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stardancerluv · 3 months ago

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A Space Journey

Part One of ???

Summary: Introduction to Tyler and his girl.

Notes/Warnings: I saw Alien Romulus and fell very hard for Tyler. 😍 Wanted to give him a story. Might be a bit of an AU in bits giving him a backstory and fuller future..probably write leading up to the movie & such. 😬Hope I do him justice. 😬Also first time writing scifi..and writing in a future of any kind…so 😬 hope I did good.

18 & over. Consensual sex between and man and woman. Angst. (It wrote itself..a bit long!

❤️s, reblogs, comments, & feedback always welcome! Enjoy

The elevator whispered its way up from the depths of the mine to the top level. Some stared blindly ahead or in front of them, you chose some indiscernible place, not really seeing it. Your imagination conjured up happier moments from the past.

Behind you in one of the shadowy corners, the yellow bird in the cage chirped and fluttered its wings. Happy to be out of those large caverns. It was a good day. No leaving work prematurely. You would get your full credits for the day.

Stepping, out of the elevator you saw your boots were caked with the usual soot and mud. A cold, heavy rain dropped from the heavy clouds. It was not long before the rain seeped under the many layers of your clothes.

Tiredness, wore you down as you walked. Your body ached. You knew there were liberal smudges on your face, your hair was matted and oily under the hood you pulled more around your face.

You had not taken a decent shower in a few days since you knew you’d be pulling extra shifts back to back and since your boyfriend was off world till the end of the week. You just rolled in and out of bed and went and returned from work.

With all the soot flying around you squinted and paused when you saw the red neon sign, Bar. You pressed your lips together. You could go for a cold one, but you knew how rough the crowd could be at times. Without Tyler by your side you really didn’t want to venture in.

You decided to keep on going, pulling your hood tighter around you, wishing you could hide completely. A grumble gurgled from your stomach as it twisted in hunger. You would stop at the mess hall and grab some food before turning in at your sleep bunk.

Before, you realized what was happening you were tugged harshly into one of the nearby alleyways. Fear shot through you. You immediately started fighting. It was a regular occurrence people would get beat up, mugged or worse. People lost it out here on the mining planets, at least that was what your parents had always said.

“Shh, shhh. It’s easier when you don’t fight.” The voice whispered, as one hand had already slipped under the top layers of your clothes and now crept across your torso.

Only a thin, very worn scrap of fabric laid between you and the hand. Your hunger turned to nausea as you could feel the warmth from it. It was all you needed to fight even harder. You finally managed to stomp down on one of their feet.

“Oooooouch!” The voice called out and instantly let you go.

You turned around, your heart beating harder since you knew the voice.

“Tyler!” You scream and slapped his arm.

A large smile spread across his handsome face before he howled with laughter. Easily, he pulled you close and this time you wrapped your arms around him. Happily, you pressed yourself even closer against him.

“My strong, feisty girl.” He said breathless against the top of your head.

Easily, you forgot the wind or the rain pelting the two of you.

“You weren’t supposed be back for three days.” You managed to mumble out against his heavy clothes. Your body beginning to relax knowing you were now safe.

“We did good. Found more then expected and came back.”

You blinked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he was so soft and warm. “Let me take you home.”

*******

He took your hand as you walked up the steep steps into the hauler he shared with the others. You couldn’t help but notice no one was there.

“Bjorn and Navarro, left in a blink to get their drink and dance on. And Kay barely told me she was going out, when I heard the door shut.”

Leaning against the wall, you were relieved to be out of the soot cloaked air. You pulled and tugged, till you were free of your heavy boots. Once in your heavy socks, you were relieved the boots had kept your socks dry.

“Can’t blame them these last three weeks had felt long despite coming home a week early. I’m sure.”

You said with a fleeting smile. After you pulled off your gloves, you began working on the buttons of your heavy coat. Seeing, two of the buttons had been undone by him you glanced at him.

He winked. “What? I missed the feel of my girl.” You didn’t know how he could look cocky and sheepish at once but he did.

His cheekiness always made your heart flutter. In the few books, you managed to get your hands you figured you shared that with the girls of the past long gone.

“To be fair, I scrubbed up as fast as I could and headed out to find you.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Was going to check at the mine and the sleeping bunks.”

His mouth twisted at the last bit. You went over and gently tugged on his shirt. “I only do it when you’re not around, I’m cautious.”

“That’s what worries me.” He looked down at you and smiled, softly.

You could swim and lose yourself in his dark eyes, as the two of you looked unwavering at each other. No words were needed as the emotions welled up at his return. You swallowed. There was always chance he’d crash during reentry. Heck could during take off too, but Navarro was a pretty good pilot so you didn’t worry too much about take off.

He rubbed your arms. “Why don’t you go and wash up and I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Alright. Just don’t burn it this time.”

“Don’t invite me into the shower cubicle and I won’t.”

“I did that didn’t I?”

He smirked. “You certainly did.”

“Alright. Maybe this time I will behave myself.” You giggled.

******

The water from the shower head fell on you with a good pressure. Since Tyler and the others were known as pretty scavengers the company allowed them some nicer things. Water pressure and rations were among them.

You stood there not worried that the warm water would run out too fast. You just let it melt the cold from the mine and outside that remained in you. The water around your feet obscured with the soot that had clung to you, your hair.

Stretching, you sighed as the crisp scent of his soap comforted you. Turning the knobs, you finally stepped from the shower onto the rough mat which had become a welcome feel under foot as opposed to the cold tile in mass shower rooms.

You smiled, seeing that Tyler had hung up a fresh shirt and the pair of cotton pants, you usually stole when you stayed there. They had shrank in one of the laundry services so they fit you better. Seeing the bundle of yours gone, you knew he must have taken them to put into cleaning cycle.

After slipping on the fresh clothes you reached up and grabbed his towel, it was still faintly wet from his using it earlier. The thought made you smile as you rubbed your hair with it.

*******

You gently slumped against Tyler’s side. Reaching, you placed your fork with a clank on the plate in front of you, only some cornbread crumbs remained.

“You did it. You made a half way decent meal which you didn’t burn.” You said with a half smile on your face.

“Well, I got to do good by my girl.”

******

His sheets were softer, his pillows fuller and they smelled liked him. His bed, softer then the bunks easily gave under the weight of the two of you.

He was partially on you, your arms around him. His hair soft, as your fingers entwined in the inky strands. Your lips had met and not wanted to part. They were much softer now, then a few month intervals after discovering that softening ointment. It beat away the chapping the wind whipping at your faces did and made the kisses all the more enjoyable. They were far sweeter then any candy you could save up for with your credits.

Pausing, as you felt his hand slipping under the hem shirt you wore; you excitedly letting your fingers leave the softness of his hair pulled up on the shirt and more of yourself was revealed to him. You happily tossed it without worry. His room was always clean and fresh, once he had peaked into his cousin’s room and they couldn’t be anymore opposite.

It puzzled you that Navarro could even tolerate it. But then again the two of you were also very different.

You were soft compared to his toned torso. It excited you and made you feel safe. You had seen him handle himself more then one time at the Bar. Whether defending your honor, his sisters or some stupid fight by the tempers flairing.

Opening, yourself you did so with a warmth and love that you would never allow the company steal away from you.

His lips, grazed your cheeks as he drew close to ear to whisper soft words only spoke between the two of you. Never to be shared.

“Are you well, is now a good time?” You could practically feel his heart thudding in his chest.

You nodded.

The first time or at least the aftermath of it had been right on the cusp of your cycle. Your excitement of him reciprocating your feelings and sharing first touches, kisses had stolen your body’s cues to its soon arrival. When the two of you had awoken the next day, worry had clouded your mind, believing it had ruined any chance of continuing things. But he had been kind, warm not just the cheeky guy who had made your heart squeeze with a wink or a smirk.

“I could barely focus these last three weeks, all I could think about was this. I needed to fuck, my sweet girl, remind her who I am after being off world for so long.”

The contrast to his sweet nature and razor sharp lust, made you moan and make your desire sharpen for him.

“I’m all yours.”

A soft moan broke from your lips and his, as he entered you. You arched against him, you had craved him as well. It had been hard to not answer any of the wanton calls from your body in his absence. Together you found your rhythms and moved. Your breathless moans became louder, sharper the closer you drew to cumming hard under him. You always felt so wonderfully wilted liked the dried flowers people once would keep in those books you had read from that had spoken of love and dreams.

Clutching him hard, your fingers gently pulling on his soft strands you arched against him once again. Your body tightening with pleasure he was giving you. Before you could hold it; it all shattered into moon dust. You softened and wilted under him. He was and would only be the only one to ever make you feel like this.

You met his hungry kisses, whimpering at the well placed love bites, he loved leaving. You felt how his body tightened above you. His deep, pleasure filled moan that filled the small room, you knew he had felt what you had. You relished making him feel just as good. His breath hot as he panted, a soft peppering of kisses as he rested his forehead against yours.

*******

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You had thought you could safely grab your discarded shirt from earlier and curl back up to his side before he even noticed. But that wasn’t the case.

One of his strong arms wrapped around you and held you tightly against him. You turned easily in it to face him. “Was just grabbing my shirt. I had taken a small chill.”

“You’ve got me.” And soon he pulled the blanket and himself closer around you. You were enveloped by him, almost completely.

You pretended to think about it. “This is so much better.”

“It had better be.” And he gave you a quick kiss.

The rain streaked down his window. The brightness of the fluorescent lights that lined the roads of the colony were muted from where he was.

“How long do I have you this time?” You whispered after a few beats of your heart.

“Long enough.”

You wanted to reply with the snappy answer that it never was but you learned this, right now was long enough. Every moment the two of you were together was.

A commotion, peels of laughter and a door slamming shut; drifted through his closed door.

“They’re home.”

You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Hey, hey you’re here lady. Missed you! We need to catch up and have some girl talk in the morning!”

“If she’s awake.” Tyler called back.

“Hey! I wasn’t talking to you.”

You giggled against his chest. “Sure! Sounds like a plan.” You finally called back.

“Great.” She called, her voice further away and then you could hear the one creak in the floor that you knew meant she was now by her own room.

“Here we go.” Tyler whispered.

As the exaggerated laughter came closer flowed by a thud as either Bjorn or Navarro bumped his door, by tipsy accident or deliberate. When they had a few drinks one could never be sure.

“Tyler, now you better be treating that girl of yours in there right. No funny business.”

“Hey, hey now.”

There was a smack and a similar oww, must run in the family you mused.

“He used to be a brute my cousin. He had to learn to be nice and charming.”

“He was always charming and nice to me.” You spoke up.

“Good.” His cousin replied.

“See she confirms. He’s been good to her.”

“Do I give him a gold star then?”

“Come on, let them have some peace. I want to get out of these high boots.”

“Now, I like hearing that.”

And there was only muted muffled sounds, if at all.

“Now that the circus passed.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You love them.”

“I do. I do.” He stretched, but still kept an arm around you. He gave your hip a squeeze.

“So you used to be a brut huh?”

“Yes, but you changed things.” He winked.

#archie renaux #archie renaux imagine #archie renaux fanfiction #tyler harrison #tyler harrison x reader #tyler alien romulus #tyler harrison x you #tyler harrison x y/n #tyler harrison imagine #tyler harrison fluff #tyler harrison angst #a space journey #part one

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drtyfiction · 10 months ago

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IMAGINE [2/2]

Oliver Quick x Y/N (she/her) Saltburn spoiler alert!!

[Part 01]

- You know, Oliver, I thought you were cleverer than that. Y/N invited me because she wanted to. They want me back, after all. She wants me back in Saltburn.

- And why would she want that?

Oliver's gaze shifts from frustration to a hint of anger. Restrained, inexpressive, repressed, but still anger. His rage can't really be perceived by his facial expressions, but it subtly leaks from deep within his eyes all the way to where Farleigh's sight can reach. Oliver stares at him with a slightly frightening fervor.

Despite still not knowing it, Farleigh should, indeed, be afraid.

- I don't know, I think she misses me. No, actually, I'm sure she misses me terribly. I will eventually call her mine, you see, Oliver. She puts on a certain act and tells me she's not really interested, but later, when I leave, she calls me back, as if nothing had ever happened. I'm sure she desires me as much as I've been craving her. They want me. Oh no, even better. They need me, Oliver. She has always needed me. - Farleigh gradually approached Oliver, facing him closely, until each could smell the alcohol coming off the other's breath. Farleigh also sensed that Oliver was wearing an expensive brand of perfume, probably one that belonged to Felix. - I'm part of this house, I always have been, just like her. You're here on vacation, just for a short visit. I'm permanent in Y/N's life and I'm a resident of Saltburn. This is just a short fling you're enjoying, but it will soon end. You'll dwell on it for the rest of your life, and you'll hold on to this moment for years to come. You'll tell your children about what you lived here. But you'll never, ever have any of it back, including her. I am the one who will always go back into her arms.

On that very moment, Oliver feels a bitter taste settle on his lips, surging like an exhilarating reflux from his stomach. He wishes he could have a drink to mask the stinging taste that instantly assaults his senses. However, he can't, as his cup remains empty. He looks again at the plastic bottom, then at Farleigh, and he can no longer hide the disgust that emerges on his face. He is no longer feeling anger towards him and all his self-centeredness, but rather disgust. A disgust that crawls up his gut and which he can no longer suppress. His face twitches and his upper lip rises, and Farleigh appears surprised to see, albeit briefly, a trace of real feeling spilling out of Oliver.

How dare Farleigh assume that you want him? Or even worse, how dare he think that you need him? Oliver knows that nothing Farleigh has just said is true, but he can't stop himself from being disgusted by all that he's heard. You've always been, in every way, above all the drama. Oliver is absolutely convinced that you wouldn't have invited Farleigh to the party and he was even more certain that you had never slept with him. He has spent so much time studying your personality and behavior that he knows with great confidence that you are an emotionally independent and collected person who would not submit to Farleigh's whims, no matter how persuasive he tries to be.

Now they're so close to each other that their faces are nearly touching. Oliver tries to turn around to peer at the house, but Farleigh grabs his face with both hands, forcing him to look deep into his brown eyes.

- Catch a train to someplace far away from here. This is not my dream, Oliver. It's my home. So no matter what happens, I always come back.

Farleigh releases him, and Oliver realizes that this was the last straw. He needs to take definitive action. As Farleigh walks away, Oliver mutters between his teeth:

- We’ll see.

There is nothing, or no one, that stands in the way between Oliver and his subject of desire. Everybody should know that. What he hid from everyone is that Oliver's greatest desire is you. He was advancing gradually, building up space and gaining on the territory so that, in the end, he would have you. However, because of what Farleigh has just said, Oliver realizes that he will need to revise his entire plan and take more intense, aggressive action. If he doesn't intervene, things will soon get out of hand, and he cannot possibly imagine losing you to anyone, especially when that someone is Farleigh.

#fanfic #scenarios #imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick #saltburn spoilers #saltburn #saltburn movie #farleigh saltburn #saltburn 2023 #archie madekwe #barry keoghan fanart #barry keoghan #barry keoghan x reader #barry keoghan imagine

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burntsaltsblog · 7 months ago

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shiny new toy

(felix catton\reader)

chapter five

details: a saltburn inspired short story.

content warning: profanity, explicit sexual content, and mentions of abuse (physical and mental)

warning for this chapter: this chapter depicts explicit sexual content. if you are not an adult, DO NOT READ!!!

MNI 18+

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"I heard he fucked his cousin."

Everyone collectively groaned as Felix reached up to cover my ears with his hands. I playfully batted them away as I giggled at his protectiveness.

"Farleigh, I will pay you to stop talking," Felix said as he gave up on prohibiting my hearing. He wrapped a possessive arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and tucking me into his side like I was before Farleigh spewed such ridiculous information.

"That can be arranged," Farleigh replied. "Though, you should know I will only accept payment in diamonds and gold bars. But that shouldn't be too difficult for you." An impish smile was painted on his face, which glowed under the sun that graciously shone down on us. We had gathered at a table on the quad during a brief break between classes.

Felix rolled his eyes as his fingers lightly traced my arm, raising goosebumps under my shirt. I snuggled closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder, feeling content.

Life had been good. I hadn't seen Eric since he attacked me a month ago, and a couple of days after the gruesome event, he was kicked out of school for possessing multiple "illegal substances." I had a feeling Felix had something to do with that. Usually, my moral compass would cause me to feel poorly about someone being falsely accused of something. But I didn't care how Felix got rid of Eric in this case. I was just glad he was gone.

"Mum has a fat ruby that she keeps locked up at home that I think you'd quite like, but knowing you, you'll shove it up your arse at one of your orgies," Venetia snickered.

"Wait, you have orgies?" I asked, joining the conversation. "That oddly makes sense."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Farleigh shot back, turning his attention on me with a sharp raise of his sculpted brow.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory."

Venetia and I exchanged glances before we burst out laughing. Farleigh tried to retain a sour expression, but I didn't miss how his mouth curled up on one side, showing his true feelings. I stole a quick look at Felix and saw him chuckling. He was relieved to see me getting along with his sister and cousin. It had taken some time, but I was finally accepted into the group, and I could hardly contain my joy. For the first time, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

"Shit," Venetia cursed harshly, wiping away the happy haze that had surrounded our small group. "I'm late for my next tutorial. I don't know why I signed up for History of the Theatre. I don't give a fuck about the theatre."

"Is it on Madison Road?" Farleigh asked.

"Yup. I'm going to ruin my new Dior shoes walking over there," she whined.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Daddy will buy you a new pair," Farleigh muttered. "Anyways, I have a class over there later this afternoon, so I'll walk with you. That way, you won't have to face the death of your shoes alone."

"You're too kind, cousin."

After gathering their belongings, they stood in unison and bid us farewell, immediately falling in step together as they departed. Like always, their heads gravitated towards each other, almost touching as they prattled back and forth about various topics, such as a classmate caught wearing a dreadful array of clothing or the latest scandal involving two teachers hooking up in an empty lecture hall. Felix and I watched them cross the grassy quad before they took a sharp turn behind a building, rendering them impossible to see.

"I'm glad you all are getting along. I was worried for a bit that they wouldn't come around. Especially Farleigh," Felix said quietly.

I peered at the crease between his brows and placed a finger there, attempting to smooth the lines and ease the tension on his ethereal face.

"I know me too. But it seems my irresistible charm finally won them over."

Felix smiled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He then grasped my chin in his hand, bringing my mouth to meet his in a tender kiss. I sighed happily against his lips before I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening our embrace. Using my teeth, I dragged his bottom lip out, and a deep moan spilled from Felix's throat.

"Fuck," he whimpered. The sound shot straight to my core, and I gazed around quickly before I stood, pulling my boyfriend with me.

"Come with me," I said, lacing our fingers together.

"Where are we going?" he questioned skeptically, sensing I had something mischievous up my sleeve.

"You'll see," I grinned as I quickly walked to a clump of trees in the far corner of the quad with Felix in tow. It was void of any classmates, and my blood surged with anticipation. The trees were arranged in a particular fashion that would prohibit anyone from breaching our privacy if we huddled behind them.

I had been eyeing this spot for weeks and was waiting for the opportunity to bring Felix here. He had let it slip a while back that he occasionally liked to mess around in semi-public spots. But he had made it clear that he wanted to respect my limits and not force me into anything I was uncomfortable with. Since then, I have been searching for the ideal place that was considered public but not so out in the open that we still had an essence of seclusion.

Felix and I reached the group of trees, and I immediately pushed him up against the bark of one and rose onto my tiptoes, brandishing his lips with a searing kiss. He reacted just as I had hoped and wrapped his arms around my waist before greedily palming my ass. I could already feel him hardening against my stomach, and I pulled away, licking my lips. I gazed up at him wide-eyed as I sank to my knees.

I watched his pupils dilate before he glanced around to ensure we were hidden from any passerby's view. "Are you sure, pretty girl? I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

I kept my eyes locked with Felix's as I slowly pulled down the zipper of his jeans and ran my fingers along the waistband of his boxers. "I'm sure. I want to make you feel good. Can I do that, Daddy? Please?"

Felix swallowed as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Ok, darling. Show me those pretty lips wrapped around my cock."

I didn't bother to conceal my smirk as I slipped my hand into his boxers and wrapped my hand around his hard length. I never doubted my ability to convince him of this escapade.

As I eased Felix's shaft from the confinement of his boxers, his head fell back against the tree, and I watched in wonder at the sharp line of his jaw and the smooth skin that encompassed his throat. He breathed deeply as I slowly licked from the base of his length to his swollen, red tip that was already leaking pre-cum. My mouth watered at the sight, and I eagerly swirled it around with my tongue before swallowing.

"Jesus Christ. You're going to be the death of me," Felix gasped as he ran his fingers through my hair, creating a makeshift ponytail, urging me to take him in my mouth.

"I can't think of worse ways to die."

My smile was wicked before I closed my lips around his tip and sucked, earning a moan from the man above me. One of his hands came to rest on the side of my jaw, and I took that as my cue to ease more of his length into my mouth.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take my cock like the little whore you are."

I groaned around him, which caused my throat to vibrate in the most glorious way for Felix. With both hands back in my hair, he tugged me forward so his length began descending down my throat. As a natural reaction, I started choking, and my eyes watered, making my vision of Felix blur, and I whined softly.

"I know, darling. Your throat is so full of me, but you'll be a good girl and take it because you want to please me."

Tears ran down my face, and I knew my mascara was surely smudged around my eyes, which Felix loved. He said I never looked prettier than when my makeup was ruined, and my mouth was stuffed with his cock.

Felix pulled himself out of my mouth, much to my dismay, and said, "I'm going to fuck your throat, sweetheart, and then I'm going to cum, and you'll swallow every drop like a good girl. Do you understand?"

I nodded, but Felix pulled my hair, eliciting a whimper from me as my scalp burned. "Use your words, pretty girl-"

"Yes, please, Felix. Use my mouth and throat however you want. I don't care; I just want to make you feel good."

Felix smiled smugly, pleased with my needy behavior. He lined himself up at my lips, and I promptly parted them. His length filled my mouth once again before he pulled out and hastily thrust back in. He soon found a pace that was both punishing and pleasurable, and each time he entered my mouth, his cock eased farther down my throat until I couldn't take any more of him. I drew my hands behind my back as Felix had taught me to do whenever he was using my mouth. I loved showing him how I could remember to be obedient.

His fingers dug into the base of my skull, and drool began dripping down my chin and covering my neck. I hollowed out my cheeks as Felix increased his pace.

"That's it. Just like that," Felix praised. His voice was tight, and I knew it was mere seconds before he would climax. I pulled my hands from where they rested behind my back and cupped his balls, gently squeezing them to send him over the edge.

A low, guttural cry left his mouth as hot ropes of cum shot down my throat, and I eagerly swallowed, not wanting to waste a single drop. Above me, Felix panted heavily as he leaned against the tree behind him and gently messaged my scalp to soothe the lingering ache of his rough actions.

"You did so good for me, darling. I'm so proud of you," he whispered as he gently pulled out of my mouth and quickly tucked himself back into his pants. He guided me to my feet and directly into his warm embrace, and I nuzzled my face in his neck and inhaled, breathing in his familiar scent—a combination of his usual cologne and pure Felix.

He drew random shapes on my back as he held me in his arms and continued to mutter soft words of praise. I would've gladly stayed here forever, but the annoying reminder that I had class popped into my head, and I groaned into the confines of Felix's chest.

"What is it, lovely?" he murmured.

"I have class."

I glanced at the small, gold watch wrapped around my wrist, a recent present from Felix, and saw I only had three minutes to get to a lecture all the way across campus. But I only had myself to blame, considering it was my idea to bring him here and fool around.

"I have a better idea."

I peered up at Felix with curious eyes. He gave me a chaste kiss before wrapping my hand in his calloused one and leading me away from the cover of the trees.

"Where are we going?" I giggled, trying to keep up with his long strides. I had an intense feeling of deja vu.

Felix turned back to look at me playfully. "Back to my room."

"But what about class?"

"What about class? I say, we skip it."

We stopped walking and stood face to face. I tried fixing Felix with my most displeasing stare but failed terribly and gave into the smile that was fighting its way onto my face.

"You're a terrible influence, you know that?"

"You love it."

I love you.

I closed my mouth before the words could fall out and gazed at the ground before looking back into his amber eyes and nodding as soft laughter shook my shoulders. "You're right. I do." I cupped his cheek and pulled his mouth down to mine. The kiss was short, yet it held many emotions and feelings I couldn't share.

When we parted, Felix wore a sly expression. "I take that as a yes, then?"

I shook my head in defeat. "Yes, it is."

"Then right this way, m'lady," Felix announced with a teasing voice as he wrapped an arm around my waist, guiding me toward his dormitory quarters.

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"What are you doing for the summer?"

Felix had an arm flung across my back, holding me against him, and my head rested comfortably on his chest while he asked me about my summer plans. Our clothes had been shed when we entered Felix's room, and the only material covering our bodies now was a thin cotton sheet on his narrow dorm bed.

I snuggled closer to him as I answered, "Home, I suppose. Though I can't say, I'm looking forward to it."

My mother died when I was nine, and since then, my father has run through a long list of wives. I felt like London Tipton with a new stepmother every other month. He recently divorced Synthia, my tenth stepmother, and was already courting number eleven. I would miss number ten, though. Oxford had hosted a family day a few months ago, and of course, my father failed to make an appearance, but Synthia happily showed up in his place. She was the first stepmother to make an effort in a long time, so I was bitter that my father had dumped her, and I was already planning on hating number eleven no matter how "great" she was.

"Hmm," Felix hummed as he traced the outline of my shoulder blade. He seemed deep in thought when I tilted my head up to see his face. His brow furrowed, and he bit his lip before swiping his tongue across it. I would've used that small action as a reason to pounce on him for the third time that day, but I was too curious about the thoughts I could see circulating his mind.

Felix met my eyes, and for the first time, I saw shyness inhibit his features. Bashfulness was not a typical trait for Felix, so I was immediately concerned. "What's on your mind, baby?" I asked as I brushed my hand across his cheek comfortingly.

"I..." He smiled sheepishly as his gaze shot downward. "I was wondering if you'd like to spend the summer with me. At Saltburn."

"Saltburn?"

"Yeah, that's the name of my family's estate. It's where Venetia, Farleigh, and I always spend the summer, and I'd like it if you joined us this year."

I could feel the surprise cross my face, which quickly turned to excitement as I stared at Felix, trying to find words to formulate a response. I knew we hadn't been together long, but what I felt for him was so intense and passionate that spending an entire summer without his warm, consuming presence would drive me mad. I would gladly spend the summer with him anywhere, whether it was a deserted island or his family's estate.

Felix looked at me with a hopeful expression; his eyes searched my face anxiously, and I saw his relief when I finally replied. "I would love to, Felix."

"Really?" He became giddy as he sat up. I joined him in a seated position and grasped his hands.

"Yes. I couldn't bear being without you for the whole summer. It would be pure torture. Plus, I love our little group and can hardly imagine spending the break without Farleigh or Venetia-"

Felix kissed me unexpectedly, swallowing the rest of my sentence. His hands cradled the back of my head before he drew back and sprang up from his bed. He began haphazardly searching for his clothes as he rambled his plans. "I must phone Mum and Dad right away. They knew I was going to ask you, and I've got to tell them you're coming so Duncan has plenty of time to prepare the room next to mine. Of course, you can stay in my room, but Mum prefers everyone to have a certain level of propriety and decorum at Saltburn. I mean, I'm not even allowed to wear my fucking stud there. But it's ok because a bathroom will connect our rooms, so you can sneak over without ever being caught."

Felix was panting by the time he finished his speech. Fully dressed, he rushed back to his bed, falling beside me and covering my face with kisses. I giggled before he captured my lips in a deep, slow kiss. Gone was his high level of energy as he claimed my mouth most sensually. Reluctantly, we parted, and a smile, so happy, so joyful, stretched across his beautiful face. He radiated pure bliss.

"I'll be right back." He pecked me lightly on my nose before grabbing his cell phone and departing from the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

I fell back into his bed and stretched my arms above my head. Elation soared through my body, and I turned my head, spotting the pack of cigarettes and lighter on my boyfriend's bedside table. I had never smoked before meeting Felix, and when I tried it for the first time, I was quickly scolded by him as he said, "You're lungs are too pretty to be damaged by smoke. Give it to me, darling." I had made a show of pouting as I claimed that he had made it look so sexy, and I had just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I had tried to convince Felix that I was not interested in anyone telling me what not to do, but I secretly adored how much he cared for me and how my well-being was at the top of his priority list. I had only attempted smoking twice since then, and both times, Felix had promptly hauled me back to his room to "teach me a lesson" for not listening to him. I thoroughly enjoyed both "lessons."

The cigarette was balanced between my lips as I expertly picked up the lighter, flicked the flame to life, and held it to the end of the small, white stick. I breathed in deeply, relishing the way the nicotine reminded me of Felix. Memories traveled to the forefront of my mind of him wrapping his mouth around his own cig and effortlessly inhaling. The images caused my pussy to clench painfully, and I squeezed my legs together tightly. I had spent most of the day in bed with Felix, but I still craved him. I was insatiable when it came to Felix Catton.

Well, speak of the Devil. I saw the doorknob turn before Felix's tall form appeared in the doorway. His eyes immediately honed in on the small object between my lips, and they darkened. "I thought you had finally learned your lesson last time. At least, that's what you promised me when you were on the brink of cumming with a red ass and tears falling from those pretty eyes."

I audibly swallowed as I pulled the cigarette from my mouth and exhaled, letting a puff of smoke spill from my lips. "I don't know what you're talking about," I innocently said before taking another drag.

It took Felix three strides to reach my side and pull the cigarette from my mouth. He harshly ground it in his ashtray before flipping me over onto my stomach. "I guess I won't be as nice this time since you're so intent on being disobedient."

I gazed at him over my shoulder as I felt my pussy flood with wetness. There was no way I was making it to any of my classes today.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　

chapter index

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

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chloe-skywalker · 2 years ago

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Showing Off - Riverdale

Archie pinning x Fem!reader

Serpents x reader

Northside x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 706

Summary: Archie always showing off for you his neighbor. Not knowing you're a Serpent, dating one, and basically like Fp’s little girl.

Authors Note: I put it as Riverdale because I didn’t feel it played with any character enough to put at the top.

Masterlist

Riverdale Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Does he always do that?” Betty asked as her and Veronica watched out y/n’s bedroom window. They were currently having a sleepover but Archie and some of the Bulldogs were playing football out in the street.

“Yup.” Y/n let out a frustrated sigh as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

“Wow, Archie Andrews being a show off.” Veronica said amused as she to watched the redheaded boy.

“He never stops.” Y/n stated shaking her head as she glanced out the window for a second.

“Do you know why?” Betty questioned moving to sit across from y/n on the bed.

“I think he likes me, but if he knew anything about me. He wouldn’t.” She told them shaking her head. It had been going on for months at this point.

“Why do you say that?” Veronica tilted her head at Y/n’s statement. Confused about what she meant by it.

“I’m a Serpent Veronica. Archie hates the Serpents. And besides, I’m dating Sweet Pea.” Y/n shrugged and gave them a tight lipped smile, but it became real at the mention of Sweet Pea.

“I will say I love Archie and he’s a good guy but, Sweet Pea treats you like a princess.” Betty smiled at Y/n. Betty had known Archie forever but she had firsthand witnessed how Sweet Pea treats her friend in their relationship. And even Betty didn’t think Archie could treat her that good.

“Correction. He treats you like a Queen.” Veronica smiled coming around to sit on the bed with the both of them.

Y/n smiled widely at their comments. “Plus with all the beef going on between the bulldogs and the Serpents. It’d be worse once he knew FP treats me like a daughter.”

“FP treats you better than my father treats me.” Veronica admitted letting out a sigh that had frustration and sadness in it.

“Sorry V.” Betty rubbed her friend's upper arm.

“No worries. Hey, do you think FP could honorarly adopt me too?” Veronica asked y/n jokingly.

“I mean if you ask.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders but they all started laughing, not being able to hold it anymore.

It was only a week later at a game for the school that the girls along with y/n and Toni noticed Archie doing it again. Watching.

“He’s doing it again.” Veronica noted nudging the y/h/c-ed girl scooted next to her on the bleachers.

“This is just sad to watch.” Betty said watching the boy she grew up with, with squinted eyes.

“Sweet Pea’s going to be here soon. And for the record this is fun to watch.” Toni interjected as she sat down next to them. She found Archies actions to be quite entertaining much like Veronica but for different reasons.

“Once he sees the back of my jacket he’ll stop.” Y/n nodded, taking a hand full of popcorn from Toni. Y/n made sure to wear her Serpents jacket tonight. This needed to stop.

“Hey, babe.” Sweet Pea greeted kissing her on the cheek. Toni scooted over fromY/n so Sweet Pea could sit down next to her.

“Hey.” Y/n greeted Sweet Pea before he could sit down she stood to hug him, making sure her jacket faced the field as she did so.

“And he noticed.” Betty pointed out as the couple sat down.

“Wow.” Veronica shook her head with wide eyes. “Men.” she scoffed, as they all watched the attraction Archie had to Y/n leave him as he saw her jacket.

“What are they talking about?” Sweet Pea asked leaning in to whisper in Y/n’s ear.

“Nothing.” Y/n answered but she could tell he didn’t believe it. So Y/n turned a tiny bit to face him with her body, grabbing his hand bringing it to her lips. “Trust me Pea. If it was something worth telling, I’d tell you.”

“She would.” Betty stated in agreement.

Toni knew problems would only get worse if Sweet Pea knew exactly what they were talking about. “You or FP would be the first to know.”

And it was true but let's just hope Archie had the sense to not ever bring it up.

Tag List:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97

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supercap2319 · 1 year ago

Text

Archie smiles as he walks into his roommate's room. He saw him reading a comic book and had earbuds in as he walked towards him and tapped him on the shoulder. Y/N jumped slightly and when he saw it was Archie, he frowned. "You could knock Andrews."

"And miss the chance to scare the hell out of you? Not a chance." Archie grinned.

"Asshole."

Archie grinned as he gestures towards a young man behind him. "Y/N? This is my old New Yorker pal, Peter Parker. Peter? This is my cock slut of a roommate, Y/N L/N."

Y/N ignored that Archie called him a 'cock slut' for the moment as he stared at the young man. He was about three inches shorter than Archie. He had dark brown eyes and hair and a shy smile on his face. He wore a vitruvian pizza t-shirt and jeans. He was cute. Hi, there, my name is Peter. Wait, Archie already said that, damn it!"

Y/N chuckles. "Nice to meet you, Peter. And by the way Andrews. I am not a cock slut. Though, I might turn into one for your sexy friend over here." He winked at Peter as he blushed.

Archie grinned and crossed his arms. "Good to know."

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #riverdale #mcu spiderman #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man #tom holland x male reader #tom holland #kj apa x male reader #kj apa #archie andrews x male reader #archie andrews #Archie Andrews x Peter Parker x male reader #Peter Parker x Archie Andrews x male reader #tom Holland x kj apa x male reader #crossover fic

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wxckedwxrld · 1 year ago

Text

𝘙𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴

PSA: these writings ARE NOT MINE. This is a list of fanfiction I have read during october and November. All credit goes to the original and rightful writers.

𝙰𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚜

𝙹𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎

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yandereloveraw · 3 months ago

Text

Archie: Seriously, what do you see in that guy? [Jasper]

Y/N: He makes me laugh.

Source: Who Framed Roger Rabbit [1988]

#Archie failing to hide his jealousy lol #my ocs #yandere pyromaniac oc #my oc #my oc x y/n #oc x y/n #male vampire oc #incorrect oc quotes #incorrect quotes #minors please dni #ageless blogs pls dni

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themultifandomgal · 2 years ago

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Archie Andrews

Frozen Ice- After YN falls through ice trying to save Cheryl, Archie saves her.

I’m Sorry- YN gets the wrong idea when Archie starts to hang around Veronica.

#riverdale imagines #riverdale #riverdale imagine #archie andrews x reader #archie andrews #archie andrews x y/n

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heartthrobin · 4 months ago

Text

all's fair in love and war (2)

oliver wood x female!reader

wc: 7.87k

warnings: enemies to lovers, still so damn much pining, set in poa, timeline is a bit wonky, limited use of y/n, archie being my fav oc, cheese fest

an: literally fell asleep on my laptop last night editing this, i was so exhausted from school so i’m sorry it’s late !!! but i had the most fun in the world writing this and i hope everyone enjoys :)) don't forget to comment and repost your favourite writers

summary: Oliver is still impossibly miserable, maybe more uncooperative than before, except now when you look at him: you can't think of much else beyond how sweet his lips tasted.

part one

You can’t sleep.

You're not sure you'll find sleep ever again.

“I knew it, I knew it—“ Cherry had bounced the whole way to your dormitory, howling into your ear. “I knew it!”

The image of Oliver’s fluttering eyes swum around your brain as you blinked into the darkness of the poster bed. The taste of his tongue and his words still right against your lips.

It was a riddle of a calibre that you can’t seem to detangle. More than anything, you try to remember how strong has he tasted of Firewhisky - was he so drunk to really dismiss it to nothing at all?

You lingered on it all weekend.

Cherry didn’t help at all — he’s been in love with you forever, that’s literally so obvious — and Enzo even less so once he’d been filled in: Oliver doesn’t seem a bloke who let’s alcohol make his decisions for him, something about Scottish genetics I think.

The interaction plagued you: digging a wide hole in the base of your stomach. You mourned the thought that you may never have the opportunity to kiss those soft lips again, more than anything: preparing yourself for the feud between yourselves to worsen.

There’s barely enough time to make sense of your situation before you’re racing down over the grassy hills of the grounds, bag swinging violently over your shoulder and extraordinarily late for your Herbology lesson in the greenhouse.

Your morning alarm had rung right into one ear and out the other, a product of the tossing and turning you’d been doing for the last two nights.

When you swing the greenhouse door open, panting and face flush from the beating sun, the whole room turns to you. Sprout pauses where her hands are flailing in explanation.

“Sorry I’m late professor,” you wheeze, readjusting your strap over your shoulder.

Cherry is smirking at you from her bench, sidled up with Jane Emmet.

It hadn’t escaped you that you’d be sharing the lesson with the Gryffindors, but you’d precious little time to worry about it in the five minutes you had to pull a robe over your head and stick a toothbrush into your mouth.

Your eyes are purposeful in not looking over the room. Scared to catch the wrong eyes.

“Not a problem peach, we’re just repotting some Fire-Seed Bushes.” She brings a stubby hand to her chin, “uhm … well, Mr Kumar there in the corner doesn’t have a partner. Go join him by his pots.”

Archie has a lopsided smile on his face when you approach, a thick black curl drooping over his left eye.

“Hey.” He nudges gently.

You set your bag down and grab a pair of gloves, chuckling. “Hey Archie.”

The soil is warm when you stick your fingers into the dirt, shifting it gently enough not to mess over the edge of the bucket. There’s a Fire-Seed Bush sitting tentatively at the end of the bench, spitting sparks and emitting smoke.

“So …” Archie speaks first, the back of his hand bumping yours between the black soil. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a veiled question, a poorly veiled one at that. The question draws a laugh from the base of your stomach.

You shrug, adamant on missing the point. “It was alright, I guess. How about yours?”

He shrugs right back. “Wasn’t the greatest. Penelope Clearwater rejected me for Percy Weasley.”

You don't mean to, you really don't, but it draws another bout of laughter out of you - you clap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry—“

“No, I get it. Percy bloody Weasley?” His brow is creased, dirt-stained hands rising messily from the soil to swipe at a fallen piece of hair in his face. “Dead sure that bloke's own mother can't say he’s handsome. I’m better looking than him, surely?”

There’s the hanging insinuation that it was rhetorical, but you reply anyways: “you’re definitely more handsome than Percy Weasley, Archie.”

His head cocks down at you, stained paws finding his waist and pressing black fingerprints into the red jumper. “You really think so?”

“Without a doubt.”

Archie smiles, bumping your side against his. You think he might be blushing. “You’re very charming. I understand what Oliver sees in you.”

You jolt involuntarily, spilling some black soil over the edge of the pot.

Swiping at the mess lazily, you play the comment off with another crumbly chuckle: hoping it convinces him more than it does yourself. “Oliver sees in me what a bull sees in a red cape.”

Archie’s reaching timidly for the Fire-Seed Bush, lifting it off the counter and holding the dangerous botanical at arm’s length. “Not true. The boy’s half in love with you.”

This conversation is getting awfully uncomfortable awfully quickly. It picks at your curiosity nonetheless.

“He said that?”

He’s quick to shake off the question, eyes still trained on setting the roots of the bush into the gap in the soil. “Oliver doesn’t have to say anything. He spends practically every fucking mealtime mooning over at your table, and he talks about you way more than necessary—“

“That’s just because I work on his nerves. Oliver doesn’t love me, he barely tolerates me.”

The boy turns on you, confusion set in his brow. “Why is this news? Last I saw you, your tongue was halfway into his stomach.”

Zachariah Smith and his Gryffindor partner look up at that. Your face goes hot all over - Archie doesn’t seem to notice.

“We were drunk.” You say softly, eyes stuck on a loose leaf crackling against the wooden counter.

There’s a special kind of fear that's crawling into your heart where you stand. The fear of putting too much faith into the words of Archie Kumar.

That it’s an elaborate ruse. A set-up, canons of confetti and a banner screaming “you’ve been fooled!” if you were to indulge his words. The danger of allowing your mind to drift too far off into the possibilities of a world wherein Oliver Wood doesn’t hate you - at least not as much as he lets on.

Archie looks at you out the side of his eye, you can feel it, but says nothing. He hands you a miniature yellow-handled spade.

Instead you fill the space. "I heard Isla Flynn has a crush on you."

He perks: "really?"

Across the room, Oliver is bumping elbows with Poppy Davis.

"Ow!"

A loose spark has evidently landed on her exposed arm. The sparks that Oliver was supposed to be watching for, the ones that he is intent on ignoring with the constant glancing back over his shoulder to where you and his best mate are in the corner of the room fucking giggling at each other like toddlers with a box of matches.

“Oliver — can you just focus for five seconds!” Poppy isn’t impressed.

Oliver isn’t either, with the situation as a whole. The pads of his fingers are blistered from the repotting of the bush and Poppy’s careless bumps and his general indifference to the task at hand.

It eats at his brain. What are you guys talking about? Is it about him?

You laugh again and it’s loud enough that it draws his shoulders all the way taut. There’s another snap of a spark and Oliver feels where it lands at his wrist, but he doesn’t react.

“Just pass me the bloody spade.” He grumbles.

The lesson passes more slowly than Oliver could swim shoulder-deep through molasses.

It feels like years later when he tosses his gloves into the box with the rest, when the class shuffles to return tools and begin slinging half-open bags over their shoulders.

Oliver doesn’t think he’s ever packed up faster - Poppy is still scowling at him, he doesn’t care - before he’s knocking through yellow and red tied students to find Archie’s head of curly black hair.

“Hey!” He catches him by the wrist, tugging on it like a dog with a bone. Archie jumps, eyes winding down to find his friend. “What did she say?”

You’re far ahead, Oliver can make out the back of your head: hips bumping with Cherry’s up the hill towards the castle.

Archie grins. “She said Isla Flynn has a crush on me.”

Oliver groans, “Not about that, you prat. About— wait, really?”

"Yeah!" He hikes his bag higher on his shoulder. "Can you believe it? She's got that hot Irish accent and everything."

Oliver nods, "Yeah ... yeah. Good on you, mate."

He's trying desperately not to steal this moment from his best friend, but he's fucking itching to know what else you and Archie had been giggling about.

"Did she ... say anything else?" He presses, more gently than his character usually allows. "Like about me?"

Archie shrugs without looking down. "I asked her, but she seemed tense about the whole thing."

"Tense?"

"Yeah, she said something about a bull and a cape, and went like all quiet when I told her you like her--"

At that, Oliver's stomach leaps up into his throat. He grabs his best friend by the arm, jolting him to a short stop. Some Hufflepuff bumps into their halted figures, grumbling before shuffling around them.

"You told her what?" His eyes flare erratically.

Archie shrugs, an innocuously confused look painting his features. "Well I said Oliver's half in love with you, or something like that and she looked all confused about it--"

Oliver's grip on his friend's wrist tightened to a degree that a ring was sure to form on his dark skin. "You fucking pinhead! You told her I liked her?"

Pulling his arm violently from his grip, Archie has the nerve to look affronted. "You don't?"

The morning sun shining over Oliver's head feels like it's growing hotter by the second, there's a dribble of sweat running down his spine.

"That's -- that's not the point. Even if I do, which I'm not saying is the case, she doesn't need to know that."

"Were you two obliviated in your sleep last night?" Archie's eyebrows are pressed down against his eyes, slouching down to meet his friend's face. "I caught you two making out like the world was ending less than three days ago! Surely she has to figure that you feeling something for her, she's not stupid."

Oliver struggles between his thoughts, worse around his words. "That was ... we'd been drinking. For all I know, she only kissed me back cause she was trollied off Dragon-Barrell--"

"She said that, too."

Eyeing him, Oliver's hands find his hips. "Said what, exactly?"

"That you were drunk, I mentioned the kiss and she said we were drunk."

A sensation he can only identify as closest to guilt seeps up into Oliver's chest from his stomach. "She thinks I kissed her just cause I was drunk?"

Archie's hand finds Oliver's shoulder. "You should probably talk to her, mate."

He sighs, eyes drifting over the silhouette of the castle in the distance. He shakes his head like it'll rattle the plaguing thoughts loose. "We're gonna be late for Transfig."

"I mean, Archie is his best friend." Cherry is trying to rationalise the whole story. "I don't see why he'd lie about it?"

You shake your head, knocking shoulders with a Ravenclaw girl trying to pass through the corridor. "I'm not entertaining it, Cherry."

"Come on," she sighs, practically skipping to keep up with the furious pace you've set. "Would it be so terrible if he likes you?"

"Yes." You don't look at her.

The redhead's eye-roll is practically audible, "Let me rephrase, would it be so terrible if he likes you back?"

You meet her eyes for the first time since you'd entered the corridor.

She sighs, "we're gonna see him in Muggle Studies in five minutes. I think you should say something."

"Forget I said anything, Cherry." Heat flares at your neck again, prompted by the embarrassment of even imagining how such a conversation might go.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but you feel Cherry's gaze warming the side of your face.

Burbage's classroom is over-populated with Gryffindors by the time you drop your bag against the marbled floor beside your desk. In the corner of your eye, your brain has already fixated on Oliver's silhouette leaned against the edge of his own desk. You flush hot all over again, as if your thoughts were transcribing into subtitles and floating above your head for the whole class to read.

The click of Burbage's heels prompt the lingering students to find their seats, "Please take out your copies of Muggle Wars: Cause and Effect. We left off on page eighty-seven--"

You suddenly regret snapping at Cherry. Wishing for the comfort of her presence, your eyes glazing over where she's perched in the first row of desks closest to the chalkboard.

Unusually, the class trickles on without disruption. There's a few glances over at your direction, like everyone is waiting for another outburst from the grade's most volatile duo. They're sure to be let down, you're adamant to not even breathe in the direction of Wood.

Burbage comments on it, too, nearly ten minutes from the bell.

"It's suspiciously quiet in your corner today, captains." she looks down through her fingerprint-smudged frames, brushing over you and then Wood three seats away. "Something the matter?"

You shrug, refusing to acknowledge the boy. He seems to be doing the same: completely unfairly, the thought that he wouldn't look at you made the hair on your arms stand straight. "We can start up if you'd like, professor?"

Her face contorts into that irritated look that you'd grown accustomed to when Professor Burbage addresses you. "You're flirting dangerously with another session of detention, miss."

"She's just answering your question, professor."

Nobody in the class seemed more surprised than Burbage, although that in itself was a feat. The two Gryffindor boys in the row ahead of you swivel all the way around in their seats to look at Oliver, who'd just spoken.

You fight the twitching urge to look at him.

"Detention for two, it seems. I'll be seeing you both Friday afternoon."

A calm air settles again over the class, as if order had been restored. You and Wood had lost the interest of the room and students shift back to the board where WHAT IS A PRIME MINISTER? is sprawled across it in chicken-scratch handwriting.

Sighing, your eyes find the clock against the wall. Eight minutes left.

You pick at the end of your quill irritably: electing to dip it into the ink at the edge of the desk and entertain yourself quietly by drawing a miniature snowman at the corner of your page, trying not to think about another Friday afternoon in too close of a proximity to Oliver Wood. There's a soft whir, barely audible if you weren't so focused on outlining pebble eyes, and a tiny paper-airplane whizzes quietly from under your desk: landing squarely on the nose-less head of your snowman.

Fear prickles at you. You don't look up for the source, lest a suspicious sideways glance earns you another weekend with the party-animal Charity Burbage.

Instead, you carefully undo the intricately folded wings of the plane. It's barely big enough to fit into your palm once open, the top of the little note marked in black ink.

It was the same handwriting that marked the sign-out sheet for equipment in the Quidditch storage rooms down at the pitch.

'Thanks for that one, smart-mouth.'

Your eyes flicker up to Burbage, who's back is turned, before you dip your quill into the ink and scribble out a response. In your peripheral, Oliver is leaned back in his stool: biceps folded over each other. There's an unexplainably airy-fairy, fuzzy feeling warming your rib cavity.

'Believe this one was your fault, dickhead.'

You quietly refold the creased edges, before tapping it lightly with the end of your wand: then watch how it takes off the airstrip of your page and zips quietly under the cover of desks to land back in front of the sender.

There's a long pause - enough for Burbage to draw out a whole flow diagram of something called "parliament" - before the edge of the paper wing grazes at your calf again. It lands quietly again.

'Maybe.

We good?'

There's a gentleness to the sentence. Like you can hear it from Oliver's mouth, like he's avoiding your gaze when he whispers it.

You hunch over the note again.

Oliver's knuckles are turning white, twisting his wand in his hands under the table. He shouldn't have said anything. He's regretting the whole fucking idea of the stupid paper-plane now.

He's trying not to watch you write, not to notice how long you stared at his writing before you picked up your own quill. He does anyways.

When the airplane flutters down into his palm, Burbage is already excusing the class. Stools are scraping against cold tile, the clutter of textbooks being crammed back into bags.

'Never :)'

His eyes run over the word once, twice, three times over. A smile is tugging at the edge of his lip, he forces it taut - but his eyes are still shining unusually brightly when Archie knocks his shoulder to his.

"What you looking so damn happy about?"

Oliver tucks the note into the pocket of his robes. "Don’t know what yer talking about."

"But professor, why can't Hufflepuff take Saturday?"

"Well, Hufflepuff already gave up our practice days for Gryff--!"

Hooch sighed so deeply she almost melted back into her armchair. "The decision is made, Oliver. The pitch is being cleaned out on Wednesday, your team can take Saturday for any extra training."

He could practically hear the smile creeping onto your face, the smug crossed-arm look he'll no doubt find when he turns to you.

Irritation bubbles up in his throat, a familiar companion in your presence, and just as he prophesied: you are grinning.

In the weeks that followed that day in Burbage's class, it seemed that both parties decided that the topic of their shared kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room was best left undiscussed.

The arrangement is working. At least Oliver thinks so.

You still bait him and he still snaps, rising to your taunts. He still finds himself in detention more Fridays than he spends free, and his body ripples with anger when you roll your eyes at him.

But it was in moments, like this now, where your little self-satisfied grin doesn't quite vex him to the degree it once did. It's now harder to find a retort, to snap at you with a sharp-edged comment. Not when amusement crinkles at the corners of your eyes where your black lashes kiss so prettily.

Hooch swivels in her chair to find a document between one of her cluttered drawers, you take the opportunity to stick the tip of your tongue out childishly at him.

Oliver draws a tight breath, he hopes his face is still taut in annoyance, because his heart has slipped like a stone down into his stomach. That's the other issue, the tiny little obstacle in these recent weeks: he can't stop looking at your mouth. It's distracting, disarming - paralysing at the best of times.

He strips his gaze away, before he can be outed by anyone in the room. "Whatever." He mumbles.

You seem disappointed in his lack of a real response, but it passes quickly - like a shadow - over your face.

"Thanks professor." You grab up your roster from her desk and turn to the door, practically skipping out into the corridor.

He huffs.

Somehow, you and Archie have become fast friends. Mornings around Fire-Seed Bushes and Venomous Tentaculas in the heat of Greenhouse Three seems to do wonders for a friendship.

It prickles at Oliver's nerves when you pass in the corridors, when you perk up with a high "hey Arch!" and he grins down from his towering height right back at you: "hey Y/n!"

You don't look at Oliver. He's notably sour the rest of the walk.

Alright, maybe the whole arrangement wasn't really working. You were a distraction to him before, no doubt, but somehow your powers of beguilement had tripled. Especially since you seem to be behaving perfectly normal: like you hadn't given Oliver the best snog of his life outside the Ravenclaw common room that night.

Maybe it was just alcohol, maybe he is the only one plagued by the knowledge of the other's taste.

The castle has turned impossibly colder, the bitter bite of winter stinging at the loose cuffs of his robes on walkthroughs of the corridors. He can't imagine how cold the air above the pitch is going to be on Sunday when Hufflepuff faces off Slytherin for a spot in the finals.

It's all Hooch has been going on about for the last two weeks.

Oliver's had to shift around at least four practices - Roger almost twice as much, he's a pushover - to allow for you and Marcus to have more time on the pitch. His complaints fell on deaf ears, Hooch dismissed him with a wave of her bony hand and a "your time is coming, Wood."

You prance into dinner late most evenings, hair in every direction and face flush with sweat: sticking it out like a bumblebee in those awful yellow quidditch robes.

Oliver only notices because, annoyingly, he's found that he is frequenting the bench at the Gryffindor table that faces over to the Hufflepuff's. His eyes drift over the yellow-tied heads to where you clump up with Enzo and Cherry, watches you talk around mouthfuls of toast lazily, giggle behind your napkin: head rolling back to showcase that smooth neck, how it runs down to the soft slopes of your shoulders: disappearing down into your button-up.

Archie has noticed, he's sure, but hasn't done more but allude to it with teasing glances or suggestive comments.

"The Hufflepuffs up to something particularly interesting over there, Ollie?"

The speed with which Oliver's eyes snap to his peas is almost comical. He shrugs and mumbles like a child. "Don't know."

On Sunday morning, you don't go to breakfast.

There's an uncomfortable gurgling in your midriff, like a snake is slithering between your organs and you're sure even just the smell of eggs on toast would bring up your dinner.

Instead you find yourself at the pitch a whole hour before the game is set to start. Marcus is running laps around the grass, something he's done since you've known him.

He offers a curt wave, face set like cold stone.

It reminds you of Oliver a little bit, the distraction in his eyes.

Oliver is never all the way there, wherever he is, you think. His eyes mist over like he's halfway between this world and another. You know it's Quidditch: he dreams it, eats it, sleeps it.

But lately he's foggier than usual.

You think it's your imagination, brush off the idea as you have all the millions of others you'd had in the preceding weeks about the surly brute that was Oliver Wood. He plagues you.

Just the vibrato of his unimpressed huff when you get your way, when you quip something purposely annoying at him. It's addictive, the feel of his sugar-brown eyes glaring a hole through you.

Lately, his reactions have been closer to underwhelming. Allowing for only a moment of eye contact: gone are the quick-witted retorts, the Scottish-laced "princess" usually attached. The thought makes you wince in embarrassment, knowing that you've been pressing him harder lately: like a seven-year old jabbing at a claw machine, outwardly desperate for that brown plushy on the top of the pile.

Maybe he's over it. So deathly mortified of your shared kiss that he doesn't want to know you anymore, much less take the effort to hate you. Your chest pinches tightly.

You dress into your match robes slowly, taking your time with the loops of your shoelaces and the buttons down the sweater you're wearing underneath everything. Oliver Wood should be at the bottom of your list of priorities, normally, but now more than ever.

The team filters into the change-room, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. Cedric is practically green, but Herbert looks like he's about to go down a water-slide he's waited over an hour in line for. Beyond the swinging doors, you can hear the crowd shuffling loudly into their seats.

Before your wits are completely about you, Hooch is rapping on those same doors. "Onto the pitch, Hufflepuffs!"

You muster up your best excuse for a captain's speech for what might be the last match you ever play as one. The team seem satisfied, you figure it's easy to find solace before a game when you know it's not your last. As the only seventh year, comfort doesn't come so easily to you.

The crowd is deafening when yellow robes take to the sky: Marcus looks over, offering another nod, not unlike the one he'd given you earlier. You can tell he's feeling the dread of finality too.

There's a whistle blow and the quaffle flies past your face with a speed that nearly evacuates your nose from your face. Lee is announcing in the distance and the rumble of adrenaline forces your fingers over the handle. It tilts and you dip, disappearing into the sky of players.

The winter air at Hogwarts was biting enough roaming the corridors, but thirty metres off the ground is something wholly unnatural. Your face was burning crisp from the icy wind, the feeling in your cheeks and nose lost to the Scottish cold.

Foggy white clouds puff out with each heavy breath. Cedric zooms past and Jane loops around his moving figure to knock a stray bludger in the opposite direction.

Your eyes flash between them and the fast approaching Malcolm, he tosses the quaffle at you with a grunt and you catch it at the tips of slippery, ice-frozen fingertips.

Shooting forward again, you duck under Marcus who is hurtling through the sky at you: gone is the look of friendly fondness from his eyes, replaced with a hunger for the leather-bound ball in your grasp.

Just missing the grasp of his meaty hand, the ball passes onto Heidi.

"Another ten points to Hufflepuff," Lee's voice echoes as if from heaven. "That brings the score to ninety for Hufflepuff and eighty for Slytherin!"

It's been nearly ninety-five minutes of sitting on your broom growing colder, and you're not alone.

Around you, the team is descending into frost-induced exhaustion: Jane's nose is as bright red as a Christmas ornament and Cedric has been peeping over the top of his thick woollen-scarf for at least the last half - barely enough to catch a glance of the whizzing canary and emerald robes, much less of a tiny golden snitch.

You sigh out another white breath, letting your eyes drift over the stands. It's saturated with moving heads of faces you can't make out and yellow and green swaying banners. Your gaze lingers on the top left, in the corner facing the castle. It's where Cherry and Enzo park themselves during every match, where you know they're screaming in support, clenching their teeth at every quaffle handover. You can feel them, even when their faces blur into the crowd.

Unintentionally, you think about how Oliver's mixed in there too. Somewhere between your peers. If you had been granted another moment, if the quaffle wasn't mid-air between two Slytherins just under your nose and you'd not taken the opportunity to snatch it from them, you would have meandered into the trap of hoping that deep down in his chest - even if it was core of the earth deep - he was rooting for you, too. That he seethed at a missed goal or clenched a tight fist at his side in celebration when a Hufflepuff makes a beautiful play.

Meanwhile in the stands, Oliver has decided that the desire to play his allegiances in secret has since disappeared from his heart.

He'd played it light in the first few minutes. Mumbling under his breath at a fumbled pass or a slimy move from the Slytherins, but by the forty-fifth minute he'd found himself on his feet.

"Diggory!" His hands waved in front of him, "it was right there you fucking git--"

A Hufflepuff third year a row ahead looked at him askew, but he paid her no mind.

Archie had taken the hint early. As soon as Oliver was out of his seat, so was he. Despite being Oliver Wood's best friend, Archie had somewhat limited knowledge of the game himself and eyed Oliver's reactions to find the appropriate moments to whoop and cheer. Oliver didn't say anything, but he appreciated it more than he could verbalise.

His eyes tracked you more than anything, when you were flying between players or just floating in place: eyes like a hawk, watching over the game. His heart swelled and his pride fell to the wayside.

Just short of the two hour mark, there was a rise in the crowd.

"The seekers have caught sight of the snitch!"

Oliver's stomach rose into his throat.

"They're diving for it, Malfoy and Diggory head to head-- and Slytherin grabs the snitch, winning by 140 points!"

It sank back into place, like a stone to the bottom of the river. He watched how you froze, how you twisted over your shoulder to find Diggory's figure lingering at the bottom of the field. You shoulders sagged, hanging in the air as the others dropped to the ground.

"Slytherin have made it into the finals against Gryffindor for the quidditch cup, back here at the pitch next month!"

After a long moment, the last in the sky, you followed them down.

The raucous cheers from the Slytherins were hard to drown out, he wasn't even sure Archie heard him toss a "i'll find you at the castle" before he found himself pushing through the masses of people.

He fought against the wave moving to find the stairs, eager to return to the warmth of their dormitories, but Oliver was markedly more motivated than the majority. He stomped on some toes and nearly tossed a first year off the stands to race down the stairs.

Only once his feet had found the mushy grass of the pitch, did he pause to consider that he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. What was the rush for? To comfort you, tease you for your loss?

The latter option was definitely what he could do, what he could say. What was expected of him, if he was being honest. Recently, however, he's found it harder and harder to come up with remarks to hurt your feelings. Found that he quite prefers that little smile that tucks into the corner of your mouth when he says something unexpectedly fond. How your eyes practically gleam.

There's shoving from all sides of him -- get out the way, bloody hell -- and the teams pass ahead of him. Leading the march, despite it being nothing more than a slow trudge, is your figure: squashed between those of who he recognises to be Cherry Stretton and Enzo Musa's.

Their arms wrapped over your shoulders, talking animatedly into your ear on each side. Enzo tips his head to meet yours, a small touch of comfort.

Oliver sighs. He has nothing to say and no comfort to offer, wondering for a moment what he could possibly bare to hear in his own final moments as captain. He thinks that anything from your mouth would work.

So he waits, parks himself beside the stairs and waits for Archie: watching the six-legged figure disappear up over the hill.

You're not at dinner.

He knows because he's been watching the door for the better half of an hour. Archie pushes his plate at him, "Eat something there, Ollie."

Begrudgingly, Oliver brings his drumstick up to his mouth. "She's not eaten a thing since breakfast, it's almost eight."

Archie passes a sympathetic look over him. "Her friends are here, I'm sure she'll be by soon. There's no use you joining her on a hunger-strike."

He's right. Cherry and Enzo and some others that frequent your circle are talking around the table, around the spot that you usually fill. But dinner goes on and students leak steadily out towards bed without your return.

Eventually Oliver huffs, like an irritated bulldog, and grabs for the nearest napkin: unfolding it out in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Archie asks thickly, spitting bits of rice at him.

Oliver reaches for two chicken skewers, placing them neatly on the white square: alongside a dinner roll and a pumpkin pasty.

He wraps them over, double wraps it with another napkin too.

"What does it look like, Arch."

Placing it carefully into the deep pocket of his robe, Oliver goes to stand - lacking the patience it takes for Archie to answer, or for his inevitable teasing. "I'll find you back in our room."

He's halfway out the hall when Archie's voice calls out to him, "You don't even know where she is!"

Oliver shakes his head, brandishing a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "I know where she is." He mumbles for only himself to hear.

You’d watched close to twenty-one quidditch matches from the stands at the pitch on Hogwarts grounds: played in almost half of them.

The seat is still slightly too small, just uncomfortable enough to make a person shuffle. Beyond the rim over the other end of the pitch you can see the orange sun dipping behind the horizon, drawing to darkness over your moment alone.

By now you're sure the party in the common room has long since found momentum. The one you'd been promised by the team, "it's your last game, cap, we need to celebrate!". You're sure someone somewhere is looking for you, bracing a plastic cup of Firewhisky with your name on it, but you can't find it within yourself to face it all just yet.

The silence of the evening is enough, you only wish you'd been fast enough to retrieve your broomstick that's somewhere off with Enzo. Just for one last lap.

The serenity of your loneliness doesn't persevere, however. You can hear shuffling up the steps, you're tempted to look but the sunset is slipping so quickly out of your hands that it's not worth the time wasted.

It's only when the footfalls draw closer, stopping when a body slumps into the seat beside you. The seats are so cramped that his knee brushes yours, the figure long since identified from the corner of your eye.

"Come to gloat?" You ask, eyes never leaving the sky.

He shrugs. "Not today."

You nod. His smell drifts on the breeze under your nose, like peppermint and soap and Oliver.

There's a long silence. Your robes crease against the fist sitting in your lap, you've yet to change out of your quidditch uniform, you know it will be the last time.

"You missed dinner."

"Does it matter?"

Despite your avoidant gaze, Oliver's is warming the side of your face. The evening air cools the same spot.

There's a shuffling that finally draws your eyes. Oliver is still in his robes too, and his hand emerges from a deep pocket with a folded napkin square. "Figured you'd be hungry."

He places it onto your lap with a gentleness you're coming to find more of in him. Something frighteningly warm erupts in your chest and your hands come up to it, pulling apart the napkin to find picky bits inside.

You're fighting between smiling and starting to cry. You do neither.

"You carried this in your pocket the whole way from the hall?"

His eyes flicker between the food and your face before he shrugs. "Yeah."

By now, you were fighting a losing battle and the smile pulled up at the ends of your mouth so tightly that your cheeks started to hurt. "Gross."

You pick up a chicken skewer regardless, biting into it and facing the sky again. You offer him the other one and he looks for a moment like he's going to argue but takes it quietly in the end.

The chicken is tender and only after you'd swallowed the first bit did you realise how hungry you'd actually been. You finish it without a word, going to tear the pasty in half and offering a piece to your companion.

You're picking at the roll now, tearing tiny bits off and feeding it piece by piece to yourself like a bird. "Last game."

He nods. "I know."

"What could someone say to you after your last game, Wood?" You pick at him, eyes flittering between him and the now nearly black sky. "You know, to make you feel better?"

Oliver shakes his head, leaning back and rolling his shoulders: as if the thought itself unsettled him.

"Nothing, probably. I'd probably just walk into the Black Lake and drown myself."

You think he's joking, but with Oliver Wood that was hardly a sure thing.

"You wouldn't."

"What's there left to live for?" He says it with an airy chuckle.

Shrugging, your head falls against your shoulder. "You'd have to figure it out, because I'd go marching in right after you. Carry you out if I had to."

Oliver stills, eyes wide and blinking at you. Your chest goes tight, the ghost of a smile pressing at your face.

"Bridal style and everything ..." You add quietly, stifling your chuckle.

He seems to come back to himself, nodding. "We should get back. Been a long day."

The napkin crumples in your hand, shoved down into the depths of your own pocket. You walk ahead, the pathway to the steps is only narrow enough for one person at a time, and he trails behind.

By the time you've hit the steps, Oliver moving down beside you, you're brewing around an apology. A way to thin the air, to ease where your chest is tight: swirling around well done, now you've made things awkward you git. It's halfway up to your tongue when skin brushes against the back of your hand.

Warm fingers explore your knuckles to find your cool ones, slipping to knot between them.

You work not to look down, because Oliver's skittish like that. From the corner of your eye, you can see he's concentrating his gaze ahead.

His hand tightens against yours, palm callous from years wrapped around the wooden handle of his broomstick. It's a little sweaty and sticky but you're smiling so hard you're about to be sick.

You dare to look at him, Oliver's smiling too.

Oliver hasn't been sleeping.

His last few days of seventh year are slipping like water through his calloused hands and he can feel it. Every hour that passes, shadowy and fleeting.

Classes feel shorter than before, the terrible jokes Archie bombards him with over dinner sound funnier than he ever remembers them being and the glimpses he catches of you in the corridor never feel long enough. The ceiling of his poster bed flashes with moments of the day that's passed, feeling like a dream you'll be jolted out of as soon as it gets good.

Even over all his hours of broody contemplation, none of it makes the final whistle any easier to swallow. It hits him like he's been smacked with a bludger in the chest.

"Gryffindor has won the quidditch cup, two-hundred and thirty points to twenty!"

He can hear the crowd's roar, the whoops of the twins floating somewhere below him. Harry's standing on the grass of the pitch holding up his tiny golden trophy. The pitch is red all over: Oliver won.

He won.

Every moment building up over the last seven years culminated into the final blow of the whistle. The wind is whipping at the hair over his forehead: Oliver thinks this might be the happiest moment of his life, but he's not entirely sure.

He never realised that it would all be so fucking soaked in sadness.

It's over. He's leaving the castle empty handed. His engraving will live on the Quidditch Cup in a dusty cupboard for years to come, yes, and he might have a frame up in his future apartment somewhere, reminiscing on the old days. That's all.

He's struck with the devastating fear that in a few short years, nobody will remember him. More than anything, he can't believe he hadn't come to this overwhelming conclusion before right now. Before Angelina is yelling to him, waving a frantic hand and sporting the biggest grin in all of Scotland, before he was seconds from taking the prize he's held in his mind for so many years into his very hands.

Will you forget him?

It nearly knocks him off his broom. He finds that it scares him the most, more than the thought of the dust-caked trophy or the lonely corner at the back of his cupboard where his Hogwarts robes will no doubt live until eternity.

He won't forget you, he thinks. He knows.

You're just so damn annoying. And beautiful, fucking whip-clever and hilarious sometimes--

The handle of his broom is tilting down to the earth now, the crowd zooming into a blur on either side of him. He hits a shaky landing, broomstick abandoned on the grass behind him as he's pulled into the arms of his team and well-wishers.

A golden trophy passes over the heads of the twins and it's shoved into his sweating hands. It's cool to the touch and so much heavier than he thought it ever could be, but he can't seem to keep his mind on the situation long enough to realise any of that. His mind is racing around the castle wondering where you might be and what's the fastest way to get there.

His eyes are racing over the heads of the roving crowd. "Wood, Wood! Speech!"

Shadowing over everyone is Archie's tall figure standing at the back, grinning down at him. The team watches expectantly.

This is it. The moment for the speech he's been practicing in his bathroom mirror since he was seven.

"I--" he looks down at the cup for the first time, his face reflecting up at him in glimmering gold. He finds he can't remember any of the words. "I need to go find someone."

There's a buzz of confusion, but Oliver doesn't linger: shoving the Quidditch Cup into Harry's arms.

"That's the shortest speech Wood has ever given." He hears Angelina quip, but he can't be arsed to turn. He's already flying, moving through the crowd at such a pace he might just have been on his broom.

The sea of students had long since started moving up to the castle, particularly the non-gryffindors: trying to beat the stampede of scarlet that is no doubt to come. Oliver's legs carry him over the smooth green hill up towards Hogwarts, head craning over students to find your side profile somewhere in the mass.

He catches few oy, watch it!'s and congrats, Wood!'s but he doesn't turn, doesn't stop running. Students bespeckle the grass like ants lining up for crumbs, and he's all the way up into the stone corridor leading to the Great Hall when he spots Cherry's velvet red curls over the crowd, and sure enough, he finds you're knocking her shoulder with your own.

It only takes one shout of your name and you turn to peek curiously back, by which time he's taken both your shoulders into his hands and steered you to the wall of the corridor.

"Wood! What are you do--"

His hands squeeze around the plush at your upper arms. "Oliver. My name is Oliver."

Your eyes are wide in surprise, the window behind you showcases the gardens and the pitch in the distance. Sunlight forms a halo over the crown of your head.

With a head tilted in confusion, you nod slowly. "Alright ... what are you doing, Oliver?"

He can feel the eyes of Cherry and Enzo burning a hole through the side of his head, but doesn't bother with it. You're blinking up at him, gentle and benign in your features. He wonders when it became like this, when you'd lost the tight brow and the frown every time you looked at him.

"I won the Quidditch Cup." He says blankly.

You nod, a small smile tucked into the corner of your lip. "I saw. Congratulations."

Oliver only nods back at you. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to come shove it in your face."

He's shuffling closer to your figure, and he's more than pleased to discover that you aren't cowering from it.

"Of course you did, because you're a prat." But you're smiling so hard now that it's impossible to take your jab to heart. "Is that all, Oliver?"

A warm sensation is spilling into his rib cavity and his fingertips are buzzing with electricity when they come to find either side of your face.

"No." His forehead is nearly touching yours and your hands have wrapped around his wrists. "I came to ask you out on a date. A sappy, disgustingly romantic date where I bring you flowers and pay for your hot chocolate. You'd hate it."

"That truly sounds horrible." Your smile is so wide he can barely see the whites of your eyes and it pumps more adrenaline through Oliver than any argument you'd ever shared over the last seven years.

"So, is that a yes?"

You're bouncing on your toes a little bit, bumping your nose against Oliver's clumsily. The babble of passing students and gawking onlookers has practically fallen mute to him.

"Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight after?" You whisper it, like it's a secret between just you and him.

He nods slowly, "pretty desperate to kiss you right now, if I'm being honest princess--"

You don't wait for him to finish, thank Merlin you don't wait for him to finish, and push up onto your toes: crashing against his mouth. You're kiss is as dizzying as he remembers, but softer this time. You kiss like you know he's not running away, hands pressing softly over his neck.

It's nothing like your kiss outside the Ravenclaw common room: where that one was desperate and hot and angry, this time it's born from longing and tenderness and acceptance.

It leaves him just as fucking breathless as the first time.

Somewhere behind him, he hears wolf-whistling (he's sure it's Cherry) and when you pull your lips off his, your face is flush with embarrassment.

"I will go on a date with you, Oliver."

He takes your hand into his, curling his fingers between your own. You lean up to peck him softly and bat your eyelashes at him, grinning innocuously when you whisper: "If you treat me like you did with Delilah, I'm throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

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srslyblvck · 2 months ago

Text

a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter angst #james potter x y/n #angst #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

Text

Random Girl - Lando Norris x Actress! Reader

Plot: Y/N being spotted in the most random places you could think off and its gets to the point where people joke that they wouldn't be shocked if she posted a story from the ISS.

Lando knew his girlfriend was a bit ditzy, but that was the whole appeal that she came with. However, what he didn't expect was when he was at race weekends by himself that she couldn't attend, he'd get notifications from gossip pages, new articles and pap pages showing his girlfriend to be spotted in the most random places possible.

It first started when they had only been dating for a few months, they'd met in the McLaren paddock where she'd been invited to a GP and brought her motorsport loving father along with her. They'd hit it off immediately. Lando was shy, having this well known actress talking to him like she'd known him all his life and kind of fumbled at the opportunity to ask her out to dinner after the race.

Of course, you had swooped in asking him yourself.

After those few dates, you both became busy. Crazily enough he still didn't know much about you. Obviously he knew enough, like your age and that you were from England and all of those other weird Wiki facts that people added to your profile after you'd stated them in interviews.

So when he saw a news article that was a picture of you, in what he deemed to be loungewear on a countryside town in the UK helping your dad out mucking the stables he couldn't help but texting and asking where you were.

When you'd replied at home, it made more sense but he was shocked as you seemed like the definition of a London city girl.

And of course you were a London City girl, but that didn't stop you going back home, to your routes and getting your hands a little dirty.

After this, you were then cast in the GranTurismo movie as Audrey the girlfriend of Jann Mardenborough. You made friends with Emelia Hartford, Archie Madekwe, Joshua Stradowski, Darren Barnet and Sang Heon Lee. Of course you were already familiar with Orlando Bloom and David Harbour having acted with them before.

It was funny however, how it wasn't public knowledge that you and Lando were an item yet and you were in a movie to do with racing. You both found it bazar, but it also wasn't the usual type of movie you were in. So when fans watched and then realized who you were rumored to be dating it all made sense.

The next was he was in his drivers room with his team mate Oscar, they were both aimlessly scrolling through TikTok waiting for their typical Thursday media duties when all of a sudden Oscar practically spat his water out, choking on it.

"Mate that's disgusting" Lando complains flicking the spitty water off his wrist.

"Tell me why your girlfriend is on my TikTok for you page weightlifting in the middle of London!" he asks rewinding the video just to make sure he wasn't seeing things and that it was you.

Without a doubt, it was you. Even with sunglasses and a Mclaren cap covering your face from the general public, he knew it was you. Not only could he tell it was you because he'd seen you so many times in the paddock and hanging out with his own girlfriend Lily that he'd introduced you to and you'd both become fast friends. But the noticeable thing was the massive keychain you were holding.

You were known for loosing stuff, so one Christmas the grid decided to all get you something to attach to your house and car keys. So whenever you left the house you didn't loose them. There was a pink fluffy ball attached that Max had got you, your Mclaren Car Key was showing, the Pirelli wheel Lewis had got you. The picture of you and Lando, Lando had got for you, there was an Yves St Laurent charm from Lewis and much more but it was so specific that Oscar knew it was you.

"What do you mean my girlfriend is weightlifting on your tiktok" he asks crawling onto the sofa from the ground that he was sat on, budging up closer to Oscar and looking over his shoulder to where he phone was playing the small segment.

There you were, placing your keys into your bag before hitching it high up on your arm and lifting the weight. It was heavy and from the rest of the video not many other people had managed to do it. However you there, in your high heels and short skirt you lifted it up no problem. He knew it was in your range as you often would work out with him, and sometimes you had a better stamina than he did. That was because of some of the movies you'd had to train for in the past, making you have a really serious work out regime.

The crowd applauded you before you did a kind curtsy taking the drink from the guy who was recording the video. As you lifted your glasses up taking a drink, people stared to recognize you and started to ask for pictures and autographs. The video cut out to the next lifter before he could see what occurred from the fans that were around you.

"Babe what the hell is this on Oscar's titkok of you weightlifting for free drinks from randoms in the street! Are you okay did you get mobbed? The video cut out before we could see anything. My god its so dangerous you shouldn't be out alone!" he scolds before even saying hi to you.

"Hello to you to Lando" he laugh and he sighs.

"You shouldn't do stuff like that baby, I worry!" he explains and you just giggle.

"I was fine Lan, I had security waiting for me behind the camera and there wasn't too many people! I was fine and got home all safe!" you smile into the phone rolling your eyes at your mum who was awing at how cute he was being. After a while he hung up needing to go for media duties.

Then during your first summer break together, you, Lily, Oscar and Lando all wanted to go on holiday together. So you all suggested somewhere you wanted to go, that couldn't be your home. So Lando suggested Lapland, Lily suggested Bali, Oscar suggested Greece and you suggested Florida, specifically Disneyworld so of course, yours had to be picked being the most likely place to be seen.

And of course if you were going to Florida you had to bring Logan... so obviously when pictures were released of you and the others being toured round the parks by a cast member and finding yourself building cars in Test Track in Epcot and Lando making a Lando Log out of it. The parks were extra busy when you guys went as well so you had to have your security walk round the parks with you, so you guys just drew all the attention to you.

After this you were in New York, filming the ending of the movie you were currently the lead in. So you couldn't come to the first race after summer break.

So when Lando was chilling out at home after the first race waiting for you to land back in France so he could drive and get you, he was watching TikTok's. He was aimlessly scrolling until he saw a video that was those ones where people go up to strangers with headphones and ask what they were listening too.

The guy clearly had no idea he was talking to you, a very famous actress but Lando once again was shocked how you seem to get yourself into these situation.

You politely take one airpod out and offer him a sorry i didn't understand. He asks what song your listening to and your reply had Lando bursting out laughing as it was Voulez-Vous by ABBA. He watched as you walked off with the song playing in the background as you took note of the camera and waved with a big grin.

He checked the comments knowing there would be an outrage that the guy didn't know who he was speaking too. And he was right of course.

-user1: how has my guy fumbled like that in front of Miss Y/N

-user2: no way my guy didn't know he's speaking to the richest young actress out there right now...

-user3: boy don't know Y/N Y/L/N and he's into F1... blunder fr

-user4: it's so funny where Y/N is caught out and how normal she is, she's just one of us at the end of the day

-user5: Y/N is spotted anywhere fr

The next time was when your mugshots got released, now this was the one that Lando found the most shocking. But after hearing your side of the story he was laughing and your manager eventually got the LAPD to apologize for their actions and their mistreatment.

"So Y/N some pictures were released of you ahead of this weekend following a big apology from the Los Angeles Police Department. Can you explain to us what happened?" the F1 interviewer asks and you chuckle a little.

"Yeah, its actually really funny considering i spent the day in a holding cell because no-one could get hold of me. So i was driving to set to start filming, and I was pulled over. I still don't know what I was actually pulled over for, they never ended up telling me. But when i was asked for ID i accidently handed over my Fake ID from the movie set. Once i realized my mistake I stupidly forgot we were in America where officers are a little more hands on and he decided to arrest me for handing a fake id to an officer of the law and interfering with an ongoing investigation. Obviously once people from set realised i wasn't just late they came down to the office and explain what i was trying to do, they re watched the footage from both my dash cam that was on me, and the officer's footage and it was deemed as an unlawful arrest so they let me go. I have no idea who leaked the mugshots but I still look good!" you exclaim making the interviewers laugh.

"That's quite the story Y/N, what do you get yourself into!" he offers making you laugh even more.

In the winter season, you taken some time off so you could travel round with Lando both for his last few races and his winter break, you spent his off season with him travelling from Bali, to Australia, to Finland, back home, and then to Thailand. But you had one request and that was to go tAmerica or South Korea to watch a KPOP concert.

You wanted to see StrayKids live, and so Lando not only got you front row tickets but also came with you to their LA show. You were sat in a normal bit of the crowd with other fans who when they noticed it was you were screaming before the artists themselves even came on.

It was even more funny when the group came out on stage and it took them 4 songs before they recognised you.

"Holy shit guys is that Y/N Y/L/N?" Chris asks looking down at the crowd where you were sat.

"Huge fan!" Hyunjin shouted, even though you had worked together before in Versace as Brand Ambassadors. Same with Felix and Yves Saint Laurent. Fans went crazy at the interactions happening and when it went viral later people only commented on the fact that you were just casually at a KPOP concert with your F1 driver boyfriend.

The next time was when Lando, who wasn’t opposed to going to a casino himself walked in on his girlfriend after a race at a casino. She was there at the Poker Table with winning chips animatedly talking to the dealer.

“Babe?” He’d asked you with a laugh surprised to see you here!

“Omg baby! Hi the guys said you were coming here and I wanted to surprise you but I ended up coming here a few hours to early and now I’ve won 30k. I’m thinking I’ll get you a new watch with that” she grins as if this 30k has just changed her life. When they know that 30k is absolutely nothing to her.

“You, how do you find yourself in these situations” he laughs looking over at you before tossing one of your chips into the pile looking at your current cards.

“Hey bet with your own money baby!” You frown at him everyone around the table laughing.

“Are we at the high stakes table right now?” He asks looking round and seeing some familiar faces of very rich men.

“Yeah baby why?” You ask nonchalantly, like it was nothing.

“My god, okay let’s wrap this up and go meet everyone else at the club”

And the most recent time was when you started live streaming from the top of the HollyWood sign after making the long climb up there.

Lando just watched from Bahrain, at pre- season testing while you were just climbing up to the Holly wood sign and showing the world where you were currently at.

He did worry for a second about your inability to know what you should and shouldn’t be showing the world and when. But when you panned round to show the two security with you in casual gym wear he was more settled.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando imagine #lando x reader #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader

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stardancerluv · 3 months ago

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Tyler Harrison deserved better! Watched Alien Romulus and fell hard. So here is a story about him before and to the movie…possibly beyond! Hope I do him justice.

A Space Journey

Tyler along with friends and family, he lives on the Jackson Star Mining Colony. They work salvage. While also maintaining a relationship with his special girl. One day the company reaches out to Tyler.

There will be angst, fluff & smut… 18+ themes.

❤️s, comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome! Enjoy!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten (coming soon)

#archie renaux #archie renaux imagine #archie renaux fanfiction #tyler alien romulus #tyler harrison #tyler harrison x reader #tyler harrison imagine #tyler harrison fanfiction #tyler harrison x f!reader #tyler harrison x you #tyler harrison x y/n #tyler harrison x female reader #alien romulus #alien romulus fanfic #alien romulus fanfiction #a space journey #master list

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drtyfiction · 10 months ago

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IMAGINE [1/2]

Oliver Quick x Y/N (she/her) Saltburn spoiler alert!!

It's already quite late when Oliver wanders around the exterior of the house, wearing his white embroidered suit and deer antlers on his head. He chugs down something that burns his throat and gazes at the crowd, searching for any familiar faces. Among the sea of people dancing, drinking, vomiting and chatting about some uninteresting futility, he found none. All the oblivious, hollow, inconvenient figures who don't know him, who don't care for him and who don't show him any respect, expose him to the lack of admiration they bring as a gift on his birthday. He stares at the bottom of the now empty plastic cup and sighs softly. Even when everything seems to be turning out exactly the way Oliver had intended, and even when everyone seems to have gathered exclusively for him, he still feels lonely. A man wearing a horse mask approaches, but Oliver doesn't get startled. - Hello Farleigh. - How did you know it was me? Farleigh removes his mask, exposing his slightly sweaty skin from the heat of the muffled costume, his delicate eyes and his voluminous hair, still impeccably tidy despite the headpiece that had been pressing it down until then. - Signet ring. - God. You really notice everything, don’t you? Oliver faintly grins and Farleigh catches sight of his pale blue eyes, which are dimmed by the low light in the room. Farleigh is able to read him a little better than most ordinary people. Perhaps because, after all, he's not that ordinary either. - Have they seen you yet? - Oliver asks. - Not yet. - Farleigh says, indifferently. They're alluding to your friend Venetia's family, with whom you've been living for some time. Farleigh removes the lid from a small container he carries in his pocket, pours a bit of white powder over the back of his hand and sniffs. - Yeah, they’ll go ballistic. - Oliver adds. - I doubt it. Y/N invited me on everyone's behalf. - This time, it's Farleigh who flashes a tiny grin at the corner of his mouth. Oliver frowns and stares at him for a second. He can't hold back an unanticipated reaction and utters an astonished "Oh" sound. In a vague attempt to correct what could be interpreted by the other person as frustration, Oliver releases a low, uncomfortable laugh, attempting to appear calm. - God, the look on your face. - Farleigh bursts into a loud, deep laugh. - What do you mean? She can’t have invited you. - The look on his face is a blend of sternness, confusion and disappointment. - You know, Oliver, I thought you were cleverer than that. Y/N invited me because she wanted to. They want me back, after all. She wants me back in Saltburn. - And why would she want that?

[Continued in part 02]

#fanfic #imagine #scenarios #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #saltburn spoilers #farleigh saltburn #barry keoghan #barry keoghan x reader #barry keoghan imagine #barry keoghan fanart #archie madekwe

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burntsaltsblog · 9 months ago

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shiny new toy

(felix catton\reader)

chapter one

details: a saltburn inspired short story.

content warning: profanity, explicit sexual content, and mentions of abuse (physical and mental)

MNI 18+

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"I'm sorry," I said with an evident crack in my voice as I sank my teeth into my lower lip to keep my emotions at bay. The last thing I needed was to break down in the middle of the quad.

"Save it," Eric, my boyfriend, snapped. "Your apologies don't mean shit."

His glare was lethal before turning to walk briskly toward the dining hall for lunch, and I hurried behind him, attempting to catch up. But I halted my movements when he whipped his head around, regarding me sternly.

"Don't follow me. You're not allowed to eat lunch with me today."

"But-"

"No. You can eat by yourself. That way, you'll finally learn your lesson."

My eyes stung with tears as I grew desperate not to be shunned by him, whimpering, "Please, Eric, I-"

Eric raised his hand above his head, and I instantly cowered back, trying to avoid the impending blow.

"Don't make me do it," He whispered darkly, referencing his hand in the air that could strike me at any moment.

Before I could form a coherent response, my boyfriend spun back around and continued on his way while I hastily wiped the few stray tears tumbling down my cheeks and glanced around the quad to ensure no one had seen what had transpired.

Students were lying down on the lush, green grass as they attempted to soak up the few rays of sunshine England rarely offered, and luckily, they all seemed completely unaware of my presence.

All except for one.

I almost hadn't noticed him. I was about to turn toward the library when we locked eyes. Deep brown. Warm like the sun and soft like the grass beneath our feet. He was beautiful. But I couldn't miss the look of pity on his face.

My cheeks warmed when I realized that he had seen the altercation between Eric and me, and I was sure he considered me to be as pathetic as Eric did. Because I was...right?

My shoulders drooped in shame as I looked away from the beautiful stranger, but the sound of footsteps caused my eyes to shoot right back up, and I stared wide-eyed as the man gracefully swept over the emerald landscape in my direction.

I ceased to move. I was utterly shocked that someone like him would approach someone like me willingly.

"You alright?" His melodic voice washed over me, and a calmness accompanied it.

"What?" I asked, dazed and confused.

"I was just wondering if you were all right. I saw that bloke giving you a hard time and wanted to ensure I didn't need to straighten him out."

A surprised laugh bubbled up from my throat. The idea of anyone being able to straighten Eric out seemed preposterous.

I regained my composure before replying. "Uh, no, everything is quite alright. My boyfriend is just having a bad day. School seems to be stressing him out at the moment."

I mentally applauded myself for how smoothly my lie rolled off my tongue while the the stranger regarded me curiously.

"You're American," he said, referring to my lack of an English accent.

"Yup," I answered, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

"Well, does the American have a name?" he asked, teasing me gently. I couldn't miss the twinkle in his eyes as he waited for my reply.

"Iris."

"Like the song?" He stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

"Yeah, my parents were massive Goo Goo Dolls fans," I chuckled softly.

"Well, Iris, would you like to have lunch with us?" He threw his thumb over his shoulder, directing my attention to one of the groups of students sprawled out on the lawn.

"Oh, that's ok. I couldn't possibly intrude."

"Rubbish. You wouldn't be intruding at all," He said, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "Besides, someone's got to welcome you to this country properly because, by the looks of it, your boyfriend has not done a very good job."

I let him guide me towards his friends as I asked, "So, what's your name? It's only fair that you return the favor."

I lifted my chin, and our gazes clashed, causing my heart to beat erratically.

"Felix." The name tumbled from his full lips, and I relished the sound of it. His name was perfect. Just like him.

We arrived at a tangled group of limbs on the grass. Felix's friends prattled on together as they lay in a small heap on the ground.

"Ignore them if they start bothering you," Felix whispered, leaning in close, "They can have a habit of coming on too strong. Especially Farleigh."

"Which one is Farleigh?" I wondered aloud

"You're about to find out." His breath tickled my neck as he drew his lips away from my ear. Tiny tingles danced down my spine, and goosebumps littered my skin most deliciously.

"And who do we have here?"

The question came from one of the two boys on the lawn. His skin glowed a golden brown, and his eyes swam with many questions.

"This is Iris, and she will be having lunch with us today," replied Felix merrily.

The one, who I assumed to be Farleigh, did little to hide his assessment of me. His dark eyes ran the length of my physique before a sly grin stretched across his face.

"Nice job, Lex. She's even prettier than the last one."

I didn't miss Felix's sharp glare at Farleigh but was quickly distracted by the other brunette boy as he attempted to pass his snicker off as a mere cough. He sat beside Farleigh but made no move to interject himself into the conversation.

I loitered before them awkwardly. They didn't even know me, yet I could feel their judgment wafting off them potently.

"Play nice, Farleigh," Felix chastised.

"My apologies," Farleigh replied as he rose to his full height. He stepped forward and courteously extended his hand. "I'm Farleigh, as I'm sure you've already figured out. And that's Oliver over there," he said, nodding his head towards the previously snickering boy who hadn't bothered to stand up.

"Just Ollie," he muttered from his place on the ground.

"Iris," I mumbled quietly.

Farleigh continued to hold my hand for several beats too long before Felix cleared his throat loudly. My hand was promptly dropped.

Felix made himself comfortable on the thick grass before reaching up with his hand and gently tugging me down with him.

"Where's V?" He asked as I gingerly sat beside him.

"Blowing her TA," Farleigh casually replied as he picked up today's paper and pretended to examine its various articles.

"I knew you transferring here was a terrible idea. She's learning all your bad habits," Felix retorted.

Farleigh merely snorted before changing the subject to gossip about the World History Teacher. A student had found Mr. West's Grindr account, and now the pupil was threatening to tell his wife unless Mr. West gave him an A for the rest of the year.

I resorted to picking the fraying cuff of my jeans out of sheer awkwardness and boredom. My eyes wandered the quad full of laughing, elated students before finally resting on the meager boy still seated beside Farleigh. His gaze flew back and forth between Felix and Farleigh as if he were watching a riveting tennis match. It was impossible not to miss the adoration and longing painted on his features. I felt his obvious emotions had nothing to do with Mr. West and everything to do with the two people in front of him. His silent reverence would convince one that he was in the presence of gods and not men.

But maybe that's what they were to Oliver: gods, not mortals.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

I whipped around to locate the voice that rang through the air and saw a majestic sight. Blonde hair flew behind a brightly smiling, pale girl as she hurtled towards our huddle on the ground.

"It's about time, V," Farleigh said. "We were beginning to think Jason had kidnapped you."

It's Mr. Fellcraft," she corrected as she flounced down on the other side of Felix and made herself busy spreading her long, floral skirt around her on the earth.

"Yes, but it's Jason to you. And that's what matters," Farleigh countered.

The girl known as "V" only responded with a scowl before returning her attention back to her skirt.

"V, we wouldn't tease you about it if it wasn't so glaringly obvious that you're shagging the guy. And as your brother, I need to know if everything is consensual because I will happily have a chat with the fellow if need be."

"Calm down, little brother. All is well. It's just a bit of fun.”

I wasn't sure I would regard hooking up with a teaching assistant as a "bit of fun."

"Besides," She said, "I don't particularly want to discuss my time with Mr. Fellcraft. I'd much rather talk about the girl sitting next to you, Felix, who looks like she'd rather be elsewhere."

Felix gave a small roll of his eyes before swiftly introducing me to his sister.

"V, this is Iris. She's going to be joining us for lunch this afternoon. Iris, this is-"

"Venetia. Venetia Catton," she cut in before her brother could continue with the introduction. "The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure."

Venetia extended her hand, palm down, as if she expected me to kiss it. Unsure of what to do, I grasped the ends of her slender fingers in what appeared to be an uncoordinated handshake and she giggled at me as if I was a small, confused child who was too stupid for their own good.

I adverted my eyes as a quiet fell over the group, and breeze came by, sweeping my long, honey-colored hair off of my shoulders.

"Let's head inside, yeah?" Felix asked, breaking the silence. "Since everyone is here."

"Everyone and a guest," Farleigh muttered under his breath as we all stood in unison.

I stuck close to Felix's side so as not to hear what other snarky things I was sure Farleigh and Venetia were saying about me. They walked several feet ahead with their heads bowed together, whispering back and forth. No wonder this group was so small. They obviously didn't like newcomers.

Except for Felix.

I looked up at him and found his eyes already settled on me. He offered a soft smile. "Don't mind them. We're all rather protective of each other, so new additions can be met with some skepticism."

"I don't know if I would call it skepticism. It seems more like downright disdain to me," I chuckled faintly.

"No," Felix replied, shaking his head adamantly. "Once they see how I've accepted you, they'll follow suit."

"Are you their leader or something?" I asked, suspicion and curiosity lacing my voice.

"Or something," He murmured, shifting his gaze straight ahead as we entered Oxford's primitive dining hall.

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chapter index

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

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