing he was right.

“Don’t be mad but sometimes I forget that you are also my friend, not just James’. And that you are the most understanding person on this planet.”

He chuckles softly, not trying to draw attention to himself. “Understandable. But what is it that you feel you have no one to talk to about?”

“It’s too public in here,” you say, looking around the room. “It’s something I can’t talk to the girls about because they will all tease me endlessly if I do. And I can’t talk about it with James because we don’t really discuss that kind of stuff often and he overreacts.”

“And Sirius?”

You purse your lips.

“Oh,” Remus says, suddenly understanding. “Let’s discuss this after class when I’m certain I’ll be in less danger of blowing up.”

Once your potions are turned in to Professor Slughorn, you and Remus leave the classroom together. Lily, Mary and James give you questionable stares as you disappear around the corner. Neither of you say a word until you are more secluded in the grounds of Hogwarts. You walk down towards the Black Lake. Anyone trying to eavesdrop would have a harder time hearing you over the sound of waves.

“What did Sirius do?” Remus asks, sitting down and resting his back against a tree.

Mimicking his actions, you answer, “It’s what he said when I confronted him for avoiding me all last week.”

“Wasn’t that at your request?”

“No. James is a liar.”

“Okay?”

“Long story short, Mary, Marlene and Lily…” you start to say before putting your head in your hands and groaning. “Screw that. Does Sirius like me?”

“He lets you touch his hair. Of course he likes you.”

You lift your head to look at Remus. “Does he like me as more than a friend?”

“What did he say to you?”

“I asked first.”

“I can only speak if I know what he told you.”

You sigh heavily and turn your gaze to the lake.

“Something like he’d lose James if he kissed the girl he actually likes and that’s why he’s been kissing every girl who looks his way. And then that there’s more than one reason why I can’t be another checked box on the list of girls he’s kissed.”

Remus puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, darling…”

“Remus, does he like me?”

“I believe he does.”

You whip your head towards him. “What do you mean, you believe?”

“He’s not known for pouring his heart out. You know that. He’s private with his more personal feelings,” Remus says, choosing his words carefully. “But I have eyes and ears. The way he looks at you, especially when James isn’t looking. The way he acts around you. The way he talks to you, and about you. … And he calls you pumpkin.”

You don’t say anything. You were taking it all in, although you don’t quite understand why him using that pet name held significance. You just want Remus to keep talking.

“You know about his home life,” he continues.

You nod.

“I don’t think I could say all the ways it makes him the way he is. We’ve only heard snippets of it. I think there’s a lot he has walled off. And he has a found family in us. In James specifically. So he’s going to tread lightly around anything that could harm that.”

You bite the inside of your lip. You know you have been let inside some of Sirius’ walls. There were the miscellaneous late nights filled with more vulnerable conversations over the past two years. A particularly horrendous nightmare had brought Sirius to the common room to sit by the dying fire, and you had already been sitting there. You had been unable to sleep with your own anxieties. You snuggled into each other on the couch and talked until Sirius felt okay to go back to sleep.

Even with that memory in your head, the thing you say is, “So James’ irrationality is why Sirius hasn’t made a move on me?”

“Part of it… but that’s not what you’re taking away from this conversation. There’s more than Prongs in this equation.”

You sigh and rest your chin on your hands. The sun was beginning to set and it reflects beautifully on the lake’s shimmering surface.

“You’re also in the equation,” Remus reminds you. “Do you like him as more than a friend?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Remus John Lupin, I’ve been in love with him since second year.”

The moment you say that, it hits you like a brick wall. The buried emotions all bubble up and you lean back into the tree forcefully. Your head hits the trunk with a soft thud and you groan at the sudden pain. You know that you thought Sirius was cute from the moment you met him but it did take time and a little bit of maturing for you to decide that you liked him in that way. And because he is your brother’s best friend, you kept quiet about it, even to your female friends. Despite playing it off, you were bothered when you heard about him snogging another girl in the corridor. You were bothered when you heard girls giggle about how handsome he was and how they hoped he would give them attention or take them to Hogsmeade. You relish in the fact that out of every one of his friends, he chose to sit next to you in the common room night after night. And you treasured every time he let you see that vulnerable side of him that he kept so well hidden behind his bright smile and boisterous laugh and devil-may-care attitude.

“If that’s true, why haven’t you made a move?”

You laugh again, nudging Remus’s shoulder.

“I thought you were the smart one of the group. He’s James’ best friend. His best friend who has never once shown an inkling of romantic interest in me. Why would I risk that level of embarrassment with someone who is obviously going to be in my life as long as I stay close with James?”

“Do you ever think that maybe he thought the same thing?”

“Rems, I…”

“Love, listen. I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you for certain that he likes you. But I suggest you talk to him. Probably when James isn’t around. And if it comes to it, screw what James thinks. He just cares for you and doesn’t want to see you hurt. You are twins after all.”

You sit in silence for a minute. The crashing waves of the lake fill the air as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Rems, thanks for this. But we did miss dinner,” you finally say.

You stand up and hold out a hand to Remus. He takes it with a smile. He grunts as he stands up, like the old man the boys often compare him to.

“You act like we don’t know where the kitchens are…”

After a quick stop by the kitchens for sandwiches, you enter the common room together. You are greeted by multiple versions of “There you are!” and “I told you they’d be together, I saw them leave Potions together!” It seems as if your disappearance had captured the attention of every sixth year Gryffindor.

“You missed dinner!” James chides.

“We grabbed sandwiches,” you say, holding up your almost finished grilled cheese.

“What were you doing?” His eyes narrow at Remus.

“Talking?” Remus answers, moving past James to sit by in a chair by the fire.

You, however, feel frozen with James in front of you and the eyes of many Gryffindors on you.

“Talking kept you from food?” Marlene asks in disbelief. “Must’ve been some conversation.”

“I’d say it was enlightening,” you say.

“Did he teach you Lumos?” Peter asks from the couch.

“Ha,” Remus says dryly.

“Are you okay?” James asks you in a hushed tone as the non-sixth year Gryffindors slowly turn back to their own conversations.

“Yes? I just needed to talk to Rem about something private.”

“Something private?” he asks, trying to get more information out of you. “With Moony? Come on, what is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. God forbid a girl talks to her male friends.”

“If nothing is going on, then tell me what you were talking about.”

“You are not privy to my every conversation,” you snap.

“I am a bit when it’s with one of my best mates.”

“Your best mates are also some of my best mates, James. Learn to share.”

Your voices were increasing in volume.

“Do I need to talk to him too?” James asks, placing a hand on your shoulder which you immediately shrug off.

“No! And I never asked you to talk to Sirius!”

Sirius looks from Remus to you to James at the mention of his name.

“You asked if you were…”

“I asked for information. That’s all. And you have the audacity to tell him to stay away from me?”

“I’m protecting you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” you spit. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be from your friends.” You look over at the boys and then back at James. “If anyone needs protecting from the people you call your best mates, then you need to reevaluate the kind of company you keep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Let me get hurt.”

You give James one last nasty look before finally being able to move your feet. You disappear into the girls’ dorms. As you walk away, you can feel eyes watching your every move. Apparently if you argue with your brother loudly, the common room is forced to give you all of their attention. Once out of sight, James collapses on the couch, refusing to look at anyone. Lily, Marlene and Mary watch James sit down and then follow you up the stairs. Lily hesitates a moment before knocking on the door to your shared dorm.

“Lovie?” she called softly as she opened the door a crack. “Potter!”

The door creaks loudly as it opens wider. You had changed out of your uniform and into muggle clothes. You are sitting on your bed, lacing up your heavy boots with a small bag next to you.

“Going somewhere?” Marlene asks. She is the first of the girls to enter the room.

“I need to clear my head.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Lily asks, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle.

“Heard about some poachers gathering in the forest. And if I can’t find them, I’ll find some trolls or dugbogs or something.”

“And you plan on going alone?”

You shoot the girls a warning look. “Yes. Evans, if you threaten detention, make it for Thursday.”

Lily doesn’t say anything.

“What did you and Lupin talk about?” Mary inquires, not quite seeing that you aren’t in the mood to talk about that yet.

“Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.”

You, having finished lacing your boots, grab you bag and storm out of the dorm. You have to push past Mary who is still standing in the doorway. Your heavy footsteps silence the common room before you finish descending the stairs. Eyes follow you as you leave the common room. Once out of the portrait, the common room roars to life again.

“So… what the fuck?” Peter asks, looking at his friends.

“She’s pissed off,” Remus says coolly. “And I’d say for decent reason.”

James gives him an annoyed look.

“That time of the month, is it?”

“Peter, no!” Remus chastises. “She’s just figuring stuff out.”

“Care to share with the class?” James asks.

“I’d prefer to not spend the next two weeks in the hospital wing so I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready.”

“So we’re going to let her go off like that?” Sirius asks, speaking up for the first time since you and Remus came back.

“Yes,” Remus and James say at the same time.

“Like she said, she doesn’t need protection,” Remus says, sending a wary glance to James.

---

Remus was mildly surprised that when he woke up, Sirius wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, less surprised when he found Sirius slumped on the couch in the common room. Remus approached him, ready to wake him up, only to find that Sirius was awake. His hair was slightly frizzy and dark bags formed under his eyes. He was still in his disheveled uniform from the day before, having never gone up to their dorm after dinner.

“Pads?” he says gently. “Were you up all night?”

Sirius looks away from the fire groggily.

“Huh?” He processes what Remus had asked him. He sits up, his back loudly cracking as he does so. “Yeah. Someone had to wait for Potter to get back.”

“And you didn’t come up when she did?”

Sirius shakes his head before running a hand through his curls.

“She didn’t, Moons. She didn’t come back.”

Remus’ eyes go wide.

“No, surely she came back. You must’ve drifted asleep at some point.”

“She didn’t. I was awake the whole time.”

Remus sits next to his friend, placing a hand on his knee. “Maybe she got back recently and just went straight to breakfast? How ‘bout we go get some, yeah?”

“Let me change,” Sirius mutteres, giving Remus a tired look.

He doesn’t move for a minute. His brain feels too fuzzy and wired at the same time. Convincing his legs to support his weight as he eventually stands up is more of a task than he anticipates. He is quick in getting ready for the day in their dorm. He doesn’t understand how James is still asleep, or how he had slept at all when you weren’t in the castle for all they knew. Sirius ties his hair back and looks at his reflection with his fresh uniform on. Despite his attempts to make himself look presentable, not having slept at all and being filled with worry makes him look exhausted, which is how he felt. He just doesn’t want to show it. He sighs and returns to Remus.

Sirius watches the Great Hall door as he slowly eats some breakfast. He drinks some coffee that Remus pushed towards him, saying something along the lines of needing caffeine if he was planning on making it through the day. When the girls sit down, they confirm that you hadn't been in their dorm that morning and your bed looked unslept in. Sirius groans. The girls exchange curious looks.

Palpable concern and worry finally reaches the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors when they are all sat in Charms and you still weren't there.

“You’re certain that she didn’t come back and just made her bed when she got up?” James asks Marlene.

“Positive. All of her school things were still there. The bed hadn’t been touched.”

“And since when does she make her bed?” Lily asks.

Halfway through class, you enter the room. All eyes turn to look at you. You have multiple bandages over your body, looking freshly applied. You hand Professor Flitwick a note and take your spot next to Mary. You don’t say anything to all the Gryffindors staring at you. You just open your book to the same page as Mary and turn to look at the professor, hoping he’d continue his lesson where he left off.

“Where have you been?” Mary whispers, not looking at you.

“Forest. And then hospital wing,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Did you sleep?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” you assert. “Now shush.”

After Charms ends, the Gryffindors surround you so you can’t slip away to your next class. You avoid making eye contact with any of them as you gather your things and attempt to push through them.

“Going into the forest at night is one thing,” Lily chides. “Not coming back until halfway through the first lesson of the day is another.”

“Okay, mum,” you say shortly, still trying to push through the group.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” James asks.

You glare at him. “Certainly not to you.”

“You look like you barely came back in one piece!” he exclaims. “I’m shocked Pomfrey let you leave the hospital wing.”

A wicked glint shines in your eyes. “Oh, she didn’t. I just left.”

“Potter!” Mary gasps.

“Macdonald!” you mimic with an eye roll. “If you lot don’t get out of my way, I’ll be late for Ancient Runes and I’m already on thin ice with Raltmole.”

You finally push through the group and leave them in the Charms classroom. They exchange frustrated looks before following you out. They split up for their respective classes, Remus and Lily following you towards the Ancient Runes classroom.

“Did you find the poachers you were looking for?” Lily asks tentatively once they sit on either side of you.

You nod. “And then some. The hippogriffs they had weren’t happy to be freed.”

“Did you bow to them?” Remus asks.

“No? Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Remus breathes.

You hum and spin your quill in your fingers. “Now I know for next time.”

Professor Raltmole gathers the class’ attention and begins her lecture. Remus takes a ratty piece of parchment from his bookbag and scrawls a short note on it before sliding it across the desk toward you.

Padfoot waited up for you

You quickly read it, write a response and slide it back.

Is that why he looks like living death?

He didn’t sleep because you were gone

You crumple the paper when you get it back from Remus. You shove it in your pocket, away from Lily’s view.

“I’ll talk to him later,” you hiss to Remus.

An angry Madam Pomfrey yells at you in front of most of the castle at lunch for sneaking out of the hospital wing when you were clearly still in need of tending to. An excuse of not wanting to miss more class seemed to ward her off, but you feel the nurse’s frustrated gaze on you for the rest of the meal. Mary and Marlene ask you about the poachers you dueled as you walked to your next class. You recount a watered down version of the previous night’s events for them. You make sure that your injuries still make sense but their severity less. The girls are simply impressed and less concerned for their friend.

You are happy when the second half of the day is more concentrated on schoolwork rather than what you had gotten up to last night. You didn’t want to keep reliving being outnumbered by the poachers and just barely getting out without being too injured. The fear in the hippogriffs’ eyes haunted you. It reminds you that what you did was right, but they had still attacked you after you unlocked their cages. Sitting at dinner, you gently touch the bandage on her face and wince.

“If it hurts, you probably shouldn’t touch it,” Lily says. “Or go see Pomfrey again. I’m sure she’d love to patch you up more.”

“Going back is admitting defeat,” you say definitively.

You wouldn’t go back, not even when your bandages need to be replaced. You know that the boys have plenty of bandages in their dorm and you could use some of those. You worried that Pomfrey would handcuff you to a cot and place a charm on it so you couldn’t escape. You were determined to not be held captive to the nurse.

You fold gravy into your mashed potatoes until they turn a gross shade of pale brown. Your whole body had started to ache during the last lesson of the day. The pain is stronger than your hunger and all you want to do now is sleep. However, you weren’t dumb. Your friends would have cursed you into next week, or at least taken you to Madam Pomfrey, if you hadn’t shown up to dinner. You sigh as the plates in the middle of the table clear and replenish with desserts. Nothing looks appetizing. You force yourself to swallow some of the potatoes so you could claim that you did have some dinner. After a few bites, you resume swirling the soft mush around your plate.

“Darling, you done?” Marlene asks, standing up across from you.

You look up, noticing that a fair amount of students had already left the Great Hall.

“I guess so,” you say.

You walk back to the Gryffindor Tower in silence. Marlene seems to read your body language, which says you aren’t in the mood to talk anymore. Your face has a hardened look to it with your arms crossed over your chest. After giving the password, Marlene makes sure to hold open the portrait for you so it doesn't close on you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t smile a little when you saw Sirius sitting on the couch with no one else. Marlene heads for the girls’ stairs, half expecting you to follow her up. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch and lay down, your head resting in Sirius’ lap.

“Hey Black,” you say, looking up at him.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asks, looking down at you. “I think you got as much sleep as I did last night.”

“So Remus says,” you reply.

Sirius twirls some of your hair around his finger, something he had done hundreds of times before. Only this time, you see it as something more tender, all thanks to what Remus had said the day prior. It sent off butterflies in your stomach.

“Must’ve been some conversation you two had yesterday,” Sirius mumbles. “What else would keep you out so late?”

You scoff. “James being a prat. But it was some conversation. I think I needed to hear it.”

Sirius’ expression softens.

“What did you need to hear?”

“It was… a reality check.”

You pause, studying the look on his face. You are vaguely aware of the other people in the common room, but the way Sirius is looking at you could’ve convinced you that you were the only one in the entire castle with those grey eyes. Without saying anything to each other, you feel as if the only things you can hear are your breathing and the muted crackling of the fire not far from you. You reach up and tuck a curl behind his ear, revealing his multiple piercings that he’d gotten over the years. You notice his breathing hitch as your hand gently grazes his face. You smile at him.

“So between the reality check and Mr. Bitchiness himself, I needed to clear my head.”

Sirius shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“I think you should find a way to clear your head that doesn’t involve barely coming back in one piece, Potter.”

“I thought you called me pumpkin.”

“I thought you hated being called that.”

“I do, but I let you get away with it.” You gently poke the tip of his nose playfully. Your gaze briefly flicks to his lips before returning to his eyes. “You’re… special.”

“That doesn’t look like a meter,” James’ voice calls, bringing you back into the noise of the common room.

You can see your brother standing over the two of you behind the couch. His face isn’t quite murderous, but it was getting there.

“She’s exhausted and in pain and you come swooping in?” James accuses Sirius. “I thought I told you to give her space.”

You sit up and glare at James, the tenderness of the moment with Sirius evaporated.

“Excuse you,” you say, a disgusted snarl creeping up on your face. “He did no such swooping. And you can’t tell people to stay away from me.”

“I’m your brother! It’s my job to keep people away from you,” he says, giving his friend a sour look. “Especially when I think they have immoral intentions.”

“Have you considered that I’m the one who came to him and not the other way around?”

“Why would you?”

You blink. “Because he’s my friend?”

“He’s my friend,” James says.

You can’t stop yourself. You slap James across the face. You feel your own face burning and tears beginning to brim in your eyes.

“I see you didn’t learn anything from last night, you git,” you spit at him.

You stand up, leaving Sirius alone on the couch. He watches in silence as you turn to leave the common room. You slam the portrait behind you, earning a scolding from the Fat Lady about respect. The common room remains silent as Sirius looks up at James.

“Prongs, I swear, she came to me,” he says. “I was sitting here and she came to me. She walked in with Marlene long after we came back from dinner.”

“Whatever, Pads. Just keep your distance from her, like you said you would.”

Sirius lets his lips form a thin line as he looks away from James and back to the fire. Technically, he had never said he would keep away from you. James had just insisted on it. James sighs heavily, glancing at the portrait hole. He is glad that you didn’t go upstairs to change and grab whatever you would need to go out again, but you leaving in such a fury wasn’t ideal either. He turns and goes back up to their dorm. When Remus sees how upset James is, he immediately goes to check in on Sirius, letting Peter work on calming James down.

Remus sits on the other side of the couch. Sirius is radiating an energy that said he needed a little bit of space around him.

“Padfoot,” Remus says, speaking tentatively. “What just happened? Why is Prongs in a huff again?”

“He’s accusing me of trying to defile her when she’s not in her right mind.”

Remus isn’t a fan that Sirius didn’t look at him when he talked. He didn’t want his friend to stay up all night staring into the fire again.

“Where is she?”

Sirius shrugs. “Slapped Prongs and left.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Sirius.

“She slapped him?” he asks, trying to hold in some laughter. “Honestly, someone needed to and it’s good it came from her. He’ll forgive her.”

“Do you think he’d forgive me?” Sirius asks, his voice barely audible and eyes still not leaving the flickering flames.

“Forgive you for what?” Remus asks cautiously. “Did you… defile her?”

Sirius scoffs. “No, Merlin… But… fuck. Nevermind.”

Remus scoots to the middle cushion of the couch. He places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius looks away from the fire. His cheeks are dusted with a faint blush.

“Padfoot, be honest with me. How do you feel about her?”

Remus’ voice is soft. It has a sense of pleading to it, as if begging Sirius to admit something he doesn’t want to, as if begging him to be more vulnerable in the middle of the common room than he has ever been before. Sirius just shakes his head with a frown.

“That doesn’t matter.”

With a harsh sigh, Remus tries again. “Prongs doesn’t matter right now. How do you, Padfoot, Sirius Orion Black, feel about her?”

“Like she is the most precious thing.” He closes his eyes and turns his face toward the fire again. “But Prongs does matter. So how I feel doesn’t. I need his friendship more than I need a relationship.”

Remus gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Imagine if everything went right though… You and Prongs could legally be brothers.”

Sirius coughs in surprise at his words. Of course, he had thought about it from time to time. James was his brother in practically all ways except literally. You, being alluring as you were, were something different. You weren't a sister to him. What he feels for you isn’t what he would feel for a sister and it is certainly more than anything he has felt for any other girl.

“Think about it, Pads, yeah?” Remus suggests, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “You think Wormtail has calmed Prongs down enough for it to be safe to go back up there?”

Remus glances toward the stairs. Then he looks back at Sirius, who has opened his eyes but stares absently at the hearth.

“You said she left the common room? You don’t think she’ll be gone all night again, do you?” Remus questions, his voice having more concern than before.

“She’ll be back… Although it might be better if I’m not down here when she returns…”

---

You spend the rest of the week avoiding James. You put as many people in between you as possible when you have to be near him. If he tries to talk to you, you either ignore him or speak to him through someone else. It pisses him off. You also take to avoiding the common room, being that he was often there. For once, you find yourself being furious that Remus and Sirius were James’ friends first and yours second.

Marlene sits down in the library at the same table as you, Mary and Lily. You are working on various assignments, books littering the tables. Marlene clears a small section for her to get out her own work. She shoots a wary look toward you.

“Black’s back on his bullshit,” she says, watching you for a reaction that you don’t give her.

You keep your eyes on your Ancient Runes assignment.

“Who’s he snogging now?” Lily asks. She knows someone has to buy into the bait.

“Charity Burbage.”

“Didn’t realize she was his type…” Mary mutters. “Isn’t she a few years younger?”

“Fourth year, but she’s… mature if you know what I mean,” Marlene answers, giving her own breasts a squeeze.

“Alright, we get your point,” Lily says, cutting her off. “Remember that we’re here to do homework, right?”

You just scoff and keep working. Hearing that Sirius was off snogging a busty fourth year rubbed you the wrong way. You keep thinking back to what Sirius had said and what Remus had told you about him. You think about how Sirius had been the one waiting up for you to come back that night you got into the fight with James. You don’t want to imagine Sirius sucking face with a younger girl, but the image keeps appearing in your mind. It makes your blood boil.

“Potter, you good?” Mary whispers from across the table.

You look up at Mary and then back down at your paper. There were various splotches of ink where you had been holding your quill and lightly tapping it. You sighed in annoyance.

“Guess Raltmole is getting subpar work again,” you groan.

You look over at the assignment sheet again and force a smile. At least you were on the last question. Once you answer it, you could make an excuse to leave. You hurriedly finish and begin putting your stuff away.

“I’ll see you lot later.”

“Going back to the common room?” Lily asks, not looking up from her own assignment.

“Yeah,” you lie. You had no intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower and risk running into James.

You make your way up to the astronomy tower. As you climb the stairs, hot tears sting in your eyes and begin to fall. You have never been so glad to find the tower completely empty. You sit down near the edge of the platform. The cold air feels nice as you feel like you are overheating. Your mind is spinning with thoughts of Sirius. You hate that you had admitted to Remus that you had been harboring feelings for Sirius for years and everything you had buried so deep inside of you had been brought back to the surface. You hate that your friends feel the need to bring up whoever they saw Sirius kissing.

As you look over the horizon, lost in your thoughts, you hear a string of swears from the stairs. You don’t look to see who it was. It isn’t a Gryffindor and that’s all that really matters to you at this moment. When the boy reaches the top of the stairs, he immediately spots you at the edge of the platform. He swears again, having hoped the tower would be empty, but then he notices you shuddering and hears your sniffles.

“Is this where everyone goes when they’re upset?” Barty Crouch Jr. asks, taking a step towards you, unsure of how you felt about having company. He had wanted to be alone so maybe you did too.

You turn your head to look at him. Your face is flushed and eyes red. Tears streak your face. Barty decides that you look too pitiful to leave alone. He sits down next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the platform and leaning backwards.

“Misery loves company, doesn’t it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you.

You smiled softly, although it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends on the company you keep.”

“Well, I came up here to be alone.” He kicks his legs in the open air. “But you’re not a Slytherin so I’ll give you a chance.”

“And you’re not a Gryffindor so I won’t ask you to leave.”

He chuckles and gives you a half smile. “Lions and snakes can be too much from time to time.”

“You can say that again. … What’d they do to you?”

“Evan… He’s hiding something from me and it’s not good. He needs to let me in, but it’s hard to convince him when everyone, Black, Snape, Avery, Wilkes, tells me to drop it. God forbid I try to be involved in my boyfriend’s life…” Barty sighs. “Everyone ganged up on me, even Pandora.”

“Didn’t know you and Evan… Rosier?”

“Yeah, Rosier. We don’t make it a habit to snog in the corridors like the other Black.”

You grimace. The other Black was your issue.

“What?”

“The other Black…”

Barty’s eyes widen. “You and him? I thought I heard he was…”

“We’re not,” you cut him off. “Which is why I’m up here.”

“I need a distraction from Ev… What’s up with that little blood traitor?”

You glare at Barty. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be like that.”

“Sorry, habit. What’s the other Black up to?”

You shake your head and adjust so your legs hang over the edge too. You sniffle again and blink away tears that threaten to stream down your face again.

“How am I supposed to know if he likes me if I keep hearing that he’s going into a broom closet with a new girl every other day?”

“You like him?” Barty asks. “Of course you do. Just about every girl has a fantasy about him.”

You scoff. “Every girl… Yeah. That’s part of the problem. He all but told me that I’m the reason he’s snogging every girl in our year. And yours. And then some.”

“You’re the reason?”

“Something like James would kill him if he touched me so he touches everyone else.” You roll your eyes and lean forward into the metal railing. “And then Remus goes off and says he’s fairly certain that Sirius really does like me in the way I like him. And James constantly acting like I need protection from his friends. And every time I think I’ve collected myself and reburied my feelings for Black, Marlene and Mary come around and talk about who they saw him with.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

“Your stupid problem is better than thinking about mine. I know Ev will be cooled off when I get back and we’ll be fine. Your problem is… more.”

“Do the Slytherins think Sirius has some checklist of every girl he needs to snog before graduation?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Not that I know of, but I’m around Reg a lot and we don’t talk about his brother in front of him unless we have a death wish.” He pauses. “Poor wording because some of us do… We don’t talk about him.”

“Hmm… It’s definitely a topic among Gryffindors. Obviously.”

“He’d never be able to finish it.”

You give him a confused look as you sniffle again.

“You and that redhead. The one your brother and Snape are obsessed with.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, Lily would never kiss Sirius. Even for a dare. She’d rather do just about anything else.”

“And I call that a success!” Barty says with a smile. “Got the crying girl to laugh.”

“That you did…”

“May regret asking this, but what set you off? Why are you here now? Sounds like you’re just eternally pining.”

“Marlene said she saw Black snogging Burbage.”

“She’s younger than me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.” You sigh and feel tears fall again.

Your mind keeps telling you it was stupid to be jealous over a silly fourth year, but it was unfair. Barty notices you starting to cry again.

“Come here,” he says as he puts his arm around you.

While he and Evan would fight, he hoped they would never make each cry like this. The girl he had only ever seen as a force to be reckoned with was reduced to a puddle of emotions. You rest your head on Barty’s shoulder. It gives you a little bit of comfort to be hurting with someone else.

---

“She’s where with who?” James yells in their dorm.

When the girls had returned from the library and asked if you were in their room, they were met with confused stares from the boys. They hadn’t seen you since dinner and they had been in the common room all evening. While the girls shared looks of minor confusion, the boys shared looks of worry. The boys had immediately gone up to their dorm and opened the map. Each scanned a different section, looking for your name.

“She’s in the astronomy tower with Junior,” Peter repeats.

“Is she trying to get herself killed?”

“You seem far more concerned about her being with Junior than you did with her going off to fight poachers,” Sirius mutters, going to sit on his bed.

James turns to glare at him.

“What does that mean?”

“Just questioning what, or who, you think counts as dangerous.”

“You damn well know that Junior is dangerous,” James growls.

“Oh, I do know that, Prongs. But I’m not. I’m not a threat to her.”

“We aren’t talking about this right now, Padfoot. She is actually in danger right now!”

“Should we be concerned that their names aren’t moving?” Peter asks, still looking at the map. “Neither one has even shifted so they aren’t walking around or nothing.”

The two boys look over at Peter, anger fading from their faces and being replaced with fear and concern.

“That’s it. I’m going to get her,” James announces, moving for the door before Remus stops him.

“Like hell you are,” he says firmly. “In case you’re more dense than I think you are, you’re not her favorite person right now. I don’t think it’s wise that you go.”

“Then who’s going to go? Can’t really ask Lily to go fetch her without explaining the map.”

“Padfoot, you go see if she’s okay,” Remus decides. “Just… don’t overreact to whatever you’re walking into.”

Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips out of the door behind Remus, shooting James a gloating face. Once the door is closed, Remus lets James go.

“Tell me how Padfoot is going to handle that situation better than I would,” James demands.

“First off, you would walk in and blast Junior off the tower. Don’t act like you wouldn’t. And like I said, she is still angry with you. You going would only make things worse between you two,” Remus starts to explain. “Second, it would’ve been best if I went, but then I’d be leaving you and Padfoot alone and I didn’t feel like returning to a blood bath.”

James frowns, although he could see the logic behind Remus’ actions. He doesn’t need to ask why they didn’t send Peter; he didn’t have what it might take to get you away from Barty if it came to that.

Sirius’ stomach churns when he sees Barty’s arm around you. You appear to be willingly leaning into his side. You are sitting at the edge of the platform, legs hanging over the edge and resting against the bars. Keeping quiet as he lingers in the doorway, he can hear you having a whispered conversation. You were sniffling. After a few minutes of watching them and feeling sick, Sirius makes his presence known.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he says softly, causing both of them to jump at the sound of his voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Barty glares at Sirius. They had never gotten along, especially with Barty being one of Regulus’ closer friends.

“Piss off, Black. We’re having a conversation,” he spits, still holding onto you although it was a looser grip.

You had turned your body and propped one of your legs up on the platform. You wipe your nose and sniffle. Now that you were looking at Sirius, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“Everyone can piss off, actually,” you say, voice shaky. “They can handle a night without me.”

You let your leg fall back over the edge as you turn back to looking over the horizon. Barty follows suit. Sirius walks closer to you and sits down only a short distance away, resting his back against a pillar.

“Well, I’m not going back without you. So, carry on. I’ll walk you back when you’re ready.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, not that Sirius saw either.

“Black, I would’ve thought by now you’d be able to tell when you aren’t wanted,” Barty says, venom dripping from his words. “Get out of here before I make you.”

“Last I checked, she was more my friend than yours,” Sirius replies.

“Guess you haven’t checked recently.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at Barty as his arm pulls her waist closer to his.

“Guess fate is being extra cruel tonight,” Barty mutters to you and you nod in agreement. “I’m going to be fine, but are you?”

“Eventually, I assume,” you say. “I just feel defeated, and that doesn’t help.”

“What did I do?” Sirius asks, knowing that he was what you were referring to.

You and Barty look over at him.

“The fact that you have to ask…” you sigh with a sniffle.

“Do you want me to go?” Barty asks.

“Yes,” Sirius answers.

“I wasn’t asking you, Black,” Barty snarls. “Potter? I’m not leaving you with him unless you ask me to.”

Sirius gapes at Barty. The Slytherin seemed genuinely concerned to leave you alone with Sirius, someone you had been alone with many times before. He doesn’t understand why people weren’t trusting him to be around one of his friends. He didn’t think he had done anything to earn that.

“Stay,” you say.

The one word hits Sirius hard. He feels like he is going to throw up. In what world would you be asking Barty Crouch Jr. to stay?

“What the hell, love?” Sirius asks.

You shoot him a hurt look. “Burbage? Really?”

He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that what this is about? I thought we talked about this.”

You let out a cold and empty laugh. “We talked about this? No. You were just incredibly cryptic about some feelings you may or may not have as you let James run your life.”

“So you get with Crouch?”

You and Barty look at each other and make faces of disgust before slightly pushing away from each other, as if suddenly becoming aware of how close they actually were.

“We… no. Absolutely not,” you stutter.

“I don’t… I’m taken,” Barty says.

“He is,” you confirm with a nod.

You scoot back from the ledge, still sitting much closer to Barty than you were to Sirius. Barty does the opposite, leaning further over the railing and slumping like a rag doll. Sirius looks from one to the other.

“Then what is this?”

“One upset person comforting another?” Barty offers.

“And you’re upset?” Sirius challenges, not quite believing him.

“You don’t seem upset nor are you comforting Potter. So that would leave me being the other upset person. Yes.”

“Whatever. Darling, can we go?”

“No?”

“Hey, come on.”

“No.”

Barty gives you a wary look. Then he stands up, moving slowly toward the door.

“I’m going… to go. You two… need to talk.”

“Barty, no,” you plead. Your eyes looked ready to cry again. “Please, stay.”

“No, bye bye Barty,” Sirius says, standing up.

Sirius claps Barty on the shoulder, walks him to the doorway and makes sure he leaves. Then he walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go.”

You don’t take his hand. You spin where you sit to face away from him. Whenever he moved to be in front of you, you’d spin again. You know you are acting like a stubborn child, but you feel that you’ve earned that. He allows you to act like this for a few minutes before he gest tired of it.

“Pumpkin, come on. If you don’t come with me, I’ll have to go back and James will come get you.”

You make a disgruntled face and finally take Sirius’ hand.

“What did Junior mean by we need to talk?” Sirius asks as you walk toward the stairs.

“The Marauders need to get their shit together,” you say, not looking back at him and starting to descend the stairs.

Sirius follows you, picking up his speed to stay just one step behind you.

“So it’s not just me?”

You stop abruptly. Sirius bumps into you and you have to grab onto the railing to stop yourself from falling.

“Prongs needs to keep himself in check. He needs to stay in his lane. Moony needs to stop getting a girl’s hopes up. You need to go after that one girl you like and stick to her. I’m tired of hearing about a new girl’s tongue down your throat every day.” You pause. You had brought their friend group’s name into it so you had to name everyone. “Wormtail… uh, needs to be less of an idiot. Get him a real sense of humor or something.”

“And you told Junior all of that?”

“Yes.”

You walk the rest of the way back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Sirius isn’t sure what to say that would make you feel better so he settles on silence. You still sniffled a few times, but they were getting less frequent. You seem to be more furious now than sad, which was something of a win. When you enter the common room, you both keep walking to your individual dorms. You go straight to bed, closing the curtains around so that no one will bother you. Sirius is met with James, Remus and Peter anxiously waiting.

“Took you damn long enough,” James says as soon as Sirius walks through the doors. “What did that bastard do to her?”

“Gee, no Thanks Padfoot, thanks for getting my sister back safe and sound?” Sirius mocks. His mind is still stuck on what you had said to him about all of them. He sighs. “If what they both said is true, they simply talked. She was crying; he comforted her.”

“What was she crying about?” Peter asks.

Sirius makes eye contact with Remus. It seems like Remus knew immediately what she was crying about, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of James.

“Coudn’t get it out of her,” he lies.

---

You follow the girls around Hogsmeade on Saturday. You don’t really care where the group goes and you are able to mostly drown out their conversations. Your brain is empty. It is easier for it to be empty than to think about everything that made you cry the previous night.

Mary, Lily, Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas, carry their own conversations and manage to stick together as a group all day. They don’t seem to notice that you are in your head. They just make sure that you are still tagging along, not left behind anywhere.

“It’s good to get out of the castle for a good, safe time,” Mary had told you this morning when she insisted that you come instead of rotting in bed all day as you had planned to.

The group is heading back into Hogsmeade Square from Dogwood and Deathcap when they run into the Marauders in the cemetery. No one questions why they were messing around the tombs. With them, it is better to just accept it and move on with your day. The boys insist that they all go to the Three Broomsticks and end their day with as many butterbeers as they could drink. You, being determined to not talk to any of the boys, pinch the bridge of your nose as the girls enthusiastically agree. Lily hangs back as the boys lead the way to the pub.

“We could probably sneak back to the castle,” Lily mutters to you as you follow the group at a short distance.

“So you’re delusional,” you reply. “James will most certainly notice you’re gone.”

“They would notice you’re gone too… Don’t think I haven’t taken note of how quiet you’ve been.”

“I didn’t want to come here in the first place,” you hiss.

Lily reaches out to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers. “Well, we can suffer through butterbeers together. And then rot in our beds tomorrow.”

“Lily Evans doesn’t rot,” you snort.

You allow the girl to pull you into the Three Broomsticks after your friends. They somehow managed to push two tables together to accommodate their large group, which is an impressive feat given how busy the pub always was when students visited the village in troves. It doesn’t take long for Madam Rosmerta to get foaming mugs of butterbeer in front of everyone. The group sat divided by gender at the table. You made sure to sit on the same side of the table as James so if you accidentally looked down the table, you had a near impossible chance of making eye contact with him. It helped that he was at the complete opposite end of the table. Although Lily had said you would be suffering through butterbeers together, she is quickly engulfed into an animated conversation with Dorcas, Remus and Peter. Mary and Marlene were listening intently, but didn’t offer much to the conversation. James and Sirius appeared to be in their own world at their end of the table. You were content ignoring everyone’s conversations.

You slowly sip on your drink, looking around the pub. A handful of Slytherins are sitting at a table in the corner. You somehow manage to catch Barty’s eye and you share a small smile. Next to him sat the blond Evan Rosier and he was throwing back drinks and laughing loudly. You could see what Barty saw in him. There was a certain lightness to him.

“Mind if I sit here?” a voice asks, bringing your attention to a boy standing at the end of the table with a chair in hand.

“What?”

You recognize him from classes. Davey Something, Ravenclaw. You never really paid him any attention.

“Can I sit here? All my friends went back to the castle already.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Davey, right?” you ask, pulling your mug closer to you.

He sits kitty corner to you, despite there being empty space across from you. You assume that he didn’t know that no one was sitting there.

“That’s my name,” he replies with a smile.

He glances down the table to the rest of the Gryffindors and Dorcas. None of them seem to notice or care that someone new has joined their table.

“Anything interesting going on in Gryffindor Tower lately?” Davey asks, returning his gaze to you. “Most interesting thing to happen in Ravenclaw is a fourth year beat a seventh year in Wizards’ Chess.”

You chuckle and take a sip of your butterbeer.

“Oh, there is always something happening in our tower,” you say. “I slapped James. Argued with him in front of the entire common room. Sirius pulled an all-nighter for no reason. He’s also been snogging anything that moves in a skirt.”

Davey’s smile dips slightly. “Been snogging you?”

“No,” you say with an eye roll, before chuckling as you continue. “James banned him from being within a meter of me for that very reason.”

“That what you argued with him about?”

“Part of it. He’s been acting like I can’t handle myself. Like I had a simple chat with Remus and James threw a fit.”

“He got pissy because you were hanging out with his mates?”

“Yes! That’s also why he got slapped. Those were two different days…” You pause as you glance down the table. “And from what I can tell, he’s still on his bullshit.”

“Definitely is bullshit,” Davey agrees. His brilliant blue eyes looked deep into your eyes. “I think the whole castle knows how capable you are at handling yourself.”

“Do I really have a reputation of more than being the female Potter?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, darling, you do.”

“Tell me about it.”

You take a drink of your butterbeer, draining it. Rosmerta is quick to bring around another one and one for Davey as well. You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t have a mug in front of him previously.

“If you didn’t have Sirius or James as your perpetual dueling partners, you’d have trouble finding one in Defense class. You’re.. too good. It’s almost scary.”

You smile widely with a faint blush on your cheeks. You knew you were good at dueling. That’s why you went off to fight poachers when you knew where they were and didn’t bother buying potion ingredients that could be gathered if you ventured a little further than teachers normally approved. You had also been told by many teachers that you were exceptional at dueling, but hearing from a decently cute boy did something to your ego.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re amazing in every subject. We don’t have many together anymore. But when we were younger, I remember seeing you taunt James whenever you got a better grade than he did… which was pretty often.”

“What’s the point of having a twin if you can’t be better than him,” you laugh.

“Are you better than him at quidditch?”

You groan at that question. “No…”

“Darn. I was hoping you could make the Gryffindor team better.”

You lightly hit Davey’s shoulder playfully.

“Gryffindor is a damn good team!”

“Your seeker is trash!”

You take a second to think about who your seeker is.

“Isn’t he a second year? Cut the kid some slack!”

Davey laughs. “But if he’s the best that tried out? I’m doubting the captain’s skills.”

“Too bad that isn’t a James diss. For some reason he wasn’t made captain this year, but he was last year. Quidditch politics baffle me.”

“I’d try to explain them, but I think they differ by house.”

“You’re not on Ravenclaw’s team?”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have friends who are.”

“James likes to make it his entire personality so I’ve become fairly good at tuning it all out. There are better things to focus on.”

“Yeah? What captures your pretty little brain?”

“During the summer and over breaks, I’m a top-tier chef and baker. I honestly don’t know what my parents eat while we’re at school because I literally make every meal when I’m home.”

“You cook? Isn’t that what house elves are for?”

“Not everyone has, or needs, an elf,” you say firmly. “But, like, cooking is good for distracting my brain. Although I could be better in Potions…”

“You’re in N.E.W.T. level Potions. I’m sure you’re fine,” Davey assures you, placing his hand over yours on the table. “What else do you do besides dueling, cooking and looking beautiful?”

You feel yourself blush more.

“Merlin, this sounds nerdy, but I really do love learning about obscure magic. Haven’t gotten my hands on any good books yet this year because they are usually deep in the Restricted Section and Pince has been watching it like a hawk.”

“Obscure magic? Very Ravenclaw of you.”

You were trying to not look at his hand that was still on yours. His gaze is fixed intently on you. You have all of his attention.

“I plan on either being an Auror or an Unspeakable after school so a deep understanding of magic is important.”

“Look at you. Big ambitions.”

You look down at your empty mugs. You aren’t entirely sure when either of you had finished your drinks but apparently you had. You cast a quick glance down the table as well. You don’t know why you are relieved that no one was paying attention to you, all completely engulfed in one large conversation now.

“Want to get out of here?” you ask, looking back to Davey.

He smiles widely at your suggestion. He stands up and pulls out your chair to help you up.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he whispers into your ear. “Lead the way.”

You take Davey’s hand and you head for the door. You make sure to bump into James’ chair.

“Oops,” you say with a giggle before pulling Davey out of the pub into the autumn evening.

James and Sirius watch you leave with equal looks of distaste.

“Where’s she going?” Sirius asks.

“Better yet, who the fuck is she with?” James follows up.

The rest of the table turns to look but the door has already closed behind you. Despite wanting to follow them, Sirius and James return their attention to the group’s discussion about whether the foul smelling liquid from Gobbstones would cover up the smell of Amortentia. They hadn’t discussed the potion in class yet, but they had heard of the powerful love potion.

You and Davey walk around Hogsmeade, weaving in between buildings. There’s easy conversation between you, nothing too deep or heavy. You can tell by the way he looks at you and lets his touch linger that he’s looking for something more, but conversation feels so platonic. It feels like two acquaintances getting to know each other, which is what it was. You can’t deny that Davey’s attractive, but there’s no draw to him besides a little bit of attention and maybe some revenge aimed at Sirius and James. You find yourself in the garden outside of the village, walking up to the platform that overlooks the Black Lake. The distant glow of Hogsmeade lights it up just right so it feels far more romantic. As you lean over the ledge, you wonder if Sirius’ method of snogging someone else helps you get over them. Looking at Davey, or his lip if you’re being precise, you debate giving it a shot.

Then there’s a burst of noise that makes both of you jump and look over your shoulders. You can barely see the Three Broomsticks and the herd of people leaving it. It isn’t hard to tell that they are arguing. You can pick out James, Sirius, Lily and Dorcas’ voices. Both of you stare for a moment before looking back at each other.

“What do you think happened after we left?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not sure.”

“Don’t be rash!” Lily yells.

“I’m going to kill him!”

“James! Slow down!” Dorcas yells.

“When I find them, I’m going to kill him!”

“And I’m helping!” Sirius adds.

“Like hell you are,” James resorts.

“There!” Marlene exclaims, her voice sounding more cheerful than the others.

You turn to look at Davey nervously when you notice that Marlene is pointing in your direction and the group begins running. James and Sirius shrug off Lily and Dorcas’ grips on them as they tried to hold the boys back. The two are in a full on sprint with the rest of the group jogging behind them. It appeared that they came to the conclusion that none of them could outrun them.

“Gudgeon, step away from her,” James snarls once he reaches the platform.

Davey raises his eyebrows at your brother. “Why?”

“Because he bloody told you to, you git,” Sirius adds, heaving from running.

“But why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to fully face them. “He came out here with me.”

“And you’re coming back with us,” James says. “Been a long day, time to go home.”

You hum and look at Davey.

“I think I want to stay out a little longer.”

Davey smiles widely at you and then looks back at James and Sirius. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

“You boys heard ‘er. She wants to stay.”

“James,” Lily warns as the rest of the group approaches.

She noticed before you that he had started to reach for his wand. James looks at Lily.

“Lils, you must-” he starts to say, but then Sirius is ripping Davey’s arm off of you and picking you up to throw you over his shoulder.

Your yelp of surprise is what cut off James’ excuse to Lily.

“SIRIUS BLACK, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” you holler, trying to remove yourself from his grip.

“Ready to go?” he simply asks the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I’m good,” James answers, much more calm than he had been moments before.

Davey watches as Sirius carries you in the direction of the castle, followed by James and the rest of the group. Peter and Remus bring up the rear, shooting him glares for having gone near you. While the girls didn’t seem to approve of how Sirius and James had gone about getting you away from Davey or why they had, they do seem to support getting you back to the castle.

“Sirius, are you going to put me down?” you ask, sounding defeated.

“No.”

“Why’d you leave the group?” Dorcas asks, moving into your line of sight.

“Too loud and hot,” you lie. You weren’t about to say that you were looking for a pretty distraction from the irritation your brother and boy carrying you caused you.

“Just talk to us next time, yeah? We’ll leave,” James says. “Afterall, you know the buddy system.”

“I had a buddy,” you correct him. “Davey is a just fine buddy.”

“A buddy who just wants to get into your pants,” Marlene sings.

“Huh?”

“He’s just looking for a quick shag, darling,” Mary clarifies.

“Which is why we came to your rescue!” Sirius says.

“Rescue or ambush?” you grumble. “Maybe I wanted a quick shag too.”

The rest of the walk back to Hogwarts is quiet. Your ribs have grown sore from being slung over Sirius’ shoulder and your head feels light. At one point, you close your eyes and just listen to the crunching of leaves underfoot.

“Alright, down you go, pumpkin,” Sirius says as you arrive at the entrance to Hogwarts’ grounds. “Figure you can walk from here.”

He puts you down gently and all you can do is glare at him. You walk slowly into the grounds and the group takes that as a sign that all is well.

“Marls, come on. I got something for you in the dungeons,” Dorcas says, grabbing Marlene’s hand and pulling her toward the castle.

The rest of the group follows suit, picking up their pace to get inside the warmth of the castle. You, however, keep your slow pace. You certainly aren’t in the mood to be sitting with them around the fire in the common room after you were literally hauled back. Sirius is the only one who lingers with you.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, bumping shoulders with you.

You sigh and look up at him. Damn those grey eyes and how warm they make you feel.

“Just tired of James acting like he controls my life.”

Sirius nods and takes a deep breath.

“Come with me,” he says and holds out his hand for you to take.

You hesitate. Your mind is screaming both to take it and to slap it away. How dare he offer his hand to you after being the one to carry you back? But, also, he was offering it to you, giving you the choice to take it. So you do. You take his hand and let him lead you down some stairs to a secluded area near the greenhouses. Light shimmers through their windows, giving the small clearing a subtle glow.

“I think James would back off you a bit if I stopped listening to him about some things,” Sirius mutters, standing in front of you. A gentle hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear and lingers there for a moment.

He’s looking at you like he did that day on the couch, like you were the only one who existed in all of Hogwarts, in all of the world. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to understand what he was saying. All of your focus was on the hand that softly held your cheek. He takes a step toward you and before you can process anything, his lips are brushing up against yours. It’s soft and gentle and momentary.

“I think I can tolerate him more if you do that again,” you mumble.

And he does. The second is still soft and gentle, but it lasts longer. It only deepens slightly when he places his other hand on your waist. Sirius is holding you with a featherlight touch like he doesn’t want to break you, but his hand never leaves your cheek. Inside, despite what you just said, he fears that if he lets go, you will disappear and leave him.

“You could never be a checked box. Because you’re everything,” Sirius whispers.

“Then stop with your stupid list, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Good, because I think I like this a little too much."

#sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #marauders fic #marauders #sirius black

153 notes · View notes