#and I’m sorry but I want to see more than a kiss from behind and a fade to black

[rawrsatthetree]

Lich Emmerich and mourn watch Rook are so perfectly tailored to my tastes it’s uncanny.

When I was a toddler my teenage uncle lived with me and apparently he had a skull on one of his shelves that little 2 year old me was completely enamored with to the point I would sneak into his room and steal it at any given opportunity.

Like I’ve always adored skulls and skeletons and had a fascination with mortuary science and history even as a child. I used to go for regular walks through the local cemetery were I grew up. I almost went into mortuary science, I was so serious about it I even did a job shadows with a mortician. I’ve just always had a love of the macabre and undead. And honestly I think the love and fascination came from a very deep rooted fear of the supernatural and undead.

Like not only did I understand Emmrich but also getting to romance a Lich!? Like Vampires are great and all but a Lich!!

[cherryswisherz]

GLORIA [verse one]

♱ CONTAINS: kissing and cursing das it

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: PAZZI MINI SERIES ONNA HOE okay so like the vision is pazzi reminiscing on memories of their relationship. shoutout anon for the request

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

❝i met her when i was off the porch as a teenager, she said one day i would right my wrongs and see paper❞

“BUECKERS!” Micah yells my name as I approach the benches near the basketball court. 

I’m 15 minutes late but everyone should be used to that by now. By now, being late is my trademark so none of my friends look bothered. In fact, almost everyone is smiling as they dap me up and say hello. 

Everyone except the only person in the group that I hadn’t seen before. Some girl with bug eyes. 

Okay, so they aren’t big eyes. But they are big, brown eyes that look at me like she wants nothing more than my head on the chopping block. 

“Yo, who’s this?” I nod my head towards the girl who’s shooting me the literal death glare. 

“This is Azzi.” Micah slings an arm around Azzi's shoulder and she shrugs him off with a huff. “She’s my cousin. She just moved here.”

“Can she hoop?” I ask. 

“She’s standing right here and she would appreciate it if you didn’t speak about her like she wasn’t.” Azzi snatches the ball from my hands and begins walking to the court. “And I thought the movie was White Men Can’t Jump?”

I have no choice but to laugh at her insinuation. Meeting her on the court, I snatch my ball back. “It’s a good thing I’m a woman then, huh?” I say.

“Oh? You got game white girl?”

“Like you’ve never seen before.” 

“Show me then.”

“Check.” 

And the game began.

❝we started out young, lookin' for some identity, made a thousand mistakes, but never did we lack chemistry❞

“PAIGE!” Azzi’s chasing after me. “Will you just wait for a a fucking second?”

Every fiber of my being is telling me to keep walking and never stop, but we’re in a hotel for state and she’s screaming my name. If someone complains, coach is gonna kill me. 

I stop walking and shut my eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Relax, Bueckers.

I pivot on my foot and stare at the girl in front of me.

If I wasn’t such a pussy, I’d tell her how beautiful she is. With her frizzy french braids and her tie-dye t-shirt and her St. Patricks Day socks. But complimenting her would only make this whole situation even more awkward, and if it gets any more awkward I might off myself. 

So, instead of telling Azzi everything I’ve wanted to tell her since I’d met her, I speed walk back to our room grabbing her arm in the process. 

I’ve never been one for serious conversations and Azzi and I’s friendship isn’t necessarily one where we have too many of them. But tonight, I thought I saw something. 

Something in her eyes said, ‘it isn’t just you.’ 

God, I couldn’t have been any more wrong.

Shutting the door, I turn to her and make it a point to never take my eyes off the lamp behind her. 

“I’m sorry.”

She furrows her eyebrows and cocks her head a little to the side. “You’re sorry?” she sounds confused, which is confusing me. 

If she doesn’t want an apology then what the fuck does she want?

“Yes?”

“For what?”

For kissing you. For reading this whole thing wrong. For ruining our friendship and possibly losing us State because there’s no fucking way I’m gonna be able to focus tomorrow.

“For everything.”

All of a sudden, she’s not across the room for me anymore. She’s right in front of me, smacking me hard on the back of my head.

“OW!” I duck my head and slid under her raised arm. “What the fuck, Azzi?”

“You’re so stupid!” She shouts.

“How the fuck am I stupid for apologizing to you?”

We’re both yelling at each other, which to anyone else, may seem like a bad thing. But Azzi and I get our best communication done during our screaming matches. 

Don’t ask me why… It just is what it is.

“Because I don’t want a fucking apology, Paige!”

“Well, the fuck do you want then?”

“YOU!”

Record. Scratch.

“What?” I’m not yelling anymore. I’m actually speaking so low that I almost don’t hear myself. “What did you say?”

“I was trying to tell you, but you kep-”

I cut her off, “Say it again, Azzi.”

She grins like the Cheshire cat, “I want you.”

“What does that mean, though?”

“Holy fuck, you’re actually dumb.” She rolls her eyes, “I like you too, Paige.”

I’ve waited to hear that for almost a year. 

A year of staring when she isn’t looking. A year of moments that I wondered if she held as close to her as I did. A year of wanting her- no, needing her in ways that seem too mature for a 17 year old girl.

A part of me thinks she’s joking. Or she’s just trying to make me feel better…

I think about the kiss we shared 2 minutes ago. Her soft lips on mine, her in my lap on the bed next to me, grinding on my lap, driving me insane. 

I think of her scrambling off me and saying stop and the guilt that has sat on my chest since.

“But-” The sentence dies in my mouth and tears well in my eyes, “But when we kissed-” I point at her “You said stop.”

Azzi’s arms fly up before plopping back to her side, “Because I don’t wanna fuck you the night before the state championship!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Azzi mocks me, “If you would have just waited 30 seconds, I would have told you that.”

Azzi Fudd likes me back. The girl I’ve been feining for, likes me back.

Suddenly, I’m aware of the chance to be a jackass, and of course, I have to take it.

I walk over to her and nudge her shoulder, “You liikkkee meeee.” I sing

She laughs and shoves me away, “Get away from me.”

“You liiikkke meeee and you liked when I kissed yooouuuu”

She crawls back in bed and uses the comforter to hide her smile, “Go to bed, Paige.”

I crawl in bed, on top of her and kiss all over her face, relishing in the fact that Azzi fucking Fudd likes me back.

❝i was in love with you, didn't know what it was with you, kiss you in back of the class just to get a buzz with you❞

“Ms. Bueckers.” Ms. Jackson says. “Put your phone up, before it becomes my phone.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson.” I flash her a grin and slide my phone into my pocket. I don’t even need to me on my phone anymore anyway. 

Azzi and I’s plan is already set. 

My eyes never leave the clock. Counting the seconds until they become a minute, until eventually a minute begins five. 

My hand shoots in the air. “Can I go see my counselor?”

Ms. Jackson never turns from the board, her back still to the class as she groans before saying, “Get out, Paige.” 

“Love you too, Ms. Jackson.” I smile and dip out of the classroom, making my way across campus to the gym.

“Finally.” Azzi groans, ball already in hand. “How do you make the plans and still come late?”

“Shut up,” I throw my bag down and walk over to her. ‘Gimme kiss.” 

She ducks away from me, laughing, “I thought we were gonna play one-on-one?”

“We were.” I nod my head, “But you look so good,” I smile and grab her hips, pulling her closer. 

She gives me a peck and tries to pull away, but a peck is never enough, so I chase her lips and she drops the ball, wrapping her arms around my neck. 

In a few months I’m gonna graduate and go to UCONN and she’s still gonna be here. We’re gonna be almost 2,000 miles apart, and I don’t know how I’m gonna survive without her but I’m not gonna think about it right now. 

Right now, I’m gonna do everything but fuck my girlfriend in the middle of my high school's gym.

♱TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @kmoneymartini @sageworld

@darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @pb524830 @pb524830 @dnftpn @sierrale8ne @numberonepartyanth3m

@pppaaiiiggggeeeeee @uwupaige @paigeluvvr @colorthecosmos444 @authentic-girl03 @makethemhoesmad @lovegalor333 @mrsarnold

@sellasstories @heart4caitlin @avvwritesstufff @st4rrzynight @bueckersp @paxaz535 @thelightknight21 @paxaz535

@darlindayss @his-loss @dreatopia

[letstrip13]

୨୧ - picnic date

summary: 🍓🧺💐

warnings: none!

word count: 750

author's note: idea from the amazing @mattscoquette she's the absolute sweetest ever and i'm so glad we became friends !! <3 sorry for the wait btw

author's note 2: click here! and click here! i have little announcements about my account

author's note 3: also i just started a thing i'm calling 'mae's sturniolo catch up' so check that out too!! :)

------------------------୨୧------------------------

matt walks next to you, your fingers interlaced together as his thumb rubs the back of your hand gently in back and forth motions. in his other hand is the picnic basket you two packed together.

“where's the spot you talked about?” you smile and swing your arms a little, feeling like a giddy teenager for this date. “we're almost there.”

after some more steps, you both approach a clearing amongst the field of wildflowers you've been walking through. the summer sun beats down on you and you fan yourself with your free hand. after what feels like an eternity, you finally get to your spot and he places the picnic basket on the ground.

𐙚 ࣪ ˖

after setting up the picnic blanket and the food you brought, you and matt sit close and start eating the little heart-shaped sandwiches he helped you make just that morning. well, ‘help’ is a strong word. he just stood there with his arms wrapped around your waist, occasionally taking a topping to eat when he thought you weren't looking, while you did all the work.

the mini sandwiches quickly disappear from the plate one by one and all that's left are crumbs as matt pulls a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the basket.

he opens the bottle with that satisfying pop and pours some out for you then himself. “happy three months, matt,” you say as you clink your glass against his. “happy three months,” he replies with a smile before kissing you.

sure it may not be a ‘normal’ couple thing to be celebrating an anniversary this early on, but the past three months with him have been some of the best of your life. and he felt the exact same way about you. some may even bring up the three month rule; after that you can be sure if you want to continue the relationship or not, and you're more than certain you want to be serious with matt.

you slowly sip on your glasses of champagne and share some strawberries as you savour the moment of just being together right now. the summer's early evening breeze floats past you as the sun casts a golden glow on everything, getting ready to start coming down.

you're both sipping on your second glass, the last of the champagne since you only got a small bottle, when matt downs the rest of his and stands up suddenly, walking away from the clearing. “where are you going?” you call out to him.

he was walking quickly so he made it far in a short amount of time. “i’m getting you flowers,” he shouts back. you can't help but smile at the sweet gesture. he's always doing stuff like this, always paying attention to the little things, part of what makes him such a wonderful boyfriend.

a few minutes later he comes back over and stands in front of you, holding a big, over-the-top bouquet of wildflowers. “for you,” he mumbles shyly. you gratefully accept and kiss him when he sits down. “they're beautiful, thank you.” you take a flower out and put it in your hair.

seeing this stirs an idea in matt and he moves to position himself so he's kneeling behind you. “can i braid your hair?” “yeah, i'd like that. are you putting flowers in it too?” he hums a yes in response as he moves all your hair back and divides it into three uneven sections.

after a little while of him figuring things out, with the occasional small tug and mumbled apology, the braid is finished. he starts plucking random flowers from the bouquet and puts them through the braid. he takes a picture on your phone and shows it to you, looking very proud of himself - like a small child showing off a finger painting.

you look at the screen and you can't deny, it's a messy braid and it's very uneven, almost lopsided. but it's the prettiest braid you've ever seen, all because matt did it. “you did amazing, i love it.”

he sits next to you again and you rest your head on his shoulder. his fingers interlace with yours once more as you look up. the sunset paints the sky beautiful pinks and oranges. there's a few small clouds that if you stare at hard enough, could almost look like hearts.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a loving gesture as you sit in comfortable silence, wishing this day would go on forever.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

𐙚 ࣪ ˖ tags: @chrissturniolosbitch @christhopersturniolo @mattscurlygirly @fratbrochrisgf @d3axplr @junnniiieee07 @rubyjaneaxx @remussbitch @sturnpooks @ribread03 @mattsfavbitchhh @blahbel668 @asherrisrandom @55sturn @joeblzy @ivysturnss @certifiedstarrr @stvrnzwrld @strnlslut @edwardscoldhands @emely9274 @strangelife122 @loveparqdise @meatballlover10 @lovevxle @conspiracy-ash

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[idkanymark]

[Give me my Romeo]

haechan x f!reader | theater club | romeo and juliet au

INTRO: What started as a rivalry on the stage became something neither of you expected. Cast as Romeo and Juliet in your university’s theater production, you and Haechan were forced to confront not only the tensions of your roles but the growing spark between you. What happens when the lines between acting and reality blur, and the final curtain brings more than just applause?

wc: 6.1k

NOTE: I never read Romeo and Juliet in English so I had to search online for some parts of the act, sorry if there's any mistake🙏

----

The dimly lit auditorium buzzed with nervous energy as students filtered in, clutching scripts and notebooks. The annual play auditions at NCTU’s theater club were legendary, and this year, they’d chosen the timeless tragedy Romeo and Juliet. Everyone wanted a role, but only two parts truly mattered—Romeo and Juliet.

You sat in the second row, scanning the script you’d practically memorized. The club director, Ms. Lee, paced near the stage with her clipboard, her sharp gaze flicking over the students as if she were sizing up a battlefield.

And then, he walked in.

Lee Donghyuck—or Haechan, as he insisted everyone call him—strode into the auditorium like he owned it. He was NCTU’s resident golden boy: charming, talented, and insufferably arrogant. His honey-brown hair caught the light as he ran a hand through it, grinning at his entourage of sycophants trailing behind him.

Your stomach churned. “Of course he’s here” you muttered under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” your best friend Yeri whispered back, glancing at him. “You know he’s going for Romeo”

“And I’m going for Juliet” you said, straightening your back. “Let’s just hope the universe has some sense of mercy and doesn’t pair me with him.”

The rivalry between you and Haechan was practically the stuff of legends. Ever since he transferred to NCTU last year and stole the spotlight in the spring musical, you’d been at odds. He was talented—you couldn’t deny that—but his cocky attitude and penchant for pushing your buttons made him unbearable.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Ms. Lee clapped her hands, silencing the chatter. “As you know, today we’re auditioning for the lead roles. I’ll be pairing you up for readings, and I want to see chemistry. Convince me you’re star-crossed lovers.”

That would be an easy task unless your partner is Haechan.

Ms. Lee called names, pairing students for the preliminary rounds. You watched as one by one, hopefuls took the stage, some stumbling over their lines, others showing promise. Then, the inevitable happened.

“Y/N and Haechan, you’re up” Ms. Lee announced, barely glancing up from her clipboard.

Your jaw clenched. You glanced at Yeri, who gave you an apologetic shrug, and stood, smoothing your shirt. Haechan was already swaggering toward the stage, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“Try not to ruin this for me” he said under his breath as you climbed the stairs.

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you” you shot back, taking your place center stage.

The scene was Act I, Scene 5—the fateful moment when Romeo and Juliet meet at the Capulet’s masquerade ball. Ms. Lee explained the context briefly before nodding for you to begin.

Haechan started, his voice smooth and melodic. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”

You suppressed an eye roll and focused on delivering your line. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss”

The words felt electric in the air, but not because of any real connection between you and Haechan. It was tension—raw, palpable tension that made your voice sharper and his gaze more intense. You could feel Ms. Lee watching closely, her pen hovering over the clipboard.

When the scene ended, there was a beat of silence before Ms. Lee spoke. “Interesting. Thank you, both of you. Next pair, please.”

As you descended the stage, you caught Haechan’s smirk. “Not bad” he said. “For someone who’s clearly out of her depth.”

“Oh, please” you shot back. “You’re just lucky I’m carrying this performance.”

“We’ll see who’s carrying who when the roles are announced” he replied, walking off with that maddening confidence.

Two days later…

The cast list was posted. A small crowd had already gathered around the bulletin board when you arrived, and you pushed your way through, heart pounding. Your eyes scanned the sheet until you found it:

Romeo: Lee Donghyuck

Juliet: Y/N

You stared at the names, the reality sinking in like a stone in water. Your breath caught in your throat.

“No way” you whispered, your mind reeling.

Yeri appeared beside you, looking over your shoulder. “Well, looks like fate’s got a twisted sense of humor” she said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "You and Haechan... this is gonna be something"

From behind you, a familiar voice spoke, smooth as ever. “Looks like we’re stuck together, Juliet”

You turned to find Haechan grinning down at you, his expression equal parts smug and amused.

“This is going to be a disaster” you muttered, half to yourself.

“Or a masterpiece” he countered, winking.

Yeri groaned as she read the list. “Great. Now I have to hear you complain about him for the next two months” She glanced over at Haechan, who was already swaggering off, completely unfazed. “Can’t believe you’re actually going to have to kiss him on stage. You okay with that?”

You shot her a side-eye, feeling your cheeks warm slightly at the thought. “No. I’m not okay with it. At all” you said, your tone biting more than you meant it to. “But it’s not like I have a choice”

Yeri smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if anyone can make something work, it’s you. Just remember, it’s acting. You can survive this.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “This is going to be the greatest challenge of my life.”

“Or the greatest performance” Haechan added from behind you, strolling away with a wave. "See you at rehearsal, Juliet"

Gosh, how cocky can he be?

And just like that, the stage was set for the greatest challenge of your theater career.

----

The first week of rehearsals was a complete disaster.

You showed up early every day, determined to prove you were the better actor. Yeri cheered you on from the sidelines, offering moral support and running lines with you during breaks. But no amount of preparation could prepare you for dealing with Haechan.

“You’re stepping on my cue” you snapped during the third run-through of Act II, Scene 2—the infamous balcony scene.

Haechan leaned casually against the mock balcony railing, his expression infuriatingly relaxed. “I’m not stepping on your cue. You’re just late delivering your line.”

“Late?” Your voice rose an octave. “I’m perfectly on time. Maybe if you stopped ad-libbing every other word, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“It’s called artistic interpretation” he replied with a smirk. “You should try it sometime.”

“Alright, that’s enough” Ms. Lee interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Both of you, take five.”

You stormed off stage, muttering under your breath. Yeri was waiting in the wings, holding out a bottle of water. “I take it things are going well?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“He’s impossible” you hissed, taking the water and gulping it down. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to theater.”

“To be fair, he’s pretty good” Yeri pointed out, earning a glare from you. “Okay, okay, don’t kill me. I’m just saying maybe you should try working with him instead of against him.”

“I’d rather eat this script” you replied, waving the booklet in your hand.

Rehearsals continued, and the tension between you and Haechan only grew. He had a knack for getting under your skin, whether it was by subtly correcting your blocking or making snarky comments about your delivery. But as much as you hated to admit it, there were moments when his talent shone through.

During one rehearsal, Ms. Lee had you run the balcony scene again, this time with more emotion. “I want to feel the longing, the desperation" she instructed. “You’re two people who are willing to defy the world for each other. Make me believe it.”

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. Haechan was already in position, looking uncharacteristically serious. As the scene unfolded, something shifted. His voice was softer, more earnest, and his gaze held a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls” he said, his words carrying a quiet intensity. “For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me”

For a moment, you forgot about your rivalry, about the barbs and bickering. You were Juliet, and he was Romeo. And for the first time, you felt the spark of something real. His sincerity made your heart flutter unexpectedly, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

When the scene ended, the auditorium was silent. Ms. Lee clapped her hands once. “Much better” she said. “That’s what I want to see.”

You glanced at Haechan, expecting a smirk or a snide remark, but he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. His usual cocky smile was absent, and something about that made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t ready to admit.

As you walked off stage, Yeri was waiting with a knowing smile.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“Nothing” she said, grinning. “It’s just... you two might actually pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you wondered if she might be right. There was something different in the air, something you couldn't quite place. Something that made the idea of this performance—of working with Haechan—suddenly feel... possible.

----

The tension in rehearsals began to shift after that balcony scene. Something unspoken lingered between you and Haechan, neither of you willing to acknowledge it directly. Instead, it seeped into your performances, turning your clashes into something raw and electric.

Ms. Lee noticed the change, of course. “You two are finally starting to act like star-crossed lovers” she remarked one afternoon after a particularly charged run-through of the play’s climactic tomb scene. “Keep it up.”

Despite the progress onstage, your relationship offstage remained rocky. Haechan still found ways to annoy you, whether it was by "accidentally" stealing your water bottle or offering unsolicited critiques of your delivery. But now, there were moments when his teasing felt... lighter. Playful, even.

One rainy afternoon, the rehearsal was canceled due to a power outage. You and Yeri decided to stay behind and run lines in the empty theater, but Haechan showed up too, claiming he needed the quiet to work on his monologues.

“You can’t possibly concentrate with us here” you said, eyeing him suspiciously as he sprawled across the front row of seats.

“I can ignore you just fine” he shot back, flipping open his script.

An hour later, you were struggling through one of Juliet’s monologues when he interrupted.

“Pause” Haechan said, sitting up. “You’re rushing through it. Juliet’s conflicted, but she’s not frantic. Give the words more space to breathe.”

You bristled, but Yeri nudged you. “He’s right” she admitted reluctantly.

“Fine” you said, exhaling sharply. “Show me how you’d do it, Mr. Perfect.”

To your surprise, Haechan didn’t smirk or gloat. He simply stood, walked to the stage, and began reciting Juliet’s lines. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard, layered with a vulnerability that made the words ache.

"O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!"

When he finished, the theater was silent. You swallowed hard, unwilling to admit just how much he’d moved you.

“Not bad” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

“High praise coming from you” he replied with a small grin. “Your turn”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath and tried again. This time, you let the words settle, drawing on the emotions you’d seen him convey. The pause before you spoke felt longer this time, your thoughts swirling around his sudden honesty.

"O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!"

When you finished, Haechan nodded.

“Better” he said simply, his tone lacking the usual sarcasm.

That wasn’t the last time you met a new side of Haechan. One evening, after a particularly grueling rehearsal, you found yourself alone in the auditorium. The stage was empty, the lights dimmed, but you lingered, flipping through your script and mouthing the lines to yourself. The world seemed quieter in these moments, as if the theater itself were holding its breath.

“You’re still here?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see Haechan leaning against the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder. “Didn’t think you were the type to overwork yourself.”

“And I didn’t think you cared” you shot back, though your tone lacked its usual bite. “What are you still doing here?”

He shrugged, walking closer. “Sometimes it’s hard to leave. Feels like the stage pulls you back, doesn’t it?”

You nodded despite yourself. There was something about the theater—the way it transformed you, made you feel larger than life, even when you felt small. “Yeah. It does.”

Haechan set his bag down and perched on the edge of the stage. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching like a taut string between you. Then, to your surprise, he broke it.

“You know, it wasn’t always like this for me” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Theater, I mean. I used to hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Mr. Theater Club Golden Boy? Hard to believe”

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, my parents pushed me into it when I was a kid. Thought it would make me more confident or something. At first, it was just… exhausting. Trying to live up to everyone’s expectations.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What changed?”

“I don’t know” he admitted, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “One day, I realized that being on stage was the only place where I felt like I could breathe. Where I didn’t have to be perfect, even if everyone expected me to be”

The raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. You’d always seen Haechan as this unshakable force, someone who thrived on confidence and charisma. Hearing him admit to struggles you’d never imagined made him feel… human.

“I get that” you said quietly. “It’s like, when you’re on stage, nothing else matters. Not school, not family, not… whatever else is going wrong. It’s just you and the story.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. For once, there was no hint of mockery or arrogance in his expression. “Yeah. Exactly.”

The moment hung in the air, fragile and fleeting. You felt a strange warmth in your chest, an unfamiliar ache that you couldn’t quite name. Before you could dwell on it, Haechan smirked, breaking the spell.

“Don’t tell me I’m winning you over” he teased, his usual bravado slipping back into place.

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

The next day at rehearsal, things felt… different. The barbs you and Haechan exchanged were less pointed, playful. The chemistry Ms. Lee had demanded seemed to flow more naturally, and for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to your scenes with him.

Yeri noticed, of course. She always did.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asked during a break, cornering you near the water cooler.

“What are you talking about?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You and Haechan. You’re… I don’t know, actually getting along?”

You hesitated, unsure how to explain. “I guess we just… called a truce or something. It’s not like we’re best friends now.”

“Hmm.” Yeri gave you a skeptical look but let the subject drop—for now.

The next major turning point came during a late-night rehearsal. Ms. Lee had insisted on running the pivotal Act V, Scene 3—the tragic finale where Romeo and Juliet meet their untimely end. The scene required raw emotion, the kind that left you drained but exhilarated.

As you and Haechan stood on stage, the weight of the moment pressed down on you. The other students watched in silence as you delivered Juliet’s lines, your voice trembling with desperation.

"O, happy dagger! This is thy sheath:

There rust, and let me die."

The dagger in your hand was just a prop, but the emotion you poured into the words felt real. As you collapsed beside Haechan, his hand found yours, his grip firm and grounding. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the stage fading into darkness.

When the scene ended, the room erupted into applause. Ms. Lee’s voice cut through the noise, her praise uncharacteristically effusive. “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Incredible work, both of you.”

You sat up, breathless and slightly dazed. Haechan was still lying beside you, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips.

“See?” he murmured. “We make a good team.”

You didn’t reply, but for the first time, you wondered if he might be right.

----

It had been weeks of rehearsals, and now, the moment had arrived. The kiss. The scene that you both dreaded, the one Ms. Lee had been emphasizing from day one—“Make it real. Make it believable.” You didn’t even want to think about it.

You sat in the dimly lit theater, the final act of the play hanging in the air. The room was empty except for you and Haechan, and you could hear the sound of your own heartbeat in the stillness. You looked at him, standing there, waiting for you to move, but you couldn’t. Your feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

"So, uh... ready?" Haechan asked, his voice oddly soft, the usual playful smirk nowhere to be found.

You swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. "Not really"

Haechan’s brows furrowed slightly. "It’s just a kiss" he said, but there was something in his voice that sounded almost... uncertain? "You’ve kissed before, right?"

You gave a nervous laugh, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah of course.."

“You haven’t?” he asks and you nodded confirming

Haechan paused, his eyes softening for a moment as if he understood, but then the playful side of him came back. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just a scene. No pressure. We got time”

But you could feel the weight of the moment. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was Juliet and Romeo, the pivotal moment of the play. You couldn’t do it in front of everyone like this, not yet. Not with the way your heart raced just thinking about it.

Before you could voice any more doubts, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. Ms. Lee walked into the theater, her clipboard in hand and a determined look in her eyes.

“You two ready for the kiss scene?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at both of you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get the words out, Ms. Lee gave you a pointed look.

“I know, I know,” she said. “This scene has been... difficult, but we need to make progress.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your script as if it might hold the answers. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You weren’t sure what was more terrifying—the fact that you had to kiss Haechan or that Ms. Lee was watching.

"Let's try it" she said, gesturing for you both to get into position.

You took your place across from Haechan, trying not to let the nerves show. The lines felt different now—he wasn’t just Romeo, and you weren’t just Juliet. You were two actors trying to make something real out of nothing.

“From the top” Ms. Lee said, her voice firm.

You and Haechan began, your words flowing more easily now that the tension had built. It felt like a dance—back and forth, moving in sync with each other.

“Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face” you said, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, but Haechan’s gaze was steady, pulling you in.

“I take thee at thy word” Haechan responded, his voice surprisingly gentle, not the usual confident tone you were used to hearing. “Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo”

The space between you was closing, the tension so palpable that you could almost taste it. But as Haechan stepped closer, you found yourself frozen in place, heart pounding in your chest.

You weren’t sure what to do—what to feel. Every part of you was screaming to just get through the scene, but the other part... the part that didn’t want to admit it, the part that felt shy, scared to let it go, was holding you back.

Just as Haechan leaned in, ready to bridge the gap and close the scene, Ms. Lee stepped forward sharply.

“Stop!”

You froze immediately, your heart dropping into your stomach. Haechan pulled back just as quickly, confusion flashing across his face.

Ms. Lee gave both of you a look that wasn’t angry, but stern. “That’s enough for today.”

“What? But... we were almost there,” Haechan said, looking between you and Ms. Lee. “What’s wrong?”

Ms. Lee shook her head. “It’s not the right time. You’re both still holding back. That kiss has to feel real. It has to come from a place of emotion, not just ‘getting through the scene.’ Right now, it’s not.”

You bit your lip, avoiding Haechan’s gaze. The tension between you both hadn’t been just for the scene; it had been real, building each time you were forced to confront it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, but you didn’t want to rush into it.

“But we need to rehearse it, right?” Haechan asked, a slight edge to his voice. “Ms. Lee, we can’t just skip it.”

Ms. Lee nodded, but there was a firmness in her tone that made you want to shrink into the floor. “You’re not skipping it. But it’s not about rehearsing the kiss over and over. You need time to feel it. To make it real. The audience will feel it when it’s true. The chemistry, the tension—you can’t fake that.”

You couldn’t meet her eyes, but you knew she was right. You could feel the difference between just performing the scene and actually experiencing it. There was no faking that kind of connection, no matter how much you tried.

Ms. Lee continued. “Take some time. Work on the scene together. When you’re both ready for it, we’ll go for the kiss, and it will be as real as it needs to be.”

With that, she gave a nod and left the stage, leaving you and Haechan alone in the stillness.

The silence between you two was thick, but this time, it wasn’t as awkward as before. You took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter without Ms. Lee’s intense gaze on you.

Haechan gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You okay?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure. The air felt different now, and for a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say or do.

“We’ll get it.” Haechan said, breaking the silence. “When it’s time, we’ll make it real.”

You met his gaze, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know when it would happen, but maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe him.

---

After several more rehearsals, the tension between you and Haechan seemed to settle, though there was still a quiet undercurrent that neither of you fully acknowledged. But, as Ms. Lee had said, you needed time to really feel the scene—especially the kiss. Haechan seemed to understand that now, and so, the rehearsals went on without any more awkwardness.

One evening, as you were packing up your bag after a particularly long rehearsal, Haechan caught your eye, looking unusually hesitant. You raised an eyebrow as he approached.

"Hey" he began, his voice softer than usual. "You know, we've been practicing this scene for weeks, but we barely ever talk outside of it. How about we, I don't know, hang out a little? Just... you and me"

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such an invitation. "Like... a date?" you asked, unsure if that’s what he meant.

Haechan smiled, his usual playful grin returning. "Yeah, a date" he confirmed. "Think of it as a way to get to know each other better, so it doesn’t feel so... weird when we’re on stage"

You hesitated for a moment. You'd never been on a date, not in the traditional sense, and the idea of spending time with Haechan outside of rehearsals made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. But then, you remembered his gentleness during the last rehearsal—the way he'd reassured you without making it awkward. Maybe this would help you both get more comfortable.

"Okay" you said, giving a small nod. "I guess I could do that."

Haechan’s face lit up. “Great! I know a place. I promise it’s not as weird as it sounds"

The next day, he picked you up, wearing a simple yet stylish jacket that made him look effortlessly cool. You were still nervous, but there was something about his easy confidence that made you feel like everything would be okay.

When you got to the spot he had chosen, you were surprised—it was a small, charming café tucked away in a quiet part of town, far from the busy streets. The soft glow of fairy lights hung overhead, and there was a cozy, intimate atmosphere that felt worlds away from the chaos of rehearsals.

"You didn’t tell me you were a fan of cozy cafés" you said, glancing around at the warm, inviting space.

Haechan grinned, his eyes twinkling. "There’s more to me than just rehearsals and sarcasm, you know."

The café had a relaxed vibe, and the two of you settled into a corner booth. As you chatted, it was easier than you expected. The conversation flowed naturally—about everything and nothing. You discovered that Haechan had a deep love for music and played guitar in his free time, and he learned that you loved reading and had a secret obsession with indie films. You laughed together over the silly things you shared, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people, not actors forced to kiss in a play.

As the night went on, you realized how much more you were learning about him—the playful side, the thoughtful side, and, maybe unexpectedly, the vulnerable side. He wasn’t just the confident, teasing actor on stage. There was something deeper to him, something that made your heart flutter.

When the meal came to an end, Haechan suggested a walk through the nearby park. It was quiet, peaceful, and the night air felt crisp as you strolled side by side, occasionally brushing against each other. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, but neither of you spoke of it directly.

Finally, you stopped in front of a small fountain, the sound of the water filling the silence. The lights from the café flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow. Haechan turned to face you, his expression serious now, no longer playful.

"I’m glad we did this" he said quietly, his voice soft. "I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes, but I wanted to give us a chance to just... be normal for once. No pressure, no stage, just us"

You met his gaze, your heart pounding a little faster. The night had been unexpectedly perfect, and you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel—like you could breathe easier with him around.

“I’m glad too” you said, your voice quiet. “I... didn’t know what to expect, but this feels nice”

There was a pause, and then Haechan stepped a little closer, his gaze not leaving yours. “You know, I think... we’ve got this. The scene, the kiss, all of it. We can do it, because we’re not just pretending anymore. This—" he gestured between the two of you, "—this feels real.”

You felt a surge of warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you didn’t feel so nervous about the kiss. Maybe it was because, right here, standing in front of him, you were starting to understand what it meant to be real. Not just for the stage, but for the two of you.

You took a deep breath and smiled. “Yeah... I think we can" you said softly, your heart telling you that Haechan wasn’t just talking about the scene anymore.

The walk back was easy, and when you reached your apartment, Haechan stopped, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice lower than before. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of emotions. “Goodnight, Haechan”

As you closed the door behind you, your heart was still racing, but it wasn’t out of fear anymore. It was something else—something new.

And for the first time, you were sure of it. What was unfolding between you and Haechan? It wasn’t just part of a play. It was something real, and it was happening.

----

The big night of the performance had arrived.

The packed theater buzzed with energy, the murmur of the audience blending with the hum of the orchestra tuning in the pit. Behind the curtain, the cast and crew hurriedly adjusted costumes, touched up makeup, and whispered last-minute words of encouragement. But for you, the world felt still—like the weight of the night pressed its full force upon you.

You stood in the wings, adjusting the lace of your Juliet costume. Every fiber of your being was charged, not with nerves for the performance itself, but for what lay beyond it. Haechan stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall, dressed as Romeo. His typical playful confidence was gone, replaced by something quieter, something serious.

The moments between you during rehearsals had been electric—charged with unspoken feelings neither of you dared to address. The kiss, rehearsed in fragments but never fully acted out, was waiting at the center of the storm.

“Places!” called the stage manager, jolting you from your thoughts.

You glanced over at Haechan. He caught your eye, his expression unreadable, but in the depth of his gaze, you felt the same tension mirrored back at you. He gave a small nod, barely perceptible, as if to say, We’re in this together.

The opening scenes flowed seamlessly, the energy between you and Haechan drawing the audience in. By the time the masquerade ball arrived—the fateful first meeting of Romeo and Juliet—the crowd was utterly captivated.

When he spoke his first line to you under the soft glow of the stage lights, his voice was steady, but there was something more, something that made the words hum with sincerity.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

The way he looked at you made your heart stutter, and for a moment, you forgot your lines. But the pause wasn’t awkward—it was charged, a heartbeat longer than it should have been. Finally, you found your voice.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Your hands touched, palm to palm, and though it was only for the scene, the touch felt electric. When he leaned in, pretending to kiss your hand, the brush of his breath sent a shiver down your spine. The audience erupted into applause, but you barely noticed.

The first kiss came midway through Act II, Scene II—the balcony scene. The moment you dreaded and longed for in equal measure.

Standing on the balcony, you gazed down at Haechan. He delivered Romeo’s lines with raw, unfiltered emotion, his voice steady and low, each word drawing you in.

“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do that dares love attempt;

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

As Juliet, you responded with all the vulnerability and yearning you could summon. But this time, it wasn’t just acting. Every word you spoke felt real, pulled from somewhere deep within you.

“If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow...”

As the lines wove together, the moment came. Haechan climbed the balcony, his hand reaching out to you. The script called for the kiss—a brief, dramatic moment—but it was anything but scripted.

When he leaned in, your heart raced. His lips met yours, soft and warm, and the world fell away. The noise of the crowd, the spotlight, the weight of the scene—all of it vanished. It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t rehearsed. It was real.

The kiss deepened for a heartbeat longer than it should have, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you. Not as Romeo. As Haechan.

The rest of the scene passed in a daze. The audience erupted in applause, but your heart was still pounding from something far more intimate than the performance.

After the final scene, the play came to its tragic conclusion. Juliet’s dagger fell, and the stage went dark. The audience leapt to their feet, the sound of their cheers filling the theater. The curtain fell, signaling the end, but for you and Haechan, something had only just begun.

Backstage, the cast celebrated, hugging one another and reliving the highlights of the night. But you stood apart, your thoughts consumed by the kiss—by the way it lingered, refusing to fade like the echo of a final note in a symphony.

You found Haechan by the prop table, where he was unlacing his boots. He looked up as you approached, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“That kiss” he said finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “That wasn’t acting, was it?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on you. But you couldn’t lie—not now. “No” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t”

Relief flashed across his face, quickly followed by something deeper. He stood, closing the space between you, his eyes searching yours.

“I’ve been trying to say this for weeks" he said, his tone soft but insistent. “But every time I get close, I... chicken out. So, I’m just going to say it now.” He took a deep breath. “I like you. Not just on stage, not just as Juliet. I like you.”

Your breath caught, his words unraveling the last of your defenses. “I like you too.Not just on stage, not just as Romeo. I like you too” you said, the confession tumbling out before you could second-guess it.

His smile was soft, vulnerable, and before you could think, he leaned in again. This kiss was different from the one on stage—less dramatic, more tender. His hand cupped your cheek as if afraid you might disappear, and when you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess we’re not just a disaster waiting to happen, huh?” he teased, his signature playfulness returning.

You laughed, the sound light and free. “No,” you said, smiling up at him. “Maybe we’re just the beginning of something amazing, a masterpiece.”

In the distance, the cast’s cheers continued, but for you and Haechan, the night had quieted into something intimate, something that felt like a new story waiting to be written.

The final curtain had fallen, but the real performance—the one with no script or stage lights—had only just begun.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

glitch - f.w

high infidelity | would've could've | masterlist

Warnings: none

Summary: the one where Fred realises how bad he had screwed up as soon as he does it

Wordcount: 2.1k

The world froze. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost like it was trying to burst out and jump into his hands but some voice on your shoulder was telling you that it was a bad idea. The worst.

It should've been a brief interaction, a slight malfunction, but you broke at the sight.

You watched as Angelina started talking to George but your eyes were fixed on his twin brother who was shadowed in the darkness but you could tell it was him. And he was making out with some other girl who you recognised as one of Alicia Spinnet’s friends.

In all your years at Hogwarts, you had never felt like this, like there were tears burning behind your eyes.

You two had been hooking up for a few weeks, making out in the corners of empty classrooms, lying in his bed at night, his hand brushing through your hair. You had given him more than you had given anyone else in your life.

He was your first kiss. Your first make out. Your first-

You stepped yourself from thinking like that, like you were going to be sick at the sight of him, at the memories rushing through your mind on when he held you like that.

You couldn’t have said how long you had been standing there for, eyes trained on him and that girl wearing his scarf, her arms around his neck. You didn’t want to stand there for one moment more and turned around and stormed out of the room, hands shaking by your side.

You were just friends. Or at least, you were most of the time, depending what mood you were in or what was in your system

A few moments after that, Angelina turned her attention to find you but instead spotted Fred and the girl - she was the only one that you had told about everything that had happened between the two of you and she knew how much you must be hurting so when she turned around to see you rushing out of the room, she chased after without any hesitation. George stood there confused for a second before it all clicked, you liked his brother.

As he figured this out, you were stumbling down the stairs, hand gripping onto the banister as you stabilised yourself. You heard your name being called and turned to see Angelina chasing you down the stairs.

She caught up to you and started walking alongside you, watching as the tears streamed down your cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something and you stopped her before she could pity you, “I’m fine,” you choked out between a sob.

She could tell you weren’t okay, it was obvious at the way one hand gripped the banister and the other was holding your chest. you let out a little sob, breath getting caught in your throat.

How humiliating.

You wondered for a second if that was why you were so upset, because you were embarrassed that you were going to have to tell your friends what had happened, that he didn’t like you as much as you had thought that he did. How awful that you had gotten your hopes up.

At the thought of it all ending, you collapsed, knees giving way as you came crashing down onto the step, hand landing on the marble tiles as you let a sob rack through your chest.

How humiliating that Angelina had to witness this.

She sat down next to you, your head buried in your hands. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and held it in front of her.

When you looked up, she could see the mascara running down your cheeks, your eyes red from trying to hold in the tears. You felt like such a fool, sitting on the steps of Hogwarts castle crying over a boy.

”I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” you said, sniffling.

she shook her head, “You like him, that’s why,”

Pursing your lips together, you shook your head and looked at her, “I’ve just been so emotional lately, and-“ you furrowed your brows, lost in thought. There was no way to say that you think that you’re falling in love with Fred Weasley without sounding like a total idiot, “-and I have a cold,”

you threw your hands up at the words and she laughed, the sound making a smile pull at your lips even if you didn’t feel like being happy right now.

Dabbing the tissue at your eyes, trying to stop more of your mascara from spilling down you cheeks, Angelina passed another tissue over, “Be careful,”

You furrowed your brow, “Why?”

“You mentioned that you get conjunctivitis a lot, don’t want you to get it again,” she chuckled, remembering how three weeks ago your eye had been red from the infection.

Your smile dropped from your face. She remembered. This was what a true friend was, someone who remembered the throw away comments about how you would get conjunctivitis when you had a cold.

In that moment of heartbreak, as you realised that you had a true friend here, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks. Maybe you weren’t so unloveable, because this was love. Love was remembering things about each other that were so mundane that you wouldn’t even remember saying it.

“Thank you,”

She shrugged, “It’s a tissue, no biggie,”

You laughed and she smiled at the sound, nobody liked to see their friend as heartbroken as you clearly were, and yet here you were smiling at a silly joke she made.

”No,” you shook your head, “For this. For sitting with me,”

Angelina reached over and took your hand in hers, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,”

You let another tear slip down your cheek, because you wish you were anywhere else. You wish you had never gone to that stupid party in the first place. He had convinced you to come because of how excited he was for the Quidditch match and then he does that to you.

Anger bubbled up in your chest, a loathing for the man who had broken your heart. You squeezed your eyes shut but that only made it worse because you could see him there every time you closed your eyes, his mouth on hers, his hand on the back of her neck.

He had said he wanted something casual with you, you understood that. He wanted to make the most of his years as a single man before he even thought about being in a relationship and you had agreed.

At the time, that was what you wanted as well, something casual so that when you felt lonely, there were a pair of strong arms to hold you.

He had told you at the time that you shouldn’t go ahead with it if you were going to fall in love with him and you didn’t think that you would. Now here you were, a part of your soul having been ripped out the moment you saw him kissing that other girl.

You wanted to be angry, but the feeling faded away the second you saw him at the top of the stairs, his hair tousled. You just stared at him for a moment and he froze when he saw you, mascara smudged under your eyes.

It was humiliating.

Thats all you had been thinking all night, humiliating, humiliating, humiliating.

the fact that he was seeing you so upset over him, borderline distraught, when you had promised that there would be no feelings involved, made you feel sick to your stomach.

quickly, Angelina noticed that you were looking up at the top of the stairs and that was when she saw him. You could see her face turn from one that was sympathetic to one that was furious as she stood up, leaving her packet of tissues on the stairs. Her heels clicked as she stormed up the steps, finger pointed out, “You,”

George was standing there as well, and he reached an arm out, “Let him”

Her brows pinched together and she looked between the two brothers, seeing the sad look on Fred’s face, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do Weasley,” she spat out before grabbing Georges arm and walking away with him.

You didnt bother to wipe the tears from your face as he walked down the stairs hesitantly, almost like he was approaching a wild animal. You looked away from him, staring down at your shoes.

“Hey,” those were the only words he said as he sat down next to you.

You shrugged. There were no words to explain the way that you felt. Your head wwas spinning, should you tell him how angry you were or how sad. There were so many emotions swirling in your chest and none of them would make any sense. you were also sure that if you opened your mouth to try to speak, a sob would come out instead.

“You saw?”

You scoffed and turned to him, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, ignoring the way the mascara probably smudged against your face, “What does it look like?”

he pursed his lips together, “That was a stupid question,”

You scoffed and then there was silence again. It was tense, like neither of you were sure about the right thing to say in this situation.

“I shouldn’t have,”

Shaking your head, you looked away from him, “You are single, you can make out with as many girls as you want to. I can’t stop you,”

“I-” he paused, pursing his lips together as he looked at you, “-I don’t want to kiss other girls,”

Scoffing again, you looked back at him, “What, you just tripped onto her mouth?”

He furrowed his brow and shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain all of the thoughts that were inside of his head because there were no right words to explain it - you both didn’t realise how alike you were in that aspect.

“I knew I was falling for you so-” he pinched the bridge of his nose, realising how stupid it all was and how saying it out loud was going to show how dumb the logic was, “-Lee dared me to try and kiss one of the girls that Spinnet hangs out with and so I did because I wanted to prove that I didn’t want to kiss other girls,”

you looked back at your feet because the tears were starting to spill over your cheeks. This was all so much to process and his stupid Weasley logic wasn’t making any sense to you.

“You kissed another girl because you liked me?” You said with a scoff.

He nodded his head enthusiastically, “Exactly!”

”You’re stupid,” those were the only words that you could think of at that moment, no silly comeback.

”I’m sorry,”

”You’re sorry you got caught,” you said, looking at him. He was so perfect as you looked at him, those pretty little freckles on his cheeks, the little lilt of his mouth. You could spend hours looking at him and never get bored.

He reached over and grabbed your hands, fully expecting you to pull away from him but instead you let them stay there, his thumb brushing over your knuckles once, then twice, just like he would do when you would lie in bed together.

“I’m sorry I ever thought it was a good idea. I’m an idiot,”

”You said it,” he laughed at your poor joke and you realised that you were happy to listen to that sound forever, that stupid, idiotic sound.

He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss along the skin on the back of your hand. He let his lips linger there for a second and you felt the hot breath against your skin, chills running down your arm.

You knew you shouldn’t after what had happened in the common room but you would take him back in a moment.

“Be my girlfriend?” He said out of the blue.

Your eyes went wide, “what?”

He smiled at your shock and scooted over closer to you, “I don’t want to be casual, I want to be yours. I want you to be mine,”

”Fred,”

he hummed in response, “Yes,”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you said and he nodded his head and leaned in, pulling you closer, lips pressing against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered against your lips.

“You can make it up to me later, boyfriend,”

[alrawabi-imagines]

Green with envy

pairing: Elphaba x Reader

Slot: Squirt Spanking Praise kink @tinybada

You and Elphaba were arguing about how she was so emotionally unavailable to you,you knew she was a bit distant but you wanted at least a bit more. And Glinda gave you the perfect opportunity to make her jealous,and see how much Elphaba loved you and if she was willing to show it. You made your way over to Glinda and pretty quickly Elphaba realized what you were doing when you called Glinda "Pretty girl” Elphaba tried her best to hide the fact that she was getting annoyed, Glinda smirked a little as Elphaba watched the two of you intently. Glinda played along with you,knowing what you were doing. Elphaba got more and more annoyed as the two of you continued to jokingly flirt, Glinda laughed a little as she put her arm around your waist. That set her off and she made her way over. She stormed over, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Glinda, she huffed a little as she dragged you away. When you two were a safe distance away she turned to you. 

“What are you doing?” She questioned, though it was more of an accusation

"Just going to the one who shows me she likes me" She huffed once more, crossing her arms 

“Glinda? Really?” She asked, almost insulted

"Then who else?"

“Me, obviously.” She replied in a huff

"And yet you don't show it"

“Yes I do, I-” she stopped, not being able to find an example of her showing she loves you

"You have tonight,so fucking prove it"

“Fine then.” She said firmly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind her as she quickly made her way to an unoccupied broom closet. She pushed you to the wall,your back to her as her hand rubbed your ass and it was clear she was planning on making you pay for flirting with Glinda. “You’re mine,got that?” She asked, clearly jealous, though you couldn’t quite tell if she was actually mad, or just possessive. She placed a few small kisses on your neck before then smacking your ass,making you gasp.She smirked as you gasped, gripping your hips and pulling you as close to her as possible. 

“Say it.” She whispered into your ear,she smacked your ass again. “Say. It.” She repeated, her voice a bit more demanding

"I'm yours"

“And who else’s?” She asked.

"No one,only yours"

“That’s what I thought.” She said smugly, leaving a few more kisses on your neck as her hands remained on your hips, gripping you tightly. She still wanted to punish you,pulling you clothes until your ass was on full display for her to spank. She let out an almost animalistic chuckle as she squeezed your ass a few times. “Count for me, understood?” She asked

"Yes" you breathed out.

“Good girl.” She said with a smirk before slapping your ass, fairly hard. “One.”

"One" She spanked you again, a little rougher. 

“Two.” You bit your lip as her hand landed.

"Two" the next couple came in quick succession.

“How many have we got now?” She asked when she paused.

"Six" that was the one you were at,but you felt like you might have missed one.

“Seven, darling.” She said, spanking you a little harder. “Can’t you count?” She asked, though it was more teasing that anything else

"I'm sorry,I didn't mean to miss count" you hoped she wouldn't be harsher.

“Count to ten. And don’t count wrong again.” She started over.

"one" She nodded a little, letting you continue “Two, three..” You managed to count to ten but each spank felt stronger than the last. After the tenth one she paused and took a deep breath.

“That was better.” She remarked, rubbing your sore skin lightly. “Though I’d still say I’m not quite satisfied.” She stripped you,slowly taking everything off. Changing from scolding you to praising you. “Such a good little girl..” she whispered as she tossed your clothes aside, looking you over intently. “You’ve behaved so well for me.” She looked you up and down once again, admiring you for a moment. “Such a pretty thing.” She purred, her hands resting on your hips. She stood up,pressing herself against you and her thigh between your legs. Commanding you. “Grind against me.” She ordered, her tone commanding as she stared at you intently. Her gaze was unwavering and intense. You slowly moved your hips,rubbing yourself against her thigh. She smirked slightly, watching you grind against her, clearly enjoying how desperate you were. “Good girl, just like that.” She whispered, her voice low. You slowly moved faster. “Keep going.” She demanded, wanting to see you get more desperate for her. “Such a pretty little thing.” She muttered, squeezing your hips a bit tighter

"Elphaba" you moaned her name as you kept moving.

“So needy..” she said with a smirk, enjoying how desperate you were. “Keep moaning for me, darling.”

"Elphaba,please I...I need you"

“That’s what I thought.” She said smugly. “Needy little thing, grinding against my leg, all desperate.” Gripping your hips even tighter “Beg.” She ordered,her tone demanding.

"Please please Elphaba,I need you to touch me more"

“Good girl, so polite and desperate.” She praised, still holding your hips tight. “Want more?”

"Yes,yes please. I need you to touch me,I need you to fuck me"

“Such a dirty mouth.” She teased, her hand trailing down to your inner thigh. “Beg again.” You were now grinding against her faster and harder.

"please Elphaba I need you,I want you" She chuckled again, her grip on your thigh tightening. “Eager, aren’t you?” She asked, clearly enjoying having you desperate for her. "Stay here" she suddenly said before leaving. And returned a few minutes later and lifted her dress to show the green strap on between her legs. She smirked as she reentered, knowing you’d like the surprise. “Ready, darling?” She asked, her voice low with intent. She thrusted it all in,making you gasp at her quickness. Roughly but she did give you a moment to get used to her size. The strap wasn’t too big, but it was large enough that you needed a moment to adjust to it. She quickly started moving, picking up a quick pace. Her hands were on your hips, gripping you tightly. “Does it feel good, darling?” She asked

"Y-Yes"

“Good.” She said with a slight smirk. “You take it so well, don’t you darling?” She asked, her pace quickening a bit

"Please give me more"

“So polite, I suppose you deserve a bit more.” She said with a slight chuckle, her pace quickening further. “Such a good girl for me, you know that?” She quickly turned rough and thrust insanely fast,hitting a sensitive spot. 

"Elphaba E-Elphaba"

“Say it again,beg for me darling.”

"No,Elphaba I'm about it."

“What?” She asked, confused for a moment. Then she smirked again when she figured out what you meant. “You’re going to cum already?”

"No,I'm about it-" you cut yourself off with a moan as you squirted with one more thrust from her. You struggled to catch your breath. She was a bit stunned, clearly not expecting that. But then a smirk crossed her face as she realized what had happened. 

“Did you just…,” she asked, her tone a mixture of surprise and amusement. She chuckled as she watched you, waiting for you to be able to speak again. “You’ve never done that before.” She said, almost in mock-surprise

"Only once before"

“Oh so you do know how to make yourself feel good then.” She said, an almost teasing tone in her voice. “But I guess you feel better with ME helping.”

"I can't help that you're so good" She chuckled as she began to kiss your neck, nipping at your skin before mumbling “could Glinda do that?”

[writing-whenever-whatever]

Little song bird -  his head as a wedding present

Emperor geta x emperor Caracalla x reader 

Part 1 part 2 part 3 

Summery : after last nights events the emperors insist on staying by your side till Caracalla goes through a maddening episode and your secrets of your traumatic past start to unravel 

Warning : threats, planning death, abuse, violence, men being foolish, protective emperors, wedding planning, caracalla loosing himself slightly, comfort, no smut yet sorry. Not proof read. 

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When I wake up in the early hours of the morning rays of golden sun come into my room from the open balcony window, I sit up in bed the blankets wrapped around me for comfort, I look across to both Geta and Caracalla who are on opposite sides of the room snoring still dressed in their extravagant attire from the night before. They look so peaceful their fiery red hair glistening gold in the sun as I watch their faces contort with sleep. 

I stay sat in bed watching them till I hear a faint timid knock on the door. I walk towards it unlocking the door quickly and opening it a crack peering round the edge “ good morning my lady I’m sorry to bother you” a young maid stood on the other side of the door her voice trembling “ I heard the emperors spent the night in your chambers last night” I open the door a little more letting the girl see into the room “ you heard correctly” my voice still thick with sleep as I rub my eyes “ I wished to inform you breakfast will be brought to your room shortly if you wish to wake them” she steps back bowing “ thank you for informing” I smile softly my eyes still holding a firm stare as the girl turns away I close the door. I go back to watch both boys sleep for a while letting them rest a little longer. 

I walk towards Geta first resting my hand against his cheek gently running the other through his hair “ time to wake my love” I whisper my voice sweet and gentle as his amber eyes flicker open he pulls me into his arms “ such a beauty to wake to” his voice is gruff and sends goosebumps across my body as he kisses across my neck and cheek a violent blush rising to my face

  “ let me wake Caracalla” I giggle sweetly as he pulls me closer to him “ I’d rather keep you to myself “ his voice a deep possessive growl as he buries his head into my neck. “ I can hear you” Caracalla grumbles rubbing his eyes tiredly “ so selfish of you brother “ his eyes scan over us as Geta keeps his arms tightly wrapped around me a smirk stretching across his face “ don’t be jealous that she wants me more than you” he scoffs causing Caracalla to raise his brow an unimpressed scowl appearing he opens his mouth to argue but I interrupt “ now now boys “ I giggle looking over to Caracalla who walks towards us pulling me off getas lap rather aggressively, his grip on my wrist has bruising  force causing me to try to pull back “ ow Caracalla let go, please “ tears well in my eyes as he pulls me towards him harder finally letting go of my wrist when I’m in front of him “ You aren’t just his” his voice seems cold clouded over with a madness as his hand runs down my cheek just to pull back and struck me across the it causing me to fall back onto the floor with a shriek, a red mark maiming my soft skin  as I stare up at him in shock. 

geta pushes his brother back “ DO NOT STRIKE A LADY, YOU HAVE LOST YOURSELF BROTHER “ he snaps his voice forcing sense into him causing him to step back he continues to stare down at me a shocked expression remaining on his face “ I apologise my lady” he stutters slightly “ I must gather my senses “ he rushes out the room the door slamming behind him as he runs towards his chamber. 

Geta reaches his hand to me to help me up but I flinch back my eyes squeezing shut as my breath quivers “ I’m not going to hurt you song bird” he looks at me his eyes full of pity “ he did not mean it” he crouches infront of me his hand resting on my shoulder as I look up at him he pulls me towards him holding me in his embrace “ Caracalla struggles with episodes of madness, he isn’t aware of his actions in these periods “ he looks down at me “ it’s best to try not to anger him within those time periods” he runs his hand through my hair as I relax into his arms 

———————————————————————

A few hours pass and I’m sat with Geta in the meeting room listening to him,  his advisers and friends talk about the wedding arrangements i let out a soft sigh feeling Caracallas absence causes me a slight sense of discomfort as I’m suddenly dragged from my thoughts as Geta runs his hand up my arm “ what bothers you song bird” he queries tilting his head slightly I look up to him wide eyed as I fidget in my seat “ surely your brother should be here for this you aren’t the only one marrying me” he looks down at me “ he needs his time to calm down he was quite riled up this morning “ Geta insists as I stand up from my seat “ no Geta, if he is not here no arrangements will take place. it is not just your day” I snap my eyes burning through him as he swallow a lump in his throat “ very well if you wish him to be here go get the fool” his voice slightly raised yet not matching my anger as I turn on my heals leaving the room without another word. 

It takes me a while to find my way to Caracalla’s quarters looking around the palace for ages trying to find my way loosing myself to the histories the walls hold as I feel a cold clammy hand land on my shoulder causing me to spin around meeting Caracalla face to face “ you seem to have wandered far little song bird, I hope you weren’t trying to fly away” his voice is soft his eyes still watery from hours of crying “ of course I wasn’t my love I was seeking you” I smile up at him as he steps back slightly “ me?” He mutters shock filling his features as he plays with the rings on his fingers nervously “ why” he questions his voice trembling with emotion “ you are my future husband I did not wish for you to stay locked away torturing yourself over a silly mistake”

 I get closer to him stroking his cheek gently “ I can not blame you for your health my love. things will happen but we will prevail” I kiss his cheek feeling his hand land on my waist holding me close “ I do apologise for my actions I wasn’t aware of what was happening “ he sniffles as tears well in his eyes “ tis ok my love nothing a little make up can’t hide, plus it’s not like I’ve not had worse happen” I look up at him as his face drops slightly “ what do you mean “ he questions his voice turning desperate for an answer “ nothing it doesn’t matter” I smile trying to distract him “ come my love geta is waiting we can talk later” I hold his hand leading him to the meeting room yet my words seem to stick with him.

As we re enter the room Geta looks up at his brother a smug look on his face “ good she found you, we were wondering where you’d run of to” he scoffs slightly as Caracalla occupies the seat I was in previously and pulls me to sit on his lap his head resting in my shoulder “ we were discussing our wedding brother and she believed you just had to be involved “ he slouched back slightly looking at Caracalla through squinted eyes “ how sweet of her” he looks at me wrapping his arms tighter holding me closer as he breathes In my sweet scent honey suckle and lavender filling his nose making his thoughts swell in his mind. 

A hour passes made up of Geta nattering to the planner writing things down and insisting for the best when he’s interrupted by Caracalla “ brother” he looks at Geta a hesitation present in his voice “ what is it “ he grumbles resting his head in his hands sighing deeply “i am concerned about our bride to be” he looks at me slightly his mouth forming a thin line as he bites at the skin of his lips “ i told you I’m find Caracalla“ i look back at him my hand stroking his arm gently “ what concerns you” heya sits up his back straightening as he moves to the edge of the chair his hand moving to rest on my knee “I apologised for my actions and she stated she’s experienced worse” his eyebrows furrow as he buries his head against the back of my shoulder as Geta rises to his feet a shocked expression spreading around his face “ my love what do you mean “ he questions moving closer to me this time falling to his knees looking up at me “ it doesn’t matter” I mumble tilting my head away avoiding eye contact with both boys as Caracalla grabs my chin with a gentle but forceful hand moving my head to look at Geta “ tell us” his voice holds power as i take a deep breath “ if you insist emperors “ i close my eyes for a second thinking carefully of my next words. 

“ when I was a child I grew up without any females around no mother, sisters or even female servants.” I take a deep breath looking at Geta “ I was raised by men obviously they believe they’re more superior that they’re always right and my father decided that he’d permit these men to punish me for my wrong doings, if I Stepped a toe out of line I’d be beaten sometimes to the point of unconsciousness” I watch Getas face twist in horror and Caracalla peppering gentle kisses across my shoulder comforting me in his arms “ I was told I was to expect this in the real world, if a husband ever was to want me I should expect a few bruises along the way” I sigh slightly

 “I’ll kill him” Geta stands pacing the room frantically “ have his eyes gouged out and beaten in the Colosseum for all to see” he goes on ranting not noticing the tears swelling in my eyes “ he’s still my father Geta” I mumble slightly “ and no father should beat his daughter, especially when his daughter is the future empress of Rome“ Caracalla grumbled his voice low as he smothers me in his attention “ if you wish to kill him” I look at Geta as he turns to me “ I want to watch” a cruel smile spreads across his face a cackle escapes Caracalla as he looks at me in shock 

“ perhaps it could be our wedding entertainment “ he jokes a small smile spreading across my face as he strokes my cheek with his thumb “ as the final piece of entertainment to end the night” Geta smiles looking at both me and Caracalla “ his head as a wedding present “ he chuckles making me smile as I look down at my hands playing with the rings on my fingers “ it’s a plan then” geta looks over at the wedding planners “ write it down then gods didn’t you hear your empress and your emperors” he snaps at them slightly as they scribble it down as quickly as possible before leaving and putting all that was discussed into action. 

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

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You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

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a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.

[jamminvroomvroom]

🎀 anon

congrats on 5k

hey bb ! i’ve been brainrotting on insatiable lando and his gf for weeks now omg

for a cute lil fic i was thinking of reader being max f’s sister and lando and her being secretly together. they’re all on vacation together and lando and reader are super insanely insatiable and the story on how they act on vacay 😈😈

anywhere she wants.

ln x fem fewtrell!reader

in which no one approves of your relationship, so lando shows them just how good he is to you…

oh my sweet 🎀 anon, i’m sorry this took so long! slowly getting back into the groove of writing, starting with this little piece! i went a bit off script but the vibes are hopefully similar to the request! huge thanks to angel bby @fairene for helping me out!enjoy! lemme know what you think!! big hugs and lots of love 💖

songs to set the mood: my love mine all mine by mitski, i know places by taylor swift, she will be loved by maroon 5, summertime sadness by lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, fluff, angst, a bit of exhibitionism kinda, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, established relationship, max being a dick, angry/feral!lando, girlboss!reader, hints of ownership kink? for like. a second, lando being wise (not canon lmao), swearing

4.2k words

fairy lights drench the pool with light, a glow dancing over the still surface in ripples. you smile, hum with content as the warm evening air washes over your skin, leaning over the balcony to take in the sight of where you’ll be staying.

footsteps sound from behind you, the master bedroom, and you quickly feel two warm arms wrap around your waist, tan and thick. you lean into his touch, chest warming from the kisses peppered over your jugular.

“you like it?” lando breathes, nosing over your earlobe.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper, turning your head to nuzzle against him. he seizes the opportunity to seal his lips over yours, kissing you soft and deep. you spin in his arms, clutching at his shirt to hold him close, the kiss intensifying, changing pace. just as he licks into your mouth, a sigh, so loud that it breaks the sound barrier, tears you both apart.

“so is that all you two do now, suck each others faces?” max rolls his eyes, his disapproval of your relationship one of the worlds worst kept secrets.

“yes, max. that’s all we do.” you mock, biting back at your older brother.

because of course you’re dating your brothers best friend. of course you are. life is funny like that.

lando stays silent, but you feel his hand on your waist tightening. max swallows hard.

“we ordered pizza, if you guys wanna come down.” max bulldozes through the awkwardness, offering an olive branch, and leaves.

“he is such a knob.” you mutter, shaking your head. lando strokes tentatively over your cheek, soothing you.

“he’s your big brother, baby. he’ll get over this.” lando coos reassuringly, and you choose the easy path of believing him.

you and max occupy opposite ends of the excessively large dining table when you join the rest of your friends.

the tension has been palpable between you and max since he caught you sneaking out of lando’s london flat one morning, the reason for your visit quite clear. you’d stood with your ear to the door when he’d stormed past you and entered the apartment, making you more than aware that your presence was unwanted when he quickly slammed the door behind him.

you’d endured the one-sided screaming match that followed, the accusations that lando must be playing with your feelings, that it would never work out, that it wasn’t fair at how exposed you’d be to the cruelty of his fan base, that he couldn’t believe how low lando would stoop to date his little fucking sister.

you wanted to understand, and really, you tried!but max hadn’t made it easy, constantly pushing your buttons and making needless digs at the both of you. lando convinced you that this holiday during the summer break would be healing; max would get to see how much lando cared for you, and everyone got much needed time to relax. so, with your friend group in tow, the three of you jetted off to the tiny spanish island.

surely, everything would be fine.

-

everything was not, in fact, fine.

you can smell it in the air, the tension building thick and heavy. everyone thought they were slick, waiting for lando to leave so they could corner you, and corner you, they did.

lando had kissed you sweetly by the sliding doors to the garden, popping his airpods in and shouting a quick: going on a run! to the rest of your holiday party. you’d sauntered carelessly to a lounger, bikini clad, sprawling out across the chair to tan and watch the who can do the best canon ball into the pool competition that has become a long running championship. but you can feel stares, feel the walls closing in, and you push your sunglasses up to rest over your hairline.

max and pietra are locked in on you, as are the rest of your friends.

“what?” you feel hot, embarrassed all of the sudden for no reason at all.

“so, it’s going well, then… with lando?” one of your girlfriends starts, but it sounds extra high pitched, awkward. your stomach sinks as you realise the pathetically choreographed dance about to take place.

“for fuck sake.” you mutter.

“she’s just asking!” max shoots back, as if he’s offended, as if you can’t see right through him.

“it’s going great.” you state, blunt as ever whenever your relationship is questioned.

“we just wanna make sure that this is right for you.” pietra says sympathetically, her eyes soft. you’ve known her long enough to know that even though her dickhead boyfriend is being callous, she genuinely cares.

“lando is right for me, you are all so full of shit! i don’t get what it is that you’re seeing.” you try and keep your voice level, even as your blood pressure begins to rise menacingly.

“it’s not so much what we see between you, it’s more about what he was like before.” tom jumps in.

ah, yes. the infamous hoe phase.

“because no one here ever fucked around.” you glare pointedly at your brother. he lowers his gaze.

“are we sure this isn’t just a… a fling?” pietra tries again, staying soft. her words still sting.

“yeah, i know him better than you do, and i-“ max’s voice cuts you like a thousand shards of glass and you body ignites with rage.

he knows him better? what does he know?

does he know that lando can’t sleep without telling you that he loves you? does he know that lando cried into you arms after his miami win? does he know that lando feels itchy if he doesn’t tell you that you’re beautiful at least eleven times an hour? does he know that you’re so crazy about his gorgeous, loving, infuriating best friend that you’re prepared to tell your brother where to go and to never come back?

“shut the fuck up, max. you know nothing! nothing about our relationship because you never gave us a chance. you don’t see how much i love him because every time you see us together, you’re hellbent on destroying our happiness.” you point angrily, standing from your chair. before you turn to the house, you leave them all with a parting message.

“and all of you will do very well to remember who paid to bring your bitter arses here. remember whose fucking house you’re in.” you lecture, watching as they all turn sheepish as they realise how ungrateful they sound.

“i don’t think i have anything to add.” you hear from behind you.

you jump, turning to see lando leaning against the door.

“shit, baby.” you breathe, rushing towards him, your skin crawling as you wonder how much he’s heard.

“forgot my phone.” he shrugs, smiling warmly at you. only at you. “now unless anyone has anything to add, i’m gonna take my very, very serious girlfriend upstairs.” he grins smugly.

the silence is so deafening that you couldn’t of even heard a pin drop if you’d tried.

you hold up your middle finger as he leads you away.

your bedroom door slams so hard that they must hear it outside. he’s tense, enraged at the disrespect that you’d endured, but he’s soft with you, pulling you into his rigid body. he relaxes into you, walking you further into the room.

“how much did you hear?” you whisper, clinging to him.

“oh, you know, just all of it.” he laughs bitterly, fingers sinking into your hips.

“they’re assholes.” you growl, threading your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes it.

“there is one good thing about it though.” lando hums, still guiding you deeper into the room. your back thuds softly against the sliding glass door, the one that leads to your balcony.

“what?” you breathe, suddenly extremely aware of his lower body.

“you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad.” he smirks.

turns out, he didn’t steal you away to mope.

his lips crash against yours fiercely, teeth and tongue getting in on the action as he moves his mouth feverishly against your own. your neck tilts back, allowing him to swallow you whole, like his life depends on the feeling of you pressed against him. he trails kisses over your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, two fingers grazing your ribcage. he snaps the tie of your bikini against your skin, stone cold aware of the lack of clothing adorning your body and he hums low from the back of his throat.

“they need to learn that you’re mine, that you’re always gonna be mine.” lando grunts, pulling away to slide the door open. he pushes you out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the very pool that your friends and your brother are licking their wounds around.

“lando…” you gasp, weary of his overly adventurous attitude.

“maybe this will make them realise just how crazy you make me.” lando looks possessed, moving towards you like a wild animal engulfing its prey.

he cages you in against the wall, pulling one leg over his hip to spread you open, his fingers travelling to the flimsy tie of your bikini bottoms. you’re already soaked, embarrassingly so, really, but there’s just something about those gorgeous, haunted eyes. lando let’s the bottoms fall to the floor, kicking them away impatiently as he quickly finds home between your legs.

“think anyone else can get you this wet?” lando asks, eyes rolling back as he finds your slick folds. your jaw drops, already boneless at the feel of him. “answer me, baby. nice ‘n loud for me.” he demands.

“no, lan.” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. he’s teasing, stroking lightly over your folds and your sensitive bud.

“and can anyone else make you feel this good? i mean, baby, i’ve barely touched you and you’re shaking.” lando’s teeth catch his bottom lip, his eyes glazing over as he watches you.

“lando, please.” you mutter, grinding down on his hand. you need more of him. he grins, flashing his teeth with pride as he renders you desperate.

“my pretty girl fucking my hand, god, you’re so perfect.” lando praises, earning a moan from your kiss-swollen lips. “bet they can hear how soaked you are, baby.”

you flush red, shame and embarrassment blurring the pleasure and you press a tense hand to your mouth, trying to silence the waterfall of whines.

“don’t you fucking dare.” he warns, sliding his fingers deep into your pussy. he gives you no time to adjust, curling them upwards and rocking his whole hand against you. his palm bumps against your clit and you writhe against the wall.

there’s no point covering your mouth, there is no hiding what’s happening. you let him have you how he wants you, a consolation for him having to hear his friends badmouth him, and he takes every liberty, mouthing at your covered tits, lapping over your peaked nipples. you cry out, weak as he manipulates your body closer to an orgasm, your wetness trickling down his wrist.

“so good to me, baby, only you, lando.” you choke, your voice echoing between the stone walls.

“that’s it, honey, make a mess for me. let ‘em hear you pretty girl.” he encourages, talking you straight into your first orgasm.

you tremble, gushing all over his hand as you cum, droplets splattering all over the paved floor. lando’s eyes turn black, mouth hanging open as he watches you fall apart, riding you through it.

lando let’s you cool down, propping you carefully against the wall, and leaning over the balcony. funnily enough, max is long gone, but the rest of them sit in stunned silence. he can’t help himself, driven mad by your quivering body and their cruel jabs, choosing whatever the opposite of the high road is. he reaches into his pocket, finding his credit card.

“get out of the villa that i paid for so i can fuck my girlfriend anywhere she wants.” he shouts, watching the way their necks snap up to look at him, revelling in their reddened faces that are not just flushed from the sun. “take this. have dinner. just fuck off.” he frisbees his card at tom, - rather carelessly really, considering just how much there was to lose on that little black square - and he revels in the way it lands square against his forehead.

they all stand up and scurry away, as few faint sorry’s! carrying through the air towards the couple on the balcony, but lando has more important business to attend to.

he scoops you up into his arms, grinning at your coy smile and your drooping eyes. he carries you to bed, planting you in the middle of the mattress.

“not done with you yet, baby, open those eyes for me.” lando coos, crawling over you, his shirt and workout shorts flung to the other side of the room. he feels delicious against you, caging you in beneath him.

“want you, lan.” you plead, a desperate smile on your face as you keen, stretching against the mattress like a cat.

“you’ll have me, baby. always gonna have me.” he smiles, eyes finding yours. “i love you.”

“love you so much.” you whisper, pulling him flush against you. “no matter what.” you affirm. he needed to hear that, it seems, his eyes sparkling with something else, other than the sheen of lust.

he kisses you, firm and wanting, his fingertips sliding up over your arms, leaving prickles of lightning and goosebumps in their wake. one of his hands interlocks with yours, twining together above your head, his body stretching languidly over yours. you can feel him, hard and throbbing between your legs, teetering on the knife edge of self control.

“take me, lando. have me how you want me. ‘m yours.” you croon, disguising a helpless whine as you arch your body into his. you’re squirming for it, to feel him sink deep and claim you his.

that seems to usher him along, and he drags his cock through your folds with a slow roll of his hips, the head catching your sodden entrance. you hiss, the intrusion not even nearly enough, but the sensation overwhelming you nonetheless. he slides into you carefully, stilling when his hips hit flush against yours. you do not want careful.

“fuck me.” you groan wetly, hot breath fanning his face as your mouth instinctively fills with saliva. you’re close to drooling for him.

“beg.” he snaps, jaw tight as he battles his natural instinct to utterly ravage you. “beg me to show you that i own you.”

your legs quiver, pussy clenching around him and he cannot help but buck his hips and suppress a whine. he styles it out, tantalisingly slow as he rolls his hips, grinding against your pleasure point, your slick walls. blood rushes in your ears, your body feral with need. you can’t even tease, disobey him for the fun of it, not when he’s wound you up so delectably. your body keens for him, hums with the sparks, a live wire.

“don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done,” you slur, beginning to ramble. “want to feel you so deep that i’m ruined. ‘m yours, lando. have me.” you plead.

pleasure shoots through him, then, rapid and unwavering. he’s unforgiving as he rails into you, immediately stoking the fire in your belly. all of his body weight is on you, sweaty skin sticking and slapping as his hipbones bruise into yours.

“is that how you want it, huh, baby?” he manages to growl, scooping up your wrists in one big paw, his other hand working down the planes and curves of your body. he finds the triangles of your bikini top, hastily tearing them down just enough so that your tits spill out. all for him. all his. “look at this perfect fucking body,” his breathe hitches, awestruck. “is it all mine?”

you cry out, nodding shamelessly as he ghosts his fingers around the swell of your nipple, switching to the other when he’s satisfied with the peak. he alternates between them, twisting and tugging, barely there and all too hard. you can only plead his name and tighten around his cock.

once he’s overstimulated your chest, he works his fingers further down your body, stopping now and then to dig into your flesh, appreciating the soft feeling of your skin under his calloused hands.

“and this hot, little cunt… is this mine, too?” lando breathes, right against the shell of your ear. his thumb presses hard against your thrumming clit, smearing your slick over the bud. “to play with? is it baby?”

“god, yes.” you manage to bellow, the strained words tearing over your vocal chords.

“yes, what?” lando snaps, slapping lightly over the bundle of nerves.

“it’s yours!” you sob, choking on your own voice.

“to…?” lando coaxes, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips as he looks at you expectantly.

“to play with.” you stutter, cheeks tinged hot with embarrassment that seeps down your neck and between your sweat-dampened bodies.

“that’s my good girl. my pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“‘m so close.” you breathe, writhing up the mattress, his body atop your inescapable. he toys with your clit, pinching the electrified nerves, watching how you buck your hips and leak onto the mattress. he’s covered in you, his belly glistening in the sunlight that washes over you, sealing you forever in this golden, sparkling moment.

“want me to cum all over your tummy, baby? mark you mine?” lando gasps, driving into you with one goal in mind. he has to get you there, wants to be painted in the remnants of your pleasure and hung up in every art museum in the world. if only he wasn’t so selfish, yearning to keep this stunning sight to himself for the rest of his life.

“n-no,” you pause, your jaw going slack for a moment as he circles your clit just right, grinds his hips so deep. “inside me.” you beg.

“fill me up.”

his vision blurs.

lando just about folds you in half, carnal desire surging through his veins. the hand keeping yours suspended over your head falls away, finding your navel where he applied a brutal, sweet pressure that leaves you blind and wailing. his other fingers busy themselves sinking into the meat of your thigh, dragging you backwards and forwards on his throbbing length.

your body goes limp, tears of pleasure trailing wetly down your face as your orgasm hits you, and lando can’t help but bury himself as deep as he can go. the rutting of his hips and the messy rub of his whole hand against your clit leaves you awestruck, sobbing into the air of the room. you’re covering him in waves, shivering as you grow overstimulated but you can’t help but chase the high. your violent quivers and dripping cunt make him whine, high pitched and divine, and he drops onto you, filling you up. he can’t seem to stop, painting you white from the inside out, watching the way it drips out of you, coating the base of his cock.

this can’t be over yet, he decides. he needs to hear you scream.

“lemme help you with that.” he mumbles, slinking down your body, eyes fixed solely on where you were joined together.

you don’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of him buried inside of you, no. you’re too busy pushing at his curls, pleading that he lets up, but he can’t. it’s not that he won’t, it’s that he quite simply can’t.

his tongue runs up the seam of your pussy, lapping over the mixture you’ve made and you can’t do anything but cry and thrash, white hot with pleasure and pain. its so good that it hurts, and you give in, knowing that he isn’t going to stop unless you say the magic words. lord knows, you won’t. lando knows you won’t.

it’s torturous, really, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, drags his tongue over his mess and slips it right into your entrance. he swirls and sucks and nips and tugs. it’s like he’s turned a faucet on, watching hazily as you drip and drip, more of you and him seeping onto his tongue. he’s insatiable as he licks you clean, unable to resist luring you into a third orgasm.

and when it hits, god, does it hit.

the scream he pulls from your body is deafening, makes him shake with the intensity of it, the vibrations rippling through your body and ricocheting off of his. you relax limply into the mattress, urgently needing a break. you watch through hooded eyes as he slurps anything left of you from his reddened lips, your thighs clenching unconsciously. he just chuckles, flopping down beside you.

“tired, baby?” lando teases, stroking over your rapidly rising and falling ribs.

“just a tad.” you deadpan, unable to hold back the giggles as serotonin soothes you.

“oh, sweetheart. i’m not even nearly done with you yet.” lando grins toothily, deviously.

something he said about fucking you ‘anywhere’ you wanted dawns on you and your eyes widen.

-

anywhere really did mean anywhere.

he’d had to carry you to the shower when you were finally done, holding you close under the spray. you were lost to the memory of him pushing you into the sideboard in the hallway, laying you flat across the kitchen counter, eating you like dessert on the very same sun lounger that you’d been perched on when this whole marathon commenced.

you’re utterly spent, eyelids sagging when he finally sets you down on the sofa, playing on his phone while you fall asleep watching the office.

you’re curled up in lando’s lap, legs hanging over the end of the sofa when max finds you. hair still wet from the much needed shower and fast asleep in his best friends arms. he actively chooses to quell the disgusted curl of his lips. you look so peaceful, safe. his plans to throttle lando for his earlier stint subside.

“call me a wankstain on society later, if you want, but please don’t wake her up.” lando speaks with a hushed tone, not even gracing max with eye contact, his eyes remaining on the candies he’d been crushing before the other fewtrell turned up.

“i- no, i wasn’t gonna call you that. i did, however, consider driving that very nice, very vintage lambo you hired off a cliff.” max mutters. lando scoffs a laugh.

“you would have paid for it.” he still doesn’t look up from the phone. max eyes the way lando strokes your side, in time with the crests and falls of your breath. it’s tender, intimate.

max considers that there’s a strong possibility he was wrong.

“mate, listen-“

“nope. she’s your baby sister, i get it. i get it. you can hate me for it, but you crossed a line going after her like that.” lando finally looks up at max, glowering sternly.

“i’m gonna talk to her.” max bows his head, as if he’s ashamed of himself and lando softens slightly.

“you should, mate. she wants your support, your approval means everything.” lando says. “look, i love her. i really do. and while you were accusing me of trying to ruin her life, you were crushing her.” lando sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of pain. max meets his gaze.

“for the record, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for my little sister, but you come pretty fucking close.” max relents, pushing his pride aside, finally. lando smiles, small and knowing.

“i just wanna make her happy.” he shrugs, a look of hopeless romance, utter devotion and pure happiness radiating off of him in waves as he gazes down at your frame. something in max’s belly snaps, the apprehension dissolving to mush. he had gotten this all wrong.

“you do.” he hums, watching how you curl further into lando as you stir in your sleep, the drivers fingers delicately combing your hair away from your face. “but,” max quips.

lando grimaces, bracing himself.

“if you ever, ever, pull something like that again,” max shivers with disgust at the insinuation. “i will remove your bollocks and make you watch me crash the miura.” max swears, pointing a finger of warning.

“seems like everyone’s come to their senses, no more… pranks from me.” lando holds his free hand up in mock surrender.

“have you two kissed and made up yet?” you murmur, stretching out in lando’s arms. you rub sleep from your eyes, sitting up and leaning into your boyfriends solid frame, resting against him as your eyes flit to your brother.

“we’re good. ‘m, uh, sorry.” max nods, attempting to be heartfelt. lando chokes on a laugh as it falls flat.

“you’re “uh, sorry”?” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i’m really sorry.” max tries again, and you grin cheekily at your brother, watching as his shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all afternoon. he turns to leave, halfway to the door when you call out to him.

“hey, max?”

“yeah, lovely?” your chest warms at the sweet nickname. you’d forgotten the last time he’d called you that.

“wash your sheets.” your eyes blaze with amusement and you hear lando’s sharp inhale of breath, shocked that you’d gone there.

“you didn’t- my god, you did not-“ max splutters, his face almost green with nausea.

“you’ll never know for sure.” you grin. you think he’s going to faint.

serves the bastard right.

-

hehe

lemme know what u think!! <33

-

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[evie-sturns]

all night long - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when you start getting needy for more during a makeout session with matt, he gives you more.. too much more.

contains: rough sex, overstimulation, making out, faux sympathy, face fucking, dom!matt (everything he does is consensual)

‘🎵imma make you scream, all night long🎵’

————————————-🎀————————————

i shift on matt’s lap, my hands intertwined in his silky hair as i let out desperate moans into his mouth.

tonight went from matt and i baking, to us making out messily in his room. we haven’t seen each-other in over a month, so this was definitely needed.

his soft lips press against mine harshly as his tongue fights for dominance in my mouth, his large ringed hands find their way down to my hips,

he grins me against his clothed bulge, he pulls away from the kiss for a second,

“you see what your doing to me?” he pants, his eyes travelling down to the obvious tent in his boxers.

“i need you- so bad matt.” i breathe, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

he peels my hands away, placing them back on my lap.

matt collides our lips together again, his hands travelling to the back of my hair.

i whine into his rosy lips, rubbing myself against his jeans.

“i want you so badly- please.” i almost beg matt, speaking against his lips.

“yeah? what exactly do you want?” he taunts with a small smirk on his face.

“you!” i say frustratedly, reaching down and palming him through his jeans.

he looks at me, his head cocked to the side. “i think i’m gonna need some more detail,” he sighs, pretending he doesn’t know what i’m saying.

i hesitate for a second before speaking “i want your dick matt- ‘want you to fill me up.” i practically whisper, avoiding eye contact with matt.

he still has that stupid smirk on his face, his cheeks a dark hue of pink.

“there we are, wasn’t so hard?” he smiles, shifting me off his lap

he stands up out of bed, his hands finding their way to my shoulders.

he flips me over on my stomach, before dragging me to the edge of the bed by my ankles.

my skirt rides up my thighs from the friction of him pulling me across the matress.

he flips my skirt up, revealing my lacy panties. i would’ve put on some sort of lingerie if i knew this was going to be the outcome of matt and i’s baking session.

he doesn’t waste time to pull off my panties, ripping them down the plush of my thighs.

“spread your legs apart f’me.” he demands, his tone lower than earlier.

i spread my legs apart, my face pressed into the sheets as i feel matt’s hands run across my ass from behind me.

“did you touch yourself in the month i was away?” he asks, his hands trailing over my lower back.

i shake my head, burying my face into the matress.

“why not?” he asks, moving his hand down to my entrance.

“didnt- didn’t feel good.” i breathe out,

“yeah?” he says, dipping his long middle finger inside of me.

i gasp, the last time that had sex was with matt right before he left for his trip, i’m not used to anything being inside of me right now.

he doesn’t waste time to add a second finger, i whine loudly.

“god, you’re ‘fuckin tight.” matt says quietly, pumping his fingers in, and out of me.

“i- i cant-“ i protest as he pushes his fingers faster, with each thrust he speeds up significantly.

“you can’t? weren’t you just begging for this?” he replies,

i squirm on the mattress, all of my moans being muffled by the blankets on matt’s bed.

i clench around his fingers, causing him to quickly pull them out of me,

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he states,

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry-“ i repeat myself,

he grabs my waist and flips me over onto my back.

my skirt is still pushed up, he reaches over and scoops me up under my arms, lifting me onto my feet.

my legs wobble slightly,

he points to the floor, instructing me to sit.

i kneel down on the cold wood planks of his floor, my knees digging into the ground.

he stands infront of me, his clothed bulge right by my face.

he looks down at me, waiting for me to do something.

i hesitate before reaching for his belt buckle. fiddling with it before sliding it out of his belt loops.

it falls to the floor with a loud clank.

i unbutton his jeans, letting them drop to his ankles.

finally i tug down his boxers, he’s already fully hard.

“gonna let me use that pretty mouth, won’t you?” he says, wrapping his hand around his base and positioning his tip at my lips.

he rubs his tip over my closed lips, his precum spreading across my mouth.

i nod,

“go on then, open your mouth.” he speaks,

i slowly part my lips, matt quickly pushes his length into my mouth, inch by inch.

i squeeze my eyes shut as i take more of him, feeling his veins against my tongue.

matt’s hand finds its way to the back of my hair, twirling it into a makeshift ponytail.

“gonna take it all?” matt asks, followed by a strangled whimper from him.

i whine around his dick, he pulls out of my mouth just to the tip, giving me time to breathe before forcing his length down my throat.

i reach up and grip the back of his thighs as he quickly pulls out again, followed by him thrusting back inside my mouth.

“oh my god..” he groans, i look up at him through my lashes,

he watches his cock thrust in and out of my mouth, i don’t try to protest it because of how many moans are falling from matt’s lips.

my mascara runs down my cheeks as matt’s leg starts to subtly shake.

i run my nails up the back of his thighs, which seems to tip him over the edge completely.

he finishes with a loud groan, his head tipping back as his release fills my mouth.

he quickly pulls out of my mouth, “swallow it.” he says through deep breaths.

i squeeze my eyes shut before swallowing his load,

“there we are.” he says, picking me up off my knees and throwing me onto the bed.

i squeal as i hit the matress, matt lets out a low chuckle before flipping me over onto my back.

he wraps his hands around my ankles and tugs me to the edge of the bed. matt pushes my legs back so i’m fully revealed for him.

“did so good.” he mumbles, pushing my knees close to my stomach.

he wraps his hand around his base, positioning himself at my entrance.

he scans over my face as he pushes inside of me,

my mouth falls open, matt’s definitely not going slow.

he buries his cock inside of me, his tip kissing my cervix.

“matt-“ i whine, he gives me no time to adjust before he’s thrusting full force inside of me.

he keeps a firm grip on the back of my knees as he repeatedly fucks into me.

“god look at you.” he scoffs,

i have mascara running down my face, my hair is messy and spread across the mattress as i let matt completely use me.

his pace quickens with each thrust,

“too fast- too much” i babble out, which matt pays no mind to.

his hair flops on his forehead with each thrust, his blue eyes fixed on where his length disappears in my pussy.

he repeatedly hits my g-spot with the angle he has me on,

my mind goes completely blank as i arch my back off the bed,

with a loud scream of matt’s name i clench around him, my stomach releasing.

my legs shake in his grip as i finish,

matt doesn’t stop.

he continues to push into my sensitive core, i squirm on the matress as he overstimulates me.

“gonna let me finish inside you?” he breathes out through small groans.

i nod frantically, “that’s my good girl.” matt reply’s, his voice hoarse and shaking

he thrusts deeply inside of me once more before finishing inside of me,

he fucks into me a couple more times, burying his release inside of me.

my head flops back against the matress, my stomach spasming.

matt pulls out of me slowly,

i go to reach for him, but he pins my hand back down onto the matress,

“you thought we were done?” he asks,

shortly after he flips me over onto all fours, i shake my head,

“oh poor thing.” he sighs, his two hands finds their way to my hips and tugging me back towards him.

my ass rests on his pelvis as i breathe heavily

“cant take more than one orgasm, that’s pathetic.” he breathes,

“i can-!” i protest,

“can you?” he reply’s,

his tip drags through my sensitive folds,

“yes- i promise-“ i whine,

he pushes his tip inside of me, his hand resting on my lower back to make me arch more.

he fucks his tip inside of me,

my eyebrows knit together as my mouth falls open.

without warning he pushes his whole length inside of me, instantly starting to pound into me.

i let out a squeal as i grab a pillow from beside me,

i bury my face into the pillow, muffling my screams.

matt’s never fucked me like this before, i don’t know if it’s because we’ve been seperated for a month, or whatever it is, but he’s going rough.

his dick slams into me repeatedly, his tip bruising my cervix over and over.

he’s hitting insanley deep spots in me, making my mind go blank.

“matt!!” i scream into the pillow, the sound of our skin colliding fills the room.

“i can’t! i can’t!” i follow up,

“i thought you could? didn’t you promise?” he asks from behind me, his hand gripping my hip.

“i- i lied!” i reply back instantly.

“i don’t like liars.” he says, pushing on my back, making it arch even more.

“i’m sorry!” i yell into the pillow,

“are you?” he says shakily, leaning foward and resting his hands on either side of my head.

his chest presses against my back as i feel his rapid breathes on the back of my neck.

i let out uncontrollable noises which are now, muffled.

without warning i clench around him again, the knot in my stomach snapping.

“i didn’t tell you to do that.” he says from behind me.

-

10 minutes later matt is still thrusting into me, pulling more and more orgasms out of me.

“i can’t-“ my voice wobbles as i lift my head from the pillow.

he grips the sheets beside me before finally finishing, burying his seed inside of me.

he pulls out of me with a slick pop, then collapsing next to me on the bed.

i fall foward onto my face, my legs shaking.

i can barely see, nor think.

he tugs me into him, wrapping his tattooed arms around me.

“jesus fuck-“ he sighs into my messy hair.

“are you okay?” he asks, stroking my arm.

i nod, matt sits me up on the matress.

he grips my hands and stands me up, my legs instantly wobble and i stumble over.

“oh-“ he almost laughs, picking me up.

“that was.. insanity.” i finally speak, earning a small laugh from matt,

“i’m sorry gorgeous.” he sighs,

“you promise you okay? are you hurting?” matt asks, walking us into the bathroom.

he sets me down on the toilet, his cum leaking down my thighs.

“i’m okay- oh my god.” my voice shakes as i smile at matt.

he bends down and grabs a towel before dabbing the insides of my thigh with it.

he brushes it over my entrance, i wince.

“i know- i’m sorry.” he sighs, wiping me clean quickly.

he grabs my hand and pulls me up onto my feet, i instantly fall into him.

“you seriously can’t stand?!” he laughs,

“matt what do you think!”

-

@jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathando-64 esgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos @downbad4reid

[fictionismyreality3]

your fics are so yummehh. can i request ex to enemies to lovers with ghost pretty please?

Fuck you? Fuck Me! 18+

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, oh god.. it’s smut with feelings 😩mentions of cheating 😡😡

Notes: I’m actually so sorry this took so long I’m a lazy bitch 😀

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you, Simon."

Slamming the door behind you and stomping down the hall of Simon's apartment building, you bit back the tears, ignoring the looks from the doorman you'd made friends with after many late nights of Simon coaxing you into his bed

That was two years ago now.

You'd moved on, really you had. It had taken probably around 100 shots of vodka during the first few months, the sour, offending taste forcing you to focus on the burn in your throat rather than the burn in your chest. A shitty bullet vibrator, sitting offendingly in your beside drawer, the hot pink piece of plastic and motorized pleasure offering you partial relief when you missed the feeling of your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend— splitting you open on his cock.

You'd gotten over Simon, filling your days with friends, family, the dead-end receptionist job where the coffee was stale and the small-talk was frightning. The pit he left in your chest was stuffed with whatever you could find, and slowly, after many sleepless nights, you forgot it was there at all.

Slamming back the strawberry daiquiri, you let the liquid warm your throat, the sugary-sweet taste making your toes curl and your lips draw into a cheshire like grin. The music was pounding in your ears, and you were sure your head would be ringing when you stumbled your way out onto the pavement.

"Y'still drink those?"

Heart stuttering in your chest, the air suddenly buzzing with a familiar presence you recognized so well.

“Simon.” Short, curt, you offered little to the man who had taken so much of you.

When he’d left you to fend for yourself on so many quiet nights, the flat empty as he went and fought in some country that wasn’t his, there was no worry in his mind about having something to come home to.

You could handle it. You told him you could handle it.

Eyes hardened by violence, hands toughened by the hours of holding a gun and not another person. He didn’t notice. You were always there. Ready to greet him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“Y’look different, luv. I.. Y’look good.” Tartness filled his mouth, his bottom lip between his teeth where it was hidden underneath his mask.

Simon didn’t know how to take care of his things, much less his girl. One night at the bar turned to to two, and his returns got later and later in the wee hours of the morning. He shouldn’t have been shocked enough to feel his stomach churn when you suggested that he was cheating on you.

But that was two years ago.

A mirthless laugh sounded from your lips. “I’m not doing this.”

Fuckin’ stubborn thing.

The crowd of the club parted as Simon stalked after you, a looming figure of anger and bitter frustration that sent lesser men scurrying in the other direction. It was a wonder the door didn’t fly off the hinges when he followed you outside. But, Simon could be careful. He could be patient. Even if the only thing he wanted to do was push you up against the alley wall and-

“Could you just leave me alone?” That was more pathetic sounding that you’d wanted, your face screwing up in displeasure at the way your voice came out warbled.

A frown pulled at his lips, hidden underneath the fabric of his black surgical mask.

“Didn’t cheat on ya, luvie.”

He just had to touch you. If he could just touch you, fuck, even get you to look at him, you would see. He would make you see. But you were all teeth, hissing and snapping at him when he tried to reach out and grab at your wrist— keep fighting, puppy— shying away from his touch like it burnt you.

“Could y’just calm down?” Shackled, arms pinned at your side, he kept you in place. “I’d never fuckin’ look a’ another bird, yeah?”

He nearly bit his tongue off when your gaze fell to the ground again, looking all dejected like a kitten abandoned out on the curb. He had left you alone too long, hadn’t he?

“Simon, I’m not-” You hated how easy it was to let your neck go lax, to let him guide your vision upwards until there was nothing in your sight but him.

Yeah, that’s it. Stop fightin’ so hard. “God, dove, look at ya.” He cooed, relishing in the way your pretty doe eyes stared up at him hesitantly, like you were waiting for him to bite. “How could I cheat on a pretty thing like you, huh?”

No, no god, it was so easy for him to get his hooks in you again, rough hands touching your skin like his palms could reach in and cradle your heart.

“Two years, Simon. Two years.” You hissed. “God, you were never around.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. But I-”

“No!” Twisting your wrists out of his grip, you launched your attack, fists hitting against a chest that didn’t bow under the weight of your fury. “You were never around! Never gave me a second of your time even when you were there!”

People were staring now, hushed whispers swarming around you in a torrent. A spectacle of a girl barking up at a man twice her size. Some lady stumbling by offered her own intoxicated words of encouragement— get him, gurl!

Simon let you get it all out. He deserved it, really. He didn’t fight as you pounded your fists down on his chest, beating your anger over his heart. You were talking, hell, you were touching him, and that was more than he’d expected given how he’d driven you away. Darker eyes stared down at your flushed cheeks, rosy from the alcohol and the anger.

“You didn’t want me. You d-didn’t give a shit and you know it!”

But his heart clenched when his saw the tears flowing down them, moving more than it had in two years.

What was that thing Price told him?

You don’t take care of your things, Simon, they’re gonna break eventually.

That’s what it was, the heaviness in your eyes, the way your voice seemed hollow even as you screamed loud enough for the next street over to hear. It clawed at him, guilt twisting deeper and deeper with every curse you threw. This wasn’t the girl he drove away. But then again, he wasn’t the same man, purposely blind to anything good around him.

Simon had tried to replace you at first. Hours spent at the range, hours spent sparring and earning new scars, his knuckles cracked from over use. Time should’ve fixed it, but even as he gave the punching bags a break the blood on his hands didn’t stop. A scab he couldn’t stop picking at, the sting of his self-injury the only thing he could do to remind him that his bed wasn’t empty once.

“I never meant ta hurt ya, luv.” His own regret was threatening to spill over his waterline. “Should’a taken better care o’ya, yeah?” You shook your head vehemently at his coos, as if you could will everything that was happening to disappear.

“Could never leave ya, pretty girl.” In any other moment, Simon would’ve been appalled at the teary tone to his voice, but right now he was more concerned with how the love of his life had gone quiet, eyes glued to the pavement.

“I love ya, sweetheart.”

If you would just look at him to see how he meant it. Just look at him, dovie, just look.

“M’in love with ya. Could never ‘ave anyone else.” He was pleading now, just about ready to get down on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. “Didn’t know how to.. to show it, yeah? Never done this before. Never loved anyone before.”

“Simon, if you’re lying to me..” You began, breath hitching when he took your eye contact as invitation you hold your face in his hands.

There she is.

“Never.” He swore fiercely. “Never cheated on ya, baby. Haven’t touched a girl since y’left.”

The confession made you falter. The Simon shaped hole in your chest searing with need. The desperation in his eyes, it didn’t even compare to how you felt, and you realized that everything you filled it with was only temporary. You needed permanence. You needed Simon.

It didn’t matter how you fell back into bed with him, stumbling through his apartment while he pawed all over you, keeping a hand on you like he was afraid you’d disappear. In the few seconds you had before he corralled you into his bedroom, you got a chance to see how little he’d changed. The apartment was bare, the spaces on the shelves where your things once sat had been left empty, like some sort of twisted altar he was afraid to fill.

You’d missed him. And he knew it.

There was no time wasted in the moments it took Simon to get you bare, his own clothes discarded in a pathetically short amount of time before his was diving into your pussy.

“S-Simon!”

He couldn’t slow down. After so many nights spent fucking into his own hand, the pair of panties he’d secretly kept pressed to his nose, he needed the real thing.

Like a man starved, he lapped at your cunt, the flat of his tongue lapping against your clit in just the way you liked— because of course he remembered— getting you to soak his face. The taste of you made his eyes flutter shut and groan obscenely into your pussy, the vibration making your thighs start to close.

Digging his fingers into your soft flesh, he parted your legs open so he could get nose deep, trying to bury himself in you. The slick seemed to drip out of you, making it easy to curl two of his fingers into your leaking cunt. The sudden intrusion had you keening, blindly reaching out to grasp at Simon’s hair. It had been so long since someone touched you right.

“S’that how ya need it, mama?” He crooned, voice garbled as he swirled his tongue in fast circles, your clit pulsing in his mouth. “Didn’t ’ave anyone ta fuck her like she needs, huh?” The taunt held no real heat as he curved his fingers inside of you, searching for that spot that got you to make the most delicious noises.

“Uh-huh!” You could almost feel the way he was grinning into your cunt. “Needed you, Si.”

Humming in approval, Simon pumped his fingers in you with a speed you had tried, and failed, to replicate alone in your bed late at night. It didn’t take long for the pleasure to start bubbling to an overwhelming point, leaving you teetering on the edge, like a pot left unattended on a stove.

Sucking hard on your clit was all it took, and suddenly you were gushing all over Simon’s face, back arching with a broken cry. He took it all, lapping it up like it was the sweetest nectar all while crooning praises at you, making your head fuzzy.

There was a sense of urgency in the sex-scented air, his once steady hands shaking as he sat up on his heels, eyes half lidded and drunk with desire.

“You can touch me, Simon.”

Parched, he licked his lips, savouring the taste of you lingering on his tongue while he lined his heavy cock up to your pussy. He could’ve cum just by running his head up and down your folds, but he resisted the temptation.

He had to take care of his girl first.

The stretch was intense, your body trying to cope with acclimating to the girth of Simon after having so many lovers who couldn’t give you what you needed. Your limbs tensed, hands threading themselves into Simon’s hair, trying to pull him closer, closer.

“Just relax, sweethear’. You can- fuck, you can take me.” His hips met yours and he slotted himself where he should’ve been this whole time. Home. Your body cradling him exactly how it was supposed to. “Just need someone ta fuck ya proper, huh?”

He was dangerously close to coming, rutting into you with uneven, eager strokes that left you gasping, heels digging into his ass as you wrapped your legs around him. You were no better, eyes rolling back in your head every time the head of his throbbing cock kissed your cervix, little punched out moans being torn from your throat.

“M’sorry-”

He managed a garbled moan. “Shh, none o’ that, ya hear me?” You were so good, apologizing for the mess he’d made.

Barely hanging on by a thread, Simon rested his forehead on yours.

“Love of my life, dovie.” His hands were brushing the hair out of your face, and the sheer reverence in his eyes knocked the wind out of you. Mewling, you kissed messily at his jaw, hungry, trying to show him how much you felt for him when you were too fucked out to talk.

“Si-” Heat seared in your belly. “M’gonna- oh, god, m’cumming, I-”

Toes curling, you watched the world explode from behind your eyelids, barely registering the choked words Simon was babbling in your ear as he spilled himself inside you with a drawn out groan.

“I love ya. Love ya, love ya, love ya.”

In the quiet of his bedroom, both of you panting and emotionally spent, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I love you too.”

[levisjinchuriki]

acts of service - toji fushiguro

summary - you love toji and you'd never let him feel like a burden

warning - angst, mention of an argument, going to bed angry, acts of service, husband toji, fluff at the end, soft!toji

the bedroom door slams behind you as your heart pounds. your jaw hurts from biting back words you’ll regret. you and toji had your third argument already this week. his muffled voice tells you he’s still frustrated as he talks to you through the door, but you don’t respond. you’re too angry.

his voice eventually fades, and the sound of his retreating footsteps tells you he’s given up. you curl under the covers, still fuming, until the warmth of the bed lulls you into a restless sleep.

—

hours later, you wake up with a dry throat and your chest still tight from the argument. slipping out of bed, you quietly make your way to the kitchen. the first thing you notice is toji’s lunch bag on the counter, already zipped shut. you always pack his lunches—an unspoken routine between you two, one small way you show your love.

after unzipping the bag, your heart sinks– inside are a few hastily thrown snacks: a bag of chips, a granola bar, an apple. no sandwich, no leftovers, no real meal to sustain him through his grueling workday. it’s clear he didn’t expect you to pack his lunch tonight. 

he didn’t want to burden you.

your chest tightens as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. the anger is still there, but it can’t overpower the ache in your heart. toji might be stubborn, even infuriating, but you love him. even now, after everything.

you grab his lunch bag, emptying out the snacks with trembling hands. tonight’s leftovers sit untouched in the fridge. you plate the meal carefully, transferring it into containers and neatly tucking it into his lunch bag. you even add a few extra touches: a little pack of soy sauce, the cookies you baked recently, and some fruit.

finally, you grab a scrap of paper and a pen. for a moment, you hesitate, unsure what to write. then the words spill out, simple and raw:

i’m still mad at you. but i love you more than anything. please eat well today. 

you fold the note and tuck it into the lunch bag before zipping it shut again. a deep sigh escapes your lips as you set it back on the counter, right where he’ll see it in the morning.

the anger isn’t gone, but neither is the love. you head back to bed, the heaviness in your chest lightened just a little. you hope you can both start again tomorrow.

—

in the early hours of the morning, toji stands at the bedroom door, his lunch bag clutched in one hand. he’s staring at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world, a faint crease between his brows. the way his jaw tightens and his shoulders drop says more than words ever could.

he doesn’t deserve you, not after last night. that’s the thought running through his head as he quietly enters the room and sets the bag quietly on the dresser. he only meant to come in to get his work clothes. when his eyes land on you, curled up in bed, your face soft and peaceful in sleep, he knows he can’t leave just yet.

before he can stop himself, he’s moving toward you. his weight dips the mattress as he climbs in behind you, slow and deliberate, his body fitting against yours like it was made to. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest, his warmth seeping into you.

you stir slightly, murmuring incoherently, but you don’t wake. toji presses his face into your hair, breathing you in. his lips lightly brush the back of your neck.

“i’m sorry” he whispers, his voice low and rough, almost inaudible. “for last night. for everything”.

his hand slides up to rest on your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. he’s not expecting forgiveness—not yet—but he needs you to feel this, even in your sleep.

he kisses the curve of your shoulder, then the space just behind your ear. each kiss is soft, tender, filled with everything he struggles to say out loud. “i don’t deserve you” he murmurs against your skin, his voice breaking slightly. “but i’m so damn lucky to have you anyway”.

you shift again, a small sigh escaping your lips as you unconsciously press closer to him. toji tightens his hold, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. the world outside is waiting for him, but for now, all he cares about is this—this quiet moment with you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo, the rhythm of your breathing lulling him into a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed.

“i love you” he says softly, his words barely a whisper, meant more for himself than for you. “even when i mess up. always”.

he stays there, holding you, until the weight in his chest feels a little lighter and the clock tells him he can’t stay any longer. but as he finally pulls away, tucking the blanket carefully around you, he swears to himself that he’ll make things right. you deserve nothing less.

--

a/n: this was inspired by a tiktok i saw. i hope you guys enjoyed. thank you for all the love recently!! <3

[selfcarecap]

Lip Gloss [A.D.]

Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)

summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂‍↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3

word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons

When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained. 

When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him. 

But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it. 

“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words. 

And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see. 

He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you. 

-

You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips. 

“You look so pretty.” 

He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour. 

He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you. 

Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off. 

You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good. 

You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal. 

“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.” 

“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him. 

You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily. 

“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.

 “Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”

“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down. 

“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.” 

“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly. 

Patrick laughs again. 

“Shut up.”

Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid. 

“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.” 

You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips. 

You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips. 

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes. 

“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now. 

“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.” 

You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious. 

“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.

 - 

You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.

Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.  

Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room. 

Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours. 

“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here. 

You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.

“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”

Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.

You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.

“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.

Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.

You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.

You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip. 

You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”

“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.

You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.

“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.

“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”

Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.

You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious. 

You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.

He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.

Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.

When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.

He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips. 

He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.

As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that. 

If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.

“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting. 

You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.

“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin. 

Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.

“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.

“This is all you get.”

Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”

He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.

“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”

You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.

You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.

You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.

“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.

“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.

“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.

“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.

“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.

When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.

You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out. 

You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that. 

P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭

[theostrophywife]

shut up kiss me.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

song inspiration: shut up kiss me by angel olsen.

author's note: everyone say thank you to my love @writingsbychlo for fueling my delusions. constantly spamming her with my ideas because i have no self control when it comes to this man. there’s just something about theo fighting that makes me absolutely feral but i’ll hush now before i spoil it 🤭

Theodore. Fucking. Nott. 

Those three words fueled your rampage as you marched across the quidditch pitch. The audacity of that cocky, arrogant, silver tongued Slytherin knew no bounds. For years, you tolerated the pompous prick and the rivalry between you, but today he had finally gone too far. 

You cleared the field in less than a minute, passing by confused players as you angrily seethed. You spotted a shock of familiar platinum blonde hair and walked right up to Draco Malfoy. 

“Where the hell is he?”

He chuckled, perfectly aware of your longstanding enmity with his closest friend. “What’s he done this time?”

“Where. Is. He?” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again, Malfoy.” 

The blonde paled several shades when he saw the fire burning in your gaze. “Locker rooms. I wouldn’t go in there, Y/N. They’re still shower—“ Draco sighed as you brushed past him. “Whatever, it’s your funeral.”

The locker rooms were steamy, the heat and humidity clinging to your school uniform as you stalked through the aisles. The Slytherin players startled when they spotted you amongst their midst. 

“Well, well, well,” Mattheo drawled as he leaned against the wall. A towel hung dangerously low on his hips and he smirked when your eyes flickered over his body. “What do we have here? A sweet little Hufflepuff marching straight into the viper’s den.”

“Where the fuck is he, Riddle?”

Mattheo grinned lazily. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” 

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your arrogant prick of a friend who sent my fucking date to the hospital wing!” 

Before you went to sleep last night, you had done so with a grin on your face after a wonderful date with Alec Stone at the Three Broomsticks, but then you arrived at breakfast this morning with no Alec in sight and the rumor mill rampant with talks of Theo pummeling some poor Ravenclaw in the courtyard. 

You were going to kill him. 

“Sorry, love. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

You frowned, purposely bumping against Mattheo as you walked further down the dimly lit aisle. In your trail for vengeance, you ran into a very flustered looking Enzo who yelped as he sought to cover his very naked torso. 

“Y/N,” Enzo said, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. “What are you doing in the locker rooms?”

Behind him, the sound of the shower running echoed against the marble tiles. “Is he in there?”

Berkshire’s face fell. “You heard about the fight?” 

“It wasn’t a fight,” you said angrily. “He pummeled Alec so badly that he’s currently in the hospital wing with a concussion and several broken bones.”

“Just hear him out, okay?” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Hear him out? Your precious Theodore beat the absolute shit out of my date and you want me to hear him out? For what? What reason could Theo possibly have for doing what he did to Alec? He couldn’t stand to see me have fun for two fucking seconds? This is low even for him and you know it, Enzo.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Y/N.” 

“Well then please point me in the right direction so I can hear from the arsehole himself.” 

“He’s in there,” Enzo said, pointing to the shower stalls. “But I’m warning you, Y/N. He’s in a proper foul mood.” 

You huffed. “That makes two of us.” 

The steam from the showers rose up like a malevolent fog, curling around your feet as you stormed through the stalls. You found him in the farthest corner, water trickling down his back as he faced the tiled wall. His body language was tense, like a serpent preparing to strike. A crimson trail swirled against the marble as blood dripped from Theo’s bruised knuckles. The sight of it incensed you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Theo whipped his head towards your direction, his dark curls plastered against his cheek. Those watercolor eyes were stormy, the blues and greens flickering with anger as he met your gaze. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said dismissively. 

“Bullshit!” You countered, stepping further into the stall. The steam barely covered Theo’s naked form, but you weren’t about to let that deter you from demanding answers. “You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“For what?” 

“For what?” you repeated incredulously. “You beat Alec within an inch of his life and that’s all you have to say for yourself? Honestly Theodore, have you gone absolutely mental?” 

“He deserved it.” 

“Why? Because he took me out on a date? Because you couldn’t stand to let me have this one thing? You absolutely loathe the idea of me being even remotely happy, don’t you?” 

Theo clenched his fists as his jaw twitched in anger. “No. I loathe the idea of that miserable excuse of a human being breathing the same air as you.” 

“So you beat him to a bloody pulp?” 

His voice was cold and icy, cutting through you like glass. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse.”

“What do you have against Alec?” You moved closer to Theo, closing the gap as you poked his chest. The shower streamed over the both of you, blurring your vision. The water was hot against your skin, but it paled against the heat of your own anger. “What did he ever do to you, Theo?” 

Theo gripped your wrist. You were vaguely aware of his nakedness, but he made no move to hide it and you were too furious to even care. “Don’t say his name. I can’t bear to hear you say it after what he said about you this morning.” 

You stepped backward, flinching. “What—what are you talking about?” 

When you met his gaze, you startled. You’d never seen Theo this angry before. His eyes, which were usually dead and expressionless, burned with a cold sort of fury. 

“I heard him in the courtyard, bragging to his stupid friends. I thought he was just chatting shit, so I kept back. I only came down for a smoke, but then he said your name.” 

The pit in your stomach grew. “What did he say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not if he was this angry over it.

“The stupid fucking prick was talking about your date. The dress you wore. The smiles you gave him. The hand holding through Hogsmeade. Then one of his gormless mates asked if he got lucky.” 

You froze at his words as a horrible feeling washed over you. Theo loosened his grip on your wrist, but didn’t let go. 

“Do you know what that sodding idiot said? I will, soon enough. I can tell she’s raring to go.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You felt like you were going to be violently sick. 

“And his friends—those miserable fucking wankers started betting on how long it would take. Two dates. Three. A month.” Theo’s hands were shaking, violence spilling over into his veins. “That smug tosser smirked and said he could’ve had you out in the hallway. That’s how eager you were.”

“I barely even touched him!” you said angrily. “I kissed his cheek good night and that was it.” 

“I know,” Theo said, his voice low and rough. “I know you. I knew he was lying, so I fucking lost it. I walked over there and just punched and punched until my knuckles were bloody and bruised and all I could see was red. I wanted to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his mouth.” 

You could picture Theo putting out his cigarette ever so calmly before walking over to throw the first punch. You’d seen him fight before. He was relentless. Where Mattheo was pure fire and rage, Theo was as cold as ice. There was nothing but lethal calm in those dead eyes as he delivered blow after blow in absolute silence. 

“Eventually, Blaise and Enzo pulled me off of that prick.” He averted his gaze as if remembering the moment. “When his idiot friends finally peeled him off the floor, I spit on the fucker. I told him to consider it a warning. That I’d do a lot worse if I ever heard your name come out of his mouth again. I promised him that a concussion would be the least of his worries if he didn’t stay the fuck away from you.”

The tears fell down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them in. The anger all but faded from Theo’s eyes as soon as he realized that you were crying. You were so, so stupid. For thinking Alec was a nice guy. For being so giddy after your date only for him to turn around and spit vile lies about you. 

For crying in front of your worst enemy.

The color drained from Theo’s face as you cried into your hands. You felt him shift beside you, debating whether or not to come closer. 

“Don’t,” you said through a broken sob. “Don’t come near me.” 

Theo flinched at your words, looking visibly pained. His voice was soft and soothing when he spoke again. “Tell me how to fix it. Do you want to yell at me? Punch me? Go ahead, love. I can take it.” He sounded desperate. “Just please, please don’t cry.” 

You hugged your arms around your waist and glared at him. “Why do you even care?” 

He paused, fingers flexing at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. 

“Because I care about you!” The exasperation in his voice made your chest tighten. “I care that you let that stupid idiot take you on a date to the Three Broomsticks. I care that you fucking smiled at him when he gave you roses even though I know you prefer sunflowers. I care that you kissed him on the cheek when he dropped you off at your dorm.”

You sniffled, utterly perplexed at his words. “I don’t understand. We hate each other!” 

Theo visibly softened, the tension leaving his body. “I could never hate you, Y/N.” He reached for your hand. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you let him trace soothing circles on your skin. “I may tease you. Prank you. Annoy you. But I’ve never hated you.” 

Theo wiped the dried up tears from your cheeks. No fresh tears, which he took as a good sign. “I don’t even think you remember this, but I tried asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year.” 

The memory surfaced. You were reading by the Black Lake and Theo had asked if you had a date. You said no, to which he promptly asked if he could take you. You left in a huff, thinking that it was just another way to rile you up. 

“I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me. If I would’ve known…” 

Theo paused. “How could you not know? How could you not see?” 

The rage crashed against you like an errant wave. You didn’t know if you were angry at Theo or yourself, but you exploded either way, unable to keep your emotions under control. 

“Because you never told me, you idiot!”

“I never told you, but I showed you.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm not good with words, obviously. Every time I open my mouth it’s like I say the perfect combination of words to piss you off. So I learned to tell you how I felt through my actions.” 

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your favorite study spot in the library is always free? That’s because I threatened anyone who came near it. Or how you never seem to run out of quills despite the fact that you manage to break one every day from how hard you write? I always replaced them when you weren’t looking.” Your heart clenched at his words. “I even bribed first years to bring you hot chocolate when I knew you were pulling all nighters.” 

You stood there, staring at him. This wasn’t the cocky, arrogant Theo that you knew. He was looking at you so earnestly that it physically hurt how endearing it all was. 

“Why would you let me think that you were an inconsiderate jerk this whole time?” 

Those hypnotizing eyes pierced right through you, filled with a sadness so heavy that you felt it weighing on your chest. 

“Because at least you were thinking of me.”

You swayed gently. The water had long seeped into your bones, making you shiver as all of your clothes stuck to your skin like paper. You were convinced that your body had gone into shock. The range of emotions you were currently experiencing was turbulent to say the least. You stood in stunned silence, just taking it all in. Then the impact of his words hit you all at once. 

Theo watched as your bottom lip trembled. Panic seized him as you began crying again, this time not bothering to hide it from him. “Fuck I’m sorry, Y/N. Please don’t cry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort you? Should he keep his distance? Theo felt like he was doing a rather exceptional job of mucking things up. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” You said between hiccups. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Theo caressed your cheek. So gently. Like he half-expected you to recoil. That only set a fresh wave of tears to spill onto your cheeks. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love.” 

“Of course I do!” you nearly wailed. “I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve thought the worst of you, but all this time you were doing all these sweet, considerate things and I never even noticed. You should’ve told me, Theo.” 

“I—I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way,” Theo said softly. “It was better to have you hate me and still be part of my life than risking not having you in it at all.” 

Because at least you were thinking of me. 

It was the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard. For years, Theo settled for being your enemy because he’d rather have your hatred and loathing than indifference. He sustained himself on the bare minimum because he thought that was all he deserved. 

“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m so so fucking sorry.” 

Theo was absolutely distressed. “Fuck, look Y/N. Let me just finish up here and get my towel and when I’m dry and slightly less naked then we can talk, okay?” 

You sniffled, wiping your tears away. There was no way you could wait. Not after everything Theo had just told you. Not after everything that he’s been telling you all these years. Theo had literally and figuratively laid himself bare before you. The least you could do was to even the playing field. 

So you unlaced the gold and black tie around your neck. Unbuttoned your blouse and threw it somewhere behind you. Stepped out of your skirt and stared at Theo head on. 

“Oh—Merlin’s beard, what in the hell are you doing, Y/N? Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest?” 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Theo was determined to look everywhere but at your very exposed body. You were still in your bra and panties, but the black lace really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Especially when the water clung to every inch of your skin. 

“You were vulnerable with me,” you said simply. “So I’m returning the favor.” 

Theo felt like he was definitely headed for an early grave. He tried to think of something—anything—other than the girl he’s been head over heels for since third year standing naked in front of him.

“Theo,” you said softly. His name had never sounded half as good coming out of anyone else’s mouth. He wanted to bottle the sound. “Can I—can I hug you?” 

He could’ve sworn that his heart had stopped beating. The air had all but left his lungs, deflating his entire body as though he’d fallen off his broom and plummeted through the sky at breakneck speed. 

Theo didn’t recognize his own voice as he said, “Of course you can, Y/N.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you dashed into his arms, nearly toppling him over from the force of it. You were a tiny little thing, but you were stronger than you looked. He smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you hugged him. For a minute you and Theo just stood there under the trickling water, holding each other as though you were the only two people alive. 

If this was all the affection you were willing to give him, Theo would’ve been content to hold onto you until you grew tired of him. His slender fingers traced down your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You felt safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as you were with him.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like this. There was just this spark between you. Perhaps that was part of the reason why you had been so angry this morning. 

It hadn’t just been because Theo sent Alec to the hospital wing, which you were now thankful for after hearing all the disgusting things he said about you. It was also because you thought that he had ruined your chance of feeling that rush with someone else. The same rush you got when the two of you were arguing. The same rush that was noticeably missing when you kissed Alec last night. 

Things with Theo had always been electric. You attributed it to mutual loathing, but that wasn’t the full story. Sure he made your blood boil sometimes, but he also made you feel alive. You were terrified to admit it to yourself, which is probably why you said yes to Alec in the first place. 

You sighed as Theo’s fingers tangled through your hair. He gently pulled your head back and looked at you in the most heartbreaking way. 

“Y/N,” he said hoarsely. Theo’s gaze dipped to your mouth as his arm snaked around your waist. “I think I might die if I go one more second without kissing you. Will you please put me out of my misery, love?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. “Gladly.”

Theo held his breath as you pulled him down to you, lips brushing shyly at first. Then you leaned in and kissed him. And he truly and honestly thought that he had died. 

Your lips were soft against his, tasting of strawberries and mint toothpaste. He cupped the back of your head and tilted your chin to deepen the kiss. Before, Theo thought he could’ve sustained himself from a simple hug, but right now, he couldn’t even control himself as he gorged himself on your taste. 

He chuckled when you tried and failed to get on your tiptoes to offset the height difference between you. Theo caressed your cheek and smiled against your mouth. 

“Need some help, love?” 

You nodded before pulling him back down again. This time, the tender kisses turned more heated as he locked your legs around his waist and pressed your back against the wall. You gasped as the cold tile made contact with your bare skin and Theo took the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. 

Merlin’s beard. Theo kissed with his entire body. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t touching him and the skin to skin contact set your body on fire. You’d kissed other boys before, but they paled in comparison. You couldn’t get enough of Theo. You ran your fingers through his hair. Wrapped your legs more tightly around his waist. Trailed kisses along his jaw and neck and throat. 

Then he fucking moaned. 

It was a low, rumbling sound that sent tremors over your body and shook every fiber of your being like a devastating earthquake. You wanted to hear him make that sound over and over again. 

“Y/N,” Theo said, his forehead dropping to yours. “Before I lose all sense of self, I want to—no—I need to tell you—”

“What is it, Theo?”

“If we do this, then you have to understand what it means to me,” Theo whispered. “I may be terrible with words, but it’s important for me that you hear me when I say this. I want you. Not just physically, but in every sense of the word. I wanted you in third year when you first told me off for being a dick to the first years and I want you now even though you came in here to defend a prick that definitely doesn’t deserve it.” 

“What are you saying, Theo?” 

“I want you to be mine, Y/N.” 

You beamed. “Like, your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think girlfriend is a strong enough word to express how I feel for you, but it’s a start.” He moved the hair out of your face and cradled your cheek. “So yes, I suppose I do want you to be my girlfriend. I want to hold hands with you in the hallways. I want to look up at the stands during my games and see you cheering me on. I want to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and kiss you under the stars.” 

“And you say you’re bad with words,” you teased. “I want to do all those things and more with you, Theodore Nott. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Good, cause you’re mine.” Theo said matter-of-factly, those adorable dimples making an appearance on each cheek. “You were mine even before you knew it.” 

He kissed you again, but this time it was soft and sweet and it filled your stomach with butterflies. Theo no longer felt the need to hoard as much of your affection as he could because you had just given him the ultimate reassurance that he would have plenty of you in the future. 

You sighed contently against him, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. He shifted, pressing kisses against your neck. Your fingers froze when you felt him stir underneath you. 

“Theo,” you said slowly, biting back a smirk. “Is that what I think it is pressing against my leg?” 

He groaned. “We’re half naked, in the shower, heavily making out, and you just agreed to be my girlfriend. Of course I’m hard.” 

You stifled a laugh. “Theodore Nott, is emotional intimacy turning you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on.” 

“That’s helpful to know,” you said with a little smirk. “Especially when we're dueling and I’m losing.” 

“Merlin’s beard. My girlfriend’s downright evil.” 

You grinned so hard that your cheeks ached. Theo peppered kisses all over your face before setting you down. 

“I suppose we should head to dinner soon. My teammates watched you march in here in a fit of rage. They might think you’ve murdered me.” 

“There’s only one problem,” you said as you finally turned off the shower. “I’m soaking wet.” 

“I bet you are, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes. “From the shower, you wanker.” 

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’ve got some extra clothes in my locker.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you walked out in the quidditch pitch hand in hand. Theo’s sweater completely enveloped you and he smiled a little at the sight. You received a few interesting stares as you made your way through the castle halls, but one look from Theo and they all quickly found something else to gawk at. Having a scary boyfriend was already paying off. 

On the way to dinner, you ran into Enzo. The git had the biggest smile on his face when he saw that you and Theo were holding hands. “So you heard him out after all, huh?” 

“Yeah, we sorted out our differences,” you said with a smile. “Coincidentally, I gained a boyfriend out of the whole ordeal. Happy now, Berkshire?” 

“Absolutely chuffed,” Enzo said with a grin. “See you lovebirds at dinner.” 

Theo rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared into the Great Hall. He turned, squeezing your fingers. “I should warn you. My friends can be a bit…much.” 

“Don’t worry, I think we all got fairly acquainted in the locker rooms. If they tease us, well I’ve got a perfectly scary boyfriend to fend them off.” 

He chuckled. “A scary boyfriend with an even more terrifying girlfriend.” 

You winked, kissing his bruised knuckles. “This school won’t know what hit them.” 

“Neither did Alec,” he said with a satisfied smirk. You gave him a reprimanding glare, but it was half-hearted. You didn’t actually feel sorry for the prick. “Sorry. Too soon?” 

“You know you can’t punch everyone that says anything bad about me, right?”

“Of course not. I’m perfectly capable of kicking them too.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Shut up and kiss me, Theo.” 

“Yes ma'am.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”