#i smile easily because it does me well || chatting

[kingsmedley]

"... Why is everyone so weird about having unrequited feelings?"

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter one

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a small town somewhere in beautiful greece, early morning coffee runs, and the cute boy that you keep running into. (4.8k)

warnings: sort of shy!reader, a bit of swearing, lando being both smooth and a little awkward

a/n: series masterlist coming soon :)

“That guy is totally checking you out.” 

You reluctantly drag your attention away from the truly addicting pasta you’d ordered to meet your friend’s gaze across the table, slightly suspicious, but also a little curious as to what she’s talking about.

Samira is grinning knowingly at you already, mischievously, like she’s got a tasty bit of information you don’t know about. Probably not tastier than the food in front of you, but your interest is piqued nonetheless. 

“What guy?” You sigh, giving into your curiosity quite easily. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you, then tilts her head to the side discreetly, and you follow her gaze towards—

Oh. That guy. 

You saw him on your way to your seat at first, a group of four guys sitting a few tables away in the same patio area of the restaurant, drawing your attention even before you’d sat down. Artfully messy brown curls swept up out of his face, thick dark brows framing bright eyes crinkled with laughter at something his friend had said, you’d felt yourself growing conscious of the man’s existence with just one glance. 

And then his gaze had flicked to your friends passing his table, but more importantly, your own gaze, and you’d nearly stumbled on your own feet.

Your cheeks had grown hot at the intensity of his stare following your path to your seat, not to mention the embarrassment that had flooded your veins at the thought of nearly eating shit in front of this very attractive stranger. 

Had you grown the nerve to look back at him at the time, you would’ve seen his lips quirk into a goofy grin, as well as all the shoving he’d gotten from his friends as they’d caught wind of his unabashed staring. 

Now you’re almost done with your meal, and you could swear you’ve felt him looking at you plenty more times. Not that it mattered at all, because your eyes have been firmly glued to your food and your friends only. 

Okay, so you might’ve hastened a few covert glances over in his direction too, but he’s been chatting away to his friends every time, so maybe you’re just making nothing into something. 

“Don’t even try to hide it, you’ve been making eyes at him too, girl,” Your other friend, Maren, pipes up, elbowing you in the arm playfully. The last of your girls, Camille, nods her agreement, smiling gleefully. “He’s hot.”  

Right, so perhaps not as covert as you’d thought. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” You reply, spearing another piece of pasta through your fork. You’re kicked under the table at that moment, hard enough to warrant the whine that escapes your mouth. “What?” Now you're met with three pointed glares your way. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he’s cute.” 

“Go talk to him!” 

“Go flirt with him!” 

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim. Your voice comes out louder than you intend and you duck your head quickly, worried you’d disturbed the peace of the quiet area. “He’s probably got a girlfriend already or something.” 

“If he does, she better dump his ass because he's been giving you fuck me eyes all damn night.” 

“No, he has not,” You hiss, which only gets you yet another look from them. You’re starting to get tired of all these looks, actually. “Has he? I mean—are they? Fuck me eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he��” 

Camille clears her throat, cutting Samira off. “No, they’re not,” She assures you, placing a hand over yours. “He’s been smiling every time he looks over.”

“Maybe he’s looking at one of you guys?” 

“He’s definitely been looking at you.” 

You bite your lip, nose scrunching skeptically. You haven’t really been the subject of any guy’s attention before, let alone one as handsome as this one. You’ve learned it’s better not to get your hopes up when it comes to certain situations. This seems like one of them. “Are you sure?” 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll give you back your share of the villa rental.” 

“Can I get that in writing, or…?” 

Before any of them can come up with a smart remark, a plate is placed into the center of the table, on which is a large square of baklava, light and flaky with that sweet, sugary filling spilling out the sides of the piece that almost makes your mouth water. You’d seen it in the dessert section of the menu earlier, but had decided against ordering it in favor of trying an appetizer instead. 

“Oh, excuse me? We didn’t order this,” Maren speaks up, looking up at the waiter. 

He does a half turn, sweeping an arm in a vague direction. “It is from the gentleman in the blue shirt.” 

You follow his gaze, and fuck, your heart skips a beat in your chest, because it’s him. It’s the same guy you’ve been drawn to all night, and he’s actually looking right back at you this time. His hand comes up in a wave, then back down to his side almost immediately, like he’s worried about it seeming too eager, before settling with a reserved nod. All the while, he’s still got that smile gracing his face that makes your stomach flip flop. 

“He sent over a dessert?!?! I am so keeping that money, girl,” Camille hums, picking up her fork to dig in while Samira and Maren voice their agreement. 

You, on the other hand, well…you’re not sure what to think. You appreciate the gesture, but you're also confused. Why did he send something over? What did he want? 

It doesn't occur to you that he’s truly taken an interest in you until you're huddled outside with your friends talking next steps of the night. Whether you want to keep exploring this new place, or call it a day and go home. You’re firmly on the latter’s side because you're tired. But you’ll go along with whatever is decided. 

The guy and his friends have coincidentally left the restaurant at the same time as you did, judging by the sudden commotion that erupts behind you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, your gaze lands on him yet again, only this time, you actually lock eyes with him. Something jolts through you, something electric up your spine like a tiny shock. Something you’ve never felt before. You shove the foreign feeling deep down, no matter how much you’d like to explore it. 

He looks away, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to quell the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you avert your wandering eyes too, before anyone else notices. Evidently you’re a little too slow, because all three of your friends catch on instantly. 

“Go talk to him already.” Camille says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I—what do I even say?” 

“Maybe hello would be a good start?” 

You press your lips together, unimpressed, and you get a snicker in return, something about how you're not asking for his hand in marriage, you’re just trying to make conversation. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, it’s that you’re not exactly sure how to approach it. You’ve already convinced yourself of the worst, but to possibly have it play out in real life is a tangible fear of yours, and always has been. 

One of your girls (you’re willing to bet more money it’s Maren) gives you a not so gentle shove towards him, as does one of his friends over in his group. Now you’ve got no choice. You meet each other in the middle, just looking at each other for a few moments. It’s awkward and you have half a mind to turn and go, but then he speaks. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hi,” You reply shyly, shifting on your feet nervously. He shoves both hands into his pockets. He looks a bit nervous too, which does a significant wonder to calm you. “Thank you for the baklava. It was delicious.” 

“Yeah, of course. Glad you guys liked it. Figured you can’t go wrong with a classic.” He bobs his head, shoulders creeping up towards his ears in a shrug before dropping back down. “I’m Lando, by the way.” 

Lando. It’s not a name you’re expecting, but it suits him well. 

He sticks his hand out almost instinctively, like he’s been conditioned to do so. Maybe he has, considering the aura of professionality it gives off when you do shake his hand. 

His palm is smooth and warm against yours, long fingers curling around your hand like the sincere smile that curls his lips as you tell him your name in return. Dimples bracket his mouth on both sides. 

The handshake almost lasts a little too long for two people who’ve just met literally a few moments ago, as does the way his eyes linger upon yours. 

Even in the dark of the night, illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamps above you, you can see him much better up close. His sunkissed skin does little to hide the flushed pink on his cheeks that travels down to his chest, disappearing under the generously unbuttoned blue linen. You feel exposed under his intense gaze, looking back at those mesmerizing eyes. Blue, green, gray—maybe a mix of all three, you’re not sure, but you can’t help but want to figure it out. 

Then you remember that you don’t know this guy at all, and it brings you back to reality. 

“Lando, like…the guy from Star Wars?” You ask. It breaks the invisible tether between the two of you and he smiles, laughs a little bit too. 

He shrugs casually. “Not according to my mum and dad, but I do get that a lot.” 

“You must get tired of hearing it from people then.”

His head tilts to one side, smile going endearingly lopsided. “Depends on the person. Like, I didn’t mind when you said it just now.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just smile, and he takes your reaction in stride, moving on. “Are you guys from around here, or…” 

“No, actually, we’re—um, we’re just here on holiday.”

“Oh, same! Yeah, we’ve been here a few days now, it’s been great. Is this your first time in Greece?” He asks, smile turning warm. You nod. “Have you checked out the local market yet?”

“Can’t say we have yet, no. We just got in the day before last, so…still figuring out our footing first. But I’ll keep it in mind, thank you!” 

Lando inhales sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, y’know, if you want, maybe we could—” 

“Oi, Lando! Let’s go, mate!” 

He glances back over at his friends, one of whom is waving for him to return to his group rather wildly, before turning back to you. Whatever he was about to say is lost now, because he shrugs loosely. “Guess that’s my cue,” He sighs. Then his gaze softens, smile turning a little hopeful. “Will I see you around again? Small town and all.” 

“Uh…I dunno. Maybe, if it’s meant to be.” You have to try with all your might not to take the statement back, even though you really, really want to. 

If it’s meant to be—who the fuck says that? Like fate has anything to do with this miraculous interest Lando seems to have taken in you. If you were him, you’d find your words quite off putting. Instead, he smirks, crooked and cute. 

“Meant to be,” He repeats, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah alright, I’ll take my chances. Have a good night.” 

You bid him a soft goodnight, barely able to stifle the giggle that spills from your mouth when he nearly trips over the cobblestones on his way back to his friends. He’s awkward, you think, but still confident. It’s cute. 

Lando stays rooted in your mind the rest of the night, all the way up until you’re lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of you. It’s weird to think this much about a guy you’ve just met, a guy who you’ve only had one conversation with and have left things up to chance in terms of seeing him again. 

-------

You’re the first one awake this morning, roused from your sleep by bright sunlight pouring through the window, even through the curtains. Contemplation of going back to sleep crosses your mind, but it’s no use. You’re up now, so you might as well make the most of your early morning. 

You love your friends dearly, but some alone time sounds like heaven right about now. There’s a coffee spot not far from where you’re staying that you remember seeing on your way in that seems like a perfect match to your solo walk, so you head there. You’ll be a nice friend and bring coffee home for when they eventually wake up too. 

After dropping them a text letting them know you’ve gone out, you set off. The walk back into town is short but serene, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives, and a reminder of why you’d all decided to vacation in this particular region of Greece in the first place. 

Someone calls out something that sounds like your name before you can step into the shop and you pause, casting a glance around to see if your ears might be playing tricks on you. You’ve only been here a few days, and the only other person who knows you other than your friends is…Lando. 

You squint a little harder to see through the glare of the sun, and lo and behold, there he is, hands linked behind his head. The grin that lifts your face is almost embarrassing, or would’ve been had Lando not been so eager upon seeing you wave at him. 

He’s clad in athletic shorts and a cutoff tee that shows off muscles you’re trying your very hardest not to stare at as he makes his way closer, curls tucked away in a baseball cap pulled low on his head. Headphones dangle from around his neck, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily very clearly once he’s stopped in front of you. 

“Hey, good morning! I thought that was you,” He breathes, attempting to catch his breath. “Early riser too, I take it?” 

“Honestly, not usually! The sun decided I would be today, though, so…here I am.” 

“Here you are. Guess it was meant to be then, huh?” He chuckles, reaching up to flip his cap backwards. If you thought he was tan the night you met, he’s even tanner in the sun, bronze skin stretching over sinewy muscle that flexes as he sweeps a hand through his hair before tugging it back down in one smooth motion. “Doing a coffee run?” 

“Yeah, I’m the only one of us awake at this hour so I figured I’d bring them back a little something.” 

“You’re a saint. I’d let my mates suffer if it were me,” Lando snorts. 

You shrug. “Guess that’s the difference between the two of us.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, looking amused. “What else is different between you and me?” 

“Well, first of all, I would never be on a run at eight in the morning. Is someone punishing you, or is this a self-inflicted torture type thing?” 

That gets another laugh out of him, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Gotta keep in shape or my trainer might try to kill me with workouts instead.” 

“You’re an athlete?” You pry, intrigued. He looks the part, you think. Lean but not skinny, strong but not massively built. A runner, maybe? 

Lando freezes a split second, rocks from foot to foot, scratching at his nose. “Kind of, yeah.” 

“What’s your sport?” 

“Uh…golf. It’s more like a hobby than anything else.” 

“Golf,” You repeat, an amused smile poking at the edges of your mouth. “Can’t say I know a thing about it.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely something else, for sure. Super intense stuff, really grueling.” His words say one thing, but he’s grinning like he’s pulling your leg, lip pulled between his teeth in that same way as last night, nose scrunching adorably as he bobs his head quickly to further sell it. 

“Sure, if you say so. But d’you think your trainer would get mad if you cut your super intense training short to grab a cup of coffee with a friend?” 

You’re almost expecting him to say no, but Lando perks up instead, eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Not at all. Shall we?” 

Over coffee, you find that Lando is an excellent conversationalist—funny and a good listener, an even better storyteller. He asks about you without seeming pushy or prying, and because of that you feel yourself relaxing a bit in his presence. Opening yourself up to the possibility of a good thing with him, no matter how short or fleeting it may be, whether it’s friendship or something more. 

A few weeks of summer in a place you've never been with a boy you don’t know is the time to be a little bolder. Chances are you’ll never see Lando again after this trip, so why not loosen up just a little bit? 

It’s only when more people start to trickle into the shop and you start to notice Lando’s eyes shifting over your shoulder more that you realize you’ve been here with him for a while now. And judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from all three of your friends on your phone when you go to check it for the first time since you’d left, you’ve been gone a lot longer than you said you’d be. 

You know them well enough to know that they’re not above calling the local police to send out a search party for you if you don’t find your way back soon. 

“Friends wondering where you are?” 

You nod, sending a quick message that you are indeed alive and not kidnapped like they feared, before tucking your phone away again. “Guess I better get them their coffees for sure now, or else they might not let me back in the house.” 

“Lemme buy it for them,” He offers sincerely, offering you a lopsided grin. You shake your head rapidly at the suggestion, but he continues, “I’m the reason you’ve been gone so long, the least I can do is buy them drinks. Call it an apology for making them worry, yeah?” 

“You really don’t have to, Lando.” 

“I know. I want to,” He insists, looking truly genuine. First dessert last night, now coffee today. You have half a mind to push back a little more, but you get the feeling Lando is as persistent as he is handsome, so you taking a firm stance on something like this seems like a moot point. Giving in, you nod, and he mirrors it, looking proud. 

He lets you take the lead in reciting your friends’ orders once you’ve made your way back over to the front counter, stepping forward with a hand to the small of your back to pay for the drinks before you have any bright ideas to pull one over on him and pay for them yourself. 

The barista smiles politely, pen hovering above a cardboard cup. “And a name for that?” 

Lando casts a furtive glance around the area before leaning in and saying his name quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll run into someone who he doesn’t want to see. You notice, but don’t really pay it any mind. You understand far too well not wanting to talk to someone you're unprepared for. 

Soon enough Lando’s got the drinks in hand and you’re back outside, and he’s smiling again. You’ve noticed he does that a lot when he looks at you. You’re sure you’re the same way with him. 

“My mates and I, we’re planning on having a little barbeque at our villa tomorrow night. You should come,” Lando says encouragingly, tilting his head to the side. When your brows raise in surprise, he hastily adds, “And your friends too, obviously. We’d love the company.” 

“Ah! Um, I dunno. Wouldn’t wanna crash your thing.” 

“You wouldn't be. Seriously, come hang out. We’re fun, I promise!” 

“I just—I forget if we’ve got plans, that’s all.” You’re not lying when you say it, you truly forget if you’re free tomorrow night. Most of it stems from your awful memory, but a small part of it attributes to how your brain kind of stops working properly around Lando. 

“Right, well, you figure that out, and if you find you’ve got a free evening,” He balances the drinks deftly in one hand, the other fishing his phone out of his shorts pocket and swiping at the screen briefly before holding it out to you, “text me, let me know.” 

You’re not sure where you find the boldness to tap your phone number into his contacts, but you do it with confidence, saving it under your name and a smiley face. 

“Cute.” Lando smirks, chuckling as he sends a simple hi so you've got his number too. “Now, I believe these are yours, and…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If it’s meant to be.” 

You smile at the mirroring of last night’s words from him as you situate the cardboard tray in your own arms. “Maybe.” 

The smile hasn’t left your face even by the time you arrive back home, because you’ve been thinking about Lando the whole way. For a stranger you’ve met only yesterday, he’s sure been occupying a lot of space in your mind. You aren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. 

You’re already prepared for the berating you’re about to get as you close the front door behind you carefully, making your way to the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

You look up to see all three of your friends sitting around the kitchen table, and none of them look particularly happy. You smile innocently, holding up the cardboard tray of drinks up as a peace offering. “Coffee?” 

“It better come with an explanation.” 

Nodding vigorously, you dole out each drink to your friends. “It does, I swear. I didn’t just disappear, I ran into—” 

“Hold the fuck on. Why does this say Lando? Why is that man’s name on my cup—” 

“Oh my god, you did not get coffee with him without telling us!” 

“You bitch!” 

That’s how you end up telling them the whole story—running into him in town, talking for ages, and that brings you to your next point. 

“We don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, do we?” 

“There’s the vineyard tour in the afternoon, but that should end around five. Why?” 

“Lando invited us to a barbecue at his villa,” You say quickly. That gets their attention immediately, all of their eyes widening in the same shocked looks. None of them answer your question though. “Is that…something we’d be interested in?” 

Samira is the first to snap out of it, mouth curving into a playful smirk. “Invited us, or invited you?” 

“Definitely just her.” 

“Whatever! Do we wanna go or not?” You grumble, doing your best to fight the grin threatening to overtake your face. The thought of him wanting to spend time with you brings you a teensy bit of satisfaction. 

“Of course we’re going!” 

After they’re done poking fun at you, you’re able to take a moment to top out a quick message to Lando. That barbecue invite still up for grabs? 

You're not expecting an immediate answer, but your phone dings with a text back before you even set it down. 

Lando: Of course. Plans fell through? 

You: seems like you’ve really made an impression on my friends 

Lando: Not sure whether to be scared or flattered��

You: your guess is as good as mine! we’ll find out tomorrow :)

Lando: Brb gotta go call my lawyer and update my will 

“You’re texting him right now, aren’t you?” 

You look up from your phone to see Camille leaning in the doorway to your room, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yeah, he—uh, he says he’s looking forward to meeting you guys again.” She comes to sit beside you, looking like she wants to talk about something. You set it aside, head tilting in a silent question. 

“Do you think you’ll stay in contact with Lando after we leave?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

If you do think about it, you haven’t even known Lando for more than a day. You’ve only just met him yesterday, seen him twice, one of which was completely spur of the moment. So what if that spur of the moment encounter was the most connected you’ve felt to someone in a long time? 

You don’t know him, and chances are, he’s not looking for anything serious. You don’t even know if you’re looking for anything serious. 

“It’s okay if you want to.” 

“I shouldn’t want to,” You say. It feels like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. You look to Camille for an answer, but she just pats your hand. “Right? I’m never gonna see him again, so I shouldn’t get attached.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” 

“I guess not. It feels scary, though. Opening yourself up to something when you don't know what’ll happen.” 

Camille hums, a placating, even comforting sound to soothe your worries. She’s always been pretty good at getting you to see the brighter side in things. “There’s fun in that too. Being spontaneous, surprising yourself. You never know, Lando could be just the thing you need, the one you didn’t know you were looking for. And if not, you don’t have to see him again. A win-win, I’d say.” 

She leaves you alone to your thoughts after that, left to ponder what exactly it is you want. It might be stupid and entirely over-optimistic of you, but Lando has already pulled you in. You’re not sure what it is about him. He makes you want more, want to know more. 

Whatever happens will happen, and if things don’t work out…well, Camille is right. You never have to see Lando again. 

His name flashes across your screen later in the night, right before you’re about to go to sleep. You’ve been texting back and forth all day, but this one is different. He’s video calling you right now. 

You stare at his name for longer than you should, finger hovering over the answer button a few beats before pressing it. His face pops into view once the call connects. Like you, he’s sitting in bed, leaned up against the headboard, cozied up in a soft looking jumper. He looks like he’s moments away from drifting off, but he called you, so he must want to talk. 

“Hi,” You say softly. 

“Hey, you.” He smiles, warm and sleepy and all squinty in a way that makes you want to crawl through the screen and tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. “You must be tired.” 

“Eh, I’m alright. Why?” 

“‘Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” 

You let out a wildly unappealing snort of laughter at his poor attempt at a pick up line. “That’s terrible! Oh my god, that was awful, Lando, seriously.” 

“No?” His smile grows giddy, shoulders shaking with his chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Got you laughing though.” 

Conversation falls into the same easy nature as this morning, like you’ve known him for ages. He makes you laugh until your ribs hurt, smile until your cheeks feel the same. It still amazes you just how comfortable you feel around him, as someone who usually takes a while to warm up to people. 

Maybe you should take it as a sign. 

A jumble of muffle voices offscreen some time later makes Lando squint. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t hang up. ” He lets the phone drop onto the bed, checking once to make sure you’re still there before disappearing from sight. 

You hear his footsteps fade, then more voices you can’t quite make out. Someone laughs off in the distance, and then he’s back, resituating himself with the remnants of an amused grin on his lips. 

“Everything okay?” 

“My mates are yelling at me to turn off the light, so I’d better go,” He sighs goodnaturedly, lips turning down into a frown. Then he yawns widely, and you realize how late it’s gotten since you’ve picked up his call. Losing track of time when you’re talking to Lando seems to be a recurring theme. “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow.” 

Your breath catches a little in your chest, both at his words and the way he’s looking at you through the screen as he says it, nothing but genuine. “Me too.” 

You’re starting to think this whole try not to get attached thing is going to be much harder than you thought. 

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[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[elysianightsss]

Pen Pal Price Part Two🫧🍑

nsfw ahead so I’ll cut it off at that point…reader is also described as chubby below because I am so they are too lol.

-

His voice startles you to the point where you visibly flinch, it’s nothing like how you imagined it to be. First of all, you didn’t know he was British. The accent that wraps around his words so sharply is one you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on in this moment.

His voice is deep, rumbles out somewhere from within his chest. It vibrates through the phone and through you. For him your honeyed voice drips into him like the sweetest summer wine.

“Sound so pretty.” You hear him mutter, barely a whisper but definitely something he was trying to hide. Your cheeks burn as you blush hard, your bottom lip caught between your teeth while you think of what to say to the man you’ve been writing to for weeks on end.

So many words exchanged and yet now you’re at a loss. Can’t think properly, it begs the question; how will you react when you meet in person?

“I haven’t got long, I guess now’s the time I tell you what I do for a living.” He chuckles lightly and you wish you could see his face while he does.

“Sounds intriguing.” You frown though your face is still smile stricken.

“Oh you bet it is love. Very dangerous, rough. I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

“Excuse me good sir, I live for danger. Did I not tell you how I dangerously painted the spare bedroom the other day? Though I don’t think it went well.” You joked looking over at the room that was half done and had paint streaks pointing in all different directions.

“Are you doubting your mad painting skills?” Your heart soared at the joke, at his laugh, just all of this. Being able to speak to him properly, being able to communicate more easily without waiting a whole week for his response to arrive by post. Shifting through the mail everyday desperate to read his words. You hadn’t felt this happy in years.

“Maybe just a little.” There’s a pause, and you think you hear some background chatter, something about unit leaving and someone definitely says captain, “maybe you could help me?”

“I definitely will.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, it’s so sure and so final. It says a lot about him. You’re desperate to know more. “I’m sorry love, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow? Same time?”

And he does, you lunge for the phone practically jumping through the air to answer him. You chat about useless things, have silly little conversations about everyday life. There are days when you think it’s his day off work, those days he stays on the phone to you for hours. Those days are your favourite.

He tells you about the new book he got and even reads you a few chapters while you cook dinner, he makes you promise to cook him a meal sometime. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Again he loves the domesticity of it all, how prefect you are in his eyes, though his ocean blues haven’t actually seen you yet. What a perfect little wife you would make. He knows it’s far too soon to think about things like that but he cannot help himself.

The way you fly away with yourself, talking about what you’re doing that day or joking about something you saw on tv or giggling about the cupcakes you were making because the icing went wrong making what you piped look like pigs instead of the unicorns you were going for, for you niece’s birthday party.

He listens with his eyes closed, dreaming of the day he comes back from deployment. The day he comes back to you, to home smelling of freshly baked goods. His pretty lady waiting for him all smiles and giggles. He wishes.

“Um..” you pause unsure, wondering what if he says no.

“What is it love?” He asks so worried. So ready to fix any problem you throw his why. Once again though you hesitate and once more he encourages you, “Come on pretty lady, tell me. What’s up?” You let the nickname you’ve reprimanded him about numerous times slide with what you’re about to ask.

“D-Did you want t-to video call?” He grins at how fucking adorable you are. The way you stutter just asking a simple question like that. He bites back a groan at the way he stiffens in his trousers. Dirty old man.

“I would love to.” He of course then had to explain he had a flip phone. You laughed hard at him and said he would need a smartphone. You had no idea he would go and buy one just to video call you with. Another thing you reprimand him for, spending his hard earned money so easily like that. His little lady nagging him, and all he does is smile at the sound. He loves it.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the phone rings. A lot like the first time he called you. You had talked him through the set up and helped him understand what an app is and how to call on text on a smart phone. And finally, you told him how to video call. Which app to press, you were just explaining how it works when your phone begins to buzz with ‘John💕 is FaceTime you’ popping up on the screen. Your number of course being the first one he added.

You can’t help but feel nervous, checking you look semi okay on the screen before pressing the green answer button. Then your breath is knocked out of you so hard you actually choke, John fussing about getting some water and breathing for him goes in one ear and out the other. You can’t look away from him even as you catch your breath.

He’s nothing like you pictured and yet he’s perfect.

He looks like the kind of man you picture when you read romance novels and the kind of man that sneaks into the dreams that have you waking up hot under the collar and panties sticking to you uncomfortably. The little description of himself you asked for certainly did not do him justice.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Even though you frown, you can’t stop a smile from splitting your face.

You’ve got chubbier cheeks and thicker thighs than most girls, something you’re insecure about and john can tell. But fuck you look gorgeous to him. Over the next few weeks John catches on to just how badly you feel about your body image, the way you put yourself down in favour of supermodels, the way you wear oversized clothing to cover yourself up. He finds himself grumbling, hating it each second more than the last.

He understands how badly beauty culture has fucked over women who are genuinely beautiful but are made to feel like they’re nothing. He gets it, he does. But he certainly doesn’t agree. Especially not with you. He finds himself dreaming of those squishable cheeks of yours, the way you’re so soft around the edges, he can tell.

You completely did him in last Monday, it’s the middle of winter for goodness sake, how did he know that you’d be wearing shorts when he FaceTimed you. Gym shorts that hugged your plump ass so fucking perfectly, that flashed your thick thighs to him. Christ, he’s been thinking about those pretty thighs all week long. When he’s running drills, your thighs are on his mind. When he’s planning out a mission with his unit, your thighs are on his mind. And when he’s alone at night with his hand wrapped around his swollen cock, your thighs are on his mind.

He can’t stand it anymore, it’s been agonising with how busy he’s been not calling you, not seeing you or hearing your voice. No knowing what you’ve been up to or how your day has gone. He calls and he praises the Lord above for bringing you to him, when you answer. A prayer on his lips, a beg for you to become his wife one day when you’re there smiling in the cutest silk pyjama set he’s ever seen. It hugs you exquisitely, showing off your rounded edges and all John can think about is how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your tummy.

You’re clearly fresh out the shower or bath with your damp hair and freshly wash face, but John’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life, in fact he tells you so. You haven’t felt your cheeks burn the way they did then, well maybe one other occasion.

“Love?”

“Yes John?”

“Would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow? At that cafe you like?” He’s hopeful when he asks, you can not only hear it in his voice but see it in his face. “I’m in the area for work and have a few days where I’m free and I’d love to see you.”

You can’t recall a time in your life where all you did was smile, but since you found John, you don’t remember what not smiling all the time was like. You don’t remember anything other than how happy he makes you. So you take a breath, you muster up the courage and say yes.

“I’d love to see you too John. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #11

It's an innocent ("please," Jason sneers, "there's nothing innocent about a plagiaristic propaganda machine encouraging minors to dance for sick ol' pervs while it spews misogynistic hate speech.'"

"okay, boomer,"

"the fuck did you just call me, replacement?") TikTok, one of those ones that kind of simmers in the background for a few weeks until someone with a decent enough following posts it on the Platform Formerly Known as Twitter and from there it seriously catches traction, blowing up until Tim knocks on Bruce's office door, phone in hand. Damian stands behind him, arms crossed and clearly simmering.

Bruce, fresh off a series of zoom conferences, raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, so you haven't seen it," Tim decides, striding forward.

Bruce's eyebrow jumps a smidge higher, on the edge of concern, as Tim thrusts his phone into his grasp.

"So," he begins, reaching over to refresh the mobile page "there's a video that's been making the rounds on Twitter and—well you should probably see it," He sighs over Damian's scoff as he clicks through the pop-up asking him to sign in or join TikTok, and presses "Watch Again", unmuting the video.

🎶 "Doo, badoo-badoo-badoo Badoo-badoo-badoo-badoo,"🎶 an upbeat background song hums as someone, presumably a student, films a school hallway with their phone. They walk past students talking near their lockers, some of whom flash peace signs and silly grins as the camera swings their way before continuing on.

But the main point Bruce gets stuck on is the all lowercase white text at the center of the screen that an automated woman's voice awkwardly narrates:

"when you go to school with bruce wayne's other long lost lovechild"

The student filming comes up behind a much taller student who faces away from him, in conversation with a black haired pale teenaged girl. She spots the cameraman and shoots him a confused, disgruntled look, saying something to the boy who then turns around.

Bruce quietly observes as the camera zooms in on a boy around Tim's page, possibly older. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw, he raises an eyebrow at the one filming, looking beyond the camera, pitch black hair with blue undertones falling into his blue eyes. The camera momentarily zooms too far into those eyes then abruptly pulls back as he quirks a puzzled smile at the viewer, mouthing out an easily understandable "hi?".

The TikTok ends and seamlessly transitions to a person balancing their cat on an exercise ball with minimal success and this time Bruce presses the Watch Again button. The heart on the right side claims 750k likes.

Damian scoffs, louder, as it ends. "Clearly it is a hoax, but it has been popular among my classmates."

"The board hasn't made much noise about it—" Tim starts.

"And they won't," Bruce says, lifting his eyes from his phone. "Wayne Industries doesn't give statements on videos like these, no matter how viral they become. I've been getting lovechild claims since before I adopted Dick."

Which Tim knows, which is why his insistence on showing Bruce this one raises his hackles. He pins Tim down with a stare and despite Tim's perfected PR mask, he can see Tim is unsettled.

"B...he really, really looks like you." Tim admits. Damian scoffs for a third time and Tim shoots him a glare, "I get it, you don't see it, but you haven't seen the pictures of Bruce when he was younger."

"I don't need to!" Damian says angrily. "You're all being ridiculous!"

"All?" Bruce asks. Tim shifts awkwardly. "The family group chat has been talking," he says.

"I see," Bruce says. Because he does. Many claim Damian to be his doppelganger, but the boy actually favors Talia not just in skin tone but in the shape and color of his eyes, as well as the soft slope of her mouth and ears. Whether those features will sharpen once he goes through puberty is anyone's guess.

But this young man has Bruce's eyes. Martha's eyes.

That night they have a suspiciously full house for dinner, with even Jason dropping in, but no one says anything until Barbara wheels in for dessert, carrying a manila folder on her lap.

"What?" she says, when everyone stares. "Dick told me it was crème brûlée today!"

Bruce extends a hand wordlessly, and Barbara sheepishly hands the folder over.

"Bruce," she says, before he can open it, "I wouldn't have looked into this normally, but,"

"Just say it," Jason says, leaning back in his chair. "Take away the gray hairs, the receding hairline, and the wrinkles and the kid's a dead match."

"Take it back, Todd," Damian growls, "Father has a very full head of hair!"

"Not to mention a failed track record at keeping it in his pants, Exhibit A," Jason continues, pointing a fork at Damian, "oh wait," he says gleefully, "kid is definitely 18, so I guess that would make you Exhibit B!"

The table erupts, cutlery tinkling as Damian gets a knee up on the table to hurl himself at a cackling Todd, Dick jumping up to grab him as the others lean out of the way—

"Ahem!" Everyone stops cold as Alfred stands in the doorway, porcelain ramekins of crème brûlée stacked perfectly on a silver tray. Under his gaze, everyone sits back down, Damian and Jason both quietly uttering a "Sorry Alfie/Alfred," as they straighten up.

Bruce is oblivious to the chaos, Barbara biting her lip beside him as he stares blankly inside the folder at the printed copy of an adoption certificate.

Two days and several million likes later, another TikTok goes viral from the same user. Caught in the moment as whoever is filming runs up to the group, the same young man is chatting with a blonde in a red letterman jacket, a partially formed crowd around them. Even with one leg still in the cafeteria table, he towers over everyone.

"—sh. Look, we're all possibly Bruce Wayne's son!" the boy snarks. He has his hands out, palms up as if he's making a great point, and as he looks around he catches sight of the cameraman and his smirk drops.

"Ah Mac, c'mon dude not again—" and the TikTok ends.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason part 2

And, the plot bunny strikes back.

Red follows easily as Jason leads to the safe house. He spares a moment of thought towards whether Red is chatting with the whole family in the comms right now But then he focuses back on the kid in his arms. The kid is practically falling asleep, even as they grapple across buildings.

The instant faith this kid had in him was startling, and Jason has his concerns about why. But the part of his brain able to focus on concerns is trying to figure out how he trusts the kid so much already. The only information they have about him is that he can make unknown sounds, which is apparently a language Jason can communicate in. And yet Jason already knows that he would not let anything happen to this kid.

 Hopefully, the kid also speaks a language the rest of the group can speak. If not they can always leave it to him and Cass, as the kids’ body language seemed close enough to normal for her unique language skills to be used. 

They arrive quickly, entering through the fire escape into what could pass for a living room, in a very minimalist world. There was a couch though, and Jason went straight there to lay the kid down on it. 

The kid seemed very hesitant to let go though, waking as Jason tried to put him down. A whimper leaving his mouth as he latches on to Jason’s clothes.

Jason glances quickly at Red, and then picks the kid back up and sits down on the couch himself, with the kid in his lap. Red drags one of the two folding chairs by the folding table over in front of the cough and sits down himself.

“What is happening?” Red asks. Jason gives him a withering look through the helmet, then realizes that’s not enough, and he would like to be able to speak to the kid without the voice modulator potentially freaking him out. So, he takes the helmet off and places it on the floor next to the couch. Gives Red a look he can actually see, because really what does he think is happening? Then looks down at the kid.

“Hey, kid?” Jason asks gently. The kid looks up at him. “You got a name?”

“Danny.” The kid does his best to sit up, and scooch over to his own seat on the couch, now aware of his surroundings and situation. But a rumble comes from Jason, and he doesn’t let Danny go, so he settles back down. “I’m sorry about the trouble. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Red looks confused at that, but Jason chooses to ignore him for now.

“I’m glad you were, so that I could find you. Are you okay?”

Danny shrugs. He lets out a hum of sad-fine. “I’m fine now. Or I will be, once I get settled.”

“Kid, you were in distress. Can you tell me what happened?”

Danny took a deep breath, and then slid away from Jason. Jason allowed it this time, and the kid curled himself into the corner of the couch, knees up to his chest and hugged them.

“My world was collapsing. Timeline deconstruction, leading to total meltdown. We were trying to get everyone to the portal, but… They thought the portal wasn’t safe. They wouldn’t listen to us, and they wouldn’t stop… One of my mentors got me through the portal. They sent me to this world. But my world is gone now.” 

“Hood, can I talk to you?” Red nods his head towards the hallway. 

“Right now?” Jason looks between Red and Danny, who is crying silently, that high pitched keen of distress grief-alone starting and stopping, hitching with his breath.

Jason growls, deep and strong,not-alone-mine-now.

“Yes.” Red hisses.

Danny sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe his face as he starts to give Jason a small smile.

Jason huffs. “Danny, will you be okay for a second?”

Danny nods, humming an agreement.

Jason chuffs a quick safe-promise and Danny gives him a small smile. Red taps Jason's arm, and he grunts, but gets up to follow him anyway.

“Be right back, Danny.”

Red and Jason go into the bedroom, Red closing the door behind him.

“Hood, something weird is going on.” 

“Obviously, did you not hear what that kid just said?”

“No, well… yes. But that’s not what I meant.” Red starts wringing his hands together. “I don’t know how you found Danny, Hood. You said you heard a noise, and I believed you, but I didn’t hear anything that whole time. And you two keep looking like you’re communicating, but neither of you are talking, and the only things I can think of to cause something like that is telepathy or mind control.”

“Woah, wait.” Jason holds a hand up to stop Red from starting to ramble, and once he’s silent runs his fingers through his hair. “You can’t hear the kid? The noises? I mean I don’t know how I’m making the noises, that came as a surprise. But you can’t even hear them?” 

“No, Hood!” Red seems very frustrated. “And if you don’t think it’s telepathy, then we have to look into other options.”

“Hey, now, wait a second.” Jason puts his whole body in front of the door, which makes Tim tense. Jason wants to tense as well, but he is trying not to escalate the situation. “Danny is not malicious. He’s a kid, and he needs help.” 

Red squared himself, preparing to argue, but Jason heard a cry from the living room and was out of the room immediately, heading towards the living room with his heart pounding frantically in his chest. 

Something ran into him, pushing him back against the wall, and before he could realize what it was, a syringe was in his neck and his head was getting fuzzy.

He tried to focus, keening out for Danny. Hoping Danny was okay, that he ran. He pushed away from the wall, keening again. But he didn’t hear a response before he was collapsing back. He would have fallen to the floor, but someone grabbed him. And then he was asleep.

[kingsmedley]

It's happening again...

[kingsmedley]

"Is that a challenge?"

“Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot erase me in a way that matters.”

[paddockletters]

unspoken | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader  request: yes /can you please write something about the reader being from italy and finding it hard to pronounce many english word, and shes out with jude and people they’re with start making snarky comments. like they are all making fun of her accent and at first she acts like she’s fine but then jude realises she is quieter than usual and jude just comforts her pls author’s note: thank you so muchhh for the request! hope you liked it! 👀

It was a warm evening, the kind where the air buzzed with energy, and we found ourselves sitting around a table with some of Jude’s friends, laughing and chatting over dinner. I hadn’t met all of them before, but Jude made sure I felt included, keeping me close with his arm draped casually over my chair.

The night was going well, everyone swapping stories and jokes, the conversation flowing easily—until it didn’t.

Someone cracked a joke, and I tried to jump in, tossing a comment that made sense in my head. But the words stumbled out, my accent thick on my tongue. I saw one of the girls across the table glance at her friend, stifling a laugh.

"Sorry, what did you say?" she asked, her smile a little too sharp.

I repeated myself, slower this time, making sure I was saying it right. The sound of my voice, though, felt wrong—like I was standing out in a way I didn’t want to.

“That’s adorable,” one of the guys chimed in with a chuckle. “Your accent really does all the talking, doesn’t it?”

There was a round of light laughs, and I forced a smile, even though it felt like I’d been slapped.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I muttered, trying to laugh it off.

The conversation shifted, but the feeling lingered. Every time I opened my mouth after that, I could hear the way the words didn’t quite fit, like puzzle pieces forced into the wrong spots. And every once in a while, one of them would make another subtle remark, like they were amused by the way I spoke.

Jude was talking to one of his teammates, his hand still resting on the back of my chair. He hadn’t seemed to notice yet. I didn’t want to make a scene, so I played along, acting like the jokes didn’t bother me. But they did. Each one chipped away at the confidence I’d built up, leaving me quieter than usual, sinking into myself.

I stared at my glass, swirling the drink around, nodding along when I was supposed to, but feeling like I wasn’t really there.

It wasn’t until we left the restaurant, walking towards the car, that Jude seemed to pick up on it. He slid his hand into mine, glancing down at me.

“You alright, love? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

I shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t press further. “Just tired.”

He didn’t buy it. Jude stopped walking, gently pulling me aside so we weren’t within earshot of the others.

“No, something’s up. You’re not yourself.”

His eyes searched mine, concern etched on his face. It was one of the things I loved about him—how he always paid attention, even when I tried to hide things.

“It’s nothing, really. Just… they kept making fun of my accent.” I forced a smile, but my voice cracked. “It’s not a big deal.” I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

“Who?” Jude’s expression hardened.

“It’s fine, Jude. They didn’t mean it like that. It was just jokes.” I shook my head quickly.

“They upset you,” he said simply, his jaw clenched now. “That’s not okay.”

"I just… I try so hard. I know I don’t sound like everyone else, and I don’t want to embarrass you—” I bit my lip, trying to keep my composure, but the frustration bubbled up.

“You think you embarrass me?” He cut me off, his voice gentle but firm. His hands came up to cradle my face, forcing me to look at him. “Babe, you could never embarrass me. I love everything about you, including the way you speak.”

I felt my eyes sting with tears, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

“It’s just hard. I don’t want people to think I’m stupid because I can’t say things the right way.”

Jude’s thumb brushed a tear from my cheek before it could fall.

“You’re not stupid, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. Your accent is beautiful. You don’t have to change for anyone.”

“Thank you.” I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch.

"Next time someone makes a comment, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s a joke—they don’t get to make you feel like that.” He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

I smiled up at him, feeling a little lighter.

“You’re not going to punch anyone, are you?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Only if they deserve it.”

We both laughed softly, the tension melting away as we walked back to the car, hand in hand.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Snow Angel

Cregan's Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Cregan Stark x Reader | 900< | cw: fem!reader, angst, blood, injuries, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved

Cregan did not wed you because he was drawn by your bright eyes. He did not wed you because your smile could melt a hole through the ice that held up the Wall. No, he wed you because your house and his were long strained, and taking you as his wife would ensure peace between you.

He wed you because it was his duty, though he could not deny that he would soon come to love you for the prior things mentioned. But how could he, when it was never brought up?

As far as anyone knew, as far as you knew, your husband did you well simply because he was your husband.

Being the youngest of your family, you were rather neglected. You knew little beyond entertaining yourself and others with simple humor and preposterous ideas. Winterfell would come to adore the warmth that was borne from the coldness of your youth. They would do the same in how easily amused their lady was of the Northern coldness.

You loved the snow, but were fundamentally useless in it, knowing nothing beyond making snowmen. You knew not how to start a fire, nor build a tent; you did not know which flora to forage either, much less how to hunt.

Cregan did not fault you for it, for it was not your fault you were not taught. But he did not appreciate how you took more importance in chatting with his men than learning these skills; he tells you as much.

"But what you ask of me is your job," you simply respond, "mine is to keep the spirits lifted."

He huffs, breath turning into fog, "it would do you well to learn. What if there is no fire and no one who knew how to make one?"

"Then I ask if you plan to leave me to fend for myself, my lord?"

He tilts his head, jaw muscle feathering in offence, "do you think so little of me?"

"I thank the gods daily for supplying me with such a reliable husband," you smile, "and I pray the day will never come that I need to fend for myself."

Part of him is endeared by your darling naiveté, another is frustrated by it. He figures if he cannot convince you to learn, then he will make nature your teacher.

He instructs one of the servants to take you berry picking and to leave you somewhere that is not too close but not too far from Winterfell. The servant obeys her lord and does just that. She slips away from you through the foliage, making sure to leave you any tools or weapons you would need.

You were left completely unware, treading deeper and deeper into the forest, following where the berry bushes went. You were too wrapped up in your singing to realize you were completely alone.

That is until you heard a wolf howling.

You did not know where you were going. You did not know which way was North or South or which way Winterfell laid. All you knew was you wanted to go home with your basket of berries, but that seemed impossible when you dropped them into the ground with a deafening scream. Your leg had been snagged into something. You writhe in pain, finding your shin caught in the jaw of a bear trap. Your hot tears turn into frost and your breath grows shorter and shorter in panic.

Cregan was not one to worry. He patiently waited for you by the gates of your home, anticipating that you'd be the next one to come around. But it was never you… and then, it started to snow.

He calls a search party for you. He hears many a man call out your name as the night begins to take the forest. At the same time, the ground became slowly whiter and whiter while his worry thickened at a more rapid pace. Soon, his hair and shoulders were frosted over and his source of light no longer came from the sky but a torch in his hand.

"MY LORD!"

Cregan perks and run towards the man calling for him. He quickly reaches him and looks around for you, but you stood nowhere. He sees the man remove his fur hat and lower his gaze.

By the old gods.

He drops to his knees. The snow scatters, revealing the red that laid underneath. He brushes off your body, rigid and cold. He releases a horrified sound at the sight of your mangled leg. He cradles you in his arms and rushes you back home.

The maesters assure him you were still breathing and that there was hope for you yet. They might save your life, but you would lose your leg.

Cregan laments as the maesters operate on you. He seeks absolution by the weirwood tree and vows to serve you ardently, more ardently so long as your life is spared.

For a moment, the old gods looked upon Cregan Stark. They delivered his wife. You lived… if you could call it that.

You wake up to the face of your husband who immediately weeps at your side, begging you for your forgiveness. You clutch his cheek and tell him, "there is nothing to forgive."

But there is, and he would never forgive himself for how you never smiled at the snow again, or how you died midday as children made snow angels outside your window.

[kingsmedley]

"Hard work." He scoffed. "If you call groveling and begging for death hard work, then sure. But from what I've seen, there is nothing redeemable about Haruto Abe."

Joshua swallowed, his gaze sliding away from her and off into the distance.

"But if you see us as the same, I suppose I can't argue with that. Perhaps I don't deserve the opportunity to change, either, if it means I have the chance to keep hurting people in the meantime."

"Well, there were actually quite a few," she pulled her hands together, laced her fingers and trained her eyes on them. "You know how in tv shows and comics sometimes... They'll make like, a character that's meant to be temporary... but then they end up keeping and developing that character because they became popular with fans? It was... a little like that. Everyone wants to see him grow and develop now. Me included... And I think it would be... fitting, don't you?"

She opened her hands then and stared into them. As if she were holding the world in her palms. As if she could see all of the people within it, looking back up at her. Eyes glazed over and empty.

"The point of it all... Is that... with enough hard work, anyone can change, transform... That anyone, no matter who they are or what they've done can still grow and rebuild... Isn't that it...? Isn't that what you've been doing, too?"

[sanguineterrain]

Hiii i love your writing SO much💕, you're so good with the characterization of the boys it's crazy. I was wondering if I could request a second part of your dick x assistant fic?

thanks sm! i surely can deliver a 2nd part of these two :3 pt 2 to this.

dick grayson x gn!rogue!reader. flirting, canon typical violence, reader being a brat teehee! all fics are rb to @sanguinelibrary

****

This coffee shop is packed.

Normally, you'd say 'fuck it' and just go without caffeine. But you've stayed late for three nights in a row, and Bruce requested coffee ten minutes ago.

And because you work for the local billionaire, you have to buy from the expensive, organic, ridiculously priced coffee shop across town.

The cashier looks up. "Next?"

You step forward in relief, opening your mouth to recite the order you memorized a year ago, when a man cuts you off.

Oh, hell no.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" you ask, patience finally snapping. The four people behind you also express their anger at the offending cutter.

He turns around, and suddenly you're looking into blue, blue eyes. Dick smiles apologetically.

"Sorry." He turns. "Sorry, everyone! Everyone's coffee is on me."

That soothes the line completely, and a few even clap. You, however, are unamused.

"I've never seen you in this coffee shop," you say, folding your arms as Dick gets out his wallet.

"Really? I'm here all the time," he says easily. He points to you. "I'll order for them as well."

God. He thinks he can just flash his pretty smile and have you eating out of his—

"...And can I get that with no foam? Thank you," Dick says, finishing the order. He pulls out his card. "D'you mind if I pay ahead for everybody here in line?"

The cashier, predictably, is absolutely dazzled by Gotham's pretty prince, their eyes big and awed. They nod as Dick puts four fifty dollar bills in the tip jar.

"I just wanna say that that was so great, what you did for those kids in the hospital last week," the cashier says. "I live in Blüdhaven, and you're definitely our hero. I mean, wow. Between you and me? You outshine your dad, too."

Dick laughs and hands them another fifty. "Well, someone's gotta keep him sharp, right? You have a good day, okay?"

You stand there blankly until someone behind you says, "You gonna move or what?"

Gotham. City of manners.

You leave the line and walk to the pick-up area, where Dick is chatting with another customer. Good God.

"What was that?" you ask, not caring if you're interrupting.

The lady chatting up Dick begins to protest, but Dick quickly soothes her, apologizing profusely. She leaves.

Dick turns to you, cocking his head. "Hi. What was what?"

"I had to order Mr. Wayne's coffee, too. And mine! What did you even order?"

"I got both of yours," Dick says. He holds out a brown pastry bag. "And I got you a white chocolate raspberry muffin."

"I hate those," you lie.

Dick's face falls, crinkling the bag. "Oh. I thought... uh, sorry. Someone said you..."

You're suddenly hyper-aware of what a jerk you're being. What has Dick done to you, besides be a nice guy?

It's just... you know you should be wary. No guy is this nice and polite and pays for coffee and compliments your laptop stickers and laughs at your jokes and doesn't also have a secret. Dick probably goes American Psycho on the weekends, or does pig's blood sacrifices in his basement. Rich people are weirdos.

He did buy you coffee, though. And a muffin.

"Actually. Sorry. I, uh, thought you said something else. I do like those. Thanks." You take the bag.

Dick perks up. "You're welcome."

You eat the muffin, mildly humiliated but extremely hungry.

"Order for Dick?"

The barista slides a cardboard cupholder with three drinks. He smiles at Dick.

"Hey, man. Nice to see ya! Thanks for the save."

Dick waves his hand. "No trouble at all, Darryl. Take care!"

"And how do you know him?" you ask, following Dick to the creamer station. "Or are you going to tell me it's because you're in here all the time even though I've never seen you here once?"

"Okay, you got me," Dick says, smiling sheepishly. "I don't come here. I know that guy 'cause I found his dog. And saved him from a mugging. Nice guy. He's getting married in November."

"He invited you to his wedding?"

"Yeah! Not sure if I can make it, though, which is too bad. They're having it at the Botanical Gardens. I've always wanted to go there."

"What—" You stop, looking down at the cups. One is Dick's iced caramel mocha, one is Bruce's hot black coffee, and the third is your exact order. "How do you know what I order?"

Dick shrugs. "Just noticed when you bring it to work."

You thought Dick couldn't say what he eats for breakfast, much less what you eat.

"Do you stalk me?" you ask.

"What, no! I don't stalk you. I'm just... observant."

"That's exactly what a stalker would say."

"I would never stalk you." Dick raises his right hand. "Scout's honor."

"I doubt you were ever a scout," you mumble, fixing your own drink.

"You're right. I actually got kicked out of Boy Scouts. I wanted to be a Girl Scout 'cause of the cookies. My little brother was a Scout, though. Got an Honor medal. Never let me forget it."

You turn from the counter, suddenly remembering your exasperation. "Mr. Grayson—"

"Dick! Or Dickie, if you prefer. Why won't you call me Dick?"

"Because it's unprofessional," you say frostily, sipping your drink. "You're my boss' son. And I'm not calling you Dickie."

Dick leans against the counter. "But we're friends now, remember?"

"I don't think I ever agreed to that."

"Pretty sure you did! I have an excellent memory."

You sigh. "Just—"

The TV blares loudly, 'Special Report' popping up on screen.

"And in a shocking turn of events, Brendon Sommer was found dead in his apartment this morning, just two days before his trial. D.A. Colson says this is a tragedy but insists that neither he nor the police suspect foul play. Sommer was a key eyewitness to the Maroni case..."

"What the fuck?" you burst.

No. No way. You had him.

Dick squints at the TV. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, no shit! Colson is fucking guilty! That had to come out in the trial!"

He raises his brows. "I... didn't know you were following this case so closely."

Shit. Too much. Dial it back.

You fold your arms. "No, I mean, I'm not. Well, I am, but... it's just that Sommer was an assistant, so it's personal to me. The lowest rungs on the ladder are always getting stuck in the shit."

Dick's eyes turn soft and sympathetic. "Yeah. That's true. He was only trying to protect his boss."

Fat lot of good that did him. Those Fortune 500 hotshots are all the same.

You wonder what Nightwing thinks of all of this. You're sure he's full of righteous fury at Sommer's death, but what good can that do? You were at least trying to stop more little people from getting stepped on.

"I have to go," you say, taking your drink. "I have, uh..."

"Work?" Dick offers.

"Yes. Right. Work." You nod. "Thanks for the... and the... you're really, um—you didn't have to—"

Dick grins. "It's no trouble at all. I'd buy you coffee every day if you'd let me."

Seriously, what is wrong with him?

You can't manage anything but an awkward wave in response, bumping into the shop door on your way out.

You're going to the coffee shop by your apartment next time. You doubt Bruce is lucid enough to know the difference.

****

Beeeeep! Beeeeeep! Beeeeeeeeep!

You wince as the museum alarm goes off. You have maybe two minutes before the cops get here. Inept as they are, you don't want to have to slip out of handcuffs.

Hopefully, he gets here before you...

"I thought stealing diamonds wasn't your thing."

Nightwing lands three feet away from you and the display case with the special ruby on display at the Gotham Museum.

The ruby that's now in your hand.

"It's not. Diamonds are overrated. Rubies, however..."

You toss him the ruby. Nightwing catches it one-handed.

"I don't..." He sighs. "Did you do this to get my attention?"

"Not like I can look you up in the phone book, Wing Ding," you say, strutting past him. "C'mon, we have about a minute before the cops show."

Nightwing grabs your arm. "I don't think so. I have you on two counts of breaking and entering and falsified evidence."

"Wing, baby, you'd have me even if I didn't do all that," you say, patting his arm. "And as much fun as it is to be apprehended by you, I can't play with you tonight. We have serious business."

He presses his lips together, and you watch him fight the battle between doing what's right and what's good.

He finally exhales through his nose and puts the ruby back. Which is fine. The diamond necklace you swiped before he came is safely in your pocket. Just because they're overrated doesn't mean you don't have rent to pay.

"Let's go," he says, stalking out of the museum.

You happily bounce after him. "Oh, Wing, I knew you liked me! Am I your favorite thief with a heart of gold? Be honest. I can tell when you're lying."

"You certainly keep things interesting," he says, leading you up a fire escape and onto a rooftop.

"Why, Wing," you say, skipping behind him. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm choked! I'm touched!"

Nightwing stops and turns, hands on his hips.

"I don't feel good about letting you go, so start talking. What happened with Colson?"

You sober at the mention. "I swear, I don't know. He was supposed to be arrested. I laid it all out."

"You turned him to the cops?"

"Yes. I had no choice. Somebody didn't want to help me bring Colson in."

"The way you were doing it was illegal," Nightwing says.

"Yeah, well, Colson's free and Sommer's dead, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" you snap. "I couldn't even get Colson before killing Sommer."

Nightwing steps forward, frowning. "Hey. His death isn't your fault."

"No? Because I could've done anything to make sure Colson got what he deserves, and they got Sommer anyway."

You take a deep breath. You can't get worked up now. Nightwing is a resource you can use to get Colson.

"Why do you care so much about this case anyway?" he asks.

"Because Sommer gave everything, and he was still disposable. That's how all of us little folk are treated. We're just bricks in the wall."

Nightwing tilts his head. "You're including yourself in this analogy?"

Whoops. You shouldn't be giving personal information away. Dammit. How is he so good at putting your defenses down?

"Well, I do have a life outside of this, Wing."

"Really? I don't," he says, grinning.

"No? Not even a special someone?"

"Hm. No comment."

You try not to deflate at that. "Well, anyway, Colson needs to go down. He can't get away with this."

"The circumstances certainly implicate him. But we have no evidence that he was involved in Sommer's death."

You perk up. "We?"

A sigh. "I suppose we can work together, considering the time you've invested into this case. But I have rules," he says.

You grin. "Sure, Batboy. I'll go slow since it's your first time."

He ignores you. "My first rule is that you can't commit any more crimes."

"What!" you say. "But I'm so good at them!"

"Number two is that we have to do things my way, by the book. We can't rely on illegally-obtained evidence. I will help you with every resource I have, but we have to be good and honest about it."

"You're stifling me already, Golden Boy," you say, spinning around him. "Where's your sense of whimsy and joy?"

"I left it at home. Are we clear?"

You stop and heave a dramatic sigh.

"I guess. Are you really dating someone?"

Nightwing scoffs. "Is this you telling me that you're interested?"

"Well, yes. I can fight, by the way. I'll fight for you, babe."

He smiles. "Eh. They're feisty. They can probably fight better than you."

"Ouch! Who's this challenger? Can they promise a dowry of more than five goats and three cows?"

Nightwing laughs a real laugh. You beam at the sound.

"What would I do with goats and cows?" he asks.

"I dunno. Build a farm, I guess."

"I have to build a farm, too? Sounds like a lot of work."

"Marriage is hard work, Wing!"

"Sorry, my heart belongs to someone else."

"I'll court you, yet. I'm an excellent chef. I'll bring us grilled cheeses next time," you say.

He shakes his head, but his posture is relaxed. "You're unbelievable. Really. Criminal, but..."

"I reject the label of criminal. I prefer 'independent contractor.' Or 'director of joy and whimsy.'"

"Okay, Director. No more breaking into museums," he says.

"But how will I get your attention, O Wise and Beautiful?"

Nightwing gets close, breath fanning your cheek. His hand rests on your back. He tilts his head like he's... like he's gonna—

Your heart stutters.

"You've already got it," he murmurs, tongue resting between his teeth. "Meet me here on Friday. Oh, and..."

Nightwing holds up the diamond necklace you took on a single finger. Your eyes widen.

"How did you—"

He grins. "You wouldn't want these, anyway—they're overrated, remember?" Nightwing shoots his grappling gun to the opposite roof and swings away. "Have a good night!"

You watch as he disappears beyond the skyline. You try to muster anger or regret for getting caught and losing the diamonds, but you can't. If anything's criminal, it's that damn smile of his.

God. You are so screwed.

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ NSFW

Having intense thoughts about fem! FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY, or rather FYODORA DOSTOEVSKAYA. Now, Fyodora is perceived as a maneater because of her reputation for manipulating men for her benefit. She easily captures the hearts of any man who comes across her, and then she'll leave a trail of broken hearts after. With her long raven hair, snow-like complexion, and especially her hypnotizing and alluring dark eyes, it was impossible not to gaze at her mysterious beauty. Paired with that is her unusual intelligence, she seems untouchable. Nobody has ever succeeded in tricking her or gaining her interest. Well...that was before you came into the picture.

Your entrance into Fyodora's life seemed to have answered the question of her 'dislike' for men. In her perspective, she views men as nothing but selfish and gullible creatures. So, you, a fellow woman, seemed like a refreshing breath of air. She kept to herself, but things began to slowly change after you applied for the job as her assistant.

Fyodora was gentle with you, surprisingly. She doesn't treat you with any coldness she usually does with everybody else. And you were naturally welcoming, so she took it as a sign to invite herself into your life. You were stuck by her side almost every hour. You'd serve her favorite tea whenever she's too occupied in her office. You're tasked with cleaning her workplace and constantly playing her favorite classical music. You'd often run errands for her like delivering or fetching packages, sending letters, etc. And when Fyodora feels extra generous (which was considered rare), she'll take you with her to dinner or for drinks.

You took a liking to your boss since she was considerate of you, unaware of her reputation of being a coldhearted woman. You can't help but admire Fyodora from time to time, you were attracted by her beauty. Lately, she has been inviting you to share tea with her and chat. Because of it, you've learned a fair amount about her interests. During the holidays, she would celebrate with you by inviting you to a feast with her alone. On your birthday, she gifted you your favorite book. You were blushing at the idea that Fyodora probably loved spoiling you.

And the woman did. She finds you the most entertaining and captivating compared to her previous male companions. It may be the fact that you're both women, but Fyodora knew it was something more. Your insatiable innocence, your inviting personality, the smell of your cheap perfume, and that wonderous smile on your face, lingered in her mind on a daily.

Women being attracted to women wasn't unheard of, but Fyodora being allured by a woman seems baffling. She would've preferred it if the roles were reversed, alas, it seemed like you have her wrapped around your finger.

Fyodora was sharing her afternoon tea with you, she enjoyed the solace she discovered with you. While you blabbered about your day, she can't help but let her eyes wander to your mouth. You have that soft shade of lipstick on that makes your lips look so plump that it makes her involuntary gulp. Fyodora sighs and settles her teacup down, almost shakily.

"[Name]"

"Yes, Fedya?"

"Come here"

She gestured for you to come near before patting her lap. You raised your brows and carefully put your teacup down. You reluctantly walked over and awkwardly sat on her lap. Fyodora was a tall woman, taller than average and it made you feel small. She runs a soft hand on your face, brushing away the stray hair and fixing your hair. There was a blissful smile on her features.

"You know I view you more than a subordinate, right?"

"You see me as a friend of yours?"

"Hmm, possibly more than that, dearest"

Fyodora whispers wistfully and leans closer. You immediately stopped her by placing your hands against her chest softly. She looks at you with a frown and notices the glimmering jewelry around your finger; an engagement ring. Right, you were talking about your recent engagement earlier with a wealthy man. However, this doesn't stop her from snaking her arms around your waist and pulling you close.

"Why are you flustered? This is merely platonic affection, [Name]"

Your face felt warm with how intimate Fyodora was holding you on her lap. Gently, she buries her face against the crook of your neck and greedily inhales your scent. The thought of you being taken away from her by a man fills her with contempt. She wanted you all to herself and she won't let a man of all creatures get between you and her. Suddenly, she turns to you.

"Would you do me a favor, darling?"

"Of course, what is it, Fedya?"

"Go lie on the couch over there"

And that's how you ended up with your skirt flipped up and your panties discarded while Fyodora ate you out on the couch. The pleasure of her tongue swirling around your clit and even sucking on it made your thighs shudder and your eyes roll back. Fyodora felt intoxicated with how you trapped her head between your thighs and how fucking delicious you tasted. She kept slurping up all your juices, but you kept overflowing to the point it started dripping down to her chin and even staining the couch.

You have came a couple of times by her eating you out but it seemed endless. You kept arching your back and curling your toes with how Fyodora was stealing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

"Fe—Fedya! I can't—ungh—no more, please—!"

"Oh dearest, I know you can handle one more for me"

Fyodora smiles up at you with her dark eyes and glistening mouth, her red lipstick is smudged in a debauched way. Her sharp fingernails were leaving marks on your thighs. You shook your head tiredly as you weakly pushed her head away from your pussy, she chuckles. Her eyes landed on the engagement ring on your finger, to think she had already ruined you before your future husband could fill her with pride.

"I doubt your future husband can make you feel as good as this"

She dives her face again into your cunt making you squeal as she licked a fat stripe.

"Fe—Fedya, th—this feels so wrong—"

"Only I could ever love you better than any man you'll ever meet, [Name]"

"But—nghh fuck!"

"Come on, do the thing. Yes, darling, take off your engagement ring"

With a hazy mind, you discarded your engagement ring on the nearest table. A victorious sensation swallows Fyodora as she eagerly goes to give you a tender kiss on the lips before returning to your pussy. You returned very late at home after being endlessly pleasured by her.

Fyodora smirked to herself as she busied herself with the papers on her desk. Her eyes trailed to your naked ring finger where your engagement ring used to rest in. She knew you'd fall for her and call off the engagement. She wouldn't dare let any man claim you for she felt the worthiest of you. Only she would love you, eternally.

god I really love closeted lesbian Fyofyo

[mybelovedwoo]

yunho as boyfriend, please 🩷🩷

The long-awaited yunho boyfriend headcanon is here!!!

jeong yunho as your boyfriend - headcanon

headcanon, romance, fluff, smut

reader x bf!atz

wc. ~ 0.7k

an: i know this took soo long to write, but I actually had a really busy time since I last posted one of these TT but as summer is here now I'll hopefully have more time to write

you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

- the funny golden retriever boyfriend, who never fails to make your mood better and to make you smile (it's his personal goal in his life, to make you the happiest, and he really does)

-just as to everyone, he is your sunshine, your happy pill, the reason you smile every single day

-he is also the  "college boyfriend" kind of vibe, who is the love of your life and will be your husband in the future

-he always texts you no matter what, if his phone is in his hands, then he's most definitely chatting with you. also if he can't say anything else, he'll send you memes (it's one of his love languages)

-loves treating you with gifts, would most definitely bring you flowers on date nights, but don't forget about the bag of snacks and chocolates he always brings you on the first day of your period (he even tracks it on his phone, so he can be prepared)

-he's a gamer boy, so it's no surprise he loves it when you make interest and ask about his game, not even talking about when you ask him if you can play with him

-lots of inside jokes

-he is a big act of service guy. absolutely loves cooking for you or making you coffee before you wake up in the morning

-he never lets you pay for anything, even if you beg him. he thinks it's a gesture he is supposed to do as your boyfriend (at least that's what his father taught him)

 -gets embarrassed very easily when you compliment him, he gets all shy and giggly, sometimes you do it on purpose, just to see his flustered face because it's the cutest

-he communicates problems so well, that you barely ever fight

-carpool karaoke dates, blasting your favorite music and don't care what other people think of you

-this man has endless energy, so he's never tired of doing anything for you or being with you. when you call him, he's right there just for you

-holding hands 24/7, even if it's too hot outside and your hands get all sweaty, he just doesn't care

-he loooves it when you pamper him, with kisses, or caress his back

-he asks for your opinion on everything, if you don't like something then he doesn't like it either. your opinion is the most valuable thing for him

-goofy nicknames that don't even make sense but you can't help but love it

-somehow always knows what you're thinking about. when you feel uncomfortable in a situation, he's right there for the rescue, tho you didn't give him any specific sign, he just knows you too well. or when you come home from work, you haven't spoken yet, but he knows by just looking at you that you had a bad day and ready to cuddle you all night long

-idk he gives off shy kisses vibes with lots of giggles, but when it's really intimate he just holds your face in his big ass hands

nsfw +18!!!

-okaay hear me out, he is probably a switch, but mostly a bottom. he just loves it when you take control, it's his favorite thing

-he would prefer the good old cowgirl position, but anything, where you're on top is his "favorite", at least that's what he says

-but there are times when his dominant side comes out and ohh boy, you are so blessed to experience it

-when he's in that mood, he just rails you with no mercy. he has to let out all the tension and there's no better place than in the bedroom

-he does magic with his long fingers, takes you to heaven then brings you right back to earth

-he likes doing it in a chair with you on top, of course, he likes the closeness and loves holding you during it

- sex with him is anything but boring, yeah it's really sweet with a lot of emotions, but it's also really passionate and sensual. he would recommend new positions and toys all the time, he likes experiencing

-for places, I think he's a traditional in-bed kind of guy, he likes to stay comfortable 

-holds your hand and whispers sweet nothings into your ears, he talks you through it (with a really low and raspy voice)

-you have sex max three times a week, especially after a date night it's an essential

-his libido is quite high since he's a dancer, he can go multiple rounds in one night

-he likes to cuddle after, holds you in his arms. after a couple of minutes, you both just fall asleep right there and then

taglist: @dinossaurz (you can message me if you want to be added or removed)

[kingsmedley]

"... Yeah, okay. I get that a lot."

kingsmedley​:

“… Why did you try to make fun of me if you don’t even know who I am?”

      ❝ … ❞ 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧. ❝ 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆. ❞

[cyripticchronicler]

i haven’t request before so i apologise if i’ve done anything wrong 😭

sirius finding out about james & regulus’ relationship so he asks out james’sibling!reader for ‘revenge’ but falls for reader hard.

it’s absolutely fine if you don’t do this, just thought i’d request and i love your fics 🤍🦇

Accidental Love

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Potter!Reader

Summary: Sirius can't erase the image of Regulus and James together. And he knows that the only way to put out the flame of anger in his chest is through you.

A/N: This is my longest fic yet ahaha. It was a lot of fun and I hope you enjoy! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to your requests, I've had so many things to write! To all the other people who have requested, I'll get to them as soon as I can. I love you all and you deserve great things xx (Yes that's a Pride and Prejudice (2005 version) quote at the end of the fic)

TW: Swearing, Sirius is kinda a dick, mention of Sirius' bad parents, kissing, not proofread (please tell me of any mistakes)

Masterlist

The red hot betrayal stings Sirius’ tongue and poisons each gulp of water he forces down his throat in an attempt to control his growing anger. His hands shake, fisted at his side, yet he can’t draw his eyes from the scene in front of him. 

His best friend and brother, laughing and holding hands like it was completely normal to see the two together. Sirius isn’t sure why the sight in front of him hurts so bad. Maybe it’s because it’s his brother, one he’s never had a good relationship with because of his parents always pushing them apart, laughing so easily and carelessly with his best friend. Or maybe it’s because it’s James, one of his best friends, the one he tells everything, keeping this relationship with his brother a secret. 

He probably looks insane, sitting alone in the corner of The Three Broomsticks, anger rolling off of him in waves. He’s not sure what to do. Does he go up there and confront them? Does he pretend like he saw nothing? Logistically, he knows it would be better to walk away, take a moment to gather his thoughts, but he just can’t get the image of them out of his mind, can’t get the taste of betrayal off of his tongue. 

So he forms a plan, one he doesn’t let himself second guess. And he knows it’s going to work well, knows it’s going to hit James right where it hit Sirius because it involves you.

✰✰✰

You’re none the wiser to the plans and strategies forming in Sirius’ head, leaning against the armrest in the Gryffindor common room as you chat adamantly about all the Transfiguration homework that has been set. 

Alice, smiling at how worked up you get over the class, listens eagerly to your complaints, butting in when it feels right. Lily on the other hand, taking up all the space on the sofa with her long legs, pokes at your arm in an attempt to shut you up, having heard you complain on the way to the grand hall this morning. 

“How about instead of complaining, you actually do the homework,” She teases, giggling as Alice hits her leg playfully. Your face scrunches in confusion, head tilting to the side ever so slightly. “I’ve already done the homework.”

Alice and Lily gawk at you. Huffing out a laugh, Alice grins teasingly. “Then what’s all this complaining for? You’ve been talking non-stop for half an hour about this bloody homework.” It’s your turn to smile, shifting so your feet are between Lily’s legs spread out on the couch, ignoring her annoyed yelp. “Just because I’ve finished doesn’t mean the amount wasn’t pure torture the whole time.”

You hear Lily’s smirk before you see it. “That sounds a little dirty. Who’s been torturing you, missy?” Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing even as you laugh. “Shush! My brother’s probably here somewhere, and I don’t think he’d like the thought of his little sister getting it on,” You grit through your teeth, scanning the crowded room to look for him. You sigh in relief when you see no sight of him.

“Oh please,” Alice pinches your cheeks. “No one would believe you’re getting it on. When a guy asks you out you just stare at them and wait until they take it back.” You swat her hands away and rub your red cheeks. “That is not true!” They just stare at you, eyebrows raised. 

Thankfully, you’re saved from having to defend yourself when someone pointedly clears their throat from behind you. Cringing at the thought of someone having heard your conversation, you turn around slowly, heart speeding up at the sight of none other than Sirius Black in front of you. 

You’ve stopped lying to yourself about the tiny, minuscule, crush you have on Sirius months ago. There’s no denying the speeding of your heart, or the way your cheeks flush when he so much as looks your way. But you’ve pushed those feelings away, deep down inside you to gather dust and hopefully one day, whither away.

You muster up your best smile and ignore the heat in your cheeks. “Hey, Sirius. I’m not sure where James is but I think Remus is in the library.” He smiles his usual, arrogant smile but it wobbles like it’s hard to hold. 

“I’m not here to see them. I’m here to see you.” Eyes widening a fraction, you attempt to get your thoughts in place, though it’s hard with the consistent poking of Lily’s finger on your arm. “Okay.” You take Sirius’ gesture to an emptier part of the room as a sign, awkwardly shuffling out of between Lily’s feet and trying not to trip. 

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Your hands fiddle nervously behind your back and you shift on your feet. Sirius reveals his picture-perfect smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. Smoothly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he places a cold hand on your shoulder, stopping your nervous movements. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime? Just the two of us?” Time seems to stop, your breath getting caught in your throat. Through your shocked haze, the overthinking spiral begins just like it does when anyone asks you out. Sirius could be asking you out as a joke. Maybe James is pranking you. It’s most likely a dream, Sirius has shown no interest in you before. 

“You okay?” His amused voice snaps you from your over-thinking haze, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden dryness. Back to the corner of the room, you’re able to spot Alice and Lily eyeing you curiously from their spot on the couch a few feet away. Alice notices your stare and provides an encouraging thumbs up, while Lily performs some crude motions with her fingers.

Frowning, you drag your eyes back to Sirius’ patient eyes. “Um,” Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth. “Okay?” He lights up, eyes twinkling while an eager grin spreads across his face, showcasing his dimples. You try not to awe out loud. 

“Great! Does tomorrow in hogsmeade sound good? We’ll meet in the common room and walk down together.” You can’t do anything but manage a small smile and nod, overwhelmed with the amount of emotions hitting you. 

Sirius shoots you another smile, and perhaps if you paid more attention you would have noticed the guilt painted on his face, or the smell of revenge as he walked away.

✰✰✰

In the cool common room, morning light peeks through the framed windows and sheds a musky light throughout the empty space. You stand awkwardly in the middle, kicking the dusty carpet nervously with your shoe-clad feet. 

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest and you scratch at the inside of your wrist, a nervous habit you picked up years ago. You’ve been standing for at least five minutes now, no sign of Sirius. Your mind is racing and you begin to wonder if he’s even coming or not, but thankfully for you and your heart, the sound of footsteps break out behind you.

“Hey!” You whip around, a small smile on your face that reflects the glee in your bones. “Hi,” You whisper, letting him pull you in for a small hug, a mere touch of your shoulders before he’s walking slowly beside you. 

“I was thinking we could go shopping then maybe get a butterbeer?” The small grin that paints his face is noticeable through his voice. “I’d love that. Um-” You scratch your eyebrow in an attempt to clear your thoughts. “How are you?”

His hand moves to your back, guiding you down the windy path that leads to Hogsmeade, layered with early morning frost. Your hands, clad in gloves to beat the cold, fidget nervously with the straps of your bag. “I’m well. Been busy with school. Remus’ birthday is coming up so we’ve been trying to plan something for him. How about you?”

“I’m okay. I’ve been swamped with school work, and barely had enough time to paint.” 

“You paint?” He asks curiously. You nod. “Yeah, mostly realism but sometimes abstract.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime, I’m sure it's beautiful.” You blush for what seems like the millionth time today. “Maybe one day.” You don’t share your art much, only to close friends like Lily and Alice, but only the really good ones. Yet, you can see yourself sharing your artwork with Sirius. 

You continue to chat about your classes, chatting adamantly with each other. And it feels good. He seems to care, laughs and makes jokes at the right times, stares at you with increasing interest. 

But there’s a nagging feeling in your gut, something that won’t go away no matter how much candy from Honeydukes you eat. “You alright?” Sirius asks when you’re quieter than usual, staring off into space while trying to decipher the odd feeling. 

Sirius watches as a frown tarnishes your usually happy face, the guilt of what he’s doing, how he’s using you, nagging at him. Yet he can’t seem to stop, whenever he thinks of admitting what he’s doing the image of James and Regulus together stares back at him and makes it hard for him to open his mouth. 

“Sorry, I’m alright, Sirius. Just thinking.” His shoulder bumps yours, pulling you along to The Three Broomsticks. “About?” He grins, a certain spark in his eyes. You smile back. “Just things.” He pulls you to a stop right outside the entrance, moving down your sweater-covered arms until his hands are in yours. 

“You’re really pretty.” It’s true, but it doesn’t stop the pang of guilt, followed quickly by an image of James and Regulus hugging. You melt, flushing under his stare, that's swarming with so much admiration, you find it impossible to believe.

“Thank you. So are you.” Entering The Three Broomsticks, warmth and the smell of butterbeer greeting you. You're too absorbed in finding an empty table to notice the pink flush that covers the apple of his cheeks. 

Throughout Sirius’ lifetime, he’s never gotten many compliments. After leaving his family and moving in with James, Euphemia had given Sirius many motherly compliments. But coming from a beautiful girl who he’s treating unfairly, the compliment hits hard. 

But it still doesn't stop him from planning, scheming. How can he show James how it hurts? How does he make sure he feels the same pain and betrayal Sirius felt when seeing Regulus and him together?

Watching you, eyes lit up by the flickering candles that provide a romantic, peaceful aroma, he knows that it’s going to hurt you. Painfully hard. 

✰✰✰

“How are you doing, Padfoot? Moony and I came up with another prank to get back at Malfoy. Are you up for it?” James speaks so casually, resting against the pillows on his bed while he reads a book about quidditch, it’s hard to think he’s keeping a secret. If Sirius had not seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have thought anything was out of the ordinary. 

“No.” He responds gruffly, shrugging on a leather jacket and pulling rings on his fingers. “You okay, Pads?” Remus asks and he finally looks up, noting the frown that pulls at both of their faces. “I’m fine.” His voice is noticeably softer when pointed at Remus.

“Where are you going?” James asks with a small, hesitant smile and Sirius can’t help but feel guilt at the anger he’s feeling towards an oblivious James. But he can’t bring himself to act nicer, can’t force a sweeter tone in his voice. “Date.”

“With who?” Your sister. “Someone.” Remus opens his mouth but he’s quick to cut him off. “Bye.”

Your first date with Sirius was a week ago and Sirius knew straight away what he wanted to do for the second date. Even though he’s doing it to get back at James, he can’t help but feel a pang of excitement at the notion of going on a second date with you.

Your smiling face greets him outside the common room, leaning against the wall across from the Fat Lady. “Hey, love.” You blush adorably at the nickname and Sirius eyes your nails as they scratch at your wrist. He grabs your hand before you can hurt yourself more.

You let him pull you down the moving stairs, your little giggles echoing off the stone walls. “Where are we going?” You ask, tightening your hold on his hand. “Painting.” Your eyes widen and you splutter in shock. 

“What?” Sirius can’t help but grin at the obvious excitement in your eyes. “I told you I wanted to see your artwork. I bought the supplies yesterday, figured we could have a picnic.” Your awe at this new side of Sirius, the side that plans special dates and puts effort into it. It was a nice day today and Sirius wanted to take advantage of the sunny weather before the snow that’s set to fall next week prevents them from going outside.

Sirius had shown no interest in you before. He’d been kind, sure, but you’d never had a proper, real conversation until he asked you out. Maybe that's why there’s still an odd feeling in your gut, maybe it’s because you know it’s weird he asked you out on a random day, without showing any interest in you before that. But for now, you blame it on overthinking and push those feelings away.

You chat aimlessly on the way to the Black Lake, fiddling with your skirt so you don’t do something stupid like grab his hand. After the end of your last date, you’ve both agreed to keep this dating thing a secret. 

The gasp you let out at the sight of the laid picnic has Sirius grinning, a proud sort of glee that rolls down his spine. He takes a seat next to you on the pink checkered blanket, sitting around the pile of food he prays you like. 

Passing you an empty canvas and a basket of paints, he watches as you sit and stare for a moment, contemplating. He doesn’t like the way his heart speeds up at the unmistakable beauty that is your face. So he ignores it. 

“What are you painting?” You grab the colors you need, mixing them on a fresh pallet. The ideas that come to you are clear as day, images of green, healthy trees next to a shimmering, blue lake where people are swimming in the early morning sun. You begin to paint before you forget. 

“Just a landscape. You?” You take a quick peek at his canvas, seeing he’s already added streaks of red and orange. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve ever painted before?”

“Ever?” You ask, the shock clear in your voice. You see him grin at you from the corner of your eye. “Never had the opportunity. No one in my family paints and James and Remus don’t.”

“Remus does actually, I ran into him once at this muggle painting class.” Sirius laughs. “Of course he’s painted before. He’s a man of many talents.”

You grin, brushing stray hair out of your eyes. Trying not to shiver at the cold wind, you begin to regret your decision of wearing a skirt and thin, long sleeve top. “He had the best art in the whole class, James couldn’t stop laughing at me when I came back with Remus behind me holding an award for best art.”

Sirius laughs, head throwing back at the thought of Remus’ smug face and your defeated one. “I guess you being siblings with James means you’re friends with all of his friends.” Your smile turns sad, voice quiet. “Yeah.”

Sirius frowns, momentarily stopping to gently nudge your shoulder. “What’s up?” You sigh, biting your lip. “It’s just…All of my friends- most of them, are really only friends with me because of James. Being friends with me would give them more opportunities to get with James, right?” You attempt a laugh though it’s not funny.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is genuine and when you look at him he’s already looking at you, eyes sparkling. You shake your head and look back down at your work. “Don’t be sorry, Sirius. You did nothing. And I have Lily and Alice, I don’t need anyone else.”

The guilt almost eats him alive. He feels physically sick at how you're going to react. At the fact he's doing something that’s going to hurt you badly. Your kind, beautiful soul doesn’t deserve this. 

He opens his mouth, ready to confess and face the backlash of you hating him, something he doesn’t know if he can handle but deserves. You beat him to it. “Don’t tell James, please. I don’t need him feeling guilty, it’s not his fault.” And now he can’t tell you. You’ve poured your heart out, confessed something you haven’t even told James. Maybe one day, when you grow to hate him and leave like they all will, will he tell you.

You continue to paint until the sun starts setting and casts a warm glow on the two of you. With your hair, now tied up in a messy bun and Sirius’ leather jacket around your shoulders, you look perfect in his head. He feels happy and free and he knows he’s looking at you weirdly, too soft for his usual harsh features but he can’t stop. 

So he looks away and shows you his painting of a terrible sunset where two people sit on a grassy field and watch as the sun makes room for the power of the moon. You show yours next, a painting worth the spot next to the Mona Lisa and Sirius makes sure to fawn over it, making sure you know your own worth. Afterwards, you eat and watch the sunset just like the couple in his painting. When you invite him sledding next week, he can’t bring himself to say no. Or to tell you the truth because that would mean losing you, and that’s something he just can’t handle. 

✰✰✰

“You ready, sweetheart?” Your laughter is music to his ears, a melody he’s not sure he could ever go without. It’s scary, how quickly you’ve grown on him, but he can’t bring himself to pull back. 

“I was born ready.” You’re holding a wooden sleigh beneath your armpit, fingers tapping along to a beat in your head as you trudge through the thick snow that fell overnight, the sunny weather from your last date nowhere to be found. 

You stop at the tip of a snowy hill, white frosting reflecting the sun in your eyes that you attempt to shield away with your gloved hands. “Let’s do this.” You grin teasingly at Sirius, holding up your sleigh. He copies you, hitting yours gently with your own. 

Placing the sleigh on the ground, he crouches down beside it with a furrowed brow. “How do we do this?” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’ve never done this before?” He sheepishly smiles, scratching the back of his neck. “My family’s not one for things like sledding.” 

You know about his family history of course, James has been talking to your Mom and Dad a lot more recently, discussing how we could get Sirius to stay with us. You hope one day he can do all the things he wasn’t allowed to do. Him and Regulus deserve better. 

You know Sirius wouldn’t appreciate the pitying look on your face so you mask it with excitement and quickly teach him how to sit in the sleigh. “Race you.” You challenge once he’s ready before speeding down the steep hill, Sirius not too far behind you. Laughter fills the air, your hair whipping behind you. 

Once you reach the end with an abrupt stop, you roll onto the cool snow, making snow angels. Sirius’ face comes into view, blocking the sun from your squinting eyes and you grin, tongue between your teeth as you attempt to withhold your loud giggles. 

“I beat you!” And then he’s jumping down beside you, rolling over top of you to tickle your warming body. He’s greedy, wanting more of your laughter that seems to be his lifeline. “That was luck!” He insists, continuously tickling you until you tap out. 

Then you’re running up the hill again, sleigh behind you while Sirius follows. He’s barely in his sleigh before you’re speeding down the hill again, a whir of colors in the white cloudy snow. He attempts to catch up, a running head start proves useful when he’s speeding past you with an excited cheer. 

The abrupt stop has him falling into the snow that he pays no attention to, whipping around to try and decipher where you went, having lost you halfway down the hill. “Hello?” He yells into the open, empty air. He can’t see you anywhere, just pure white snow. 

Sirius frowns, standing up to look around. “Hello?” His heart is racing now, no sight of you anywhere. “Where are you?” Stomping through the snow, he runs up the hill to see if you’re there. You’re not. 

“Boo!”

Sirius jumps in fright, letting out a high pitched scream that has you doubling over in laughter. “You-You-” You mock his face, quiet laughs escaping your open mouth. Stomach hurting from how much you’ve laughed, you collapse to the floor again, this time bringing Sirius with you. He falls beside you, one hand holding his head up while he watches you die of laughter, smile on his chapped lips. 

Slowly, your laughter dies down, silence heavy in the air. You open your eyes to find him staring back at you and you sigh at the beauty of his face. The slope of his nail, sharp cut of his jaw and accentuated cheekbones. 

He’s like a force that can’t be defeated, leaning up on your elbows, nose grazing his. He smiles, hot breath hitting your plump lips. “Can I kiss you?” You’re not sure whether the words uttered were your own or his, but both of you eagerly lean into each other, lips grazing before he’s pressing them against yours. 

It’s heart stopping, a thrill racing down your spine and you press yourself harder against him, letting him grip your waist with his large hands. Sirius can’t think, can’t feel anything but your lips on his, warm and soft and perfect.

And he knows that he can’t ever tell you. He can’t tell you of his cruel, unforgivable actions because he knows now that you were the one he always needed. He won’t tell you anything.

✰✰✰

“Did you just smile at my sister?” James’ voice snaps Sirius out of his trance where he was thinking and looking at you. Whipping his head to face James, whose face is set in curiosity, Sirius merely nods. “We’ve become…Friends.”

He can’t help himself and sneaks another look at you where you sit not too far away, hands moving wildly in front of you whilst talking to Alice and Lily. He grins again. 

“Oh,” A knowing glint enters James’ eyes. Sirius ignores it. “I’m glad you’ve become…Friends.” James attempts to hide his smirk by drinking his orange juice. 

Sirius is too absorbed in you and the fact you’re walking near him to notice or care. He thinks he’s about to have a heart attack when you stop beside him, lips tingling in memory of the kiss from just yesterday. 

He feels his heart deflate when you direct your attention to James and not him. “You said you wanted to talk to me?” His eyes widen and he nods, shooting Sirius a quick, guilty glance before standing up from his seat. “Yeah, I want your advice on something. Can we walk?”

Your eyebrows furrow, curiosity reflecting in your eyes. You nod and follow him out of the great hall whilst shooting Remus and Sirius a parting smile. 

“I’m glad to hear you and Sirius are friends.” Hands in his uniform pockets, James is a ball of nervous energy. You blush at his words and the only response you can come up with is a quiet “yeah.”

You round the corner that leads to the courtyard. “I was thinking that since you and Sirius are now friends,” He exaggerates the word ‘friend,’ “I could get your advice on how you think he’d feel if he found out me and Regulus are dating.” The whispered last words have you stopping in your tracks, head whipping up to stare at James with wide eyes. 

“You’re gay?” James panics, whipping his head around and aggressively pushing you into an empty classroom. “Merlin, you don’t have to shout it.”

“James,” You can’t hold back your smile, “I’m so happy for you.” He deflates, eyes that once bounced around the room nervously now glint with unshed tears and he pulls you in for a tight hug. 

You hug him back tighter, squeezing in a way you hope annoys him. You mutter against his shoulder, “To answer your question, I think Sirius would be happy for you both. But he’s protective over Regulus, it might take time for him to get used to the idea.”

He pulls away, shaking your shoulder while he subtly wipes away a stray tear. “Okay, thanks, I keep panicking at the thought of Sirius hating me for dating his brother. He’s been ignoring me recently and I keep thinking it’s because he already knows.”

Your eyes widen, having a slight suspicion on why Sirius was ignoring James. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. Now we should go before we’re late for first period.” He shakes you aggressively, holding you by the shoulders in a brotherly way to annoy you. 

“Yes, go to class, little shit. I’m happy for you and Sirius, you know.” Wild heat blazes across your cheeks, heart growing louder in your ears. “I-I don’t-”

He’s out of the room before you can finish your sentence.

✰✰✰

“Let’s go before all the tables are full!” You’re pulling Sirius along, having to take large lunge-like steps to reach The Three Broomsticks quickly. Light snow, melting by each step, provides a slippery path to the entrance. 

Sirius has his hands on your hips, ensuring you don’t fall. He reaches past you to open the door, quickly guiding you in to ensure the heat does not escape. The tilt of his lips is felt against the shell of your ear, keeping you close against him. 

You giggle quietly, a flush warming your whole body. Sirius feels the exact same flush. He’s never felt so warm and happy. It’s all because of you. 

His body bumps into you when you abruptly stop in the middle of the building. Nudging his nose with your cheek - how easily he began to crave your touch a shock to even him - he follows your gaze, letting out a breath at the view he’s unwillingly seen a second time. 

James and Regulus. Noses touching. Hands touching. Staring only at each other. He wonders if that’s what you both look like, infatuated with each other, greedy with touches and absolutely disgusting to look at. 

“Do you-” Your voice, sweet as honey, snaps him out of his thoughts. “-want to sit with them?” Your voice is hesitant, nervous for his reaction. But a simple squeeze of his hand has him nodding and shuffling to the table where James and Regulus have finally noticed you both. 

He notices the way you separate from him so that you’re no longer touching. But, instead of focusing on that, he focuses on shooting his brother a strained, awkward smile. He’s never had the best relationship with his brother, something Sirius regrets deeply. 

The strain their parents caused with favoring one and abusing the other, had caused a rocky relationship that had been on the mend ever since Sirius had become friends with James and Remus. 

“Do you want to sit?” The sharp, blunt voice of his brother has him sitting and pulling you with him. Years of living together has given Sirius the talent of noticing his brother's nervous tics. The tick of his jaw and scrunch of his nose gave him away. 

It seems Sirius wasn’t the only one who noticed his nervousness because James, who still chats with you, places his hand on top of Regulus’. “How are you?” Sirius attempts, tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“Good.” Came his blunt reply. A tap of his hand from James has his jaw twitching. “How are you?” 

“Good.”

Silence

You, ever kind and understanding, would not settle for the awkward and kept the conversation going, conversing with James and Regulus, even attempting to include Sirius, who tried to join in for you. And Regulus. 

He watches the way James notes every expression on Regulus’ face, can read any sign of nervousness, stress, happiness, and he realizes he’s now not the only one who can read his brother. The skill that took Sirius years to master, James had learned in a much shorter amount of time. 

He frowns. “How long have you two been together?” Regulus answers, narrowing his eyes, threatening. “Three months.” James places a comforting hand on his shoulder and Regulus drops the glare. “What about you two?” He asks a lot more gently than Sirius asked. 

You, who watched the situation with an amused brow, flushed embarrassingly quickly. “Oh- we’re not-”

“We’ve been on three dates- four if you count this one. We’re still trying to figure it out.” Sirius replies smoothly. He’s surprised to find no hint of anger or betrayal on James’ face. Like he planned. But, he’s not disappointed at that fact. If anything, he’s relieved. Relieved James isn’t angry about this relationship because Sirius couldn't stay away from you if he tried. 

“I’m happy for you two.” You smile, kicking your brother gratefully under the table. A rare spark of amusement shines in Regulus’ eyes, a void of black. “Knowing you Sirius, I'm surprised you’re not pissed.” He leans forward on his elbows, tilting his head in a playful challenge. “You’re not secretly plotting to get back at us, are you?”

You laugh, turning to Sirius and expecting him to laugh too but he only looks down at his hands that grip his butterbeer, a flash of guilt that’s gone before it’s there. Your smile is tight. Wrapping your arm around Sirius’ arm, you go back to filling the silence. 

“Does Remus know?” James nods, licking the butterbeer off his lips. “Yeah, I needed advice on how to tell you,” He looks at Sirius. “I told him a month ago. That fucker told me he already knew.” 

You laugh, happy your brother is surrounded by such good people. Looking down in your hands, you note your drink is empty and sigh. “Does anyone want another drink?” The glasses in front of James and Sirius are empty while Regulus still nurses his drink. They both nod.

Sirius goes to stand up but you force him to sit with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit. I’ll go get the drinks while you three talk.” You widen your eyes, hoping Sirius gets the hint. Without leaving room for argument, you hurry to the bar to order more drinks, a giddy sort of excitement bubbling your blood. 

“Three butterbeers, please.” You grin, tapping your hands on the bench while you wait. “You and Sirius are cute.” You jump at a new voice, smiling at Marlene who takes the empty spot next to you while she waits for her drinks. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, flushed. She winks playfully at you. “So are Regulus and James. It’s annoying that they're gay, though. They’re so hot.” You laugh awkwardly, not knowing how to respond to someone talking about your brother like that. 

Fresh drinks in front of you, you’re about to head back to the table when Marlene says something that makes you pause. “I’m glad Sirius has finally gotten around to the idea of them together.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Finally? He just learnt of their relationship.”

It’s her turn to look confused. “No? I saw Sirius here like a month ago? He was staring all angry looking at them. I’m surprised steam wasn’t coming out of his ears. He just stood there for a good five minutes before he left, never got a table or anything.”

Your heart beats like crazy, a sinking suspicion forming in your mind. “What day was this?” Marlene smiles, unaware of the impending pain that she forces on your heart. “September 5th?”

The day Sirius asked you out. 

You’re not secretly plotting to get back at us, are you?

He was. 

Not wanting to go back to the table and face the truth just yet, you stand by the bar, listening to Marlene talk and pretending to listen. 

Sirius watches you, unable to keep his eyes off for more than a second. He forces himself to look away when he feels James staring at him though. “Yes?” 

“Don’t hurt her. She may act tough, but she’s sensitive.” James, face that’s usually all smiley and happy, is now set in a threatening glare, jaw clenched and Sirius knows he’s being serious. 

“I never want to hurt her.” It’s true. If the racing of his heart, the weird feeling in his bones, and the dizziness that fogs his mind whenever he thinks of you is any indication, he’s falling in love with you. But just because he wants to doesn’t mean he can go back in time and change his intentions for why he asked you out in the first place. He regrets it. The anger and betrayal that took over him was merely a passing emotion, replaced with happiness for both his brother and James. 

But just because his feelings about their relationship changed, doesn’t mean you would understand why he did it. 

✰✰✰

You’d been awfully quiet the rest of the night. And it’s hitting Sirus the wrong way. He knows something’s wrong but he doesn’t know what, nor does he know how to fix it. 

The light that you emitted was nowhere to be found, and you’ve kept yourself distant, ignoring all his attempts to touch you. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers in your ear, touching your hip gently. He frowns, heart panging when you flinch away from him. “I need to talk to you,” Your voice is a whisper, unable to be heard in the crowded common room if Sirius wasn’t so attentive to your every move. 

He nods, too aggressively to be considered normal. He watches you scratch your wrist and he lets you, not wanting to be rejected again. Or worse; you flinch back.

He follows you like a lost puppy, clambering up the stairs behind you until you’re in the empty hallway. You lean against the wall and he leans against the other one to give you space, wanting nothing more than to reach for your hand. 

“I-” You look down at your shoes, hiding your eyes from his wanting gaze. “I was talking to Marlene. She told me that you saw James and Regulus together like a month ago. And that you looked really angry.” It feels like a rock was stuck in his throat, he couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. He knows where it’s going and he knows he can’t defend himself because it was all. His. Fault. 

“Then Regulus made a joke, you know the one about you plotting to get revenge. I mean,” You ran your hand through your hands nervously, feeling like there was a pack of bugs in your heart that were fighting to get out “you didn’t even laugh at the joke. It wasn’t that funny but you looked so…Guilty-”

He can’t look you in the eyes when he confesses. “I first asked you out to get back at James.” He swore he could hear your heart break. He could feel his own heart shatter when you started walking away, and he desperately ran in front of you to try and get you to stop. “I have to admit, at first it was merely a ploy to make James understand what I felt. Because I was so angry and I felt so betrayed. I didn’t mean to fall for you, but you’re so brilliant. You’re beautiful and smart, and I was selfish. I’m so sorry, baby.” 

He couldn't keep the agony out of his voice if he tried. His chest was rising and falling in hard breaths and he felt physically nauseous. You’re everything to him and you’re going to leave him. 

“Would you-” Your voice cracks and you clear your throat. “Would you have told me at all? That you used me?” His silence was enough of an answer. 

Your whole body shakes and your bottom lip wobbles. Salty tears roll down your cheeks and you cover your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. No. He never even wanted you. He took advantage of your stupid crush and used you. A loud sob racks through your body and you turn away, unable to look at the man you had begun to fall in love with. 

“Please-” You managed to speak through gasped sobs. “Please, I can’t look at you right now.”

“I'm sorry-”

“Sirius.”

He walks off, taking your heart with it. The loss of his own heaving breaths told you he was gone and allowed you to finally collapse, falling back against the wall.

✰✰✰

You hadn’t left the girls dormitory in three days. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest and it holds you down, stopping you from going anywhere but your bed and the bathroom. Besides small bites of the food one of the girls had dropped off, you haven’t eaten much either. 

You feel pathetic. You wouldn’t be this worked up over any guy but it was Sirius, a man you’ve been crushing on for what feels like forever. And he used you. After you opened up, told him how you’ve been used multiple times because of James and he did the same thing. 

Three days in near total confinement, you’ve managed to analyze every moment with him. Every kiss, every touch, every look. Was any of it real? You’ve rubbed your cheeks raw from how much you’ve cried.

It hurts so bad and it seems to never end. It feels as though there's a big, gaping hole where your heart should be. 

“Hey, sweetie.” You lift your head from your tear-stained pillow, turning to face the door. Lily has just come back from classes, pretty red hair tied in a bun at the top of her head. She smiles one of her sweet, pitying smiles that only make you feel more pathetic. 

“Hi,” You mutter. She comes closer, stroking your hair and ignoring the knots. “James has come to see you.” 

You sit up so fast you begin to feel dizzy. “Fuck,” You whisper, pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead. “You think you could hold him off?” You already know the answer before she speaks. “I’m sorry. He’s been trying to see you ever since you never showed up for dinner three days ago. ‘Don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer anymore.”

“Okay,” You sigh, sitting up in bed and scrubbing your face. She kisses you on the forehead gently before going to get James who barges into your room almost immediately. “Are you okay?”

You scoff, giving him a smile while he practically forces you into a hug. “I’m fine.” Your voice is muffled by the fabric of his Quidditch shirt. With a disgusted sniff, you push him away from you. “Ew get away you stink.” 

He doesn’t listen and instead forces you against his shirt and you gag, hitting at his arms while he practically suffocates you. “I thought you were trying to comfort me, you piece of shit.” He finally lets you go and you gasp dramatically for fresh air. “I am comforting you. See, there's a small smile on your ugly face.”

“Fuck off,” You mutter, only half meaning it. His face turns serious. “Now, seriously, are you okay?”

You look down at your hands, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Did, uh, Sirius tell you what happened?” He frowns. “He did, had a fucking go at him afterwards.”

“James.” You scold. 

“But then,” He continued, “We talked. And he told me what happened, why he did it. Sure, it was a dick move but he seems really sad at the idea. He was on the verge of a panic attack, Remus had to calm him down. You don’t have to forgive him, but maybe it would help if you two spoke.”

“James,” You sigh, pulling at your hair as the pang of a headache pulses in the front of your brain. “He hurt me. He used me, I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk to him.” Gently, his hands move up to stroke your hair. “Okay, that’s okay. You don’t need to forgive him but I got a letter from Mom and she’s letting Regulus and Sirius stay with us for as long as they need.”

“Okay,” You blink, rubbing your eyes and laying back against the bed. “Can we talk about something else, I’m sick of crying.” He mockingly pouts though you know he really is worried about you. 

And then he’s pulling you in for another hug despite your physical protests. 

✰✰✰

It takes another five days to muster the courage to talk to Sirius. He’s sitting in the common room, staring into the fireplace that blazes with fire, eyes vacant. Remus and James are huddled together, laughing at some gadget they’re playing with. 

You stand against the wall awkwardly, shifting on your feet awkwardly in hope Sirius would snap out of his daydreaming to notice you. Unfortunately, it’s Remus who notices you. And the smiled call of your name is what snaps Sirius out of his trance, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours almost instantly. 

The heartbreak in his eyes is a mirror of your own. You attempt a smile but it wobbles almost instantly. “Can I talk to you?” You’re not even sure you said it out loud but Sirius nods anyway, getting up from his spot on the couch and walking towards you, slowly as if you were ready to run at any moment. 

You feel like you could run at any moment.

With shaking hands, you gently grip his wrist. He lets out a sigh at the small touch of contact, eyes fluttering shut. Gently, you lead him outside of the common room and down the marble steps. 

It’s silent as you keep walking, down, down, down, until you’re at the Black Lake. Not once do you let go of your grip around his wrist. Not once does he comment on it, lest you remove your hand that provides the air he lives on. 

For the first time in a week he feels like he can finally breathe again. He’s scared of what you want to say, and he hates for this to be the last time he can touch you again. Impending dread twists his stomach but he selfishly allows himself to hope. 

“I want you to explain why you did it,” You start, stopping under a snow covered tree. Unlike Sirius, you’re dressed for the cold weather, wearing multiple layers of warm clothing and fluffy gloves. Sirius, on the other hand, is freezing his ass off, with only one layer of clothing and no gloves. But he doesn’t mind as long as it means more time with you. 

He’s been given the opportunity to explain himself and he’s not going to fuck this up. Shaking his head, he starts from the start. “When I first saw James and Regulus together I felt so angry. Regulus and I never had a good relationship, I like to blame it on my parents for pitting us against each other but I know it’s also my fault. I should have tried harder to have a relationship with him.”

It’s hard to stare with you looking at him like that but he’s trying his best. 

“I guess I got…Jealous? I’ve always wanted a good relationship with him- I mean he’s my brother, you know?” he lets out a dry laugh, void of any humor. “And then James didn’t tell me anything, I don’t expect him to but it hurt. I’ve been talking to someone Euphemia suggested and I think I was scared that he was going to leave. Regulus has always been my parents' favorite, and I got scared that James would see how much better he was and would leave me.”

 “Either way, I should have never involved you. And used you like that. You never deserved that and I’m so sorry.”

You’re quiet, staring at the frozen lake. Slowly, you wipe your mouth with your hands, turning to look at him. You manage a small smile before you’re walking towards him hesitantly, taking his hands that look ready to turn blue at any moment into yours. 

“Your hands are cold.” You place a gentle kiss on his knuckles and Sirius would have fallen to his knees in front of you if it wouldn’t have lost contact with your body, warm and inviting. Your lips tickle his fingers as you continue to speak. “A part of me is still a little angry. But I can’t stay away from you. Merlin, one week away from you and all I could think about were your kisses, and how kind you are.”

“So you’ll take me back?”

“Of course, my love.”

Then you’re kissing him, warming his cold lips and melting him from the inside out. You’re gentle, cradling his hands between yours and being so so loving. He feels like he could cry. He’s never felt this loved before, not by his parents, not by his friends, heck, not by his brother. 

“I love you,” It's the first time he’s ever whispered those words, but it feels right. Everything about you and him feels right. 

“I love you too.”