#her heart stopped beating one day and they refused to accept it because

[fregget-frou]

Angel oc angst and their backstory + personality

I love Aklaq so much

Aklaq is getting better at it but they’re still very self conscious about their injuries when they were 16. They got into a nasty car accident where they had to have their left leg amputated because of the damage from the fire. Since then they’ve hated how less mobile they seem to be, and angry with them for struggling with things. Aklaq used to be the families support and did most of the work along with their younger brothers and took a lot of pride in being strong and reliable. Since then they struggle to do alot of prolonged activities because of chronic pain and less stamina. They hate being looked down upon and it was a large problem in the beginning of them and David’s relationship because he kept on belittling them and trying to do things for them because they’re disabled. This led to a large fight when David was constantly forcing them to stop doing chores and generally anything physical which led to them breaking down because they felt trapped.

They’re trying but it’s hard, both them and David are very reserved people just expressing that in different ways and they both struggle to make meaningful relationships. Aklaq lost their mom before they moved to California for college and simply couldn’t stand being in the same place where she used to be so they left. Their little brothers were old enough to live on their own but still felt hurt as Aklaq refused to talk about their mom and even acknowledge she died. When angel finally accepted that their mom was gone it was hard but at the very least David was their to be able to get that feeling. Their mom and Aklaq had a similar dynamic with David And Gabe, Aklaq being the oldest and being the one to take over the family farm, being raised by their mother alone because their father passed etc.

Aklaq is an older oc that I adapted into a listener and I find their personality along with David’s to be great together, even with the clashing because they are in similar situations and can lean on each other. I just love them pls

[teenidlegirl]

⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀someone steals miguel's valentine⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀blurb⠀﹚

a very late valentines idea but had to share it…

it’s that time of year where everything is pink and red with hearts everywhere. another year of celebrating valentine’s day. the entire spider society is decorated in pink and red. everyone is clad in those colors in various styles. cards, flowers, boxes, candy being passed around. everyone is in the holiday spirit.

well, everyone expect miguel.

before, he hated valentine’s day. it’s the day of love and he had no one. everyone he cared about was gone. what was the point of celebrating if you didn’t have someone to celebrate it with?

every year on that day, miguel would spend it in his office sulking like any other day. either going through reports of anomalies or rewatching videos of his precious gabriella, his true valentine.

peter and the spider teens would offer him gifts, which miguel wasn’t fond of. the spider teens would give him various candy and cards. a special card from hobie that had a drawn middle finger inside, which of course pissed him off and tossed it away. the only gift he accepted was a drawing of himself from mayday. he was on the verge of tears but couldn’t corrupt his ego so miguel stored it away in a drawer.

he hates valentine’s day.

until this year, miguel is celebrating for the first time and it was all because of you.

when he first met you, miguel was undeniably mesmerized by you. a pretty, smart, determined yet sassy woman. at first, he was against the idea of having another assistant since he already had lyla but it was her idea to have an extra one. plus, the medical staff needed some extra help so you weren’t only his assistant but also a nurse in some way. not to mention you aren’t a spider person and come from his own universe, just an ordinary person.

as time went on, miguel developed a crush on you. of course the idiot denies it and refuses to acknowledge it. but the way his heart beat increased and cheeks warmed up whenever you’re there said otherwise. miguel hasn’t felt this way about a woman in years and it honestly scares him. no matter how hard he tries denying his feelings for you, he couldn’t.

now here he is, trying to come up with a valentine’s day gift for you. marching around his office, a frown on his face and bunch of grumbles from his lips. why is so hard to get you a gift? maybe because he doesn’t know what to get you or what you’d like. or maybe because he hasn’t done this in years. it’s like all brand new to him and he doesn’t want to mess up.

“why not make her a card and write a poem inside it? it’ll be cute!” lyla magically pops up by his side.

“a poem, seriously, lyla? i can’t write a poem and it’s ridiculous. think of something else.”

the ai rolled her eyes. “oh please, miguel. women love poems. well, most of them but she definitely does.”

miguel stops marching around when she refers to you. do you like poems? would you like a poem from him? the man can’t even write one for fuck’s sake.

“no, suggest something else.”

“i’ll help you! that’s literally my job.” she cross her arms, shooting an obvious look.

miguel ponders for a moment before sighing. “fine.” he just can’t believe he’s doing this, writing a damn poem but it’s for you so supposedly it’s worth it.

you are worth it.

after lots of arguing, miguel finally crafted a poem, with lyla’s help of course since she mainly composed it herself and miguel only made a few tweaks to not sound that cheesy. the part he did make himself was the card. a simple red heart with your name in the middle. miguel isn’t an artist but it doesn’t look that bad, he put in his effort just for you. he decides to leave the card on your desk while you’re on your break. miguel stays there for a moment, thinking that this was a stupid idea and was about to take back the card but it was too late to back out when he heard the familiar sound of your heels clicking approaching. miguel rushes off in time before you could notice him. his heart beats frantically with anticipation, pounding in his chest.

returning to your desk, your eyes light up in surprise when you notice a card with a heart on it. your head tilts in curiosity as you pick it up. back in his office, miguel pulls up the monitor of your mini office and feels his heart race as you inspect the card. a million thoughts ran through his mind.

do you like it? do you hate it?

opening the card, you read the poem written inside. it was so heartwarming, making you smile shyly. miguel catches that and his heart skips another beat. as you finish reading the poem, you eyes land on the tiny signature at the end. a tiny ‘— M’ in black ink.

who is ‘M’?

your brows furrowed in confused as you think of people you know that have a ‘M’ lettered name. one particular name pops up to your mind and your smile widens immediately. miguel noticed your realization and his heart has never beaten so damn fast.

do you know it’s him?

those crimson eyes follow your tiny silhouette as you exit your mini office and head to the cafeteria. those thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion as miguel continue following you through the monitors. you enter the cafeteria and approach one of the spidermen, making him more confused.

what are you doing?

with the card pressed against your chest, you gently tap the spiderman’s shoulder and he turns around. miguel’s eyes widen in shock. marco, spiderman from earth-9025. share some similarities with miguel in terms of appearance, expect marco isn’t abnormally tall or insanely buff.

“hey, um… i wanted to say thanks for the card, it’s very sweet of you.” you smile.

marco’s brows furrowed in confusion. “card? i didn’t…” his eyes land on the card in your hand then decides to change his mind. “oh! um, no problem! i’m glad you liked it. h-happy valentine’s day.” truth be told, marco has a crush on you as well.

oh miguel just lost his shit. how the fuck dare that little shit take credit for the card that he made for you? the poem that he, and lyla who helped, wrote for you?

his fists clenched at his sides, blood boils with anger and jealousy as miguel seethes at the sight in front of him. that fucker took credit for his gift to you and is acting all lovely dovely with you.

someone stole his valentine.

oh that little shit is gonna pay for it.

beside the angry and jealousy boiling in his vein, sadness lingers in his heart as he watched you smile at marco. smiling at the wrong man. miguel should be the one be blessed with that smile. but instead another man has that honor and it pisses him off.

miguel couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. he watched you engage in a flirty conversation with marco in the cafeteria which went on for a while. the little shit had shitty jokes and flirting tactics but apparently it made you smile and laugh. miguel hated every second of it yet he couldn’t look away. he couldn’t look away from you, seeing you so happy with another man.

he feels so… defeated.

yet again, miguel did only sign the card with his first initial. there are thousands of other people who have names that start with an ‘M’ so he isn’t the only one. how can he be more stupid than he already is? finally, he turns off the monitor after lyla repeatedly told him to shut it off a while ago. he can’t bare it anymore.

someone else took credit for his work and now has claimed your heart before he could.

his first valentine’s day, in a long time, ruined.

perhaps it was stupid to give it a chance.

as he was preparing to leave for a mission to distract himself from his broken heart, miguel sees you approaching with that gorgeous smile on your face and two coffee cups in your hands.

“you look like a zombie.”

oh you never fail to amaze him with your sarcasm, one of his favorite traits about you. “funny.” he said flatly, taking the coffee from you, muttering a ‘thanks’ in return.

“so, any gifts you gotten?” you take a sip of your coffee as you lean against the ledge of his desk.

well, maybe that mission could wait. it wasn’t canon event threatening so. besides, miguel would spend time with you than be anywhere else.

“the usual, a drawing from mayday and unnecessary gifts from the kids.” he grumbles.

you chuckle. “lemme guess, hobie got you another special gift? another middle finger?”

“no, a shit emoji drawing with my mask on it.”

you almost choke on your coffee. “oh my god- that’s fucking hilarious, i’m sorry.”

miguel rolls his eyes, unable to ignore his heart fluttering at the sweet sound of your laughter. “what… what about you?”

now, he’s a bit anxious. partly because he wonders of your thoughts about his gift. but miguel is mainly still pissed off at marco for stealing his valentine.

“a shit ton of flowers, definitely not use to that but i loved it. some cards and candy. oh! i got a card with a really cute poem i thought it was from marco.”

he frowns at the mention of marco’s name. while you babble about the poem, miguel just wanted to grab you by the shoulders and tell you that he is the one who wrote it, he is the one who made the card, not that little dipshit marco. that idiot probably doesn’t even know how to treat a woman.

“but i gotta be honest…”

one of his eyebrows quirk up, intrigued.

“he’s a terrible fucking liar.”

okay, now miguel is confused. one minute you’re babbling about marco, now you’re calling him a liar.

“i know he didn’t write it. the way he was talking earlier didn’t match the vibe of the poem. he behaves like an average frat boy.”

there’s a tiny spark of hope. if miguel was a dog, his tail would definitely start wagging.

“if he didn’t write it, then who?” he can’t help but play along, secretly hoping you’d figure it out.

although, he was a bit confused by your sudden change of opinion about marco since you were having a lovely dovely time with him in the cafeteria earlier. but perhaps you were being nice to him.

“hmmm… i have someone in mind.” a teasing smile on your lips that make miguel’s knees weak. “i was thinking of who else has a name starting with the letter ‘M’ and have his way with words.”

that tail would be wagging faster. a wave of hope begins coursing through him. god he hopes you know it’s him. please, please, please say it’s him.

you reach behind you, pull the card from your back pocket, and raise it up. “did you ask lyla to write it?”

miguel blinks, shocked yet pleased. shocked that you assume lyla wrote the poem, which was the truth. pleased that you knew he was the true creator.

“i… uh… she did help me.” he admits sheepishly.

“i basically wrote it.” lyla magically appears in between you and miguel.

“lyla.” miguel groans, shooting a light glare.

“but mr. grumpy bug here did make the card.” the ai winks at you then disappears.

he appreciates his ai assistant having his back but calling him out like that, especially in front of the woman he likes, is embarrassing.

you can’t help but laugh. “well, she has a way of words but your heart is in the right place.”

speaking of his heart, it skips another beat.

“it was her idea… the poem! but i… i thought of getting you a… gift.”

oh god, he sounds like an shy idiot.

a smile creeps up to your face. he’s really cute when he’s shy, especially as the brooding grumpy man he is. “very charming of you.”

miguel doesn’t miss the sarcasm in your tone, making him roll his eyes but with a shy smile.

“but seriously though, it was nice of you to do that for me since you hate valentine’s day.”

“well… maybe i don’t have a reason to hate it anymore.” miguel briefly glances at you.

you can’t deny the way your heart flutters at that. truth be told, you always had something for miguel. every time you’re with him, you feel different. he is undeniably an attractive man. you tried burying your feelings since he was a closed off person. but now with this little fiasco, perhaps you can dig them up.

while at first you guessed wrong at who gifted you the card, you’re glad it was miguel and not marco. at a first glimpse, marco seemed like a nice guy which is why you assumed first it was him but after that encounter in the cafeteria made you realize he’s still a boy. majority of the things he said made you cringe. you only stayed and engaged in the conversation to not hurt his feelings, hence the smiling and laughing. but that’s when you realize it was someone else. you realized it was miguel, he was the right one. honestly, you didn’t think he’s the type to do something like that but you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

“maybe you don’t.” you smile softly at him.

perhaps next valentine’s day, miguel would have someone to celebrate with and will definitely make sure no one else will steal his valentine.

sure as hell not that dipshit marco.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[csuzlipofa]

Willing to earn it

Daniela x Fem!reader

pt.1

Synopsis: Daniela is willing to do anything for you to trust her again. Will you accept her apology?

slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff

Warnings: -

Weeks turned into months, but the ache never left. For you, the betrayal lingered like a shadow, refusing to dissipate no matter how much time passed. For Daniela, the guilt gnawed at her every day, an ever-present reminder of her own recklessness.

Her friends tried to move on, though the tension within the group was palpable. Even Megan stopped teasing Daniela, the reality of the fallout having sobered everyone. Sophia tried to smooth things over.

“Dani, you can’t keep beating yourself up,” Sophia said one afternoon as the group gathered at her house again. Daniela sat apart from them, staring at her untouched drink.

“It’s my fault,” Daniela muttered. “I hurt her. I don’t even know how to fix it.”

“You start by giving her space,” Lara offered gently. “You messed up, Dani. Big time. But if she ever forgives you, it’ll be on her terms—not yours.”

Daniela nodded but remained silent. She wasn’t sure she deserved forgiveness.

It was a Friday evening when your paths crossed again. You were at the local park, sketchbook in hand, the fading sunlight casting warm hues over the landscape. Drawing had always been your solace, a way to express the emotions you couldn’t voice.

You didn’t expect anyone to disturb you, least of all Daniela.

“Y/N,” her voice broke the quiet, hesitant but familiar.

You glanced up, your heart sinking at the sight of her. She looked different—exhausted, almost. The confidence she always carried seemed worn thin.

“What are you doing here?” you asked flatly, turning your attention back to your sketchbook.

“I—I didn’t mean to bother you,” she stammered. “I just… I wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied, your voice cold but trembling.

“There is,” Daniela said, stepping closer. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, and I know I hurt you in a way I can’t take back. But I need you to know I’m sorry. Not just for the bet, but for everything—for making you feel like you were anything less than amazing.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to yell, to scream at her for the pain she caused. But another part—the part that remembered the warmth in her smile and the way she made you feel seen—wanted to listen.

“Why now?” you asked quietly, finally meeting her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with the way things are,” Daniela admitted. Her voice cracked, and she looked away, trying to compose herself. “You didn’t just change me, Y/N. You made me realize how empty everything else was—how much I needed someone who actually cared about me for me, not who I pretended to be.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “And how do I know this isn’t just another game?”

“It’s not,” she said, her voice firm. “I swear, it’s not. I know I can’t make you believe me overnight, but I’ll spend as long as it takes proving it to you. Even if that means just being your friend. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

You stared at her, searching her face for any hint of deception. But all you saw was sincerity—a vulnerability you’d never seen in Daniela before.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I understand,” she said softly. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not until you tell me to.”

The two of you stood in silence, the weight of her words sinking in. For the first time in months, the walls around your heart wavered, if only slightly.

“I need time,” you finally said, closing your sketchbook and standing up. “That’s all I can give you right now.”

Daniela nodded, her expression a mix of hope and regret. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back. Daniela was still standing there, watching you go, her hands shoved into her pockets and her shoulders slumped.

Over the next few weeks, Daniela kept her promise. She didn’t push, didn’t hover. Instead, she found small, subtle ways to show you she was serious. A cup of coffee left at your usual library spot with a sticky note that simply read “For the artist who never rests.” A carefully chosen book slipped into your locker, its title related to a topic you’d once mentioned in passing. She was persistent, but not intrusive, allowing you to take the lead if you wanted to.

At first, you ignored the gestures, brushing them off as attempts to ease her guilt. But over time, you started to notice the sincerity behind them. She wasn’t asking for anything in return. She wasn’t trying to force a conversation or even make her presence known. It was as if she was letting her actions speak louder than her words ever could.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the coffee shop near school. You hadn’t planned on coming here, but the sudden downpour had forced you to seek refuge. As you shook the rain from your jacket, you glanced around the warm, cozy space.

And then you saw her. Daniela was sitting in the corner, a textbook open in front of her, a look of concentration on her face as she tapped her pen against the page. She hadn’t noticed you yet, and for a moment, you debated walking right back out.

But something stopped you.

With a deep breath, you approached her table. She looked up when you stopped in front of her, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Y/N,” she said, blinking as if she wasn’t sure you were real. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

You hesitated, clutching the strap of your bag. “The rain. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Oh.” She closed her textbook quickly, as if embarrassed to have been caught studying. “Do you… want to sit?”

You considered saying no, but instead, you nodded and slid into the chair across from her. The silence between you was heavy at first, but not uncomfortable.

“I’ve noticed the notes,” you said after a while, breaking the quiet.

Daniela’s face flushed, and she looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to say anything directly. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you admitted. “They were… nice.”

Her eyes lifted to meet yours, a flicker of hope in them. “Really?”

You nodded, looking down at the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what you said. About everything.”

“And?” she asked cautiously.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing patterns on the wooden surface. “I’m still hurt, Daniela. What you did—it wasn’t fair. You made me feel like I could trust you, and then…”

“I know,” she interrupted gently. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m trying to be better, Y/N. Not just for you, but for myself. I’ve been selfish for a long time, and meeting you made me realize that. You made me want to be someone worth knowing.”

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them. Part of you wanted to believe her, but the other part was still scared.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said honestly.

“I understand,” Daniela said quietly. “But I’m willing to earn it, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

You looked at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes—the same vulnerability she’d shown in the park. For the first time, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, she really had changed.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay?” she repeated, her voice hopeful.

“I’m not saying I forgive you,” you clarified. “But… maybe we can try being friends. See where it goes from there.”

Daniela’s smile was small but genuine, a mixture of relief and gratitude. “I’d like that. A lot.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a weight lift from your chest. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a step forward.

As weeks turned into months, the tentative friendship between you and Daniela began to blossom into something deeper. She stayed true to her word, taking things slow, showing you through actions rather than words that she was committed to earning your trust.

She didn’t try to force her way back into your life. Instead, she met you where you were, celebrating your passions, listening when you opened up, and respecting your boundaries. The walls you had built around your heart began to crack, little by little, as Daniela proved herself in ways you hadn’t expected.

One crisp autumn evening, the two of you sat side by side at the park, your sketchbook balanced on your lap. Daniela leaned back against the bench, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

“This feels nice,” she said softly, looking up at the canopy of orange and gold leaves above you.

You glanced at her, your pencil pausing mid-sketch. “What does?”

“This. Just being here with you.” She turned to meet your eyes, her expression open and unguarded. “I never thought I could feel like this with someone. Like… I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I am.”

Her words caught you off guard, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you felt your heart ache—not with pain, but with something gentler, something warmer.

“You don’t have to pretend,” you said quietly.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks to you.”

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the world around you fading into the background. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, she reached out, her hand hovering near yours on the bench.

You hesitated but then let your fingers brush against hers. The touch was tentative, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a storm.

Daniela’s smile grew, her fingers curling gently around yours. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, your chest tight with an emotion you hadn’t dared to name before. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

In that moment, all the hurt and doubt seemed to melt away, replaced by the quiet promise of something new—something real.

Months later, as snow blanketed the ground and holiday lights twinkled in the windows of every house, you found yourself standing in front of the Avanzini family’s roaring fireplace. The girls were scattered around the room, laughing and exchanging gifts.

Daniela stood next to you, her hand intertwined with yours, a soft smile on her face as she looked at you. Her friends had accepted your relationship with surprising ease, and even Megan—who had once instigated the bet—had apologized to you in her own awkward way.

“You okay?” Daniela asked, leaning in so only you could hear her.

You looked up at her, the warmth in her eyes making your heart flutter. “I’m more than okay.”

She grinned, pulling you a little closer. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. For the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

And as Daniela pressed a soft kiss to your temple, you knew that despite everything, you’d found something worth holding onto—a love that had grown from the ashes of a broken trust, stronger and brighter than you ever thought possible.

[catmiemy]

New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.

A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.

This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!

You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.

How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.

However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?

In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.

Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.

R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.

L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!

You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…

You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.

R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.

With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw?  As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.

L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!

Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.

R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!

And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.

Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.

First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.

You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.

At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.

When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.

This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!

The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.

You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.

Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.

R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!

You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.

---

“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”

Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.

“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.

“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.

“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”

Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.

A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.

It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.

Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.

Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.

Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!

Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.

Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.

It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.

After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.

Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.

So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.

It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.

“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.

“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.

Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.

---

When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.

The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.

However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.

“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.

“Could be worse,” you replied.

Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.

“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.

For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.

“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.

“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.

“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.

“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.

You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.

“A cuddle?”

Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.

It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.

“Why did you sit all the way over there?”

All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.

Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.

“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.

“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.

Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.

Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.

You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.

In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.

So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.

Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.

Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.

“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.

You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.

Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.

“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.

“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.

“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”

Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.

“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.

You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.

“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.

“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.

When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.

[max-nico]

Sonic is feeling abnormally sentimental, everyone around him thinks it's warranted, but it doesn't stop the fact that he feels like he could burst into tears any moment. Gosh, he's just so proud. He essentially raised this kid from a toddler to almost an adult, because he's only sixteen, but still! That's his baby brother!

His baby brother who is doing an amazing job, giving his amazing speech, at this amazing venue. He's gotten tall, his tails are thick and bushy, and he looks so confident. Sonic knew he would see that day Tails could stand on his own, from the moment he took the little fox in, he knew.

And the kid looks all grown up in his brown suit, he's wearing pants and everything! If Sonic was a lesser hedgehog, he'd be a blubbering mess of tears right now. Watching his little buddy be presented with an incredibly prestigious scientific award, that Sonic doesn't fully understand in all honesty, has his heart squeezing in so many emotions he's getting overwhelmed. He's big enough to admit that there are bittersweet feelings tied up in all his big brother pride.

"Euhg, you reek of ego." Knuckles says, walking up to Sonic.

"Can you blame me? I raised that kid."

"Barely."

Sonic rolls his eyes, leaning against the stage walls. He's unperturbed by the echidna's rudeness. Some people never change. Though, if anyone should stay the same it's Knuckles, not that Sonic would ever tell him that.

"How'd you even get back here?"

"Your lowly guards are no match for a warrior." Knuckles puffs his chest out, like beating up poor unsuspecting security workers is a flex. "They could not stop me from congratulating Tails after his acceptance speech... Also, Amy's going to be late and she wanted me to make sure I give Tails a bouquet of flowers."

"And we all know how Amy gets about her flowers." The two say in sync, matching smiles on their faces.

Amy opened a flower shop a few years ago, a business that she and Vanilla are teaching Cream how to run. It's sweet, and her own opinion, what gift shows love better than a bouquet. Sonic would argue that a good chilli dog beats flowers any day, but Amy also says he has no taste, so truly, what does he know.

The two lapse into silence as they listen to Tails talk. He answers questions fluidly, with a charismatic ease you could only get from spending time with Sonic the Hedgehog. Even rude comments from the audience are taken in stride and spun in his favor. Geez, maybe Sonic should've taken those PR classes with Tails a few years ago, the kid is much smoother than him when it comes to the media.

It feels like no time at all as well as a hundred years have passed by the time closing statements are being given. The crowd has begun to get antsy as well, the energy shifting as the award ceremony comes to an end. Not without Tails giving a concluding speech obviously, because his little brother has officially cemented himself in history, and is very clearly the most important person here.

"And of course, I would like to thank my older brother, Sonic The Hedgehog!" Tails gestures to backstage, and the crowd goes wild at just the mention of Sonic's name. "I know right. The guy who's devoted his life to saving the world is the same guy who raised me, sometimes I still have a hard time believing it myself!" He chuckles. "That is, until I remember he's also the same guy who refused to eat vegetables until I was old enough to start hiding them in his chilli dogs."

The joke got the crowd to laugh, and Sonic promises that's the only reason why he doesn't go out there and set the record straight. Because first of all, he didn't refuse, he just never felt like making a second serving! Tails got his vegetables and that's what mattered! Some brother he is, lying on Sonic's name like that.

"I would like to thank the rest of my family as well! They're your heroes, but they're the ones who gave me the confidence to do anything even close to this! I don't know where I would be without them so I kinda think this award belongs to them too... Still going to my trophy shelf though, they can get their own."

There's another laugh from the crowd, and a little tear wiped from Knuckles' eye. Sonic isn't doing much better beside him, the hedgehog is holding it together as well as straw holds up a house. Hell, Sonic barely listens to the rest of the speech, too focused on keeping it together until his little brother comes off stage.

All too soon there's clapping and cheering from the crowd, and Tails is beelining towards them. The curtains are coming down, blocking the stage lights, and within moments the fox's mic is removed and his blazer is thrown to the floor. None of them have ever been much for the restriction of formal clothing, Tails being no exception.

"Did I do good?" He asks. Sonic's heart clenches at how deep it's gotten. "Gosh, I was so nervous."

"You did very well." Knuckles scoops up Tails from behind, giving him a good noogie and messing up his tamed fur. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

The fox beams at the praise. For a moment, all Sonic can see is that little 8 year old smiling at him like he's the only good thing in the world. That same sweetly sharp grin, packed to the brim in naivety, but obvious intelligence below the surface. He's trying so hard not to get all mushy, Tails will make fun of him if he does. Hmm, he wonders where Tails gets that from.

"You did great, little brother! I told you that you could do it, and look, you got that fancy medal and everything just to prove it."

Tails flushes as Sonic pulls him in for a hug. He's a little taller than Sonic now, and the thought makes the hedgehog slightly nauseous... When did that happen?

"I dunno about little, I think you're more deserving of that title now!"

"As if!"

Now it's Sonic's turn to noogie the fox, much to his chagrin.

"You may be getting tall, but you'll always be my baby!" Sonic says obnoxiously.

"Ew, you're being so gross right now."

"C'mon keed, can't take a little affection from your big bro?"

"Not when you're acting like this, and stop calling me that, you weirdo!"

Sonic and Knuckles laugh at Tails playful disdain.

Hopefully he knows how proud they both are of him, Knuckles might beat it into the fox if he doesn't. Not even Sonic can save him from that fate.

Yeah I'm gonna participate in whumptober I said. WRONG !! WHOLESOME WEDNESDAY ATTACK 🌈🩷🫶🏾

I've had this fic in my drafts for ages, please take it away and treat it with care lol, it's been waiting so long for me to finish it

Also, someone give me an idea for a lil fic to write for Tails birthday !! I could just do the whumptober prompt but if anyone has any better ideas, I'm all ears !!

My askbox is always open !! Come yap to me !! Let's be friends !! @max-nicoxfandom is my general fandom blog if you're interested 🩷🩷

[getozitos]

the perfect heir and the lord's realization of love.

(sukuna x fem!reader)

summary: with him being your lord, you couldn't just refuse such an honorable ask from him now, could you?

content warning: smut, p in v, nsfw, porn with plot, explicit content, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, yandere tendencies, sukuna being obsessive, jealousy, reader being devoted to him, god complex, toxic behavior, heian era, true form sukuna, dark romance. (english is not my first language)

you couldn't understand him. he was a god, after all, and you were nothing but his most devoted and dedicated servant. the one he always chose to dance for him. nothing past it.

he was the closest thing these people had to an god, even though he knew he was way closer to a diabolical thing than to a god. this didn't matter now, he was their king, their ruler. he could ask for anything and they would give it. hand it. but then, why is it that those disgraceful men seemed to be so devoted to making him mad?

he marked you as his. you were his property and you accepted that happily, always smiling at the marks he gave you after a sleepless night, the bites of his teeth marking your skin through weeks. they never seemed to heal. and even if those men saw it, they didn't really care- something about "sharing", as they called it.

god, he hated those humans.

"you," he called the old lady by the lady's room.

"yes, my lord?"

"who is that man?" he asked sternely.

the old lady looked at the direction he was pointing to, her eyes blinking calmly before she closed them shut. "nobody important, my king. he is one of your entertainers."

"kill him." and she widened her eyes again. "not you, you old thing." he scoffed, angrily. "send someone to kill him. i don't want to ruin my clothes with his dirty blood. i want him dead first thing in the night. make it public."

and she gulped, nodding quietly as she slowly backed herself away from his throne.

then again, you were doing your daily duties since today was another girl's day to be with him. your attention got caught by the screaming in front of the area and, since your eyesight wasn't that good, you had to approach and pass your way through the lots of people that were in front of his palace to have the eyesight that made everyone so frightened.

it seems like the singer boy whom always sang his heart out for you was found gagging in his own blood, his tongue had been cut and by the look of his clothes, someone beat him to a pulp before cutting his tongue.

with your hands covering your mouth, you fell to your knees before trying to get closer to him, only to feel a hand on your shoulder and, for everyone's surprise, to see sukuna himself getting down to get you on his arms, not saying anything and just bringing you to his room.

and, for fuck's sake, you cried your heart out! was he really that important? what did he do for you to be so touched by this white haired boy death? he wasn't even as important or magnificent as sukuna!

"stop crying." he demanded, all arms crossed as he looked down on you, his eyes all focusing on you and on what you would do, say, how you would act.

"i'm sorry, master- my lord, i am so sorry" you begged, hands on the ground as you reverenced him and tried to stop the tears from falling.

"i don't care for your apologies if you don't stop crying." he growled.

you needed a bit more than five minutes to stop crying, but finally it had come to an end and you stopped your sobbing and crying session, hands pawing on your knees as you now looked up at him, your teary stained face making him smirk.

"i brought you here because i had something more important to talk to you." he said, eyes looking down on you like you were nothing but a bug even if he did everything for you — without your acknowledge.

"yes, sir. what do you need me to do?" you asked, breathing heavily.

"i want you to have my heir." he said, making your eyes go wide as you looked at him, stuck between being terrified and being the happiest you could ever be. "well? this is the part where you take your clothes off, dear."

and you nodded, submissively taking off your clothes and folding them like you were always told to.

"i'll be more than happy to give you an heir, my lord" you said, bowing your head to him as your hair cascated and covered your face from his hungry eyes.

"good to know." he smiled, pulling you closer to his still dressed body before putting your boob on his mouth. "i'll be more than happy to give you my heirs."

you frowned, heart beating fast as you felt your body react oh so quickly to his mouth on your nipple and his words against it.

"plural, my lord?" you gagged.

"you think i would've stop after one son? no, dear. you'll give me at least five sons. i don't care for their gender, i just want you to be their mother." and he nipped on your nipple, pulling you to straddle his lap.

you panted, nodding quietly in your devotion. "yes, my lord."

he smiled, biting your neck without any care if it would hurt or not, he wanted it to be clear. you were his.

his fingers travelled all the way down to your inner thighs, gripping at them before delving your pussy with his fingers. "don't you think you're too wet for someone who just lost a friend?" he asked, mockingly.

"h-he wasn't my friend, he was just someone i knew from afar" you panted, your cunt gripping his fingers.

"well, i'm pretty sure you weren't just someone he knew" he smiled, kissing and nipping at your neck "it seems to me that he wanted me to share you, you know?"

"n-no.. t-that couldn't be..." you panted, gripping at his shoulders.

"are you telling me i'm wrong, dear?" he arched his brow.

"n-no, my lord! i'm sorry!" you begged, panicking as his arms undressed his body. he smiled, laying you down on the bed and placing one hand over your belly.

"you'll look so pretty when you're all round and full of my seed" he smiled, thrusting his member into you before you could even answer something, a loud moan coming out instead. "i bet you're gonna look even prettier when you're nurturing"

he smiled, fondling your boobs and sucking them both together without even caring if you'd like it or not, well, lucky for you, you liked it. enough for you to be a moaning mess under him.

"what do you think, dear?" he groaned, grabbing your hips and thrusting into you in a quicker pace, god, he loved your hips so much. how could it be that they always seemed so round? you were always so perfect for him, so tight and such a good girl for him.

maybe he loved you. maybe that's why he wanted you to have his children and this might be the reason for him to kill any man that wanted to have a way with you.

...

nah, it was just possessiveness. love is something that humans reach for in a sick need of validation.

"my lord..!" you called, breathing heavily as he thrusted into your womb, warming your entire body up as you cried your pleasure out "p-please, can you kiss the future mother of your heirs?" you begged, crying lovable eyes staring into his like you were seeing a shooting star.

well, he might love you. enough for him to be holding back from cumming inside you right away when you asked for that kiss. of course, he couldn't keep that up for much longer and just like that, his tongue was inside your mouth, tangled in your tongue as he came inside you and made sure to pump his cum inside you, not allowing you to have it running down your legs.

"again," he said, breathing heavily, his dick still twitching inside you "i'll fuck you again" he said. "until i'm certain that you're gonna get pregnant, i'll be fucking you day and night." he said, looking into your eyes as he held your nape.

you blinked your eyes at him with clear surprise, as a human, hearing him say that was supposed to cause you to be preoccupied, but in other words, he just admited to have a sickeningly obsessive love for you to the point that he wouldn’t be inside anyone else but you.

"i'll keep giving you my seed," he breathed out, kissing you again "so have my child."

you were the only one that he wanted to have children with.

and you did! soon enough, there were a pair of three four-eyed and four-arms twins running around and making everyone's life (except yours and sukuna's) miserable.

and then, there was another one, and another one. god, you really loved those children, and him. life was perfect!

i mean, you didn't even care if he killed another man because of you, it was... common, at this point. of course, the blood cleaning task was not yours, so it didn't really mattered.

that's just his way to say he loves you.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (5)- Nothing More Than His Wife

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 5- 4.3k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Twelve Years Later

A defeated sigh tiredly left her lips as her eyes gradually fluttered open, adjusting to the dark room as mere slivers of moonlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, only partly illuminating her shared bedroom. The light reflected off the gold band wrapped around her finger as she adjusted her position on the bed as quietly as she could, her despondent green flickering over to the clock, noticing how it had just gone past midnight before letting her gaze drift to the other side of the bed, taking in the sight of his short blonde hair as he slept peacefully, an occasional snore escaping him.

Wanda couldn’t stop the other sigh that fell from her lips, her fingers pushing back her auburn locks carelessly before holding her head in her hands, trying to untangle the mess of thoughts swirling around in her head as she struggled to sleep. The weight of the day pressed heavily on her shoulders as she thought back to the argument she had with Vision, his words and the ring on her finger a reminder that she was nothing more than his wife, nothing more than a mother to their children, the one thing everyone told her should be enough. It should be. She was supposed to be lucky to have this; a ‘loving’ husband, a family of her own, a large house and a steady income, she should be grateful but she wasn’t because this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted more, she wanted… to be loved, to be appreciated, to be seen. She just wanted to be seen again, her mind unable to stop herself from thinking back to the last person who ever made her feel this way.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of you, your soft, playful and casual smile that you always offered her, the way your eyes overflowed with mirth and joy as you teased her and did everything you could to make her laugh and smile, to make her feel as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered. 

The warmth and longing that wrapped around her heart was quickly stripped away as she continued to think about you, the wound on her heart that had never healed making its presence known as that broken look in your eyes resurfaced in her mind, the way despite your world was crumbling around you, you still tried comfort and care for her.

Your soft words painfully rang around her head, haunting her as the guilt of that day consumed her, that familiar nauseous feeling stirring inside her as she sighed once more, giving in to the thought of that day. She hated herself for hurting you, she regretted choosing others over herself that day and lying to you, for saying she didn’t love because she did- no, she didn’t, she couldn’t face the truth. She still couldn’t. It was engraved into her, her mind punishing her for wanting to be different, to be something other than normal. It was wrong, yet she still wished to think of you that way, needing an escape from the unfair world she was stuck in.

She missed you. Her mind, her body, her heart, had missed you, her entire being craving you in every way possible. She longed to feel your soft fingers brush back her hair, to tuck it behind her ear and gaze at her with love overflowing from your eyes, to smile tenderly at her as she propped her head on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart to help her relax. She needed to feel your laugh stir warmth in her as she endured your light-hearted teasing, to feel the blush rising to her cheeks, tinting a vibrant pink as you would continue to tease and torment, making it up to her with a delicate kiss or a more sinful one, not that she minded. She also missed playing with your fingers, a habit you didn’t judge her for as she grew anxious about something, simply offering yourself to her comfort and console her, something she desperately needed now. She just wanted to be understood.

At the conflicting emotions flooding through her and overwhelming her confused mind, she groaned quietly in frustration, sliding her hands down her tired face before checking on Vision to make sure he hadn’t woken up, a snore confirming he hadn’t and causing her to swiftly sneak out of the covers, pulling a dressing gown over her shoulders to cover her body as she made her way over to her drawers. Carefully, she opened the wooden furniture as quietly as she could, pushing away the various clothes hiding the small box tucked away at the back, her fingers gently wrapping around it before pulling it out, holding it close to her chest as she slipped out of the bedroom, making her way downstairs to sit outside on the patio chairs.

The gentle glow of the moon was enough to illuminate the items in the box as she slowly opened it, matching polaroids filling it to the brim as she felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes at the nostalgic feeling bubbling inside her, the whirlwind of emotions the photos stirred in her making her exhale a shaky breath. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the first polaroid, a sad smile gracing her lips as she admired the pictures of the two of you, remembering the event as though it happened yesterday.

A click caught her attention as she turned away from the sunset, Wanda’s brow raising at you as you leaned against the pillows in your truck, camera pointed at the brunette as she let her gaze savour the sight of your cocky smile as another click sounded around the car.

“Have you ever thought about modelling?” you mumble from behind the camera, a comfortable silence briefly wrapping around the two of you as you waited for the photo to print out, Wanda’s shy but equally amused smile enough to tell you her answer. You loved how the two of you didn’t always need words to communicate, a simple look, touch, or shared smile was enough as you stared at her, taking in her expression.

“What do you think?” she mumbles sarcastically as she turns around to face you, naturally shuffling her body closer to yours as she peers over at the polaroids you had taken of her without her realising, her green flickering from photo to photo, smiling fondly at the one of you sticking your tongue out whilst she slept on your chest, the peaceful look on her face as she relaxed with you.

“I think you have,” you mumble playfully, encouraging her to straddle your waist as she settles there comfortably, wrapping her arms around your neck loosely as you peer up at her, adoration evident in your eyes whilst you admire every feature on her face. “Because you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” you murmur after a moment, too busy getting lost in those enchanting green, convinced they were hypnotic as you always managed to lose yourself in them.

“Flirt,” she mutters, the blush on her cheeks and the shyness tinting her tone letting you know your words caused butterflies to swarm her stomach, her smile growing that little bit wider as you lean forwards, letting your lips ghost hers whilst your hand moves the camera to the side subtly, waiting for the perfect moment to snap a picture.

“I’m just telling the truth,” you whisper, your free hand caressing her hips whilst one of her hands cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek gently, a glimmer of love briefly appearing in her eyes before she pushes the thoughts away, stopping herself from letting the words spill from her lips at your enamoured look. Instead of confessing, her lips meet yours tenderly, a smile breaking out on both of your faces as she hears the familiar click of the camera, her lips pecking yours once more before she tilts her head to look at your hand trying to balance the camera in a good position, her eyes rolling at your actions and love bubbling inside her.

A single tear fell from her eyes gracefully at the memory, lingering on her cheeks until her trembling fingers reached up to brush it away, to brush away the pain of remembering you brought her as she placed the polaroids down, the smiles on your younger faces almost mocking her for what she didn’t have anymore. She didn’t have you and… she never would.

***

Your eyes drifted from the endless road in front of you as you passed the large metal sign stating ‘Welcome to Westview’, a small smile creeping onto your lips as you returned home after all those years away, your head tilting to the side as soft pants met your ears over the quiet music. Lucky’s tongue was sticking out of his mouth as he waited impatiently in the seat next to you, his golden ears twitching back when he heard the sound of the window opening next to him, his adorable face poking out of the car as you drove through the streets of Westview, nostalgia crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

Every building you passed by dug up unexpected memories, the small town being somewhere you had explored every corner of in your youth either with Natasha or…her, the memory of the brunette causing an ache to settle in your chest, reminding you of how she left a scar on you.

You would be lying to say you hadn’t thought about the other woman, Wanda having consumed your thoughts far more than you would have wanted over the last twelve years, somehow still owning a piece of your heart despite everything that had happened. It still hurt, the words she said to you, they still plagued your thoughts and tormented you, but you tried your best to push them away, to focus on yourself and your life instead of the possibilities you could have had with her, the life you had always longed for.

You knew it was unfair to think about but part of you hoped she still thought about you, that you still haunted her thoughts the way she did yours, a deep sigh escaping you as you shook the thoughts away. No, you wanted her to be happy, to have moved on from you and hopefully find the life she always wanted, even if you still hadn’t found your true place in the world yet, your time in England ending on a sour note.

Before you could even feel bitter about the events of the last couple months, your gaze caught sight of the old convenience you worked at as you stopped at a red light, the way the old building had been abandoned and fenced off completely caused a suffocating cloud of longing to wrap tightly around you, blurring your thoughts together as you yearned for things to go back to the way they were, for things to have never changed and forced you to grow up. You wanted to be young and in love again, to have no care in the world as you drove down the streets in the middle of the night, singing your hearts out like you were the only people to exist. You wanted to feel free again.

It was wistful thinking and you knew it was, an almost mournful expression taking over your face as your youth slipped away from you like a melody fading in the distance, your thoughts drifting away from you until you heard the car behind you beep as you hadn’t moved, the light now green. You apologised by raising your hand and swiftly driving, keeping your gaze focussed on the tarmac in front of you instead of the memories picking away at your thoughts, trying to stay concentrated on making your way to your new house.

The rest of the car ride passed by smoothly, your thoughts trained on the brief traffic surrounding you and the music softly spilling from your speakers until your new truck pulled up into a large driveway, your gaze taking in the house you had just bought. A small sense of hope and excitement bubbled inside you at the idea of a fresh start, at the fact you were home, a genuine smile stretching across your lips as Lucky’s tail starts to wag, ready to get out of the car and explore his new home.

You secured the car and opened the door, the golden retriever eagerly hopping out and sniffing around the grass nearby until he eventually followed you to the front door, your fingers digging through your pockets to find the key as you heard a few raised voices next door, your gaze briefly flicking over to your neighbours house and watching as a blonde man stormed his way out of the house, dressed up smartly and looking as though he was late for work. You were curious as to what had happened, your eyes watching his tense movements until it looked like his head was turning your way, your gaze snapping away immediately, not wanting to intrude. Instead of staring, you twisted the key in the door, deciding you would introduce yourself to them at a more suitable time as you let Lucky run into the house, his tail seeming to never stop wagging as he ventured across the house, the boxes in your car waiting to be unpacked.

***

A heavy breath left you as you carefully placed down another heavy box, your hands wiping away the sweat building on your forehead as you panted slightly, your eyes taking in the sea of cardboard boxes filling your living room, the occasional sound of Lucky’s squeaky toy filling the quiet house as he played in the other room. After bringing in another box filled with various items, you decided to take break, walking through to check on the bundle of fluff as he sat on the rug you had just set up, your eyes rolling as he had an expensive bed literally in the corner of the room to sit in before making your way through to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a drink to refresh yourself.

The cool water was pleasant as you sipped it, your feet naturally taking you to the window at the front of your house as you stared out into the neighbourhood, taking in the few houses you were near. You briefly tried to guess things about the people who lived in each house to pass the time, your gaze inevitably drawn back to the house with the arguing couple earlier, a puzzled expression taking over your face. You weren’t sure why you had this pull to them, why you were so desperate to know more about them, the curiosity eating away at you as you continued to stare for a moment, getting lost in your thoughts when some movement caught your attention, your hand placing down the water as you observed her.

Her auburn hair stood out to you, her slender fingers pushing back her locks tiredly as she locked her door, her face hidden away from you as she turned to walk down her drive, her body language clearly defeated. A small wave of sadness trickled down your spine at the woman’s despondent figure as she climbed into her car, waiting for a moment as she collected herself, clearly struggling with her home life before starting the car, something undecipherable clouding your thoughts as she drove away, almost leaving you feeling alone.

You sympathised for the mysterious woman before pushing away the strange sensation stirring in the pit of your stomach and the odd sense of familiarity she caused before deciding to take a longer break from unpacking and take Lucky for a walk, part of you wanting to see how much things had changed and admire places that were still the same, needing something to distract you from the image of your neighbour.

A nostalgic smile was engraved on your face for the next forty minutes as you strolled down street after street of your old home town, your eyes taking in the way old stores you would visit had changed or refurbished, your feet subconsciously taking you towards Natasha’s old house, knowing that Melina and Alexi still lived there. You smiled fondly at the familiar house, memories of how you would sneak in and out of the window at the back making you chuckle, the stupid rebellious things you and the redhead did without people knowing, always amusing to you. You continued down the street, going past the old hideouts you shared with Nat where you drank for the first time, smoked for the first time, got high for the first time, doing all sorts of things together before you had to leave. Your smile dropped a little as you remember how hard it was to leave her, the two of you staying in contact as much as possible but struggling to as life inevitably got in the way, responsibilities and adulthood taking precedence.

After exploring a little more, you started to head back home, taking the quicker route as the two of you were growing tired and eventually found yourselves back on your new street, watching mindlessly as a red car drove passed you, only concentrating on it once you saw it pull up into the drive next to you, your curiosity peaking.

The sight of two young brunette boys jumping out of the car made your brows raise a little, the way their wide grins and elated expressions were directed in your direction as you passed their drive, well, more Lucky’s direction as they ran down the path to say hello to the golden dog.

“Can we say hi?” One of the boys said, his tone polite but clearly laced with excitement at the presence of a dog, Lucky sitting down, body wiggling as his tail wagged, knowing he was about to be fussed about, his tongue hanging out his mouth almost comically as the boys grinned at him.

“Of course,” you say softly, crouching down next to Lucky and lowering yourself so you were at a closer level to the boys, smiling at them as your fingers ran through silky fur, “He’s extremely friendly.” At your words, the brown haired boy who asked you the question immediately reached out to pet Lucky, the other one clearly more timid as he slowly let his hand approach the golden tufts on the dog’s back, his smile tugging up that little bit wider at the soft feeling. You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped you at the first boy gushing over Lucky, the boy’s hands squishing his face up adorably as he looked around as though he was in a dog’s version of heaven, the attention making his tail somehow wag even more as you watched tenderly at how the boys interacted with your pet.

“You’re just so cute,” he mumbles as his small fingers play with fur, your hand motioning for the boy to offer his hand out to Lucky, knowing he’d immediately offer him his paw to hold. “That’s so cool!” The boy continues as he shakes Lucky’s paw, his smile practically reaching his ears as excitement bubbles wildly inside him, his teeth on show as he grins, having fun until the sound of his mother interrupts the moment.

“Dorogies, come on, we need to go inside,” their mother shouts from the front door, stepping down the drive to find out what had distracted their boys so much, the corner of her lips lifting up at the sight of Tommy shaking the golden retrievers paw, Billy’s mouth stretched into an elated grin as they interacted with someone, her gaze eventually landing on who they were talking to.

Twelve years of sadness, longing, hope and hurt crashed down on Wanda at the sight of you, the whirlwind of emotions crashing through her almost stealing her breath away as her smile dropped, disbelief evident in her eyes along with a conflicted look, the expressive green unable to hide the confusion coursing through her. It couldn’t be you, you couldn’t be here. She had hoped for this moment for years, dreamt of being with you one more time and having love and affection wrap around her heart tenderly, but now that you were here, crouching at the end of her driveway and looking at her boys with a soft look, she desperately wished she’d never see you again. She couldn’t cope with this, the way you stirred up all those buried feelings again, the way you made those feelings real again. It was as though the emotions that tormented her for over the last decade were a mere ripple compared to the tidal wave that crashed down on her, the sight of you a constant reminder of everything that had happened, a reminder of everything she wasn’t supposed to want.

The guilt, the regret, and the heartbreak echoed around in her mind as she stared at you, a pained expression engraved on her face as she felt her throat tighten like it did all those years ago in the empty car park behind the convenience store. She didn’t want to relive it, she didn’t want the emotions that she let fester deep inside her flood through her, to make it impossible to do anything other that long for what she had in the past with you.

Why did you have to come back?

At the sound of an angelic voice, you lifted your gaze away from the two cheerful boys, tilting your head up to gaze at the woman who had captivated your attention since you arrived, the curious expression and playful smile on your lips washing away immediately at the sight of those green eyes you could never forget.

The world around you faded away, the chatter from the twins a distant murmur as your mouth parted in shock, the sight of a familiar but changed face staring back at you with an equally broken look stirring something deep within your gut as you kept your gaze locked on her eyes, the green still just as hypnotic as you remembered. Gazing into her eyes was enough to tear open the stitches on your heart you spent years trying to heal, your mind feeling overwhelmed as you didn’t know how to feel.

You wanted to feel happy, to smile at her as you had missed her. You’d missed staring into those captivating green, getting lost in each shade and swirl whilst feeling the smooth and soft strands of her hair between your fingertips as you played with them or tucked them behind her ear. You missed the way her smile and gentle laughter blessed your ears and eyes, the way such a simple movement stirred such joy from you, just being with her, just being able to admire her was enough for you. You missed her, fuck, you’d missed her from the moment you said goodbye.

Despite how you partly wanted to feel happy, you couldn’t, old wounds brutally resurfacing as your mind flashes back to the day everything around you fell apart, to when you had to stand and stare at the woman you loved and learn that she was too scared to ever love you, that she didn’t think you were worth the risk of loving. It tore you apart, it tore you apart then and it still does, the memory of the pain that seared your heart crawling down your spine as you offered her a look that conveyed every single emotion you felt.

Her expression only added to the hurt and agony wanting to drown you as she looked at you as if you were a ghost from her past coming back to haunt her, an old dirty secret nearly revealing itself. It broke you, to still feel like a secret as she looked to her boys, trying to keep her voice composed, to hide the tremble in her words as her gaze inevitably flickered back to you.

“We need to go inside now, Dorogie,” She mumbles to the twins, trying to quickly place a mask over her conflicted face before her children notice as well as trying to cover up the small glimmer of disappointment at the way their faces dropped at having to say goodbye to Lucky and yourself.

“Can’t we stay a few more minutes?” Tommy complained, hugging Lucky as to try and convince his mother to give into his wish to play longer, her eyes struggling to stay off you as your expression dropped, her pain evident on your face unlike hers.

“No Tommy, come on,” her voice holding no room for debate as a stern motherly tone tints her words, the twins swiftly saying goodbye to Lucky before waving goodbye to you, a small smile quickly lifting your lips for them before dropping, watching helplessly as she slowly starts to turn away from you, the boys running off into their house.

“Wanda,” you call out without even thinking, her name falling from your lips after all these years and odd sensation, your voice making her pause, turning briefly to look at you, your eyes seeing straight through the mask that was rapidly crumbling away before you.

“I’ve got to go now, I’m sorry,” is all she says before turning her back on you, your form standing at the end of her drive despondently as you watch her walk away from you, tears building in the corner of her eyes. Helplessly, you let the ache in your chest grow with each step she took, the pain amplifying as she shuts the door, trying to close herself off from you and the longing look in your eyes as you stand there, trying to repair your heart once more all alone.

[okwonyo]

💌 ──CRUSH.

엔하이픈 니키 ୨୧ female reader 0.4k highschool au fluff potential future relationship + cw. not proof-read ｜ more a/n. blank

when riki has a crush, it's rather chaotic.

refuses to accept the fact that he has a crush on you whenever someone asks. furiously shaking his head whenever someone brings that up; an ‘i hate her’ slipping out of his mouth.

but he can feel his heart's beating picking up whenever you are around, no matter how far away or close you can be— as if his heart tries to talk to yours. (“how unfair, our souls are closer than we are”).

can barely focus when his eyes meets yours; unable to hold eye contact for more than ten seconds.

he gazes at you as though you were the first face he'd ever seen.

is embarrassingly soft when he talks to you; voice tender and eyes full of affection— his friends call it the ‘lover boy voice’.

anyone can notice the chance of his attitude and hue in his eyes whenever you are around.

loves to tease at any chance he gets; bumping his shoulder into yours when he walks next to you, taps your shoulder with his index finger then proceeds to act as if nothing happened when you turn around, stills your stuffs just to ask you where they are afterwards.

at first, he thought he only wanted to be your friend very badly. but something in him wants more and he can't rest.

can't stop looking at your hand whenever you point at something— and always ends up saying ‘huh’ when you ask him about it.

finds excuses to walk you to your classes or to your home.

is happy when you the smallest gestures.

such as sitting next to him even though there is plenty of sits in the room, when you turn towards him during class when the teacher says something funny, when you buy his favorite snack because you were hungry and thought he might want something.

with you, intimacy colours his voice, even ‘hello’ sounds like ‘come here’.

during class, when you sit across the room and he can see you chew your pen through two heads of his classmates, he writes about you.

“i dare not hope, but the truth is, if one day you ask; the answer will be yes— always”

nets @k-films @kflixnet @/k-labels taglist open! @manooffline @ibsysbsfsunsbs @oldjws @lilriswife4life @alaezasmystery235 @teddywonss @tyussday @cholexc @flickqr @yuviqik @wvnrqs @strawberrywonz @y-ves @isawritesss @filmofhybe @ikeucakes @gweoriz @yunabi436 @ashtxrie @soul-is-a-strange-kid @jaelaxies @jwonsluvr @lynniebearrr-blog @bobabunhee @sunghoonsarmpit @ynsvnte @wonifullove @luvieden @shalkeren @thesunoosshining @smouches

[kayesfanfics]

Being in Love With Rogue (Unrequited) (Fem! Reader)

A/N: Sorry yall but she’s my girlfriend, I fought Magneto and Gambit and won and now I kiss her every night

Warnings: Unrequited love, ANGST

Oh, it was so obvious to everyone in the Mansion how much you looked up to and adored the feisty southern Belle. She was absolutely beautiful, so strong and independent, never took any shit from anyone, and very headstrong and opinionated, what was there not to like about her? She was perfect, except…she was with Gambit, her soulmate. You couldn’t help but hate the swamp rat, wanting to be in his place so badly. Everyone could sense your feelings about the two of them, everyone except for Rogue herself. When you saw them kiss, you had the leave the room because of the anger boiling in you, and the sharp sting to your heart knowing he could touch her but you’d never be able to

Luckily almost everyone in the Mansion knew exactly what it was like seeing the one you were in love with love somebody else. Well, except Jean and Scott, but everyone else. Morph would sometimes make jokes about it, Wolverine would tell him to shut up and leave you be, Storm would rest a hand on your shoulder in silent comfort, Beast would say some intelligent quote you didn’t quite care about. You’d never fully quite come out to the team as sapphic, but it was painfully obvious and they accepted you without question. Jubilee and Roberto would often ask why you never told her your feelings for her before she had gotten with Gambit, but you never could answer them. Maybe you were too shy, too afraid of what she’d say, you didn’t know. But you knew she wouldn’t truly want to be with you if she couldn’t touch you, no matter how badly you wanted her

“Don’t worry kid, you’ll get over her soon enough.” Wolverine would say

“Maybe Gambit will turn her gay soon, who knows! He has awful guy habits.” Morph would quip

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring ourselves.” Beast would quote

“Perhaps you should talk to her, get some of it off of your chest.” Storm would agree

None of it helped, you couldn’t bring yourself to make her love life more complicated after all that Magneto and Gambit drama she had dealt with a few months ago. You didn’t need her to know, you didn’t see any point in it, nothing would change for you. You’d excuse yourself from your friends and go to your room to wallow, still feeling hopelessly heartbroken after watching Gambit dip and kiss her in the middle of the basketball court

Gambit was fully aware you had a crush on his girlfriend. He wasn’t upset about it, he knew exactly how you felt, but you refused to talk to him about it or let him help you in any way. You were bitter and jealous of him, even if he was nothing but chill and nice to you. He did make an effort not to flaunt his relationship too much in your face, but he couldn’t help it if Rogue wanted a kiss from him while you happened to be there, it’s not like he’s deny her and you understood that

One day during a mission, things went south and Rogue got hurt badly. You couldn’t stop yourself from running to her to help, only to be beat by Gambit rushing over to help his girlfriend. You forced yourself to refocus back on the attacking Sentinels, feeling your feelings finally boil over and you raged against the robots, blasting them to bits and punching them far after they were down. You finally stopped when your knuckles bled profusely and tears overflowed your eyes, making you sob into your hands in a pile of broken machinery. You heard Morph and Jean trying to get your attention and ask you what was wrong, but you had been bottling up your feelings for so long you couldn’t hold them back anymore

“Y/N? What’s wrong, sugah?”

You looked behind you to see Rogue standing with some of the others, concern warping her face as she held her injured arm. You stared at her pretty face for a moment before quickly wiping your face and standing up, feeling like an immature child in front of them all. You whispered a quick “nothing” before attempting to leave, only to be stopped by Rogue grabbing your shoulder

“Y/N, we used ta be best friends! You can tell me! I don’t know what changed, but I want ta help ya!” She pleased with you, the other X-Men taking the hint and shuffling over to another area to let the two of you talk. Gambit made eye contact with you and gave you a nod, before joining the others out of earshot

“R-Rogue, I…I can’t tell you!” You cried out, dissolving into tears yet again right in front of her

“Of course ya can! You could tell me ya loved my boyfriend and I’d still listen!” She sat down with you in the rubble of the fight, tucking some of your messy hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched at the comment, knowing she was very close to being correct

“That’s uh…sorta the problem.” You finally admitted, looking down at your lap on shame. “Except…cept it’s not him I love…”

Rogue stared at you in confusion for a moment, before everything clicked in her head. Oh. That explains why you distanced yourself from her, stopped sharing everything with her, stopped coming to her when you needed someone, didn’t want to be friends with her anymore…

“Oh, Y/N.” She sighed, raising a hand to hold your chin to make you look at her. “Honey, I had no idea. I just thought…I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry. If I had known I wouldn’t’a been so…I’m so sorry!” She tugged you into a hug, her own eyes tearing up

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…I didn’t want to complicate things for you even more. I didn’t want to be a burden on you.” You shyly hugged back, your first hug in what felt like forever. You buried your face in her fluffy hair, breathing in her scent and holding onto her tightly

“You could never be a burden on me, sweetie! I should’ve seen it, now that you say that it was so obvious! I didn’t mean to ignore you or make you feel like I didn’t care about ya! I do! I love ya! Just…not in the way ya want me to.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to! I shouldn’t have been such a baby and just told you, woulda saved me a lot of heartache. Storm was right about that.”

“Aw man, did everybody know but me?” She laughed, pulling away and wiping her eyes of tears

“Kind of.” You giggled, wiping your own tears and smiling up at her

After that mission, your friendship was mended and you went back to telling her everything and going to her if you needed her. She was more mindful of PDA around you and didn’t talk to you about Remy unless you were okay with it (you were especially okay with it when they were fighting and he did some stupid shit). Your other friends were glad to see the two of you finally talking and being the duo you had always been, but you still drank with Wolverine and cried about her to him, who wasn’t fully paying attention to you and probably thinking of a certain red head he loved…

[carlottawllms]

The Night I Nearly Lost You

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff Word Count: 6.7K TW: mentions of accident and injuries (nothing descriptive or too bad)

I really hope you’ll like this one! Enjoy <3 As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

With the way you’d already gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, you should’ve known that staying in the warm heaven would’ve probably been the best solution for everyone.

Not only had you woken up in a cold sweat after a terrifying nightmare, but then the water in the much-needed shower just wouldn’t get warm and as if that hadn’t been enough bad news already, on top of all that your coffee machine had failed.

You should’ve just called it a day, but with the responsibilities adult life brought, it just wasn’t that simple.

Technically, it was your day off today, but as a paediatric nurse in the PICU in a London hospital that was understaffed and impaired by several sick colleagues, you never really had a day off – unless you weren’t home.

But since you’d nothing planned for today anyway, you’d agreed to being on standby in case someone was needed. Especially as the sick children shouldn’t suffer just because the health care sector was barely supported by the country’s politics.

And apart from that, you really loved your job. Sure, it was a challenging one – mentally and physically – and it could leave you crying in the on-call-room every once in a while, because the moments when there was nothing that could be done for a sick child anymore were far too devastating.

But then there were also the wonderful moments when children, cured of their illnesses, were able to leave the hospital. And seeing the children running down the hall, healthy and with grins on their faces and their relieved families, knowing you’d played a small part in that too, made it all worthwhile.

Just as you’d sat down on the sofa, your coffee ready for a relaxed afternoon on the sofa, your phone rang: Jessy. The deputy head of care service.

“Hi Jessy.”

“y/n, I’m very sorry to call this early, but Mary just called in sick and without her Helen would be on her own.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m on my way, I should be there in 15.”

You knew the drill, having done it countless of times already so at this point putting your shoes and jacket on, grabbing your bag and some snack within less than 3 minutes was second nature to you.

Traffic in London was always bad and especially in the late afternoons so with going some rather unconventional routes you hoped to beat the worst parts of the traffic so it wouldn’t take you too long to arrive.

And apparently for the first time today luck seemed to be on your side, as all the traffic lights turned green just in time for you to avoid having to stop altogether, but it left you the moment you crossed the last set of lights as the last thing you heard was a very loud horn and then everything went dark.

*

“Nah seriously mate, he’s jokes.”, Mason laughed, as he patted Luke on the back.

After a fairly draining training session, that had left his legs aching and burning, all Mason had wanted was to go home and flop down on his sofa with as little movement as possible, but instead he was now sat between Luke and Licha in one of the restaurants not far from Carrington.

The guys had talked about grabbing some early dinner together after the session and when they’d asked him to join, he’d not been able to refuse. They’d happily accepted him as part of the family, so who was he to say no to an invitation.

“Honestly though, I know him from the England squad like, Rashy can confirm that an-“, Mason interrupted himself when a name he’d not expected to see ever again flash up on his phone. “Hang on for a sec, I need to take this.”

He grabbed his phone as he left the table quickly, his heart beating out of his chest. After everything that had happened and not being on speaking terms for about 8 months, he hadn’t expected to ever hear from you again and seeing your name now brough feelings to the surface he’d buried six feet under.

After taking a deep, but shaky breath, he answered the phone. “y/n?”

“This is Elizabeth Brown from St. Thomas Hospital London, am I speaking to Mr. Mason Mount?”

“Yes, that’s me.”, he answered, his body suddenly feeling all cold. The hospital?

He knew he should be more careful with things like that. After years of being in the football business he knew that fans went down questionable paths to get information, but the moment the woman mentioned the hospital – the one you didn’t work at – his mind went blank.

“Erm…you said hospital? Is…is she okay?” Mason tried to stay calm although his heart was beating out of his chest. It was never a good sign when the hospital called and judging by the sick feeling in his gut, this wouldn’t be a good call either.

“Mr. Mount, I’m sorry, but Ms. y/l/n was involved in an accident and brought in a couple of minutes ago, she was rushed into surgery for treatment on several injuries, that’s all I can tell you right now. She had you saved as her emergency contact, is there any way you could come?”

There was a bit of a pause as he was too shocked to say anything. He tried to take steady and even breaths, but they just came out faltering, only adding to the lightheaded feeling.

“I erm…” Mason grabbed a hold of the railing close by. His legs were shaking, and he felt like he was going to faint any second. The accident…the surgery…you injured… “I’m actually not…we erm…we broke up 8 months ago and erm…I’m not in London…I-“

“You’re her only emergency contact.”, the woman explained kindly. “You can call family and ask them to come, but we’re not allowed to just call someone else.”

Running his hand over his face, he took a deep breath, trying not to panic as he thought about the options he had.

Unfortunately, there weren’t very many. You didn't have a very good relationship with your family – something that had always been hard for you - so he couldn't notify any of them. Your friends in London were not well disposed towards him since the break-up so apart from driving himself, he only had the option of asking Ben.

But you’d still saved him as your emergency contact so maybe he should actually go? Was it just because you’d forgotten to change it? Or had you meant for it to stay the same? But that wouldn’t make any sense, would it?

“Mr. Mount?”

“Yeah, sorry.”, he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “I erm…I’ll see what I can do. I’ll either come down myself, which would take a couple of hours, or I’ll send Benjamin Chilwell. Can you erm…can you put that down somewhere, so he’s allowed to come in?”

“Yes, of course, no problem at all.”

“Thank you, Mrs. erm?”

“Brown.”

“Right, sorry. Thank you, Mrs. Brown.”  

“That’s okay.”, she told him. “Our doctors will do everything to make sure she’s alright. The surgery will require some time and then Ms. y/l/n will still be out due to the anaesthesia. So please don’t rush.”  

After the call ended, Mason took a moment. He leaned his head against the wall, eyes closed and willing to hold back the tears. His heart was beating out of his chest and with the sick feeling rising in his stomach he was afraid he was gonna vomit any second.

He knew there was only one right thing to do, but for some reason he didn’t think he should actually go. Your relationship hadn’t necessarily ended on good terms and as he’d been the one who’d fucked it up, surely you wouldn’t want to see him out of all people. Maybe he really should call Ben and ask him to go?

“I thought you go- Hey, Mase, is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“I erm…the hospital called me, y/n was in an accident and…I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

Mason couldn’t explain it, but it was the moment he said it out loud that he truly realised it, that it became real. You’d been in an accident, the person he still cared so deeply about had been in an accident and rushed into surgery, and there was nothing he could do.

“y/n as in your ex?”, Luke asked, and Mason nodded as tears sprung into his eyes.

“Luke, what if the last thing I ever told her was that I couldn’t see a future with her? What if I never get to tell her just how sorry I am for everything I said and that I never meant it? That I was just scared and-“

“Hey, stop. Mase, you need to breathe.” Luke grabbed him by the shoulders as Mason was slowly starting to panic. “This is y/n we’re talking about. She’s a fighter, okay? She’ll make it and then you get to tell her you’re sorry and all that, okay? But right now I need you not to panic.”

Mason took a couple of deep breaths to get himself back under control and once his erratic breathing had calmed down a little, Luke let go of him. He was right, you’d always been a fighter and there was no way you’d stop being one now.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I…they asked me to come down to London. Apparently, y/n has still saved me as her emergency contact, but erm…I don’t think I should go, you know?” Mason ran his hand through his hair again. “Things ended so badly, like I fucked up so much and I don’t think I should go…I just don’t think she would want to see me out of all people…it’s just that…she’s alone and…I should ask Ben to go and see her. I think they still talk and-“

“No, Mase.”, Luke shook his head. “I understand that there’s a lot going on for you right now and yes, maybe she just forgot to change it, but we don’t know that. Maybe this is your chance to make it all right, you know? I get you’re scared, but you should go and see her. Be there for her when she wakes up.”

“What if it just makes things worse? Luke, I hurt her so much and pushed her away when I should’ve just…I don’t know.”

“Okay.”, Luke sighed. “I do understand what you mean and why you’re scared, but Mase the moment she wakes up in hospital with wires attached to her body, she’ll be shocked and scared with hundreds of things on her mind, but your break-up won’t be one of those things. She’ll just be relieved to have someone by her side. You really should go.”  

A few minutes, in which Mason thought about his friend's words, passed. Luke was probably right, and he worried unnecessarily, but what if you really didn't want to see him? What if you just sent him away the moment you saw him?

“C’mon Mase, you and I we both know what the right thing is. Don’t be a coward and send Ben. I don’t know what really happened between you and her, but if she actually meant to keep you as her emergency contact, waking up with the realisation that you rejected her and instead sent Ben would break her heart all over again.”

Mason sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll erm…I’ll grab myself a coffee and head down to London.”

“Call the gaffer on the way, tell him about the family emergency and he’ll understand. Just be there for her okay?”

-

Without any preparation Mason jumped into the car, leaving Luke to explain why he’d just left so suddenly and made his way down to London.

After calling the gaffer and him unsurprisingly being very understanding of the whole situation, Mason’s thoughts kept travelling around one thing.

You.

You’d been the best thing that had ever happened to him and until today, he couldn’t believe he’d so royally fucked it up and lost you.

First, he’d sworn to himself he’d make it right and fight for you, but then he’d waited too long and too much time had passed. He’d convinced himself you didn’t want him to fight anymore. And he’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t love you anymore, that he’d just move on and find someone else.

But now that he was faced with the terrifying truth that he might not even get to see you ever again, he regretted everything even more. He knew he should’ve at least told you how sorry he was, and that the problem had never been you. What if you’d just left this world without knowing just how loved you’d truly been? What if all he was left with from now on was knowing you as a memory?

The four hours to London passed more quickly than he’d expected, and he found himself in front of the hospital. Just like Luke had asked, Mason shot him a quick message, letting him know he’d arrived safely and with one last deep breath he made his way into the building.

He tried to cross the hall quickly in an attempt to draw as little attention as possible, but when more people turned and stared, he realised he probably should’ve worn a cap and swapped his training gear for a dark hoodie and sweatpants.

“Hi, I’m looking fo-“

“Holy shit, you’re Mason Mount.” The way the receptionist gasped and stared at him with wide eyes made Mason feel incredibly uncomfortable. He buried his hands in his pockets and dropped his head as more people now turned to look at what was happening.

“Listen, I’m looking for someone. I was called for y/n y/l/n. Where can I find her?”

“I can’t believe it’s Mason Mount right in front of me. I’ll have a look in a minute, can we just quickly take a photo?”

The audacity this woman had was beyond him and it took him a lot to stay calm and level-headed when all he wanted was to scream at her to let him know where he could find you. He was in the right mind to push her off the chair and search through the system himself.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I really don’t have any intention of taking photos with anyone here right now. And if you don’t want me knocking on every single door in this hospital, I kindly ask you again to let me know where I can find Ms. y/l/n.”

The woman looked a little shocked, probably not expecting him to put his foot down like that and depending on how butthurt she was, he could imagine her posting shit about him on social media in a bit, but in this moment, he simply didn’t give a shit about his own reputation. All he wanted was to go and see you.

“Oh erm…yes of course. It’s erm…” She clicked a couple of times, seemingly stressed as she looked for your information, before she nodded. “There it is. Floor 5, room 129.”

“Thank you.”, Mason smiled tightly before rushing off towards the elevators. There were three of them and the scoreboard of all of them showed 8. “Fuck.”, he muttered as he quickly decided to take the stairs.

Whilst running up the 5 stories, he prayed you weren’t out of anaesthesia yet as he desperately didn’t want you to wake up alone with no one by your side.

It hadn't been that long since he’d had his own surgery and he knew how relieving it was to have someone sitting by the bedside. He couldn't imagine how much worse it had to be for you, since yours hadn’t been a scheduled one and you were just thrown into this situation. 

Barely out of breath – a perk of being a professional athlete – he took the very last step and opened the huge door. Against his expectations he wasn’t met with the ward, but a regular room, equipped with a desk and sealed stacks of hospital gowns and masks.

A young nurse stood up the moment he entered. It was clear from her reaction that she’d recognised him too, but unlike the receptionist, she pulled herself together after a millisecond.

“Mr. Mount.”, the woman smiled. “Visiting hours are over, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, I was called for y/n y/l/n. She had an accident and I’m the emergency contact.”

“Oh yes, okay. My colleague left me a notification saying that someone would come to see Ms. y/l/n.”

“How is she?” Mason noticed how his voice was a little shaky, the stifling atmosphere only a hospital could create and the burning fear you couldn’t make it through eventually taking a toll on him.

“She came out of surgery about 10 minutes ago and she’s stable. She’s made it through the hard part, Mr. Mount.”, the nurse explained kindly. “When you put these on, you can go and see her. It’s always better for patients to have someone by their side when they wake up.”

As quickly as possible, Mason pulled the blue visitors gown over his clothes before the nurse helped him with the mask.

“It’s room 129. She should be asleep for a while longer, but once she wakes up press the call button, please? I’ll have to check a couple of things.”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.”

„Oh and you can take the mask off once you’re in the room. It’s just important to wear it on the corridor as there’s critical patients on this floor.“

With a key and a smile, she opened the door that sported ICU in big white letters on the frosted glass. It was 9.30pm and accordingly the corridor was quiet and empty, as Mason made his way to the room the nurse had pointed out.

His legs felt like jello and the way his heart was thundering in his chest, made him wonder if it could burst a ribcage. He couldn’t remember ever having felt this sick, but when he opened the door and saw you, his heart dropped to his stomach.

“y/n.”, he whispered as he felt his heart breaking in his chest.

There you were, asleep in bed with wires and tubes attached to your body. You looked fragile, your face pale. There was a huge gash across your eyebrow, several scratches on the parts of your arms he could see and as his eyes travelled lower, he spotted the cast around your hand and wrist.

The even beeping of the machines, monitoring your heartrate were as reassuring as upsetting, reminding him that it could be over in any moment. As the door fell closed with a gentle thud and he was finally alone with you, tears welled up in his eyes, quickly falling down his cheeks whilst he walked closer to your bed.  

“You need to be okay. Please, y/n.”

Never before had he felt this helpless and lost, this broken and all he wanted was to make you feel better, but looking at you, he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to be the strong person when it had always been you who’d guided him through every storm.

Hesitantly, Mason reached out and grabbed your good hand in his as he sat down as close to your bed as possible, his eyes trained on the way your chest rose and fell evenly and the movements alone calmed him down a little. You’d be okay. You had to be.

He sat there for what felt like forever, holding your hand and stroking your skin whilst watching over every breath you took and the longer he stared at you the more he realised just how much he’ missed you and how much of an idiot he’d been.

He’d tried to keep it buried six feet under, but now that you’d nearly slipped through his fingers forever, it was like a slap across his face. He still loved you with everything he had.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Mason lowered his head until he could place a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “Please wake up, y/n. I need one chance to tell you that I miss you and that I love you and that I wish I was yours again.”

For the next hour and half, Mason never left your side. The nurse came in once and reassured him, that you still sleeping was totally normal. She updated him on your injuries and told him that he could stay for as long as he wanted to, but he was sure that even if she’d called the security to remove him, he would’ve fought them and stayed.

Mason couldn’t remember when he’d placed his head on the mattress next to your leg and closed his eyes, but he must’ve fallen asleep a little and it was only when the beeping of the machines changed that he shot up from his position. His neck felt a little stiff, but he didn’t really pay any attention to it as your heart rate had suddenly picked up.

Unsure, if it was a good or a bad sign and if she should press the call button for the nurse, he observed you a little while longer. The cute little crease he used to kiss away appeared between your brows and in a flash, memories of better times rushed past him. Memories in which you woke up from a nap in his arms, tired eyes and a small smile on your face.

The light in the room seemed to be too bright for your liking as it took you a couple of attempts to open your eyes properly, but when you eventually did, he could easily spot the confusion on your features.

Frantically, your gaze flickered around the room, your bed, the cast on your arm and eventually to Mason’s hand still firmly clasped around yours. He could feel his insecurity skyrocketing and blushed deeply. He’d overstepped, hadn’t he?

But as he attempted to pull his hand away, you just tightened your hold on his.

Panic and fear, that’s what Mason saw in your usually so warm and gentle eyes when you raised your head and looked at him. It broke his heart to see you like this and whilst he really wanted to help, he didn’t know how.

“It’s okay.”, he whispered. “I’m right here.”

You had no idea what had happened, why you were in what looked like a hospital and why Mason of all people was sitting by your bed holding your hand but you knew one thing for sure: You didn’t want him to let go.  

Because despite your past, right now he was all you knew and the only familiar thing that gave you some sort of comfort and reassurance in the midst of panic.

The constant beeping around you, the unfamiliar surroundings and most of all the fact you couldn’t remember what had happened scared you. You felt restrained, your head pounded, and everything hurt and when the door suddenly opened flinched.

“Hey, it’s okay, yeah?” Mason squeezed your hand gently. “You’re okay.”

“My name is Ally.”, the young nurse smiled. “I know you must be very confused right now, but I need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?”

You looked at Mason, unsure if you wanted to speak to her, but when he just nodded and smiled you focused back on the nurse. “Okay.”

Your voice was raspy as you attempted to speak, your sore throat making it somewhat impossible, but before you could even ask for some water, Mason held the cup with the straw out for you to take a sip.

The nurse waited for you to finish before starting with a series of questions about yourself and how you’d ended up here and you tried your best to answer them, but as much as you tried to remember, the memory of what had happened didn’t come back.

“An accident is a traumatic experience, so it is quite normal that your brain tries to protect you and hold back the disturbing memories. Please do not worry about this. The surgery went well and if your condition remains the same, we can move you to the normal ward as early as tomorrow.”

She carefully removed some of the wires from your body, leaving you with just the clip on your finger that observed your heart rate.

“I’ll be outside whenever you need me.”, she smiled. “You can use the free bed, Mr. Mount. Sleeping in a chair isn’t the most comfortable.”

And with that you and Mason were back to yourselves. It was quiet for a moment as neither of you really knew what to do or say and as much as you’d love to ask why he was here, you didn’t think you were strong enough to have any kind of conversation right now. You were exhausted, still shocked from what the nurse had told you and above all, you were confused.

A couple of months ago, Mason had broken your heart and left you on your own to pick up the pieces. You should hate him and tell him to go, but you couldn’t. This feeling of comfort and safety only he could provide enveloped you as you focused back on him.

But you were aware he had responsibilities and probably needed to leave soon.

“You don’t have to stay.”, you mumbled, eyes dropping to where your hand was still tightly held by his. “I know you have training and-“

“Do you want me to go, y/n?”, Mason asked quietly, desperately hoping you’d say no. He didn’t want to leave you, but he knew he had no right to just stay. Not after having broken your heart and left you behind like something unimportant.

“I erm…” A shy smile flickered over your face, and you squeezed Mason’s hand. “I’d actually like you to stay.”

“Okay then. I’ll stay.”, he whispered, voice full of emotions. He felt as if he was 10 pounds lighter and the relief rushing through his veins gave him a little high as he got up from the chair and let you know he’d grab the bag of clothes he always kept in his car for emergencies.

“I’ll grab some things from my car, but I promise I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”

With a fond smile on your face you nodded and you expected him to leave, but to your and probably his surprise, he leaned down and kissed you softly on your forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay, y/n.”

Mason practically ran to his car and then back up as he didn’t want to leave you alone for too long and once, he was back and had changed into a t-shirt and shorts, he moved the bed the nurse had pointed out for him to use, as close to yours as possible.

You were still pretty exhausted and the lingering pain obvious on your features, but you seemed to fight the sleep trying to catch up with you. Your eyes constantly looked for Mason and it wasn’t long until he figured out why.

“Hey, I’ll still be here in the morning, okay? I won’t leave you alone, I promise.”, he told you softly before shuffling closer to you and turning onto his side so he could face you properly. “Go to sleep y/n. I’ll stay awake, yeah?”

Instead of answering, you straightened your arm until your hand was on his bed, palm up and only when Mason wrapped his hand around your smaller one did you close your eyes.

Mason’s heart squeezed in his chest. The moment a perfect reminder of that one hot summer night, he’d convinced you to sleep outside in his garden on nothing but thin mattresses. You’d both been lying on your backs, staring at the beautiful night sky. Whilst counting the stars, you’d absentmindedly reached your hand out and grabbed his and the moment had burned itself into his brain.

Whilst he watched you fall asleep peacefully, the tip of his finger just about caressed your warm skin. It was something he loved doing. Your skin was always so soft and warm and welcoming and whilst he knew you loved his touch, it was also an action that never failed to calm himself down.

Once he knew you were fast asleep, he settled down himself, body angled towards you and hand still wrapped around yours, but although he knew you were okay, sleep wouldn’t take over as he constantly needed to check you were still breathing fine.

But at some point he must’ve fallen into a light slumber, as he was awoken by your quiet whimpering. Mason shot up into a sitting position and wiped over his face in an attempt to wake up properly.

You were still asleep, but there were tears rolling down your cheeks and the way your body shook had Mason terrified you’d hurt yourself even more.

“Hey, y/n. Wake up, love.” He shuffled over and into your bed. Mindful of your injured body, he carefully pulled you against his chest as best as he could, arms wrapping tightly around your shaking frame. “C’mon, y/n. Wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”

He tapped your cheek lightly in an attempt to wake you up and get you out of that horrendous dream that was torturing your poor soul and the moment you gasped and opened your eyes, he let go of a deep breath.

“Mase!”, you choked, the images of your dream still burned into your mind, but the way he held you close to him helped you calm down slowly but surely and when you felt him pressing his lips to the top of your head as he gently rocked your body from side to side whilst whispering reassuring words, you relaxed into his chest.  

For a while you just stayed there, calming your rapid breathing with the help of his even heartbeat right under your ear and in that moment, you realised how easy it was to just ignore your past and just feel safe in his hold.

“Why did you come here?”

Your question hit him out of the blue and Mason was confused for a second what you were referring to, but then he realised.

“You’ve still saved me as your emergency contact.”, he explained quietly. “The hospital called me and told me about your condition and asked me to come see you. I wanted to send Ben first cause I didn’t think you’d want to see me, but then I just…I don’t know, I just couldn’t live with the thought of rejecting you and not coming to help you, you know?”

You didn’t say anything, too overwhelmed by the fact that despite not speaking for about 8 months, he’d made his way down to London to be there for you.

Maybe the two of you still had a chance? When he was willing to drop just everything and drive 4 hours for you, then why should you stay stuck in the past yourself?

“Can you please stay?”, you whispered, face pressing a little more into his chest as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Of course.”

“No, I mean with me here…like…in my bed and…hold me?”

“I’ll hold you for as long as you want me to.”

“Forever then.”, was what you thought, but you knew you couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet at least. Instead, you sighed deeply. “Thank you, Mase. Also, for coming here.”

“Anything for you, love.”

It was the second time the pet name slipped out, but this time you could hear it and whilst Mason’s heart dropped to his stomach in fear of having overstepped, yours warmed in your chest.

The way his hand was running through your hair and up and down your spine relaxed you like nothing else ever could and it wasn’t long until you were back asleep in his arms.

“I’ll fight for you, y/n.”, he whispered as he watched you sleeping peacefully on his chest, something he didn’t think he’d ever get to see again. “I promise I’ll never leave you again unless you send me away.”

Mason dropped a gentle kiss to the top of his head before he closed his eyes and let himself drift off as well.

-

When the gentle rays of the morning sun had woken up both of you, you’d stayed cuddled up with each other for a while, simply enjoying a moment neither of you were sure would happen again.

He’d meant to speak to you about everything straight away, but the doctor and nurse came to do their rounds shortly after he’d gotten up and brushed his teeth, so he had to postpone the inevitable for a little while longer.

They explained what they’d done in surgery, that everything had gone well, and you would be transferred to the normal ward before lunch. You asked a couple of questions about recovery times and what kind of support you’d need and to Mason’s relief you seemed to be a lot better than what he’d expected.

And then, the both of you were back on your own.

The atmosphere was a little tense, the events of the night before hanging above you both and whilst you felt a little lighter about the whole situation, you still needed some sort of explanation for closure.

“I think we should talk.”, you mumbled, heart beating out of your chest. The night before had felt as if everything was okay and whilst you’d loved being back in his arms there was still this deep settled worry gnawing on your insides.

You patted the edge of your bed, signalling him that despite the serious conversation ahead, you wanted him to be somewhat close.   

“Why did you do it?”, you asked once Mason had sat down.

“I was scared.”, he admitted quietly, not needing you to be more specific with your question. “I fell so bloody hard for you that the thought of you ever leaving me…it just…it just messed with me. I already knew I’d most likely move to Manchester, and you’d just started that new job and…god I’m so fucking sorry I was such a coward.”

Ashamed, Mason dropped his head, fingers playing with the white bedsheets. He felt like shit and like the biggest idiot in the world. Instead of talking to you, he’d made up his mind that you’d break up with him anyway and to save himself from the pain, he’d done it first and ruined both of your lives in the process.

“There’s no excuse for what I did, but I need you to know that I am incredibly sorry. Ever since I left your flat that night, I haven’t stopped regretting the things I said and how I made you feel, how much I hurt you.”

Mason ran his shaking hand through his hair, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to keep himself together.

“I should’ve talked to you, I know, but I’d somehow made up my mind already, convinced you’d end things and let me go on my own because…we’re both not made for a long-distance relationship and…I just…the way I felt for you was so special and so rare and I just got so scared.”

“Felt?” Your voice was small and hesitant and when Mason looked up and saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, his heart broke all over again. He hated himself for how much pain he’d caused you in the past and how now it was happening again.

“Feel.”, he whispered, terrified of admitting it as chances were you didn’t feel the same anymore, but he needed to get it all off his chest to keep the tiny hope you’d take him back alive.

“I still love you, y/n. The truth is, I love you so much it scares the shit out of me because I know I’ll never be able to love anyone the way I love you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special and that’s why it still hurts so much. I had the best person ever in my life and I fucked it up.”

“Mase.”, you sniffled, trying to hold your own tears back as you whipped Mason’s off his reddened cheeks. “Please don’t cry.”

“It’s ridiculous I know. I am the one who ruined the best thing ever and now I’m sitting here crying whilst you were the one I put through so much, but when they called yesterday, I thought I’d never get to tell you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me and I realised that I might never get the chance to hold you again and to tell you how much I love you and…I’m just such an idiot for pushing you away when all I ever wanted was to be with you”

His sobs and words were breaking your heart. Yeah, he’d hurt you, but it was obvious that he’d hurt himself too. Very much so and whilst you’d always wondered what it would take to heal fully from your break-up, you now realised that there was no way you’d ever get over it unless you faced the challenge and gave him a second chance.

A chance you knew he deserved. He’d dropped everything in Manchester, probably even went through the horror moment of calling his new manager and telling him he wouldn’t be able to attend training, only to then drive four hours to the capital to be here for you.

If he hadn’t cared, he would’ve sent Ben. But he hadn’t. And you appreciated it more than you could ever explain.

“I understand, Mase.”, you mumbled, pulling him into your chest and holding him close whilst you both cried in each other’s embrace.

“It’s not okay and it will take a while to be okay because you’ve hurt me a lot, but I accept your apology.”, you managed to say after a while, causing him to cry a little more and you gently ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scull in an attempt to calm him down. “Look at me please?”

When he pulled his face out of your neck and his bloodshot eyes found yours, you smiled at him softly.

“Yeah, you hurt me a lot and those last 8 months have been hell, but you’re here now and yes it will take a while to come to terms with it all, but Mase, I still love you too. I love you to bits and although I’ve really tried, I couldn’t get over you. There’s always been this pathetic hope to get you back someday.”, you sniffled as you sent him a teary smile. “Being without you was terrible and I don’t want to go through that again. You’re here now and we need to work on a lot of things and talk a little more, but I do want you back – if you’ll have me that is.”

Mason pulled his trembling bottom lip between his teeth as fresh tears fell. There was no way you’d just said that.

“Of course, I’ll have you.”, he sobbed. “There’s nothing else I want more.”

You gently cupped his face with your hands, thumbs brushing away the still falling tears and when he smiled at you, really smiled at you, your heart melted.

“I’ve missed you so much.”, he mumbled. “God, I’ve missed you so much you have no idea.”

“I do.”, you nodded. “Mase, I’ve missed you just as much.”

And before you could chicken out, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a hesitant, gentle kiss.  

—————

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback so I can see what you liked and what I can improve on 🩷

[weneeya]

Helloo :) Im the same anon that requested Zanka and Rudo having a crush on Enjin’s sister and I loved how you wrote it! I don’t want to be too much but I would love to read a part two on how would they confess to her? Feel free to ignore this of course and thank you for accepting my previous request :)

the big crush pt.1 / pt.2 m.list | rules

pairing. gachiakuta x fem!reader

characters. zanka, rudo

note. welcome back!! ofc i'll do a part two for you <3 i'm glad you liked the first one, and i hope you'll love this one just as much!

Zanka

Since Enjin’s words, Zanka grew closer to you day by day. If your own brother trusted him enough to take care of you, he better be doing it carefully. He didn’t want Enjin to be disappointed ; and he certainly did not want you to get hurt by him in any way. But how hard it was for the poor Zanka. 

He knew what he felt for you, because he knew he wasn’t feeling anything close to this for anyone else in the cleaners. He cared about them, yes, but he wanted you to care about him. You made his mind go crazy like it had never done before. Zanka always wanted to be seen by your brother ; but he slowly began to realize that he wanted to be seen by you even more. 

It was slowly but surely driving him mad, if he had to be honest. Zanka, the usually so calm and collected guy, focused on being the best by making it look like it was no effort for him, was losing his mind over you. His mind was occupied by thoughts of you all the damn time. 

Until he decided that it couldn’t keep going on like this. He needed to tell you, so he could move on. A refusal was all he needed to be able to go over this and get back to his usual state of mind. So he asked you to come with him for a walk, which not only surprised you but everyone else too. 

You were both alone, outside of the HQ of the cleaners. Walking in silence, you passed by a bench where you decided to take a break and sat on. The silence was heavy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer. The problem was that Zanka had no freaking idea on how to tell you what he was feeling for you. 

The moment you turned around to look at him, you met his eyes because he apparently had the same idea as you. It made you freeze for a second, because you didn’t expect him to be so close so suddenly. You cleared your throat and he looked away. It was so awkward, Zanka felt like a dumb teenager ; he felt like Rudo. 

“I want to take care of you, you know,” he finally began. You looked up at him but stayed silent, letting him keep going without being interrupted. “I shouldn’t want it so much but, I really want to be an egoist for once. So please, let me be selfish, and let me take care of you alone.” He had looked up to meet your eyes, a sense of determination in his eyes. 

You swore you felt your heart miss not only one beat but a few more than that at his words. You blinked a few times, trying to process his words. Until a light smile softly appeared on your lips. You nodded a bit, taking his hands between yours all too gently. “Let's be selfish together, then.”

And Zanka never felt happier.

Rudo

He loved being your friend. The attention, the way you laughed when he said something awkward, or the way you always reassured him about everything ; all of this made Rudo a happy little excited ball. But he could feel it wasn’t enough. 

He wanted to spend all of his time with you, making sure you could be here almost every time he left for a mission. He worked better with you around, maybe because he wanted to see the way your eyes shined every time he used his power. It made him proud. 

Each time Rudo brought some garbage back into good shape, he found a way to make it a gift for you. You stopped counting how many things you had been putting in your room after he gave it to you. Yet, you never refused his gifts. He seemed way too happy to offer them to you, and you found him too adorable to say no. 

It’s Riyo who made him realize what he was feeling for you. He froze in place the moment she told him that he loved you. Love? What exactly was love? Yes, he already had a crush before, but he never felt so energized by it before. Then you weren’t just a girl he liked a bit more than his other friends? He had some trouble processing it. 

But he couldn’t keep it to himself. Rudo was so bad at hiding things, and it was even worse when he had to hide them from you. You caught him lost in thoughts in the cafeteria, and the way he stuttered when you sat in front of him made you realize that something was wrong. 

You didn’t need to ask him too many times until: he stood up and almost snapped at you by half yelling “I like you”. Of course, everyone around went dead silent, until your sweet laugh broke the silence. You weren’t making fun of him, you would never ; but the situation was just too funny for you to stay impassive. 

You took the time to speak both together later that day, so you could reassure him about feeling the same and being the happiest to be the only one receiving gifts from him. Rudo felt like he was floating, and he mentally noted to himself that he had to thank Riyo for this.

thank you for reading!

[lowlylux]

Silver Spoons (And Butterknives)

Chapter Nine | Fear of Holidays

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8.6k

Ship: Jegulily/Wolfstar

Description:

For a moment he wishes Sirius was there.

He closes his eyes, allowing him to accept it even as his lungs scream for him to continue fighting. He hurts..so much. It is overtaking him, drowning out the voices that continue to berate his mind. But he still cannot bring himself to fight back. His mind goes fuzzy, his consciousness beginning to lessen its hold on his body.

Yet, for a moment, he swears the pressure of the water leaves him.

He swears that he is gasping for air and actually obtaining it. And, the thing that makes him fully realize that this is his mind's last attempt to give him peace, is the mirage of his brother staring down at him, eyes widened in shock.

And just like that, Regulus finally loses consciousness.

Or...

A simple loophole ensures the survival of Regulus Black, and he is about to make it everyone's problem.

ao3 link

James cannot help it.  His gaze keeps drifting across the room, pulled like a tide to the sofa where Regulus is sitting—tucked next to Dorcas and Marlene, looking, for once, almost at ease.  His legs are crossed at the ankle, one hand loosely resting in his lap, the other curled under his chin as he tilts his head up to Lily.  She’s standing just in front of him, gesturing with one hand, her other curled protectively around a mug.  James can’t hear what she’s saying.  It doesn’t matter.  Regulus is watching her like whatever she’s saying is worth listening to.  Like the sound of her voice is music.

Because it is.  Lily has that sort of energy that pulls you in.  James is convinced he could listen to that girl talk for hours.  Because he has.  Multiple times.  And he will keep doing so until his dying breath.  Until his heart stops beating.

It should make James smile.  Should make him feel something warm—fond, even.  He’s known Lily forever, and he knows that warmth she gives people.  But watching Regulus look at her like that—with his eyes glinting, mouth pulled in a faint, rare smile that hovers just at the edge of something genuine—James only feels the slow tightening in his chest.

Regulus looks soft.  Not fragile.  Not breakable.  Just…unguarded.  His whole expression has loosened, as if Lily’s voice has nudged the tension out of him, replaced it with a quiet glow.  And it hits James like a punch to the ribs.

He wonders—no, aches to know—if Regulus will ever look at him that way.  If those cold, sharp eyes will ever light up when he speaks.  If Regulus might one day lean into his words the way he leans into Lily’s.  Hang off each syllable like it matters.  If he’ll ever look at James like he’s not just useful, or tolerable, or there, but wanted.

The thought startles him.  Still, even now, a full week after everything clicked into place—that moment in the hallway, the way Regulus wouldn’t meet his eyes after the mug shattered, the way James hadn’t been able to stop thinking about touching him since.  A week of dodging his own reflection in the mirror like a coward.  A week of pretending he was fine, that this—whatever this is—would fade with time.  It hasn’t.  It’s only gotten worse.

And there’s no one to talk to about it.

He’s not about to bring it up with Sirius—not with Regulus being Sirius’ brother.  Peter would try too hard to make a joke of it.  Or will refuse to acknowledge his words.  Remus might see too much.  And Lily—Merlin, Lily.  He doesn’t know what she’d say, if it would be cruel or kind, or if it would wreck him either way.

He shifts, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the scene unfold.  Dorcas says something to Regulus that makes Marlene roll her eyes.  Regulus doesn’t react—just turns back to Lily with that same quiet attention, like the rest of the world is noise.  Like James is noise.

It should not feel like a loss.

But it does.

And the one person who might’ve seen through it—who might’ve offered a gentle nudge or said you’re being an idiot, James, but it’s alright—is gone.  His parents had left with Pandora Rosier—actually, Lovegood now—that morning, flooing off to Cornwall to stay with old family friends while they undergo treatment.

James had nearly dropped his tea when he saw Pandora again.  Visibly pregnant, blonde hair in a halo of curls, dreamy as ever as she rubbed her stomach and told him she was due in February.  Like no time had passed.  She’d smiled at him and wished him luck, as if she already knew he’d need it.  As if her gaze could see the future.

Now, the house feels quieter without his mother and father.  Colder.  There’s no one left to read him like a book and still turn the page.  He’s lost.

Utterly and completely lost.

And still—his eyes return to Regulus like they’re on a string.

“You alright, James?”  Peter asks, voice quiet but cutting through James’ spiraling thoughts like a blade.

James startles, blinking like he’s just surfaced from deep water.  He stammers, caught off guard, eyes bouncing between Peter and Remus.  They both look concerned.  Not suspicious, not judgmental—just there, like they always have been.

He glances over at Sirius across the room, who is thankfully immersed in some animated conversation with Marlene.  His laughter echoes too loudly, covering for James, shielding him from notice.  Regulus flinches at the noise, causing Lily to frown.  For once, James is grateful that Sirius can be so oblivious.

He turns back to Remus and Peter, voice a little raw as he says, “Can I talk to you…please?”

Remus narrows his eyes, just slightly, always the one to see more than James says.  But he only nods.  “Yeah. Of course.”

Peter’s already on board, looking intrigued.  James feels his heart thud too hard in his chest as the three of them quietly slip away from the main room.  With every step, the warmth fades—the firelight no longer wrapping around them, the sound of carols growing muffled, replaced by the faint creak of the old manor’s foundation.

Gone is the scent of cinnamon and pine, of cloves and honeyed butter.  Gone are the glowing lights, charmed to twinkle just slightly off-beat in that way Lily insisted was more human.  Gone are the enormous trees in every corner that they had spent the whole day decorating.

James can still hear the echoes of Regulus and Lily’s banter from earlier—her chiding him for his taste in garland, him complaining about her ribbon placement like it was a matter of national security.  They’d argued through the entire process, their voices overlapping and sarcastic, but both had been smiling by the end, Lily more so than Regulus.  Regulus had more of a warm smirk really.  Not that James had been watching them.  He cannot kid himself actually.  He could not stop watching them.

Now the world feels quieter.  Too quiet.

The corridor they walk into is dark, and James wraps his arms around himself without meaning to.  His fingers press into the meat of his arms, grounding.  Or trying to.  He needs Lily.  Needs her presence.

He can’t keep this in much longer.

He has no idea how to say it.

But he needs to say something.

“I have a problem, I’m afraid,” James says, though the word problem feels too small, too clinical for what’s growing in his chest.

Peter immediately perks up, brow raised in mild alarm.  “Problem?  Is something going on?”

James opens his mouth, tries to explain—but Remus is quicker.

“Is Lily alright?” Remus asks, his voice dropping into something quieter, gentler.  There’s always been something steady about Remus, the kind of person who could wrap panic in calm.

“Is she pregnant?” Peter blurts out.

James flinches.  “What—no!”

“Has Monty gotten worse?”  Remus presses, expression darkening.  His hands are in his pockets now, shoulders curling inward like he’s already bracing for something awful.

“Are you and Lily calling off the engagement?” Peter asks, eyes wide.

James stares at him, incredulous.  “What?”

Peter shrugs like it’s a fair question.  “I don’t know!  You’re being all mysterious!”

“Well let me get a word in and shut up,” James says, running both hands through his hair.  “Lily’s fine.  She’s not pregnant—unless she is, in which case, well, shite, I’m the last to know.  My dad’s alright.  His potions are working.  And no, Pete, we’re not calling off the bloody engagement.”

Peter opens his mouth, then thinks better of it and simply nods.

Remus, ever perceptive, doesn’t take his eyes off James.  “Then what is it?”

James doesn’t answer right away.  He stares at the floor.  The stone underfoot is cool and faintly cracked with age, and for some reason that feels metaphorical.  The sound of laughter drifts in faintly from the other room—Lily’s maybe, or Marlene’s, not Regulus’ that’s for sure—and it tugs at something deep in his chest.

He doesn’t want to be out here.  He doesn’t want to be here, in this corridor with its fading warmth and too-sharp air.  But he doesn’t want to go back in either, not with the way Regulus had looked at Lily earlier.  

The realization of last week is gnawing at him like a rat beneath the floorboards of some old house—quiet, steady, inevitable.

He folds his arms across his chest like he can hold it in.  Contain it.  Crush it.

But it’s not going anywhere.

And now Remus and Peter are just waiting, still and silent, two pairs of eyes full of patient confusion.  Like they know whatever James is about to say will change something, but not what.

James wants to laugh.  Or run.  Or maybe scream.

He settles for clearing his throat and looking away.  His voice comes out rougher than he wants.

“I do have a problem,” he repeats.  “I just…I don’t think it’s the kind you’re expecting.”

His heart thuds.  Once.  Twice.  Louder than before.

“I think…” James swallows hard, his tongue dry, his throat tighter than he’d like.  “I think I have feelings for Regulus.”

The words feel ridiculous.  Like he’s confessing to a crime he didn’t mean to commit.

He rushes to soften the blow.  “Not a lot.  But they’re there.”

Peter looks at him, and for the briefest second—just a flicker—his expression sharpens.  Something unreadable, almost wary, flashes behind his eyes.  James blinks, startled, and it’s gone just as quickly, replaced with Peter’s usual open, curious face.  Like it had never been there at all.

Remus, on the other hand, just looks…sad.

Not disapproving.  Not judgmental.  Just this quiet, heavy-eyed kind of pity that sits wrong in James’ stomach.  Like he’s already preparing himself for the outcome.  Like he’s seen this kind of disaster before.  Because he has.  Just the last time was far more personal.

“Do you need us to take him in?”  Remus asks softly, like it’s a mercy.

James recoils slightly, eyes wide.  “What?  No—I mean, what?”

It feels like a record scratch in his mind.  Like they’re on two entirely different pages.  He stares at Remus, trying to piece together what the hell he’s even asking.  He doesn’t want to get rid of Regulus.

“I just—” he scrubs a hand down his face.  “I don’t want him gone.  I want to know what I’m supposed to do.  With this.  With me.  With—fuck.”

“Ignore it?”  Peter jokingly offers, not serious whatsoever, and James turns sharply toward him just in time to see Remus elbow him in the ribs.

“Oi!  What was that for?”

Remus doesn’t answer him, just gives him a look before returning his attention to James.  His voice is gentler now, careful.  “First off, you need to talk to Lily.”

James visibly winces.

“Don’t make that face,” Remus sighs.  “If you intend to do anything—even think about doing anything—you have to be upfront with her.”

“Who says I’m going to do anything?”  James says, too fast.

Remus raises an eyebrow.

And…yeah.  Alright.  James supposes Remus is right.  Because if the roles were reversed—if it were Lily tangled up in feelings for someone else, no matter how small—he’d want to know.  He’d need to know.  He’d expect it.  And she would tell him.  Lily is brave like that.

But James?  He’s not so sure.  He is merely a coward wrapped in scarlet that he does not always deserve.

The worst part is that some tiny part of him hopes Lily already knows.  That she’s seen the way he looks at Regulus.  That she’s seen through him.  Past him.  That she’ll say it’s okay—even if he doesn’t deserve that kind of grace.

That maybe she knew before he did.

And still stayed.

But still.

“Oh Merlin,” James mutters, dragging both hands down his face.  His palms feel clammy. His whole body feels like it’s made of static.  “I haven’t told her yet…I’m the worst.”

“You’re not the worst,” Remus says automatically, but there’s a weariness in his voice that makes James feel like maybe he is.

“I’m emotionally cheating already!”

“You’re spiraling,” Remus corrects, folding his arms and leaning back against the hallway wall.  “And you need to take a breath.”

“Have you and Regulus even interacted much?”  Peter cuts in, brows scrunched.  “Thought he preferred Lily’s company.”

James flinches.  “Well, yes—”

And doesn’t that sting more than he wants to admit?

Because it’s true.  Regulus does talk to Lily more.  Laughs with her in that quiet, surprised way of his.  They share something sharp and clever between them, something that makes James feel like he’s always catching up.  Like he’s never quite in on the joke.  Like they have their own language.

Regulus understands Lily.  James knows it.  He saw it when Regulus realized something happened at Cian’s.  He sees it every time they throw sarcastic remarks around.  They speak nothing but silent conversations while covering them up with sarcasm.  Usually, James can decipher them.  But sometimes even he is unsure.  It hurts him in a way.

He’s seen the way Regulus looks at her, too—warmth in those winter-gray eyes, something like relief when she enters the room.  And she glows a little when he speaks, even if she rolls her eyes at half of what he says.

James can’t blame her.  Regulus is magnetic when he wants to be.  Distant and cold, sure, but that just makes every flicker of softness feel like a secret reward.

And James wants that reward.

Wants Regulus to look at him the way he looks at Lily.  Wants him to lean into James’ words like they matter.  Wants him to smile and mean it.

Wants to be chosen a second time.

Because he is simply tired of only seeing Regulus when he is either cold or broken.  Those few moments where he simply is are few and fleeting.  James wants to hoard them as if he were a dragon.

“I just…” James exhales slowly, forcing himself to meet their eyes again.  “I want to talk to him without it feeling like I’m going to ruin something.”

Peter shrugs.  “Then don’t ruin it.”

James looks at him, dumbfounded.  “That’s incredibly unhelpful.”

Peter grins.  “Well, I try.”

But James can’t laugh.  Not really.  Not when his heart’s beating too fast, and his thoughts keep circling back to a pair of storm-colored eyes and a mug that shattered in a quiet room.

Not when the idea of Lily finding out before he can tell her properly makes his stomach twist.

“I could always ignore it?”  James offers, voice hopeful and just a little pathetic.  A repeat of what Peter said earlier

Both Remus and Peter wince—physically wince—like he’s said something offensive, or deeply stupid.  Probably both.  Peter looks like he is regretting his prior joke

“James…” Remus says, rubbing a hand down his face as he leans back against the wall.  His jumper rides up a little at the hem, and James watches him pinch the bridge of his nose like he’s nursing a headache.  “Do you remember when I said that?”

James shifts his weight from one foot to the other.  The corridor feels colder than it should, the festive warmth from the sitting room now a memory behind the closed door.  “You were fourteen,” he mutters defensively.  “It’s different.”

Peter snorts, crossing his arms.  “Apt comparison with you, honestly.”

Remus gives James a look.  It’s not unkind, but it’s painfully direct.  “Yes, I was fourteen,” he says, low and even, “but ignoring Sirius was fucking hell, James.  For all of us.  I was cold.  Sharp.  I said things I'm still making up for.”

James fidgets with the cuff of his jumper, eyes flicking down to the floor.  He remembers.  They all do.  The way Remus froze everyone out.  The way Sirius had smiled through it and then gotten weepy alone in their dormitory.  The way James had felt like they were all falling apart and no one knew how to say stop.

“And you got better,” James says, like that somehow makes the mess more palatable.  “You worked it out.  You came through.”

Remus’ eyes narrow, and he tilts his head just slightly.  “After I went and snogged Sirius.”

James blinks.  “Well—”

“Mate,” Peter says, giving James a light shove with his elbow, “best to stop now.  Think Remus is gonna end you soon.”

Remus doesn’t even crack a smile.  His arms are crossed, his posture taut.  “The point is,” he says quietly, “ignoring it didn’t stop me from feeling what I felt.  It didn’t make it go away.  It just made me cruel and confused and lonely.  It made Sirius think he’d done something unforgivable when he hadn’t.”

Remus and Peter exchange a look.  It’s brief.  Wordless.  James hates how much it says.

The silence stretches long enough for James to hear the faint sound of laughter from the other room.  Lily’s laugh.  A familiar melody.  Followed by something quieter—lower.  Regulus, maybe?  No, he would rather die than grace Sirius with it.

He imagines them still on the sofa, Lily leaning down to show Regulus something, Regulus looking up at her like she’s the sun.

And James can’t help the way his stomach flips, the way something tightens behind his ribs.

He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, willing his voice to stay steady.  “I just…I thought ignoring it would be easier.”

Remus watches him carefully.  “It won’t be.  You know that.”

And James does.  He really, really does.

“This is terrifying for me,” James mutters, raking a hand through his hair until it’s sticking up worse than usual.  It’s a nervous tic, a habit from adolescence he never quite outgrew.  He paces half a step, then freezes again.  “What if it ruins everything?  What if Regulus doesn’t even likeme—like that?”

Remus lets out a short, incredulous snort.  It’s soft, but not subtle.  James’ eyes narrow, his brow lifting with suspicion, but he doesn’t press.  Peter shifts beside Remus, glancing at him with barely veiled curiosity before turning back to James.

“We’re not at that point, mate,” Peter says gently.  His tone is calm, measured in a way James suddenly resents.  Because he is not calm.  Not even close.  His whole chest feels like it’s in a vice and none of this feels as simple as Peter’s voice makes it sound.

“But…” James starts and then trails off.  The thought crumbles before it’s fully formed.

Remus steps forward and places both hands on James’ shoulders.  He’s warm and steady, and his eyes—steady, unwavering—hold the weight of experience James didn’t ask for but suddenly needs.  “Talk to Lily,” Remus says, voice low and firm.  “Even if you don’t actually do anything, you need to communicate with her.  Because if she finds out later, we’re all dead.”

James opens his mouth to argue, but there’s nothing to say.  Remus is right.  And the worst part is—James knowshe’s right.  Still, the idea of walking up to Lily and saying Hey, so I might have feelings for your ex–Death Eater–miserable–brilliant–brooding–eyelash-having friend feels like a death sentence.

He frowns.

He frowns harder when Remus gives him a faint pat on the shoulder and turns to go, Peter following without much more than a sympathetic look.  No teasing.  No jokes.  Just silence and the subtle creak of the floorboards as they leave him behind.

James stands there for a long moment, staring at the closed door like it might open back up and give him a better solution.

It doesn’t.

Eventually, he shuffles back toward the main room, steps slow and uneven.  The sound of laughter grows louder—Regulus again, he hopes, or maybe Lily, most likely Sirius or Marlene.  The scent of something sweet and spiced hangs in the air, lingering from whatever festive chaos had happened earlier.

He pauses at the threshold, takes a breath, and steps back into the light.

The fire greets him first—warm, golden, familiar.  It crackles gently in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the floor.  The decorations glitter like they’re trying too hard.  The music is low now, soft and elegant.  A few people are laughing.  Someone is probably making a second round of mulled wine.  It feels like Christmas again.  Cozy.  Safe.

James feels none of it.

“You alright there, mate?” Sirius calls out with a laugh, raising a brow at James, who’s gone far too still by the hearth.  James blinks, caught in place like he’s been shoved under a spotlight.  The warmth of the fire suddenly feels suffocating, like it’s crawling up his spine instead of heating the room.

“I—” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, because what can he say?  That he just confessed to fancying Regulus bloody Black?  That he's standing in the middle of a holiday gathering trying not to spiral?

Before he can conjure a halfway decent lie, Lily appears at his side, mug long forgotten.  She leaves Regulus behind—James doesn't miss the glance he throws her, or the way it twists something in his chest—and cups James’ face gently, searching his features with furrowed brows.  “How much have you had to drink already?” she asks, softly, but the concern in her voice makes his stomach churn.

James flinches at her touch.  His skin tingles under her fingers and not in the good way.  He feels like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t.  “James?” she presses, voice more insistent now.

He jerks his head slightly, looking past her toward Remus—silent, unreadable.  James pleads with his eyes.  Help me out here.  But Remus just watches him, lips pressed into a tight line.  He turns to Peter instead.  Peter avoids his gaze entirely, suddenly fascinated with his own shoes.

Brilliant.

“Just don’t feel right,” James mumbles, eyes darting to the floor as he lies through his teeth.

“We can go upstairs,” Lily offers, already shifting closer, like she might guide him there herself.

James shakes his head.  “It’s alright,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite land.  “Don’t want to ruin the night.”

“If you’re feeling poorly, you might as well turn in,” Regulus says then, and James’ head snaps up.  Regulus is watching him—really watching him.  Not with suspicion, or irritation, or that cool detachment he usually wears like armor.  But with concern.  Sincere.  Subtle, but sharp enough to cut right through James.

James’ heart stutters.  The room feels like it tilts for a moment under the weight of that gaze.

The worst part?  It makes something flutter in his chest.

“Reg, better be careful,” Sirius pipes up, clearly trying to lighten the mood.  “Someone might think you care.”

James wants to laugh, to jump in, to move the conversation away from whatever is happening here—but Regulus doesn’t flinch.  He doesn’t snap back. He turns toward Sirius.

He narrows his eyes at the man.  Not playfully.  Not with sibling teasing.  With something colder, more cutting. 

“Careful, Sirius,” Regulus says smoothly, not missing a beat.  “If I develop an actual personality, it might overshadow yours.”

“Oh please,” Sirius huffs, rolling his eyes.  “You’ve got one already and it hasn’t happened yet.”

“There’s still time.”

Marlene bursts into laughter.  That kind of loose, warm, slightly-too-loud laugh that only comes after a few drinks and a lot of comfort.  She leans fully against Regulus, arm hooked lazily around his shoulder, and James doesn’t miss the way Regulus subtly tenses under the contact, like he’s not used to being touched so casually, so easily.

“Knew I liked you,” she says, nudging him with a grin.

Regulus raises an eyebrow, unbothered but clearly unimpressed.  “A singular comment convinced you?”

Marlene shrugs, undeterred.  “Jury was out for a bit, but I can assure you, I am officially giving you my stamp of approval.”

“Remarkable,” Regulus replies dryly.  “Always wanted that.”

“Reg…” Dorcas murmurs, sliding an arm around Marlene’s waist with practiced ease, pulling Marlen off of him covertly.  “Behave.”

“Doubt he knows how to do that,” Sirius says with a snort, raising his drink lazily and flashing that lopsided grin he always defaults to when the room feels too tense.

“Not all of us can be a dog Sirius,” Regulus replies flatly, without even turning his head.

Sirius jerks upright like someone lit a fire under his chair, his whole body going rigid.  “How the bloody hell did you know about that?”

Regulus only shrugs, calm in that maddening, serpentine way of his—like he’s spent his whole life being impossible to rattle.  It's an affectation, James thinks, or maybe a shield.  But either way, it’s annoyingly attractive.  Of course it is.

Marlene’s voice cuts through the tension, slurring slightly with tipsy amusement.  “Dorcas, you didn’t tell me your friends were smart.  Actually, I’m quite sure you said the opposite.”  She bops her girlfriend on the nose.

Regulus and Dorcas lock eyes.  It’s quiet, nothing spoken, but something passes between them—complicated and sharp-edged.  Not hostile, not exactly, but not warm either.  James watches with a prickle of guilt working its way up his spine.

Everyone else seems to be moving toward each other—familiar banter, shared history, layered conversations like songs overlapping—and he feels stuck.  Stuck in place, stuck in his head, stuck beside Lily with words sitting heavy on his tongue like stones he can't swallow.

He sighs before he even realizes it.  He shifts beside her and squeezes her hand.

She jumps slightly, startled—clearly still caught up in the buzz of the room, in the echo of Sirius’ indignation and Marlene’s laughter, in the strange tension between Regulus and Dorcas.  She turns toward James with a small smile, brows lifted. “Lils…”

Her expression softens, concerned now.  “James?”

“We need to talk,” he says quietly.

And she frowns.

But she lets him pull her aside.

James chances one last awkward glance toward the room—toward Sirius, who catches his eye for just a second with a look that's half-confused and half-curious—before stepping fully out of sight.  The warmth of the fire fades behind them, replaced by the quiet hum of a hallway too clean, too still.  His footsteps sound too loud.  His heart louder.  A repetition of earlier.

Lily crosses her arms and leans against the wall, one brow arched in that way that says she’s already halfway to furious.  “What’s going on, James?”

God, he hates that look.  He hates how sharply she sees through him.  He hates even more that she has to.

“I—er—Lils…”

“James.”  Her tone isn’t sharp yet, but it’s on the edge.  One word, and his knees nearly buckle.

“Lily, listen—”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, stepping forward. Her voice is quieter now, but no less cutting. “What’s going on?”

James' hands tremble, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.  He grabs hers and pulls her into a tight, almost desperate embrace, burying his face in her hair like it might hide his shame. “I love you,” he murmurs, barely audible.  “I love you so much.”

There’s a long pause.  For one awful second, she doesn't hug him back.

Then, finally, she does.  Her arms come around him slow, cautious.  “So I suppose you’re not going to dump me,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile—half-hearted, but trying.

James lets out a sound between a laugh and a sob.  His legs give way and he drops to his knees, clutching her hands like she’s the last steady thing in the world.  “No,” he breathes. “Merlin, no.  I could never.  You have me for as long as you’ll keep me.  As long as you’re not tired of me.”

Her brows furrow, her gaze flicking down to meet his, still wide-eyed on the floor.  “James…” she says softly, and there’s something aching in her voice now.  “Why would I be tired of you?”

“I like Regulus, I think.”

The words slip out like a confession and sit heavy in the space between them.  James watches Lily brace herself, her body going still.  She doesn’t speak right away, and his stomach twists tighter with every second of silence.

Then she sighs.  Not a sharp, angry breath—just something low and tired, like she's been expecting this moment, or something close to it.

“James,” she says quietly, “stand up.”

His legs are clumsy as he rises.  He keeps her hands in his, fingers trembling slightly.  It feels like standing on ice—fragile, impossible to balance.  He waits for the storm to come.  Waits for everything to be destroyed.

Lily’s hands are steady in his.  Her thumbs brush lightly across his knuckles, a gesture so familiar it nearly undoes him.  She tilts her head, examining him with that sharp, perceptive gaze she always has.

“You like Regulus?” she asks, like she’s trying the idea on for size.  There’s no venom in her voice.  No raised tone.  Just curiosity.  Thoughtfulness.

James flinches.  “I think so,” he repeats, voice breaking around it.  “But I haven’t done anything, I swear.  I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—”

“I know that, James,” Lily cuts in gently.  She doesn’t sound doubtful.  She doesn’t even pull away.  Her grip tightens slightly, firm and grounding.  “How long have you known?”

James swallows.  “A week?”  It comes out more like a question, more like an apology.  “Maybe longer.  Maybe it’s been there for a while, I just didn’t notice.”

“A week,” she echoes, and there’s something in her voice—not hurt, exactly.  Something softer.  Something tired, and maybe a little resigned.  But not surprised.

She nods, slowly, like she’s marking the moment in her mind.  “Alright then.”

James stares, stunned.  “You’re not mad?”

She doesn’t answer right away.  She lifts her gaze to his and studies him for a long moment.  Her expression is unreadable—not cold, not angry. Just…measured.  She lets out another sigh and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

“You’ve always had so much love to give, James,” Lily says simply, like it’s a fact she’s known for years.  “It would be greedy of me to keep it all to myself.”

James doesn’t know how to respond.  He opens his mouth, then closes it.  His throat is too tight to speak.

“But that means,” Lily continues, brushing her thumb across the back of his hand, “if I were to do the same one day, you wouldn’t be upset.”

“Of course not!” James blurts, too loud, too fast.  “I’m not a hypocrite—but if you did…you’d talk to me, yeah?”

Lily laughs—soft, amused, a little fond.  “Of course I would.  We’re still getting married, aren’t we?  Not like lack of communication is going to be our downfall.”

That kiss she pulls him into—he melts into it, like his bones have gone soft.  She tastes like wine and something sweet, and she smells like the perfume he bought her on a whim in Hogsmeade last winter.  This has gone far better than he’d feared.  He had braced for heartbreak and gotten warmth instead.  Lily is perfect.  He is absolutely, irrevocably unworthy of her.

“So,” she says after a beat, a glint in her eye, “you going to tell him?”

James practically collapses in her arms.  “I’m not sure.”

Lily pouts, thoughtful now. “Well…if you were going to, you’d have to be careful about it.”

James chokes on his own spit.  “What?”

“Regulus is a bit flighty, you know?  Gonna have to ease him into it.”

James stares at her like she’s sprouted wings.  Is Lily helping him?

He had confessed to being attracted to someone else.  That was meant to go horribly.  That was meant to get him slapped. Not…this.

“So I should go slow,” he repeats numbly.

Lily grins, patting his cheek like a proud professor.  “Exactly.  Glad you understand.”

James blinks.  “I don’t think I understand anything, actually.”

“Well, you will,” she says, her eyes shining.  “Because you’re James Potter.  You’re so clever.  And you always try.  That’s the thing about you.”

He doesn’t say it aloud, but it’s the thing about her too.  She always meets him where he is.  Even when he doesn’t deserve it.

“Well, I am parched,” Lily says with a small smile, taking James’ hand in hers again and giving it a gentle, deliberate squeeze, interlocking their fingers.  It’s warmer this time—comforting, grounding.  Like she’s trying to tether him back to himself.  “Should we go back?”

James nods, his throat dry.  “Yeah,” he says, clearing it awkwardly.  “That sounds good actually.”

She leads them back to the party, her steps calm and steady, as though they didn’t just have a conversation that upended everything James thought he knew.  He follows, still in a bit of a daze.  Still trying to decide if she’s secretly furious or genuinely just…this understanding.

There’s a second sofa now—dragged into the room by someone trying to make space around the fire—and Lily tugs him toward it without a word.  She sits and pats the cushion beside her until he collapses down, leaning into her with the exhausted heaviness of someone who’s had an entire emotional breakdown in five minutes flat.

And then James suddenly jerks upright.

“Fuck!” he hisses.  “I haven’t given him his gift yet!”

Lily startles slightly at the movement, then chuckles under her breath, already expecting this.  She shakes her head with something halfway between exasperation and affection.  “Go on then,” she says, waving a hand.

James half-rises before freezing again.

“But don’t pull him into the other room,” Lily adds, lowering her voice with the kind of care she uses when talking about wild animals or wounded friends.  “He’d be put off by it.”

James nods, already hating how few good options that leaves him with.

“And don’t do it in front of everyone either,” Lily says, almost as an afterthought—but James can see her watching him closely.  “He’d be embarrassed.”

“Right,” James mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.  Public, but not too public.  Alone, but not…alone.  Perfect.  “So… somewhere between tragic spectacle and dramatic kidnapping.  Great.”

Lily snorts softly.  “You’ll figure it out.  You always do.”

He’s not so sure about that.  But he stands anyway, casting his eyes across the room like he’s about to pull off a heist rather than hand someone a birthday present.

“Right,” James says, the word barely forming as it leaves his lips.  It tastes like uncertainty.  He trails off, eyes lingering on the movement of Lily’s fingers as they tap lightly against her glass.  He decides—perhaps for the hundredth time that night—to shelve the spiraling thoughts in his head.  He’ll think about it later.  Right now, he has to at least appear normal.  Functional.  Not like someone who just had his worldview lovingly dismantled and gently reassembled by his fiancée.  He sits back down.

He exhales slowly, sinking deeper into the sofa beside her.  The cushion dips under their combined weight, and he lets his arm rest against hers, drawing comfort from the quiet warmth she offers without question.  For a moment, they just listen.

“Seven months is bonkers, actually,” Dorcas says from across the room, her voice tinged with disbelief.  She leans into Marlene’s side, the two of them curled into each other like they belong that way.

James watches them with something between fondness and envy.  They’re comfortable—effortless in how they orbit each other.  Like they never had to make a decision to be close; they just were.  Even though he knows the opposite.

“Well, I think it’s a grand idea,” Marlene says, her voice full of sudden warmth as she nudges her shoulder against Dorcas’.  She’s looking at her like she’s already seeing the life they’ll build—one full of laughter and chaos and something far from war.  “When all this is over, we should get started too.”

Dorcas snorts, lifting one brow.  “Marls, neither of us have the equipment for that.”

Marlene lets out a scandalized gasp, clutching her chest like the dramatics might shield her from the grin tugging at her mouth.  “Adopt!  You know what I meant!”

There’s a low murmur of amusement around the room.  James half-smiles, glancing sidelong at Lily, who’s already watching him with something quiet in her eyes.  Soft.  Far-off.  He wonders, for a moment, if she’s imagining the same thing he is—tiny trainers by the door, crayon marks on the walls, a life that stretches long and golden beyond the weight of everything else.

But then Marlene turns toward Regulus.  “What about you?”

Regulus, still curled up like a cat, stiffens instantly.  His spine straightens, his expression shuttered.  “I don’t want children,” he says, clipped and cold.  “Black family is dying with me if I can help it.  The name at least.”

The air stutters for a beat.  James feels it—the brief awkward pause, the shift of something fragile behind Regulus’ words.  He says it like a knife.  Like he’s severing himself from something ugly and ancestral with every syllable.  There’s finality in it.  Fury, too.

“So noble,” Sirius mutters, voice curling with something between sarcasm and scorn.

“Shut it,” Regulus snaps back, the words sharp and unthinking—like they’re reflex, not decision.

And James—James doesn’t laugh.  Doesn’t join the jab or let it pass unnoticed.  He’s watching Regulus too closely now.  Watching the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers curl just slightly in his lap like he’s holding something in.  There’s a strange twist in James’ chest.  Not quite pity.  Not quite empathy either.  Just the realization, maybe, that Regulus isn’t talking about fatherhood—he’s talking about legacy.  About bloodlines and expectations and breaking a cycle so thoroughly there’s nothing left of it when he’s gone.  About being the last link in a chain he’s trying to tear down with his own hands.

And maybe—maybe James gets that more than he wants to admit.

“Fair enough,” he says quietly, almost without meaning to.  Regulus doesn’t look at him, but something in his posture loosens.  Just slightly.  Like the silence might not be so unbearable after all.

“Seems like we were all just graduating,” Marlene says with a snort, tucking her head against Dorcas’ shoulder.

“We were all just graduating,” Dorcas adds, voice lighter now.  “Hasn’t even been three years yet.”

“For you, maybe,” Regulus says from his corner of the sofa.  His tone is dry, almost clipped, and he’s sitting with the same posture he's been in.  His mug hovers near his lips, though he hasn’t taken a sip in some time.

James steals a glance at him, gaze catching for a heartbeat on the line of Regulus’ jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the elegant way he holds tension like a second skin.

“Oh, poor Reg,” Sirius chimes in with a dramatic lilt, his voice overly cruel in that half-joking way he sometimes gets when the room has grown too honest.  “Didn’t graduate Hogwarts.”

Regulus doesn’t rise to the bait.  He never does.  He simply narrows his eyes slightly, lowering the glass in his hand and letting it balance against his knee.  “I was referencing that I am younger than you, actually,” he says, cool and clipped.

Sirius blinks, caught off guard.  “Ah,” he mutters, suddenly sheepish.  He scratches the back of his neck and glances away, rubbing a spot behind his ear like he's trying to erase his own words.

Remus, seated beside Sirius and looking far too knowing for James’ comfort, lets out a tired roll of his eyes.  He doesn’t say anything, but the look he casts Sirius is sharp enough to carry its own commentary.

James watches them all with a strange sense of distance, like he’s seeing a memory before it’s even finished happening.  The way Marlene tosses her head back to laugh, how Dorcas watches her with the faintest smile.  The way Sirius and Regulus bristle and burn beside each other without ever actually catching flame.  The way Remus always notices everything, even when he pretends not to.

And then there's James—still clutching Regulus’ gift in his coat pocket, like it’s some kind of ticking device.  A carefully chosen thing he’s put off giving.  A gesture, maybe, or worse—a confession.

He’s not so sure about this.  But he stands anyway, slowly, quietly, casting his eyes across the room like he’s about to pull off a heist rather than hand someone a Chritsmas present.

Lily looks up at him, unreadable for just a moment.  Then she reaches out and gently straightens the collar of his jumper, smoothing it down with a look that says you’ll be fine.  She doesn’t say anything else, but her fingers brush his wrist before letting go.

He swallows hard and takes one hesitant step forward.

“Hey, Reg?” James says, voice just a touch too tight for it to pass as casual.

Regulus turns slowly, one brow arched, wine glass still cradled between elegant fingers.  His gaze flickers across James’ face like he’s searching for something behind the words.  “My turn to be pulled aside then?” he asks, voice quiet but dry, laced with something unreadable.

James' mouth goes dry.  The way Regulus looks at him—steady, sharp, direct—makes it hard to form a sentence, let alone remember why he stood up in the first place.  There’s something about being the sole focus of that gaze that feels like being held over an open flame.  Not in a cruel way. Just…intense.

“Not fair,” Sirius cuts in with a theatrical groan, his arm thrown over Remus like a boy mid-tantrum.  “Reggie can’t go before me, James.”

That draws Regulus’ attention away, but not before he sends a sideways glance toward Sirius—sharp and amused.  “Maybe he’s starting to like me more,” he says with a cruel little tilt of his mouth.

Sirius gasps like he’s been stabbed.  “Prongs!” he cries, clutching his chest.  “Tell me that’s not true!”

James feels the corners of his mouth twitch, though his heart is still thudding awkwardly in his chest.  Regulus looks back at him—just a second too long, just a second too curious—and it knocks all the air out of him again.

Regulus furrows his brows, and James hates that it's distracting.  That he's distracting.  That every little flicker of emotion on his face feels like something James shouldn’t be seeing.  Something private.  And yet—James wants to see all of it.

“Don’t worry, Sirius,” Regulus says, finally breaking eye contact, voice deadpan.  “You can keep him.”

Sirius cheers as if he’s just won a prize. 

Across the room, Marlene cackles, drunk and delighted, her laugh spilling out without restraint as she leans hard against Dorcas’ shoulder. 

Dorcas just smiles at her, soft and indulgent, like she’s already used to this kind of chaos.  Her arm stays wrapped securely around Marlene’s waist, anchoring her even as the wine clearly does its best to unmoor her.  But her eyes—sharp as ever—flick to Regulus for half a second, unreadable.

Lily, still sitting on the sofa, watches everything with the calm of someone who knows where every person in the room stands—even the ones who don’t.  Her legs are crossed at the ankle, fingers interlaced in her lap, but her eyes keep darting toward James, quietly checking in.  Like she’s still watching him unravel slowly and wants to make sure he doesn’t fall to pieces completely.

Remus is nursing a drink in the corner, mostly quiet, but his eyes are narrowed slightly in amusement.  He’s tracking Sirius' every word, every gesture, and occasionally nudging him with a subtle foot to shut him up.  He does that sometimes—regulates Sirius without ever saying a word.

Peter’s in the armchair closest to the fireplace, chin propped in his hand, laughing a little too hard at Sirius' outburst.  But James catches the flicker in his gaze when Regulus speaks.  Like he’s trying to figure out if he should be joining the teasing or resenting the fact that Regulus is even here.  James isn’t sure which.

James clears his throat.  “Right.  Reg.  You mind coming with me for a sec?”

It’s a simple question.  But it feels like stepping off a ledge.

Regulus raises one brow again, but this time there’s something softer behind it.  Something curious.  “Lead the way, Potter.”

And James does.  But his pulse is drumming loud in his ears, and his hands are already starting to sweat.

James meant to lead Regulus toward the small makeshift bar nestled near the corner of the room—just far enough from the group to avoid Sirius' endless commentary, but close enough to keep it casual.  Light.  Not like a confession.  Not like his hands were trembling a little.  Not like every second he spent next to Regulus made him feel like he was walking around with live wires beneath his skin.

But they don’t make it.

Halfway across the room, they stop.  No—are stopped.  The air shifts like a cold, curious hand has pressed against their chests.  James stumbles to a halt, his breath catching in his throat before he even knows why.

He glances to the side.

Regulus is already looking up.

So James follows his gaze.

Mistletoe. 

Dangling lazily above them, silver charm twinkling with smug self-satisfaction.

“Really?” James says aloud, his voice dry, his entire body suddenly hot and tight.  It’s not disgust in his tone.  But he wishes it were.  That would be so much simpler.

Regulus hasn’t moved.  He’s still staring upward, eyes narrowed—not with irritation, but something else entirely.  Something thoughtful.  Analytical.  Like he’s studying an ancient rune instead of a holiday prank.  The soft green glow of the charm casts a faint shimmer over his skin, picking up the high planes of his cheekbones, the shape of his mouth.  And it’s that mouth James keeps looking at, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

Regulus looks unfair like this—unfair to James particularly.  He’s standing close enough for James to smell the faint scent of something sweet—probably his hair potion, because of course Regulus has a hair potion.  Probably got it from James’ father.  Or asked him for the recipe.  James is close enough for a single curl to brush against James’ arm when he tilts his head.

James cannot be expected to survive this.

Behind them, Marlene twists around on the sofa, her arms looped over the back like a child at a puppet show.  She pouts, dramatically and tipsily.  “We thought you’d notice it and drag Lily over there!  Sirius already did it with Remus.”

James doesn’t look behind him, doesn’t even dare.  He already feels like his face is burning.  He can feel Regulus' body heat next to him, hear the faint sound of his breathing.  It’s too much—too much for something meant to be a party joke.

“I dragged Sirius over there myself,” comes Remus’ voice, flat and unimpressed.  James doesn’t even need to turn to picture the exact shape of his expression: brows slightly raised, mouth a line of patience rapidly fraying.

“Same thing,” Marlene replies breezily.

“It really isn’t,” Remus mutters, but no one listens.

Regulus, meanwhile, is still…still.  Like he’s not bothered.  Like the mistletoe hasn’t even touched his thoughts.  James doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended by that.  How can Regulus look like that—perfect posture, hands in his pockets, mouth unreadable—and not feel the thing crackling between them?  The fact that James' heart is thudding loud enough to hear?

“Just kiss and get it over with,” Marlene slurs, resting her cheek on Dorcas' shoulder and waving her hand lazily like she's swatting away a bee.

James’ brain does a cartwheel.

His hand is still half-raised like he’s forgotten what to do with it, and he looks at Regulus again, this time full on.  He can only imagine the look Lily is sending him.  A silent plea for him not to be stupid.  Regulus is watching him now, not the mistletoe.  There's a flicker of something behind his eyes—an emotion James can’t place.  It’s not disgust…James is unsure what it is.

“Do not snog my brother, James!”  Sirius bellows, and James turns just in time to catch Remus holding him back by the collar of his shirt, looking like he’s long since resigned himself to damage control.

Remus, for his part, looks exhausted but firm.  “You’re not helping,” he mutters, though he doesn’t exactly disagree with the sentiment.  James is unsure of whether he is talking to James or Sirius.

Marlene pouts before falling back onto the sofa.  “It would just need a peck on the cheek.  Just a peck!”

James barely hears them.

Because Regulus hasn’t said anything.

Because Regulus is still looking at him.

And James—Merlin, James doesn’t know how to breathe with Regulus this close, this quiet, this beautiful.  His stomach is in knots, his skin tingling with embarrassment and longing and something far worse: hope.

His fingers twitch uselessly at his side.  He doesn’t know what happens next.

But he knows one thing, and it terrifies him more than anything else.

If Regulus leaned in right now—if he tilted his chin down, even a little—James wouldn’t stop him.  Why would he?  He already risked his relationship imploding for the boy.  He is in too deep already.  And it has only been a week.

“Give me your wand.”

The words hit James like a splash of cold water.  His thoughts scatter—half-finished spirals of what does he mean, what if he— crashing to a halt as he blinks down at Regulus.

The man is standing stiffly beside him, palm outstretched.  His expression is unreadable save for one thin crack, barely visible, like a hairline fracture in porcelain.  Disappointment. Not sharp or cutting—just soft and inevitable, like he expected this from James.  Like he’s used to expecting disappointment from people.

James doesn’t know why his stomach twists at that, but it does.

Without a word, he places his wand into Regulus’ outstretched hand.  There’s a sense of surrender in the motion, like he’s handing over something private—an admission more than a gesture.  Regulus accepts it without pause and immediately raises it upward.

“What are you—” James starts, but then—

“Confringo.”

The fire is immediate but precise.  A sharp little bloom of orange and gold, conjured clean and expertly.  The mistletoe falls from the ceiling in a smoldering heap, half-charred and lifeless.  The charm dissipates into the air like smoke.

Regulus lowers the wand, expression unreadable again—but for a single flicker of something else as he passes it back.  Something distant. Almost…regret?  No, that cannot be right.

He doesn’t dwell.  “What do you need, Potter?”

The neutrality of his voice punches straight through James’ chest.  Like nothing happened.  Like the almost-moment didn’t hang between them like static.

James blinks. “I—right.”

He fumbles, hand jerking toward his coat pocket like he’s pulling something sacred from a vault.  His fingers close around wood.

Not his wand.

Regulus’ wand.

He draws it out slowly, awkwardly, holding it like it might break if he moves too fast.  For a second, he thinks maybe this is foolish, but he offers it anyway.

Regulus freezes when he sees it.  His eyes go wide—not the theatrical wideness of surprise, but something smaller, more vulnerable.  A quiet kind of stunned.  Slowly, without speaking, he takes it back, his fingers brushing James’ as he does.  They’re cold.  Steady.  He turns the wand over in his palm, thumb tracing its spine like one might a treasured book—absently, reverently.

“You trust me with this?” Regulus asks quietly.

James swallows.  “I regret not giving it to you sooner.”

There’s a beat.  A long, full second where Regulus just stares up at him—eyes still wide, expression completely shattered.  The impassive mask has dropped somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, and James finds himself breathless in the silence that follows.

Because this is what he wanted.  Not a kiss.  Not the chaos.  Just this.  A moment where Regulus Black—sharp, cold, enigmatic Regulus Black—looked at him like he’d just been handed something he didn’t know he needed.

And for the first time all night, James thinks: maybe he didn’t mess this up.  Maybe this wasn’t just survivable—it was…good.  Maybe this moment will last.  Maybe Regulus will let it.  Maybe—

Regulus looks away too quickly, hiding the crack in his armor.  It is sealed perfectly, as if it had never been there in the first place.  But not before James sees it.  Not before he starts to believe this might be a success after all.

08 << >> 10

masterlist

[the-little-ewok]

Enraptured (Poe POV)

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2600 (ish)

Warnings : PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, sprinkles of feral!Poe, reader wears a dress, lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming, fluff, brief mentions of F/oral receiving, a tad of possessiveness in a soft way

Summary: Poe litterally can't keep his hands off you during a party (This is Clandestine... but from Poe's POV ;) )

A/N : It's not necessary to have read Clandestine to enjoy this. It's simply the same story from another (slightly more feral) point of view.

He can't stop his foot from bouncing impatiently under the table, trying anything to distract himself from the way you look, bathed in flickering multicolour lights, your dress accentuating every part of you that he loves.

He has so many regrets about agreeing to come tonight. He hates these types of parties as it is, full of stuck-up politicians, only out for their own gain. But this one, this is so much worse because of you. He can't concentrate on anything, and now to top it off he can't even leave the table because, well, in short, everyone would see exactly what you do to him.

He wants to look elsewhere, he wants to distract himself, but he can't. All he can do is stare at you, imagining the way you would look bent over the table, your dress hiked up high, the plush of your ass against his hips as he presses himself deep inside you, making you scream his name.

Damn Jess for helping you pick that dress. He really must remember to thank her the next time he sees her.

"Stop that," you scold him, for probably the thousandth time tonight.

"Stop what?" He grins at you, licking his lips as his eyes flicker up and down your body for absolutely the thousandth time. He really can't help himself anymore.

"Looking at me," you hiss in response, adjusting your dress.

He wishes you didn't fidget the way you do, like his gaze makes you uncomfortable. You don't see how truly beautiful you are — more than anyone, anything, he's ever seen. Your smile, your laugh, your kindness, your good heart, the way you never take any of his bullshit, the way you make his heart beat just as wildly as flying does. Poe knows he's in too deep with you. He's fallen harder than he ever has. He can't stop looking at you because you're all he can see, all he can ever see these days.

But you, beautiful, sexy, sweet, funny, you can't always accept that. And so the fidget only cements that he wants to show you just how much he wants you, right now.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, refusing to move his gaze, determined to make you see what he sees.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, refusing to look at him.

Poe almost scoffs to himself. Admire something else? Not fucking likely with his cock impatiently throbbing with need.

"I can't," he leans in close to you, his voice a low hiss. He's genuinely surprised you haven't realised why yet, that it hasn't even been a thought to cross your mind. "You have no idea how much I can't."

He has a fleeting thought about grabbing your hand and showing you exactly what you do to him, but honestly, if you touched him now, he'd probably cum in his pants and ruin all the fun he plans to have with you later.

"Poe."

It's only half a warning. He can see it in your eyes — the flicker of desire. He's an expert at reading you, or at least he likes to think he is, and so far he hasn't been wrong. Maybe he can convince you to leave early. One of you could fake an illness, make your excuses, and stumble back to your room. He reckons he could probably make it as far as the lift before he has you pinned against the wall, your leg held up over his hip, fingers gripping your thigh as you tremble for him.

Kriff, he needed to slow down before he blows his load without so much as a brush of your flesh against his.

Taking a breath to steady himself, his eyes flicker over you once more, reading every micro expression. Yeah, you are starting to want this just as much as he needs it. Bedroom, lift, hell even getting to the door out of here is going to be too much trouble. He isn't making it that far.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, slipping his hand into yours. Your fingers grip his, warm and soft, suspicion in your eyes. But when he tugs, you follow, allowing him to guide you down onto his lap.

Such a good girl for me.

Your gasp as you sit makes his cock twitch, just the soft friction of your movement enough to start shredding whatever little patience he has left.

"I need you," he whispers against your ear. "I need you, now." He brushes his nose up the column of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you, wishing he had time, and enough restraint, to climb under the table and taste you before he cums, but he doesn't.

"Poe, we are in public!"

Maybe you are right. Maybe it's time to stop before he gets too far but fuck, he's too far gone. The delicious little wriggle you do on his lap does absolutely nothing to help.

"I can't wait," he groans, his hips rutting against you of their own accord, desperate for any sort of friction. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you."

He's begging now and he doesn't care. All he can think about is how desperately he needs to feel you soaking his cock, how desperately he wants to show you the effect you have on him, how desperately he wants you to believe you're worthy of it.

Even in the dim lighting, he catches the little smirk at the corner of your mouth. Perhaps you're just a little proud that you can reduce him to this. You have no true idea what you could reduce him to if you wanted to. If you asked he'd get down on his knees and beg you for just a glance in his direction. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for you.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, catching the hem of your dress and dragging it up, splaying his hands against your soft thighs, inching them up higher. "You know how good I can be to you."

You shiver at the touch of his hands and he wonders if your mind fills with memories like his does — back to all the nights you've spent together, your head tipped back on sweat soaked sheets as he worships at the altar of your body.

"If anyone sees…" your voice trails off with a sigh as he presses his lips against your neck, fighting to keep his hands still while he gives you time to consider your position.

"They won't." He's confident in that. If there's one thing he is, it's observant. He knows everyone is too caught up in their own night to worry about the two of you tucked away in a dark corner. The table just about covers your lap, where your dress is hiked up, his hands drifting closer to your hot core. The music is loud enough that nobody will hear you.

They won't see, but honestly, Poe couldn't give a damn if they do. Let them look, let them watch, let them see you are his.

He moves his mouth down your neck, slowly, invitingly, pausing to suck against your pulse point, marking you as his own, his hands pushing your thighs apart. Your pliancy to his actions only fuels his desire for you. He's proud that you allow this, that you trust him to do this. He's absolutely going to make it worth your while. Well, he's at least going to try and last long enough to make it worth your while.

His fingers finally slip between your thighs and it's like his lungs have suddenly collapsed, all the air rushing out suddenly.

You aren't wearing panties. His fingers brush against bare wet, no not just wet, soaked, flesh.

His plan was to gently tease you, make you admit how much you're enjoying this, how much you want this, but somehow his entire vocabulary is erased by the shock.

"Fuck," is all he manages to punch out as he drags his fingers up over your clit, relishing the way your hips jerk in response. He lets out a low whine against your neck as he ruts into your ass, desperate for release.

He swears he almost cums at the gasp you let out when he slips a finger into you. You're so hot. He has to pause for a moment, calming himself as you take a breath of your own, before he finally draws his finger up and over your clit, and then back down, sinking two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles as you squirm, each jolt of your hips only drawing his attention to his painfully hard cock.

Why did he decide to listen to you about coming to this party? Why did he decide he could wait? Of all the questionable decisions Poe has made in his life, he's putting the one of agreeing to leave the room before burying himself inside you, at least twice, right at the top. Well, at least for now.

He curls his fingers slowly against your walls, his thumb barely stroking your clit with feather light touches, keeping you just tiptoeing the edge. After all you've put him through tonight, you deserve a little payback.

When your wriggling increases and your chest starts to heave with the effort of biting down your moans of pleasure, he licks a hot stripe up your neck, enjoying the way your breath catches and your body jerks.

"Can I fuck you now?"

He waits with bated breath to see how far you'll let him take this.

He'd never push you further than you wanted, never make you do something you're uncomfortable with. If you say no now then he'll wait, as much as it might drive him to the point of absolute madness. At this point, he might just cum in his pants from looking at you anyway.

"Yes," you breathe out, and then you roll your hips back against him. Poe curses loudly, unceremoniously removing his fingers from you and scrambling to undo his pants, every last bit of patience blasted to pieces. Later he'll apologise about the rush, be embarrassed about it, but right now, he has to have you.

His hands grip your hips, probably a little harder than necessary if he was honest, as you take a breath and sink down onto his cock. Poe's eyes roll back and he has to bite down on your shoulder to muffle the moan of pleasure as your walls flutter hot and tight around him.

He realises too late that`s a mistake, and right as his teeth sink into your flesh, your pussy clenches around him. His hips jolt upwards of their own accord, pressing him deeper into you and listening to your choked moan as he fights not to cum then and there.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

Of course, you do it again. Of course, he should have expected it. But he didn't, and it takes every last bit of self restraint he has not to pin you down over the table and fuck you so hard you'll still feel it tomorrow.

"Stop," he warns, gritting his teeth, trying to think of anything but the searing heat engulfing his dick. "Don't wanna rush this."

You clench again and he growls a frustrated warning. He wants you to just sit still for a damn minute while he catches his breath before this ends too quickly for both of you. But you seem to have no intentions of letting him do that.

Well if it was going to be that way, two could play that game. He was going to drag this out now. Fuck you slowly, deeply, like he has all the time in the world. Poe's stubbornness was the only thing that could outweigh his desperate desire.

He grinds his hips upwards, pressing deep inside you, pulling you down against him as he does, ensuring you feel all of him. Your whole body reacts, and he can't stop the smirk forming on his lips.

There we go baby, take it all for me.

He adjusts just slightly with each grind of his hips until he finds that one spot that makes you whimper. And then he presses against it, again, and again, and again.

Oh, how he relishes in the shivers of your body, the gasps escaping your lips, the beads of sweat rolling down your neck, the clench of your pussy as he holds you still against his lap, forcing you to accept the pleasure, even though he knows he's holding you on the edge of bliss for longer than you would like.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, his voice low against your ear, trying to stop his own breath from heaving, lest you know you could tip him over the edge with one well placed word. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

The bite of your nails digging into his arms only spurns him on, making his cock throb inside you. He wonders if the marks will still be there tomorrow, something he can admire, something that marks him as yours.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this." He knows he's rambling now, but his mouth, as it so often does, is going before his thoughts are connecting. All he can think about is how good you feel, your body pressed against him, anchored by his arms around your waist, your pussy gripping his aching cock as you take all he's willing to give you.

You're so close, he can feel it. Your body is stiff, your nails digging in painfully now, your head leant back against his shoulder, chest heaving, pussy fluttering, whimpering with each slow torturous grind of his hips.

His own climax creeps up far quicker than he's expecting and suddenly he desperately needs to let go. Scrambling to pull your dress up out of the way he presses his fingers against your clit, drawing quick tight circles as you gasp.

He needs you to fall first. He needs to feel what he does to you.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

Your back arches, your breath catching as you let go of his arms to grip the table, your pussy clenching and fluttering as your climax hits. It's too much and Poe finally lets himself go, burying his moan of satisfaction into your neck, his fingers moving to grip your thighs as you writhe on his lap. He continues to roll his hips slowly, milking every last bit of your climax, savouring each little shiver and whimper until you collapse back against him, boneless.

Even though everything seems hazy around the edges in the post orgasmic bliss, he notices the way your head turns just slightly, checking if anyone has noticed what has transpired.

"Told you nobody would see," he smiles, nuzzling your neck, enjoying the closeness of your body.

"You're lucky," you turn your head to kiss him and his heart jumps. How could there have ever been a time when you thought he wouldn't want you? How could there have been a time you didn't realise he spent every night, cock in hand, thinking about you. How could you not realise he was hopelessly, utterly in love with you?

"I am very lucky," he nods, wishing he could form better words to explain just how lucky he feels. But you're sitting there looking so prettily dishevelled, sweat still drying on your skin, your nail marks in his arms, and he can't think of anything but how much he wants to drag those noises from you again.

"Thanks for helping me take care of that problem." He grins, his hands moving to brush his fingers against the inside of your thighs, slowly inching upwards to where he's still buried deep inside you. "I'll repay the favour later tonight…" he pauses, wondering if you can go again already. "Or now?"

You let out the prettiest noise as his hands creep higher, placing a solitary kiss on your neck. Poe decided that means you need a minute, but he has no intentions of making it an easy minute.

He bites down a groan as his fingers are met with slick wetness, almost halfway down your thighs. Judging by how wet you are, and a small shift of his legs confirms his suspicions as his pants stick to his own skin, there's no way he's moving any time soon anyway.

"I'm sorry baby, but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere."

He's about as un-sorry as he can get, his mind already filled with how many more times he can get you to cum before the party is over. How much can you take before it's too much? How many times can he make you whimper? How many times can he make you soak his lap?

You could be stuck here for hours yet, right where you are. The thought makes his cock twitch.

His arms wrap tight around your waist, ensuring you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. He feels you shiver in anticipation as his lips ghost the shell of your ear, a wicked grin forming on his lips.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

-------------

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please reblog and let me know your thoughts! Remember interactions keep writers writing!

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #44 – The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon

This was a book I went into with no hand holding or preconceptions, and so I very much dove into the deep end of the pool. This is, frankly, a mess - but a beautiful one. There’s a lot to love, a lot of meat to chew on; but Candon’s reach really does exceed her grasp in ways that show, and I cannot blame anyone in the slightest for finding the narrative alienating or hard to follow. But shoot for the moon and you still end up among the stars, right?

The book follows Sunai, a deeply traumatized drifter and guide, who absolutely never got over the apocalyptic collapse of the AI-governed city he grew up in – quite literally, as he was interfaced with the AI-god at the time, and has spent the decades since hiding his nature as a Relic despite his stubborn refusal to age and tendency to heal from all injuries in a matter of minutes. Should his nature be known, he would be conscripted as the pilot and adhesive for a towering killer mech, and used to protect and oppress the new city now growing in the ruins of the old. Instead he fled half-way across the world and spends his days helping salvagers and refugees and his nights on drunken benders. After receiving a letter from his past he goes on a particularly intense one of those, and wakes up having both slept with and accepted a job from Veyadi, a former Archivist of the same AI who he’s clearly already told too much. Despite his heroic efforts to avoid honest conversations or emotional connections, from there he’s dragged straight back into the world of dead gods and killer science.

This is a book that hits the ground running and never stops, without much in the way of care about whether you’re able to keep up. The setting has both history and politics that are clearly important but are never explained beyond the bits that are directly relevant, with the expectation that you’ll figure the rest out through context clues (or not). There’s all manner of words being used as technical terms and basically none of them are ever actually defined. Sunai spends half the book explicitly trying to head off or avoid revelation-heavy or important conversations and, while he might know what topic he’s evading by turning the conversation into a quickie, I at least did not. Which is something I enjoy, honestly – I felt I had a solid grasp on most things by the end, and the world was fascinating (if occasionally absurd) – but I really cannot hold it against anyone who checks out.

The narration doesn’t help, either. Technically speaking, the entire book is told from Sunai’s POV. He merely has an unusually porous consciousness, and so spends a large fraction of the book being directly spoken at by one of a couple different voices in his head, or else semi-conscious and seeing the world through one of several different people’s eyes. When he’s not just outright hallucinating or trapped in a VR simulation, or spiraling into flashbacks (some of which are even his). This I found harder to adapt to and more frustrating, and in many cases felt like Candon was trying to show off and not quite managing it, but when it worked it really did work (the playing with the narrative voice in the second act, especially).

The book’s most saliently about trauma and (failing to) deal with it. It is not especially subtle about how Sunai’s relic nature is just a literalization of how he latches on to the plans and hopes of others to avoid even considering the idea of what his own might look like, and makes no bones about making him the whole thing’s beating heart. The book, then, depends a great deal on how compelling you find him. Personally I found the broken wreck of a man endlessly endearing, even when he was also deeply frustrating to be stuck in the head of.

The book’s other characters fare less well, sadly. The other major characters, despite (or maybe because of) all the time spent looking through their eyes and ruminating on their motives, still end up feeling opaque and a bit arbitrary. There’s only so many world-shaking revelations you can layer on top of each other before they stop having much impact and you stop being that invested in the characters. Ruhi and Imaru especially suffered here, the former for having so many story beats stuffed into him he ended up feeling more like a plot device than a real character, the latter because she felt like the story highlighted her importance to Sunai and general significance and then didn’t really know what to do with her past a certain point. In both cases (and like, this is clearly intentional) you end up knowing quite a lot of what Sunai think of them and not that much about the characters themselves.

Veyadi does better, if not always consistently. His romance with Sunai (osculating between unhealthy coping mechanism FWBs and all-consuming devotion as the story progresses) is another of the book’s main throughlines and it largely worked for me – Sunai’s wilful refusal to accept either of their obvious feelings was well-done and didn’t last quite long enough to be frustrating, and it was always entertainingly unhealthy in one way or another. ‘adi’s character outside the romance is significantly more opaque. Partly for reasons of plot and preserving tension, but still – I ended the book caring that Sunai cared about it, but not really about him for his own sake.

I admit I feel personally let down by the ending less for what it does than what it teases at then fails to do. All that buildup and ominous foreshadowing about losing your identity and being subsumed and synthesized into a greater hole as the walls come down and in the end they and the remnant AI just end up being able to DM each other’s brains. My expectations of a perfect lyctorhood or even some original examination of codependent relationship realized as the literal synthesis of identities, entirely dashed.

The ending in general was also just, well, messy. Too many plates in the air, too much ambiguity and nuance that then needed to be forcefully resolved to tie things off, too much sublime technology and miraculous agency in conflict for the final result not to just feel arbitrary – especially since the neat resolution arrived at makes absolutely no sense at all unless the ‘AI’ in question was actually just some kind of incorporeal demon the whole time. The emotional beats do work, but the result feels like a bit less than the sum of its parts. But then I may need to accept that my standards for a good ending are just impossible for 99 books in 100 to hope meeting.

Still, mess aside a thoroughly enjoyable read and one I’m deeply sad doesn’t seem to have gotten more attention. Though it also definitely doesn’t need to be the first in a series (many such cases, these days).

[becasworldsstuff]

Can i please request a romantic Simon Basset x OC/reader fic? Simon being completely in love with her since they were young, but since his father told him to go away, they separated. They met again.

-> Pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: none

Simon basset and miss l/n had always been friends, thing caused by her bubbly nature that could outshine the sun even in an August day. She was the only one with whom he could talk without stuttering, he felt at ease and nothing could really make him sad if she was near him. Her presence as a reminder that not all in life was sad and angry at him, that not everyone was disappointed in him, on the contrary she never made him feel bad about himself.

When the old duke of Hastings sent his son away due to the problems he was causing to his own mental health, the two were separated, nothing in means of letters or visits between the two for years if not the memories captured together and the burning sensations in the part of their body that the other touched, or the single pink flower dried out inside Skmon's favorite book that she gifted him as a reminder of the beauty hidden behind fragilness. Both the young hearts were left shattered thinking they would never see each other ever again.

But in his drawer were piled up letters written in his best calligraphy and on the best paper money could buy, for his best friend and little piece of heaven, who had been his own safe place in the mess his childhood had been.

It was her who motivated him enough to return to his old house when the man died, and he found her on the steps of his big place, with glimmering eyes and the brightest smile that ever existed. He stopped in front of her with his mouth that had gone dry, she had grown into the most exquisite young lady he had ever seen or imagined to lay eyes on, his eyes widened and his hands were begging for something to grasp onto to not loose balance while she watched him, she took one step forward and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he only realized now he could pinpoint her as the only woman in his life to which he could ever truly love, but he stayed silent, catching up with her like old times, not stuttering like when they were just little kids playing in the garden not caring about duties.

The days passed and the season started, now miss l/n obviously came from a very wealthy family and her kindness and beauty were known upon the society, but this was her first season, and her older brother and father refused to give away such a perfect girl to anyone so, when they catched up with the Duke longing stares they decided to talk to him, a man of honor, well bred, wealthy. Simon never in his life thought that he deserved for his dreams to become reality but he knew he was a duke and her best solution to this world of strange couples, so he was the one to go talk to her father, asking him her hand in marriage and bowing down on one knee with watering eyes as he proclaimed his love to her:

" never had I ever experienced such strong emotions nor strange feelings, my stomach flutters and my troath goes dry as if I was denying myself with water for you, you make my heart stop and the dream of seeing you walk down the aisle to me has been my favorite image for my life. So please accept my undying love for you because I cannot breathe if I'm not near you, neither I can eat or drink or sleep away from you, you are my sun and my moon and every single star in the sky, my whole body was created to match yours and my core only exists to love you and adore you, you make me burn like I was in a fire that cannot die. So please do me the honor and let me make you the duchess of Hastings "

Her response was awaited from the ball room that had just seen him pacing in front of the doors before barging in and stopping the dance that was occurring at the time, she held her breath and nodded slowly while forcing herself to blink as I'd to make herself realize that that moment was true.

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; as the summer reaches its end, so does your summer fling with Rafe, however, you have realised that you love him and now you refuse to let him go

warnings; mostly fluff, some angst, Rafe being an asshole at the beginning, a lot of swearing and slight mentions of sex

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

You were drunk, totally wasted. That night, Sarah had invited you to a party at John B's house and it was full of people. Obviously, most of them were pogues, excluding a few kooks that must have crushed the party, however, none of those kooks was the one that you couldn't stop thinking about.

Rafe Cameron

You met Rafe at the start of summer vacation, when you moved to the house next to his and became a good friend of his sister. The first impression you had of him was nefarious, your initial thought being: "God, this guy is a jerk", and yet, you couldn't help but feel attracted to him because of his charisma and good looks.

You tried to keep your distance, though, since you didn't want a guy like him hurting your feelings. He was selfish, self-centered and cocky; that type of guy that would send you to therapy sooner rather than later. But one evening, you two ran into each other at the beach, bought a few beers at some vending machine to drink together and ended up kissing

You didn't realise at the moment, but it took just one kiss for you to fall for him.

And every night after that little rendezvous, you would snuck through the garden gate that divided his backyard from yours just to meet with him in secret. That's how you fell in love with him. You fell in love with that one guy that could tear your heart apart in the blink of an eye.

That was the thrill of loving Rafe, though, one moment you were up, the next moment you were down. Sometimes it hurt, but most of all it was exciting.

Your relationship was down that night, because he had stood you up to go out with another girl. And the worst part was not having the right to be mad at him, since you two weren't exclusive; he made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got, so you had drunk more that you should have to forget about him. You were failing your mission, though, because you couldn't stop checking your social media, waiting for him to post something, anything really, that would calm your anxiety; you just wanted to know if he was fucking her or not.

You refreshed his instagram profile one last time and the pink circle that notified that he had posted a new story came up on screen. Without giving it a second thought, you opened it and you heart sank when you saw the guy you loved kissing another girl.

You downed your cup of whisky in just one sip, before getting up from the log you had been sitting on, and walked towards Sarah, who was dancing with Kiara next to the bonfire to join them. Before you met Rafe, you had never cried over a guy, let alone been depressed at a party because of one —and that wouldn't be the first time you did it. You wanted to have fun; the summer was ending and you would have to return to New York soon, you couldn't let him ruin your last days in Outer Banks.

Sarah and Kiara welcomed you with a big smile and included you in their dance circle. The three of your moved to the beat of music, rubbing your bodies together and drawning everyone's attention, especially from the opposite sex.

Not long afterwards, you started dancing with a cute guy that had approached you, offering you a drink. You had seen him a few times at the Cut when you were visiting the pogues and he seemed nice, so you accepted the drink and agreed to dance a few songs with him.

The dance soon turned into a proper make out session in the middle of the crowd. You didn't even like him that way —'cause he wasn't Rafe—, but you were on the rebound, so you took what you could get. You heard your friends cheering you, oblivious to the emotional roller coaster you were going through; you hadn't told them about your relationship with Sarah's brother, so they didn't suspect you were acting like that because you were heartbroken. You wanted to keep it that way, though.

After you let go of the guy —whose name you did not know— a drunk Sarah approached you while laughing. She just showed you her phone screen, where a picture of you kissing that stranger could be seen.

"Look! You are so cute together!" she said.

You laughed too and then, out of the blue, you had a brilliant idea.

"That's a cool pic. Post it, babe."

It really was a cool photo, but that was not why you wanted her to post it on her instagram stories. You wanted Rafe to see it. You wanted to make him jealous. And it worked. Only five minutes later, he was blowing up your phone with texts, voice mails and calls. You answered one of them with a smile on your face just to tease him a little, but he wouldn't give you the opportunity to do so.

"Where are you? l'm coming for you," he told you immediately.

"What? No. l'm having fun with my friends. Leave me alone, jerk," you answered, walking towards the drinks to get another one.

"Are you drunk?" He was surprised; you weren't the type to get wasted at parties.

"It's none of your business, asshole," you shouted after drowning a tequila shot.

You didn't even bother doing the salt and lemon thing and you almost puked in John B's front porch.

"Go fuck that blonde you stood me up for."

"Baby," he sighed, "I'm gonna find you whether you tell me where you at or not, so let's make this easier."

You ignored his request. The image of him sucking off that blonde's face was stuck in your head and was making your blood boil.

"Shut up, Rafe, you're an insensible piece of shit," you accused him, "I wish we never met."

You hung up the phone, leaving him speechless. Of course, you didn't mean what you said, you had spent the best summer of your life with him, but you were drunk and furious, and you weren't thinking straight. You regretted what you said right after, so you took another shot to handle the guilt and then returned to the improvised dance floor to keep dancing.

He wouldn't let it go that easily, though. Fifteen minutes later, he appeared at The Chateau and looked for you until he found you dancing with his sister. His heart started pounding in his chest when he saw you; you looked beautiful that night, well, you always did, but there was something about you being tipsy and carefree that made him smile like crazy.

He made his way through the crowd, without taking his eyes from you, and grabbed your hand when he reached you; his action catched you by surprise so you couldn't resist being pulled away from your friends. He dragged you to his car despite all your complaints and insults, letting your hand go when you arrived there.

"Get in the car please," he asked nicely, opening the passenger's door for you.

You were far too drunk and exhausted to fight with him, still, you were so stubborn that you sat in the back of the car just so he didn't have it his way.

You heard him sigh before he opened the driver's side door and entered the car. He started the engine in complete silence; before you knew it, he was driving you home.

"Why are you mad at me, baby?" he asked a few minutes later, his attention focused on the road.

"Why?" You laughed sarcastically, "You had fucked another girl, Rafe, am I supposed to be happy about it?"

"We aren't exclusive, we both agreed on that when we first started this," he said, and he was right.

Actually, you were the one who came up with that idea, but you did it just because you thought that it would prevent you from falling too hard for him; apparently, you were wrong.

"Things have changed now," you admitted.

You felt a tight knot appear in your throat, but you resisted the urge to cry. If you showed weakness in front of him, he would realise that you cared too much. He would know how you truly felt for him. He would hold your heart in the palm of his hand, and he would have the power to crush it anytime.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking concerned.

Despite your efforts to hide your tears, he had noticed your eyes were watering a little bit.

You said, "I'm fine."

But it wasn't true.

"Baby, what's happening? You can talk to me," the tone of his voice was calm, yet worried, and you couldn't hold back your emotions anymore.

You bursted out crying.

"I love you, idiot! That's what happens!" you shouted, sobbing, "And you're so self-obsessed that you haven't even noticed it."

He looked up grinning like a devil. His eyes staring right into your teary ones through the rear view.

"Baby, stop crying and listen to me, please," he requested, with a smile so big that it lighted up his whole face, "I feel the same way," he recognised and your heart skipped a beat.

He pulled over, getting out of the car and opening your door to face you. He gently grabbed your cheeks so he could wipe away your tears and pressed a little kiss over your lips, which were salty due to all the crying.

"I love you," he repeated, making you smile but you couldn't stop sobbing like a baby; your thoughts were all over the place.

To help you calm down, he entered the car and placed you on his lap, holding you in his strong arms. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and the rich scent of his expensive perfume clouded your senses; you relaxed instantly.

"I haven't fucked other girls since we got together," he whispered, stroking your hair slightly, "I couldn't do it, because you were all I could think about."

"But tonight..." you started off saying, but he interrupted you.

"Yes, I kissed her because I thought you didn't feel the same way about me," he explained, pushing you away to look at your face, "I thought you would forget about me as soon as you got back to New York. I just didn't want you to break my heart."

His words sounded honest, and you could relate to that feeling. You had been feeling like that since you realised that you loved him.

"I can't forget about you, trust me, I've tried," you recognised, "I was scared too, that's why I didn't tell you," you traced his sharp jawline with your thumb, staring at his mouth.

You were dying to kiss him.

"There's no reason to be scared anymore, is there?" he murmured so close to you that his lips caressed yours.

"Not as long as we're together," you answered.

After that, you finally kissed him, revealing with your lips all the secrets you had kept during that cruel summer.