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pucksandpower · 13 days ago

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Something to Lose

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: when Lando starts driving like he has nothing left to lose after a stop-and-go penalty during the Qatar Grand Prix, you are left with no choice but to reveal that he does have something to lose … it’s currently growing inside you

Warnings: reckless driving and pregnancy

Based on this request

“Lando, calm down.��

Silence. The kind of silence that isn’t empty but buzzing with tension, the sound of static humming just underneath.

“Lando, you have to calm down.”

The voice over the radio is steady but edged with something close to panic. It’s Will, trying to sound composed and professional, but Lando doesn’t care. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, the sweat pooling in the fabric of his gloves.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, voice tight.

“No, you’re not fine,” comes the clipped reply. “You’re driving recklessly. You’ve already been warned twice about track limits. If you don’t-”

“I know what I’m doing!”

He’s not shouting, not quite, but it’s close enough. The car ahead of him looms into view, and he narrows his eyes. He’s lost so much time, too much time. Thirty-five seconds feels like a lifetime in Formula 1, and every fiber of his being burns with the need to claw it back.

“Lando, please,” Will tries again. “This isn’t just about you. Think about the team. Think about the other drivers.”

Lando sets his jaw, foot pressing harder on the throttle as he moves into the DRS zone. He’s close enough now, gaining. He can feel the adrenaline surging, the singular focus that blocks out everything else.

Except-

“Lando, you’ve got to listen.”

This time, it’s Andrea chiming in. There’s an edge of frustration to his tone, like he knows Lando isn’t going to.

“I’m fine,” Lando says again, more clipped this time.

“You’re not.”

He doesn’t respond. The car ahead is his target, and everything else fades.

In the McLaren garage, it’s chaos. Will mutters something under his breath, Andrea runs a hand through his hair, and Zak looks close to knocking the pit wall over in frustration. The radio crackles again, another futile attempt to break through.

“He’s not listening,” someone says, their voice low but frantic.

And then-

“Get her.”

Heads snap around.

“Are you serious?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The silence that follows speaks volumes.

A headset is shoved into your hand before you can ask any questions. The words come in a rush. "He’s not listening to us. He’s driving like … just can you talk to him? Please.”

You blink, stunned, your brain trying to process what’s happening.

“On the radio? But I’m not part of the team. You’re not allowed to-”

“We’ll take the fine. Just please. He’ll listen to you.”

You hesitate, the weight of the request settling on your shoulders. Your fingers tighten around the phone. Somewhere in the pit of your stomach, there’s a familiar twinge of anxiety.

“Fine,” you say finally. “Patch me through.”

The radio buzzes, and then you hear him.

“Lando,” you say, your voice soft but firm.

There’s a beat of silence before his response.

“What?”

Just that one word, sharp and irritated. But you can hear it beneath the surface — the crack in his armor, the flicker of something vulnerable.

“Hey,” you say gently. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, and you press on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You’re scaring them,” you say. “The team. They don’t know what to do with you right now.”

“I’m fine,” he says again, the words rote, mechanical.

“No, you’re not,” you counter. “Lando, I know you. I know how you get when you feel like everything’s slipping away.”

His silence is louder than anything he could say.

“You’re trying to prove something,” you continue. “I get it. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“You don’t understand,” he mutters, voice low and strained.

“Don’t I?” You shoot back. “I’ve seen you like this before. I know how hard it is to let go when everything feels wrong, but-”

“It’s not the same,” he interrupts. “You don’t know what it’s like out here.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know what it’s like to care about someone who doesn’t know when to stop. And right now, that’s you.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear his breathing, heavy and uneven.

You take a leap.

“Lando,” you say softly, almost a whisper, “think of the baby.”

The silence is deafening.

“What?” His voice cracks on the word, incredulous.

You swallow hard, your grip on the phone tightening. You hadn’t planned to say it, hadn’t even meant to — but now that the words are out, there’s no taking them back.

“I’m pregnant,” you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I wasn’t going to tell you like this, but Lando, please. You have to stop.”

The radio is silent for a long, agonizing moment. Then-

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Another beat of silence.

“Are you serious right now?” His tone is softer now, laced with disbelief.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “I’m serious. And I’m scared, Lando. I’m scared for you, for us, for the future. But right now, I need you to stop driving like you’ve got nothing to lose.”

There’s a pause, the longest yet, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.

“I didn’t mean to-” he starts, but his voice falters.

“I know,” you say, cutting him off gently. “I know you didn’t. But you’re not just racing for yourself anymore.”

He exhales shakily, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost defeated.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, I’ll ease up.”

The tension in your chest loosens, just a fraction.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

The radio crackles, and the team’s voices flood back in, relieved and frantic. Lando doesn’t say much, just listens, his responses clipped but calmer.

In the garage, the atmosphere shifts. People exchange glances, half-shocked, half-relieved.

Back on track, Lando slows, just slightly. His movements are still precise, aggressive — but controlled.

And in the garage, you stand there, the phone still clutched in your hand, your heart racing.

“Is it true?” Someone asks quietly, their voice barely audible over the chaos.

You look down, swallowing hard.

“Yes,” you say softly. “It’s true.”

***

P10.

Not a podium, not even close to the result he wanted, but after the chaos of the race, it feels like a victory.

The team cheers faintly through the radio, their relief palpable. Lando barely hears it. His mind has been somewhere else since your voice cut through the static, since your words landed like a punch to the chest.

“I’ll meet you in the garage,” Will says over the radio, but Lando doesn’t respond. The car rolls to a stop in parc fermé, and he yanks off his steering wheel with more force than necessary.

The marshals wave him over toward the mandatory weight check. He doesn’t even glance at them.

“Lando!”

Their shouts barely register. He’s already pulling himself out of the car, helmet in hand, visor still down. His focus is singular, tunnel-visioned: you.

The rules? The procedures? None of that matters. Not now.

“Lando, you need to-” one of the officials tries again, but he brushes past them, moving with the kind of intensity that no one dares challenge.

His gloves hit the ground first, discarded in haste, then his balaclava. The crowd around him blurs into nothing — team personnel, photographers, journalists — none of them exist in his world right now.

He reaches the McLaren garage in record time, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The second he sees you, standing off to the side with your arms wrapped around yourself, he freezes.

You don’t notice him at first, your gaze fixed on the ground, your foot nervously tapping. Then someone points, murmuring his name, and your head snaps up.

The moment your eyes meet, it’s like the rest of the world falls away.

“Lando,” you whisper, but before you can say anything else, he’s crossing the distance between you in long, purposeful strides.

“Is it true?” He demands, voice low but urgent.

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity of his tone.

“Is it true?” He asks again, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, your throat tightening. “Yes.”

His breath hitches. For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

“You’re serious,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your hair.

You nod again, your cheek pressed against his chest. “I am.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still gripping your arms. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, but there’s something else there too — something softer.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” you reply. “I just … I didn’t mean to tell you like that, but you weren’t listening, and I was scared, and-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. For scaring you, for being reckless, for everything.”

You shake your head, tears welling up. “You don’t have to apologize. I just — I needed you to stop. I needed you to come back to me.”

“I’m here,” he says quickly, his grip on you tightening. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment stretches, the noise of the paddock fading into a distant hum.

“I didn’t mean to put you in that position,” he says after a beat. “I should’ve been listening to the team, to you-”

“Stop,” you say softly, placing a hand on his chest. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I just need to know you’re okay.”

His lips press into a thin line, and he nods. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Good,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Neither do I,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

A laugh escapes him, shaky but real, and it’s like a weight lifts from both of you.

“Lando!” Someone calls from behind him. It’s Will, looking equal parts exasperated and relieved. “You skipped the weight check. You’re going to get a penalty … again.”

Lando doesn’t even glance back. “I don’t care.”

“Lando-”

“I don’t care,” he repeats, more firmly this time. His focus stays on you, his hands still resting on your arms.

“We should go,” you say softly.

“Not yet,” he replies, his eyes locked on yours.

The circus can wait. For now, all that matters is you.

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spiritsdiary · 6 months ago

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— FIRST DATE with TYLER OWENS

wc: 788 | content: description of intense weather (??)

you had made the mistake of issuing a challenge to tyler owens: “impress me.”

and tyler owens would be damned if he backed down from a challenge.

so he got you flowers and brought you along to thursday rodeos with his crew, and he must have talked to your mama too, because how else he could’ve figured out where to get your favorite pie was beyond you.

��nothing ever throws you off, does it?” you asked him the fifth time he showed up at your door, armed with a box of pie and that damn smile.

he had simply shrugged before reciting his stupid mantra at you. “if you feel it, chase it.”

he laughed when you shut the door in his face. you’d be lying if you said weren’t laughing yourself when you opened the box, grabbed a fork, and dug in, the dessert tasting a little sweeter than usual.

while it was nice, you’d grow bored of this routine eventually, and tyler seemed to know that, too. but he had an idea, and while it was stupid as all hell, he was willing to take his chances.

you barely pulled the door open when he spoke.

“i wanna take you out tonight.” well. that was new.

“it’s not thursday,” was all you could think to say in response.

“i know a spot,” he’d said, completely unfazed, with a cheeky wink and a tip of his hat, and really, you should’ve known what he meant.

because why wouldn’t you now find yourself in the passenger seat of tyler’s truck as he veers off the road directly towards a tornado?

“tyler owens, are you crazy?!” you exclaim, the only response being a bout of wild laughter as he throttles it even faster. “you better not be filming this!”

“you kiddin’?” he gestures to the cameras mounted above the windshield. “don’t worry, this’ll be just for us. we can look back on this in ten years and laugh.”

“if we live,” you mumble to yourself, glad of the wind, rain, and tyler’s blaring radio.

he looks at you for a moment, though, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “you ready?”

you don’t even have to think about your answer. “hell yeah, tornado wrangler.”

“‘s what i like to hear, baby,” he says, rolling to a stop in the middle of the field. “and now… we wait.”

“next time, just say you wanna drive me into a tornado.”

“next time?” he raises his eyebrows at you as he flips a few switches and anchors the truck.

“you’re insane,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“i’m startin’ to think that you like that about me,” he replies, nodding to the tornado only feet away as he makes sure your harness is secure. “better hold on to somethin’.”

you should be scared, but when you grab on to tyler’s hand, fueled by adrenaline and exhilaration, you just feel a sudden calm. like you belong here, with him, in his truck, getting hit head on by a tornado.

and maybe that’s why you let him kiss you.

the tornado swirls around the truck, the wind screaming so loudly you can barely hear his music, and you lean into him even though the harness digs into your shoulders. his kiss is gentle, respectful, and you can feel him smiling as you kiss him back, only pulling away to touch your forehead to his.

the winds of the tornado rock the truck, debris pelting the outside, but you’re too wrapped up in tyler to even care. you breathe him in until the sound of the storm begins to dissipate and the beating of your heart fades in your ears.

“you can open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you lean back into your seat.

his voice spurs you into action, laughing as you undo your harness and jump out of the truck. he’s quick to follow you, smiling proudly as you let out a loud whoop.

“told you i knew a spot.”

“tyler owens…” you say his name again, slowly turning to look at him where he leans against his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“yeah?”

you could blame his tight jeans, or his backwards cap, or that damn smile of his for what you do next, but in the end you do it solely because you want to.

because you want him.

you run up to him, your hand bumping against the brim of his cap as you throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, pressing him back against the hood.

and when his hands take hold of your hips, his mouth insistent against yours, you know that however you challenge him, he’ll always be crazy enough to impress you.

good evening twisters/tyler owens nation, i am officially throwing my hat in the ring 🥰

m.list

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #twisters x reader #twisters x you #twisters imagine #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell imagine

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moon-child-goddess · 27 days ago

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Charming

James Potter X Gryffindor reader

Kind of Enemies to start with. This one is just a collection of scenes.

Summary: Reader hates James, and James keeps showing up to annoy her.

Warnings: Language, reader loves to flip James off, Lily is not a bad person in this, mentions of injuries,

I once again don't know how to keep things short like is over 8k words so its a long one.

Potter was at it again, bothering Lily that is. Which was no surprise at all, his life’s purpose was to bother Lily and pull obnoxious pranks. He was perched against the black tabletop, arms crossed, and that stupid charming smirk of his was present. He was spewing out nonsense, about what their first date would look like.

“Imagine it, Evans,” his tone dripped with mock sincerity. “Fireworks across the sky, a romantic broom ride under the stars, and—of course—a picnic with the finest butterbeer Hogwarts can offer.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. Of course, Potters’ idea of romance would include the most cliché theatrics. He probably thought he was charming too.

Suppressing the urge to gag at his words, I refocused on the simmering potion before me, carefully stirring the thick, bubbling liquid in clockwise motions. The aroma was faintly herbal, with a sharp tang, it was my only indication I was on the right track.

“James,” Lily said, her voice was sweet but firm like a scolding mother. “I need to help my partner. She can’t do all the work alone.”

Her words pulled his attention my way for the first time their entire conversation. He turned, and for a fleeting second, something softened in his brown eyes. But his trademark grin returned, and whatever glimmer of humanity I’d spotted was gone.

“Oh, I see. Don’t worry, Lily, I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of stirring a pot without supervision. Isn’t that, right?” His tone was light, but there was a condescending edge that made my grip on the spoon tighten.

I shot him a cold glare before flipping him off without a word.

“Charming,” he quipped, that maddening smirk of his only widening. “aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine”

I was tempted to lob the wooden spoon at his head. Infuriating—That’s what Potter was. Every word out of his mouth made me want to throttle him.

Lily let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “James really?”

Muttering the word ‘asshole’ under my breath, I skirted around him to retrieve a forgotten ingredient from the shelf at the back of the classroom. I glanced back at our table and Lily was smacking him on the arm, hissing something to him. By the time I returned to our workstation, he’d finally slunk back to his seat beside Sirius, whose shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

Lily offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s just…James”

“He is arrogant and full of himself.” I replied, dumping in a measure of powdered moonstone into the cauldron. “I can see why you always tell him to booger off.”

“He is cute,” She admitted with a small shrug. “But he has eyes for someone else.”

I almost dropped the spoon. Of all the ridiculous things she could say that had to top them all. Everyone in the castle knew Potter was utterly infatuated with her. It was the topic of every whispered bet in the corridors.

“Right.” I muttered in disbelief under my breath.

Before I could say anymore there was a loud hiss and crackle coming from behind us. My head snapped up just in time to see a plume of green smoke erupting out of Potters and Sirus’s cauldron. Whatever they had brewed smelled noxious.

“Everyone, step back!” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed as he waved his wand to contain the smoke.

But before I could move, the cauldron gave a final, violent pop. A spray of scalding liquid flew in all directions. I let out a small squeak closing my eyes and bracing for the inevitable burn. Amongst the chaotic noise I swear I heard someone yell out my name.

The pain never came.

A firm grip caught my arm, yanking me back. When I opened my eyes again there was a sizzling green goop right where I was standing. I was met with Potters concerned eyes when I looked up. His signature grin was gone, replaced by an intensity I had never seen before.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice unusually quiet.

Potter looked me over inspecting for any sort of injury. Both his hands were on my shoulder’s steading my shaking form.

I blinked once, twice, three times, before responding. “Uh… Yeah.”

His hands lingered on me a moment longer before taking a step back, running a hand through his hair. Sirus behind me was laughing so hard he was nearly in tears.

“James, mate that was brilliant!” Sirus wheezed, wiping his eyes.

Potter shot him a frosty look. It was an expression I didn’t know he could conjure; he was always smiling and carefree.

“Brilliant? You nearly got her killed.” He bit out shoving me behind him.

Sirus froze, his laughter dying. “Oh, come on it wasn’t that bad.”

But James wasn’t listening. He turned his attention back to me, his expression softer. “Are you really, okay?”

I nodded mutely, still trying to process what was happening. The boy who annoyed me every waking moment was being… Kind to me?

Potter nodded back before walking out of the room. His shoulders tense.

Lily leaned over, whispering, “See? He’s not all bad.”

I didn’t reply. For once, I was at a loss for words.

The courtyard was peaceful despite the bustling of students crossing through. I sat in a shady patch of grass with an old, but well-loved book.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Potter’s voice rang out, breaking my solitude like a shattering glass.

I let out a groan. He had an uncanny knack for ruining perfectly good days. I didn’t bother looking up, pretending to focus on the words in front of me.

“What do you want, Potter?” I muttered, my tone sharp.

He plopped down on the grass right beside me, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Just enjoying the great outdoors, same as you. Sans the book. I think you read more than Remus.”

I finally looked up; my scowl sharp enough to peel paint. “There’s an entire courtyard for you to ‘enjoy.’ Go find a different patch of grass.”

“But this is the best spot,” he said cheerfully, completely ignoring my attempt to banish him. “Nice shade, quiet atmosphere, good company—”

“You’re impossible,” I cut him off, snapping my book shut. “Do you ever get tired of being... you?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the P. “And you don’t seem tired of it either.”

I blinked at him, stunned by the audacity. “I literally just told you to leave. What part of that makes you think I like you?”

“Yet you haven’t left.” He leaned in slightly, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla coming from him. “I think you secretly like having me around.”

Potters eyes were twinkling.

“I think you are delusional,” I countered, but my voice cracked slightly. His smile deepened like he’d caught me in some grand confession.

“Delusional, huh? Interesting diagnosis, sunshine”

My head snaped back to him so fast I nearly got whiplash. “What did you- What did you just call me?”

“Sunshine.” He repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

He really was delusional.

“No, it doesn’t,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s perfectly you. You are so warm and radiant”

My hand clenched around the edge of my book, and for a split second, I considered using it as a weapon.

I stared at him in disbelief. My jaw tightening. “I hate you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sunshine.” his smirk now verging on insufferable. “Deep down, I think you actually like me.”

I stood up so fast he flinched slightly.

“Listen, Potter. I don’t know what twisted game you’re playing, but I’m not interested. Call me that again, and I swear—”

“What? You’ll hex me?” he interrupted, clearly unbothered by any threat I could make. “Go ahead. I’m dying to see what you’d come up with.”

The nerve of this boy.

Instead of dignifying his challenge with a response, I glared harder before turning on my heel and storming off. Behind me, I could hear his laughter following me like an annoying echo.

“See you around, Sunshine!” he called after me, his voice ringing with triumph.

I flipped him off without turning around, my blood boiling.

Sunshine? What an absolutely ridiculous, infuriating nickname. And yet, as I stalked back to the castle, I couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d said it—like it was a joke only he understood.

I hated him. I really, really hated him.

I had managed to keep the Potter interactions to a minimum. I avoided him by ducking behind statues whenever I caught sight of his messy hair or hiding behind Lily when in class. For a moment, I thought I’d finally regained my background character peace.

The Sunshine nickname had stuck much to my dismay. Every time he said it in class, I swear my blood pressure spiked.

Which is why, when the library’s familiar quiet atmosphere enveloped me one late evening, I let myself relax for the fist time in days. This was my slice of heaven. The dim candlelight and the faint scent of parchment was soothing, a perfect backdrop for tackling the mountain of notes piled before me.

“Well, well if it isn’t my favorite ray of sunshine, hiding in the shadows.” Potters voice drawled breaking the silence like a Bludger through a window.

My quill stilled mid-sentence, and I groaned internally.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I pursed my lips pretending to think. “Like Lily perhaps?”

Instead of taking the hint, he pulled out the chair in front of me and plopped down. This took my attention away from the papers in front of me. Potters grin was so smug it could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. How could one person be so obnoxious?

“Lily’s got enough admirers for one day. Besides,” he said, leaning back slinging a toned arm over the chair next to him. “you’re far more interesting.”

“Watch it. Lily is my friend,” I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Nothing much,” as he spoke, as he leaned his chair on its back legs. “Just thought you could use some company.”

Company? What about me in a dark corner with books scattered about screams I need company. Potter was an idiot.

A special kind of idiot.

“I don’t need company” I snapped turning back to my notes.

“You sure?” He was leaning forward now. “You seem awfully tense maybe I could help.”

I arched an eyebrow at him unimpressed with his antics. The only person in his group I would accept help from was Remus. He spent more time on schoolwork then I did.

“Unless you have suddenly become an expert in transfiguration theory, I seriously doubt you can help”

Potter hummed before picking up my book.

“Transfiguration, huh?” He tilted his head to the side like a curious dog. The candles reflected off his glasses creating a glare.

“Nope can’t help with that. But I am an excellent distraction from stress.”

“Clearly.” I mumbled, yanking my book back.

He chuckled, a warm sound that I refused to acknowledge as pleasant.

“You don’t have to be so prickly sunshine.”

“Maybe I am prickly because you are insufferable.” I shot back.

I wanted to throw something at him, but the detention was not worth it.

“But I think you mean I am insufferably charming.” He countered.

“As charming as a toad.”

That earned me a loud laugh from him, he was genuinely amused. “Sunshine has jokes, I like this side of you.”

I didn’t say anything just flipped him off. Potter laughed again, the sound carrying through the now empty library.

“Prongs!” Sirius voice rang out from somewhere near the entrance. “Come on, we’ve got rounds.”

James stood up, still looking at me. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, Sunshine.” He winked as he walked away, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened.

It was about a week later before he spoke to me again. I was on an evening stroll around the grounds enjoying the crisp evening air.

Potter was at the lake skipping stones with his group. They were all laughing and making fun of something. I was to far away to hear. Sirus noticed me first nudging James in the arm pointing in my direction. I narrowed my eyes.

“Sunshine!” He called out. As if were the greatest of pals.

I kept walking, acting like I didn’t hear him. He jogged up the hill quickly falling into step with me.

“What has you in such a hurry?”

“Trying to avoid you and your gaggle of friends.” I was blunt not bothering to soften the blow.

“Harsh,” He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“You will survive, especially if you know, just leave me alone.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You know you could just admit you like me”

I halted my steps and blinked turning mid step. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because everyone likes me!” I half expected him to spin with his arms out, but he just shrugged.

The confidence of him. His parents raised an irritatingly confident secure personality.

I rolled my eyes, “That is impossible Potter, because I really don’t like you.”

“Oh, I will grow on you, I promise.” There was a playfulness to his tone.

“Like a fungus, maybe.” I scoffed.

James burst out laughing, the sound wasn’t entirely unpleasant. My lips twitched fighting a smile. He was kind of cute in that moment. The way the setting sun caught in his hair and how he absentmindedly adjusted his glasses made him look... well, charming.

Shaking the thought away, I did what came naturally and flipped him off continuing my walk. This time, though, the gesture was almost playful.

Before I got far, I glanced back and spotted Sirius patting James on the back with a mischievous grin. My stomach sank. They were up to something, and I was undoubtedly their next target.

I steeled myself, pulling my walls higher than ever. I wouldn’t fall victim to whatever scheme they were concocting.

Not this time.

Avoiding Potter from that point on had become a fulltime task. No matter where I went, he showed up with a cheesy pick-up line. Somehow, he was everywhere. Like he had some sort of magical tracker. Which was why I had taken refuge under the shade of a secluded oak tree on the furthest side of the castle grounds. A book clutched in my hands like it was my lifeline of sanity. Lily had recommended it to me. It was a fun muggle mystery. She had called it a classic.

“I think about it a lot you know. What our first date would look like.” Potters annoying voice spoke from above me.

And yet, there he was, like a persistent weed sprouting through the cracks. Of course, the obnoxious boy would find this well-hidden tree. How was he always finding me?

“Umm what?” I sputtered not quite believing what I heard.

“You heard me sunshine.” that damn confidence was back, as if he was going to get what he wanted out of this conversation.

The sun made it difficult to see him, its light blasting directly into my eyes from behind his head, forming a blinding halo around him.

“Stop lying, it’s not cute.” I muttered.

Potter moved to the side; my eyes followed. He was unfazed by my dismissiveness. I closed my book with a snap, no longer able to tolerate being in the same space as him.

“I promise you, I’m not,” his voice still dripping with that unshakeable confidence.

He was up to something, and I had no idea what it was—but I sure wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

“I will believe that hmm… let’s see- never.” I stood up, almost headbutting Potter.

“Sunshine, even if you don’t believe me now, I am good at proving people wrong.”

Before taking my leave, I flipped him off aggressively. The gesture sharp and final, I wanted him to get the message to leave me alone. Usually when someone flips another person off, they get a clue.

But he laughed.

On my way back to the castle I passed by a Sirus Black hiding behind a statue. He was clearly trying (and failing) to stifle a laugh. That confirmed it—they were definitely up to something, and I had no intention of being the butt of their joke.

Potter had taken Lilys seat in potions class. She sent me an apologetic look when I entered. Slughorn wouldn’t be bothered. He just cared that everyone sat and paid attention.

“Guess I am your partner today, Sunshine.” He greeted.

I ignored him, dumping my books on the table with a thud. Ignoring him was not working for me but it was the only thing keeping me from harming him. Potter was like a dog with a bone—relentless.

“Did you know you’re my favorite lab partner?” he added, his voice light, teasing.

“No, and I don’t care,” I muttered, flipping through my notes.

Slughorn us gave us instructions to brew the potion we talked about earlier in the week. I opened my notebook to the vigorous notes I had taken. I got up collecting everything we needed and started the process without a word.

Halfway through and Potter hadn’t moved. He was supposed to be actually helping brew. But he was utterly useless, just sitting there staring at me with his head propped up on his fist.

It was infuriating.

“Merlin! Potter, you need to help me,” I snapped, thrusting the spoon in his direction. The frustration in my voice was impossible to miss.

His only response was a stupid dopy grin, He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink at the spoon an inch from his nose. Instead, that ridiculous grin widened.

"You know, sunshine, if I could brew a potion to make you smile, I would." He winked, and I resisted the urge to hex him.

He was impossible. No wonder Lily always said no—these were the kind of lines you’d expect from a child. What did I do to earn his attention?

“Do these lines actually work for you?” I frowned.

“I don’t know,” he said, his amber eyes twinkling now. “Are they?”

There it was again—his infuriating ability to twist every interaction into a game. I wasn’t playing.

There was no way he was insinuating anything with me. Everyone knew he only had eyes for the redhead—Lily—who just happened to be my actual potions partner. Just a few weeks ago he was at our table bothering her.

“I meant, do they work on Lily?” I clarified, my voice flat.

James tilted his head, feigning confusion, though the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “Why would I care about that?”

For the millionth time since I’d met the boy, I rolled my eyes again.

“For the love of Merlin, just stir,” I hissed, shoving the spoon into his hand.

To my surprise, he actually complied, though he made a dramatic show of it, swirling the liquid as though he were crafting some grand masterpiece.

“See? I’m not completely useless, “his tone insufferably self-satisfied.

I ignored him, turning my attention back to the notes. Sirius let out a snort of laughter, only to be smacked on the back of the head by Remus.

“Get back to work,” Remus muttered, though his lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

It was impossible to ignore the lingering sense that Potter was up to something—and I was the target.

James Potter took it upon himself to sit at my usual dining table. My quiet, little secluded corner—the one that no one really bothered with except Lily and her close circle of friends. He slid into the seat across from me his tie undone.

I raised an eyebrow at him, fork halfway to my mouth. What does he want now?

“Are you made of stardust?” I looked heavenward; his tone was teasing but had a softness. “Because every time I look at you, the world seems to disappear."

I set my fork down, sending him a flat look. “You seriously think I am going to fall for one of your cheesy lines while eating?”

He was persistent to pull of whatever prank they were up to. If only he applied that persistence’s to his schoolwork.

Potter shrugged, but this time there was no playful retort. Instead, his grin faded slightly, replaced by something almost... serious. "Maybe I’m just hoping one will finally catch your attention."

The tone change caught me off guard. I almost believed him. He has been playful and flirty the last few weeks. There was movement a couple feet away that caught my attention. Sirus was leaning against the wall just within earshot.

He looked like he was barely containing a laugh, as though James was the star player in some elaborate joke they’d cooked up.

They were too obvious. My frown deepened.

"Potter, your games won’t work on me,” my voice sharper than I intended. "You’re wasting your time."

His gaze softened further, and for once the playfulness was gone. "Maybe I like wasting my time... if it means I get to spend it with you."

The sincerity in his voice made my stomach twist, and I hated it. Hated how, for a fleeting second, I felt something crack in my resolve. But before I could dwell on it, Sirius snorted loudly from his perch, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Another pick-up line? Another game? Another performance for his friends?

Potter just didn’t seem to know when enough was enough. My appetite was officially gone, and I had no intention of sticking around to entertain whatever nonsense they were plotting.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” I said slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I’m not just some joke to you and your friends.”

“Wait—” James started, his hand reaching out like he might stop me.

But I didn’t give him the chance. Before he could say another word, I flipped him off and stalked out of the dining hall, not bothering to look back.

The moment I stepped into the corridor, the tension in my chest eased slightly, though my thoughts still churned. It was bad enough that James had inserted himself into nearly every aspect of my day. Classes, hallways, even the library. He was everywhere.

I didn’t know what he and his friends were planning.

And yet, as I made my way through the castle, a new thought began to gnaw at the edges of my frustration. Was this all part of some elaborate ploy to make Lily jealous? A way to grab her attention by pretending to care about someone else?

The idea stung more than I wanted to admit.

Of course, I told myself firmly. That has to be it. Why else would someone like James Potter be wasting his time with me?

Pushing the thought aside, I tightened my grip on my bag and headed for the common room. I wasn’t going to let him—or his stupid, infuriating grin—take up any more space in my head.

Lily my saving grace was in her spot when I entered the potions classroom. Relief flooded through me, and for the first time in days I felt lighter. There she was my red headed angel. With a smile, I dropped into my seat next to her, savoring the normalcy.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see your face," I whispered to Lily.

She laughed softly. "James is persistent, isn’t he? I got to class early to make sure I got my spot.”

As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened, and Potter’s messy head of hair appeared. His eyes dulled when he noticed Lily sitting next to me. For a moment, his usual smile faltered, the realization that his plan had been thwarted clearly hitting him. He glanced at me, then back at Lily, shaking his head. I stuck my tongue out at him in playful defiance.

James gave me a half-smile, and made his way to the table behind us.

Lily leaned in closer, her side brushing against mine as she whispered, ““Do you need help getting James to leave you alone?”

I shook my head. “No, he will lose interest eventually.”

She gave me a look before responding. “I doubt that. He has always had his eyes on you.”

I shot her sideways glance. “He was always flirting with you and begging you to date him.”

Her lips curled into a small knowing smile. “Only when I am around you. Which is why I always said no.”

My eyes widened in disbelief, and I almost laughed. “You’re crazy,”

my voice was just above a whisper now.

But as I took in her words, something shifted inside me. We all knew James potter had been in love with Lily for years- He had practically made a sport out of trying to win her over. But hearing her admit that his attention had only intensified when I was around... it felt strange.

I couldn’t help the flicker of discomfort that passed through me at the thought. Why would he suddenly change tactics? I was still convinced he was playing a prank.

Lily nudged me gently, “You’re not as oblivious as you pretend to be, you know.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the strange, fluttering feeling in my stomach. “I’m not oblivious. I just don’t want to deal with it.”

She chuckled softly, her voice full of affection. “You don’t have to deal with it alone. Just know I’m here for you, alright?”

I gave her a grateful smile, leaning in to whisper back, “Thanks, Lil I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her smile softened, and she gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and bustling with activity, the fire crackling in the hearth and casting flickering shadows across the walls. Groups of students gathered in clusters, laughing and chatting, while others bent over homework or played games. I had tucked myself away in a corner near the window, the happy buzzing fading into background noise as I doodled in my notebook.

I glanced up when I heard Potters voice, a playful lilt as he joked with Sirius on their way in. My heart sank. My shoulders stiffened, and I hunched further over my parchment, praying he’d move along. Surely, he wouldn’t notice me here.

He made eye contact with me immediately, as if he knew I was there.

The room seemed to hush around me, or perhaps it was just my nerves heightening as his footsteps grew closer.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, stopping beside my chair. There was a resolve in his eyes. Potter was determined right now.

I didn’t make eye contact. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he crouched slightly to meet my gaze, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. “I mean it. Can we talk?”

My patience snapped. My chair scraped against the stone floor as I stood up. “I’m not sure what you and your group are up to,” I said, my voice low.

“But stay away from me. I am not something to play with and laugh at.”

“That’s not what—”

I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. It was probably all lies anyway.

“Save it, Potter,” I cut him off, crossing my arms tightly over my heart.

The usual noise of the common room seemed to fade entirely. I just wanted to be left alone, to return to the peace of being forgotten by most. I was here to get an education, to keep my head down, and leave this castle behind.

His expression faltered, just for a second, before he squared his shoulders. “It’s not a joke. I’m not—”

“I don’t care, I just want to be left alone.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair, a nervous tic I’d seen countless times now. “You think I’d go through all this trouble for a joke? You think I’d—”

Potter stopped talking when my eyes flicked to Sirius, who was lounging on one of the sofas, smirking like he found the entire situation hilarious. A look of understanding crossed James’s features.

“Please, Sunshine” his voice softer now, almost pleading. His hand reached out, grasping my wrist as I turned to walk away his fingers brushing against my pulse. “Listen to me.”

I froze, my pulse quickening, but not from fear. No not from fear.

“We aren’t playing some joke. Sirus is always around as moral support. He is a shitty wingman.”

Sirus let out an offended noise.

“Let me go,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t trust you.”

When he didn’t release my wrist, I glared and flipped him off with my free hand. His lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the determination in his gaze didn’t waver.

“Go ahead and flip me off, love,” his voice tinged with quiet resolve. “I’ll prove to you that I’m serious.”

The words hung between us like a dare, his amber eyes searching mine for some crack in the wall I’d so carefully built. I was stunned into silence. This wasn’t the James Potter I’d come to expect—the grinning troublemaker who lived for attention and pranks. This was different.

“Prove what?” I said flatly, more a statement than a question.

“That I really really like you,” he replied, his grip on my wrist loosening but not quite letting go. “I’m not playing games. I know I’ve been... annoying.”

An understatement.

“But I need you to know that I’m not doing this to mess with you.”

I snorted, though the sound lacked conviction. “You’re always messing with someone, Potter.”

“Not you,” he said softly.

That stopped me cold. There was no smirk, no teasing edge, just the quiet insistence of his words and the weight of his gaze.

I shook my head, pulling my hand free.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” he said as I stepped back. “But I’ll prove it to you.”

I paused, my heart inexplicably skipping a beat. Then, without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Things weren’t like before when James Potter was just an annoyance— a loud self-assured presence that demanded attention. Whether you wanted to give it to him or not. No, something was different now, and I was having a hard time making sense of it.

He stopped pestering me in class. There was no interrupting my study sessions or tossing out cheesy pickup lines. Instead, he was actually helping me in class, gave me space when I asked for it, and didn’t push my buttons just for the fun of it.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had flipped him off, and strangely I did miss it.

Part of me hated the change. It felt like losing an old habit. But the other half of me was enjoying the calm side of him. The side of James that was almost thoughtful. Maybe he really wasn’t doing it all for attention or laughs.

I was hidden between bookshelves, shelving the books I no longer needed when I caught the unmistakable sound of Sirus’s voice. It was loud and drifting from a nearby table.

Eavesdropping was bad. I knew that. But my curiosity was piqued and so I took small slow steps, careful to not make a sound.

“She is a lost cause” Sirus was saying, his tone almost sarcastic.

Who is she? Was the ‘she’ me?

“I mean it, James. She always flipping you off and has a permanent scowl. Its hopeless mate.”

Ahh so the she was definitely me. My heart twinged in a way I didn’t expect. I did flip Potter off a lot, but hearing Sirus dismiss me so easily stung.

“Sirus.” James’s tone came out as a warning. “You don’t know her, and you are crossing a line.”

Sirius paused, his grin faltering as he looked at James with a raised hand. “Alright, alright, no need to get all protective. I was just making a point.”

James didn’t respond, his jaw set as he turned back to his parchment, the tension in his shoulders lingered as his quill scratched along the paper.

I ducked back behind the shelf, my heart racing for reasons I did not want to admit. James had defended me to his best friend. Made it clear I wasn’t someone he could get a laugh at.

James wasn’t as bad as I thought he was. There was more to him then the playful antics and relentless charm. And I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.

James had gotten hurt during quidditch practice last night. Lily had casually mentioned he was being kept in the hospital wing for observation. Apparently, they were worried that his head injury was worse than it seemed.

I hated to admit it, but I was worried about him. An annoying flutter in my chest came at the thought of him laying there injured and alone. But how could I just go visit him? Just showing up out of nowhere would seem odd. Especially after I spent so much energy convincing myself, and everyone else, that I couldn’t stand him.

When my notes tumbled out of my bag I had tossed to the side, I found my excuse.

I will make copies of my notes.

Its practical.

Thoughtful.

Not suspicious.

It wasn’t long before I found myself standing in the doorway of the hospital wing, clutching the freshly copied notes nervously. I should leave. This was stupid. Remus would have notes for him when he was released. He didn’t need me.

Before I could back out the door he saw me. His eyes lit up and lips curved upwards into a smile despite the cut on his lip.

“Sunshine, you came to visit.” His voice was warm.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I shot back, waving the notes at him. “McGonagall asked me to bring these.”

He smirked seeing right through my lie.

“Did she?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He winced at the motion, and before I could think I was at his bedside.

“Stop moving, you are going to make things worse.” I scolded.

James raised his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am.”

Rolling my eyes I hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. Up close the injury looked worse. A dark bruise was peeking out over the top of the bandage. A quick pang of sympathy ran through me.

James must have noticed my expression, because his pupils softened.

“You know,” he said a teasing lilt to his tone, but nothing over the top. “I’d get hurt more often if it meant you’d visit me like this.”

Without warning I reached out, brushing his stray curls away from his forehead. They were softer than I had expected.

“Don’t be stupid,” I muttered, handing him the notes.

As he reached out to take them, his fingers brushed against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I pulled my hand back immediately, pretending to adjust the hem of my sleeve.

“You’re ridiculous,” my words lacked their usual bite.

“Ridiculously happy to see you.” he countered, grinning in that familiar, infuriating way.

Groaning, I shifted to stand up, but his hand caught mine, gently pulling me back down. This time, I didn’t pull away. I let his fingers curl around mine.

“Thanks for coming,” His thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand, a gesture so simple and tender that it caught me off guard.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“It’s just notes.”

“It’s more than that,” he replied, his eyes holding mine. “It means something.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I let the silence stretch between us. When I finally pulled my hand away so he could rest, I missed the warmth of his touch.

“Well,” I said, standing. “Don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He winked.

“Get some rest Potter.”

“What will it take for you to call me James?”

I paused at the foot of his bed, glancing back at him with a smirk.

“We will just have to see,” I quipped.

Something had shifted, and there was no going back.

The biting cold of the Forbidden Forest seeped through my robes as I stumbled over a twisted root. I barley caught myself before face planting into the dirt. My wand was clenched into a death grip, the dim glow of Lumos casting a little more then a pale circle of light. Shadows stretched in every direction, distorting the trees into looming specters. It was an endless sea of black.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Brilliant,” I grumbled to myself attempting to lighten my mood with sarcasm. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Class had ended ages ago. The castle was surely alive with the hum of dinner, but I was lost, hungry and beyond exhausted. My arm throbbed where I had scraped it against a jagged branch, and panic began to set in. Now would be a great time for James to magically appear like he always did.

A sudden rustle nearby caused me to freeze in place. My heart was beating against my ribs rapidly. I slowly moved the light in the direction the sound came from.

There was a low growl from somewhere in the darkness. My breath caught in my throat. I was going to die here.

And I ran.

I didn’t know where I was going, but staying felt like an early invite to my grave. Twigs snapped under my feet; the cold air stung my face.

A bright white beam of light pierced through the trees, and a frantic voice followed.

“Sunshine, where are you?”

Relief flooded through the me my knees buckled.

“I’m here!” I called out my voice trembling. I was going to cry.

The growling stopped abruptly, and there was hurried footsteps making their way to me.

James burst into view, his wand raised high, and his hair was a mess more so then usual. His white button up was disheveled and stained, as if he had plowed through every branch in his path to get to me. His wild eyes locked on mine, and his entire body sagged with visible relief.

But only for a moment.

In a heartbeat, his hands were gripping my shoulders, his gaze scanning me from head to toe.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his tone rough with worry.

Before I could answer his hands moved to my face, gently pushing back stray strands of hair. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the icy air. A shiver ran through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else.

I shook my head, trying to find my voice.

“I’m fine.” I whispered.

“Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, pulling me into a tight, impulsive hug.

The sudden contact startled me. James Potter, the boy who loved a good laugh at my expense, was hugging me like his life depended on it. His arms were strong and steady, and for a moment, the situation didn’t feel so terrifying.

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let myself sink into the warmth of him. My hands found their way to his back, clutching the fabric of his shirt as I breathed in the scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

“You scared the hell out of me.” He mumbled into my hair.

James was the first to pull away, his hands lingering on my arms looking me over again. Like he was checking for hidden injuries.

“You have a cut.”

The way he said it was so soft I almost missed it.

I’d forgotten about it until he mentioned it. Glancing at my arm, I saw the dried blood and torn sleeve. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to make a fuss. “I just need to clean it.”

James frowned, clearly not satisfied with my answer. He stepped closer, holding his wand up to examine it. The warmth of him was back, his presence grounding me.

“What are you even doing out here alone?” he demanded, exasperation creeping into his tone.

“I—I got lost,” My cheeks burned at my admission. “I was late for class, and I thought I found a shortcut.”

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “A shortcut? Through the Forbidden Forest?” His voice rose slightly, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how dangerous—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his already messy hair yanking on it a bit.

“I didn’t mean to cause a panic,” I said quickly. “Or waste your time.”

James froze, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he said nothing, his wand hand trembling slightly as he lowered it. “Waste my time?” he repeated, his voice low, almost bewildered.

I winced.

“Waste my time?” he said again, his words sharper this time. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a fire I hadn’t seen before.

“Sorry.” I squeaked out.

The way he was acting caught me off guard. I looked over his shoulder and into the dark, the weight of his concern was overwhelming.

I figured the only person who would notice me missing was Lily.

“Don’t you get it?” His hands found my face again, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks. “I know you don’t believe it, but I care about you. You stubborn, brilliant, infuriating woman. That’s why I came running the second I heard you were missing.”

My breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing into me like a wave. His touch was gentle, grounding, but his gaze was unrelenting, raw, and unguarded.

After a long moment, he pulled back slightly and extended a hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here before you catch your death.”

I hesitated, my eyes lingering on his outstretched hand before placing mine in his. His grip was firm, steady, and when his fingers curled around mine, they held on like he was afraid I might disappear.

As we walked through the trees, his thumb brushed lightly against the back of my hand—a quiet reassurance that made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to examine.

For the first time, James Potter didn’t feel like an annoyance. He felt like a lifeline.

Gryffindor won the quidditch game. Our common room was alive with the hum of celebration. Streamers of crimson and gold were lazily thrown up around the space. Cheers erupted from everyone when the team entered the crowded dance area.

I stood off to the side, cradling an empty cup, at the edge of the room away from the crowd. Lily, was perched in the chair beside me. She laughed at a first-year attempting to smuggle an oversized barrel of butterbeer across the room. A sixth-year intercepted it with a laugh, stowing it out of reach.

It was enough to distract me from the figure weaving through the crowd.

James.

He towered over most of the cluster of people, his curly hair unmistakable, still damp from the post-match shower. His Quidditch jersey clung to his frame, the number on his back catching the light. He looked every bit the victorious captain, and the sight of him sent an uninvited warmth through my chest.

“What’s with the brooding? We just won! You should be grinning like that prat over there.” Lily asked shoving a full glass in my hand. She pointed to James who was laughing with his gaggle of friends.

“I’m not brooding,” I replied, taking a sip. “Just enjoying the chaos from a safe distance.”

“If that’s what you want to believe.” She winked, already dancing away toward the center of the room.

James appeared in front of me, his grin widening when our eyes met.

“There you are, Sunshine. Thought you’d gone into hiding.”

That warm, teasing lilt had become as familiar as the sound of my own heartbeat.

“Someone has to make sure you lot doesn’t burn our living space down.”

He chuckled.

“But, not hiding,” I replied, glancing over his shoulder. “Just... thinking.”

He leaned casually against the wall beside me his foot brushing mine, but there was something softer in his expression tonight. His warm brown eyes held a warmth that sent a flutter through my chest.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” his tone curious.

I hesitated, swirling the liquid in my glass. “It’s just... a lot to take in. Everything’s been so—different.”

James tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Different how?”

I turned to face him fully, “You. Us. Everything. Just three months ago, I couldn’t stand you.”

“And now?” he asked, his voice quieter, the teasing edge gone.

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Now... I’m not sure I ever did.”

His grin widened, but it wasn’t cocky or self-assured like the ones he used to flash at me in the past. This one was softer, filled with something that made my heart ache in the best way.

“I’d say that’s progress,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, against my skin.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “You’re not going to make a big speech about how you knew I’d come around eventually, are you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Not tonight.”

“Good.”

We stayed there for a moment, neither of us speaking. His eyes brighter then usual.

“Enjoying the celebration?” he asked trying to act casual about my confession.

“It’s... lively,” I said, unable to hide a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “We just crushed Slytherin, I think it’s more than lively.”

I shrugged, taking a sip of my butterbeer. “It was a decent match.”

I couldn’t help but tease him.

“Decent?” He leaned forward, his knees pressing more firmly against mine. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I can’t make things to easy for you Potter.”

His grin softened, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. “You never do.”

James moved back a half step. “Take a walk with me?”

“Ok.”

He didn’t ask just grabbed my hand navigating us through the crowd. We didn’t stop walking till we were outside strolling through a field of grass. The stars were bright and beautiful tonight. It was almost romantic.

“You know,” he began, his tone light, “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” I teased, the corners of my mouth lifting.

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Maybe. But I was wondering what it might take for you to stop calling me Potter.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What will it take for you to stop calling me Sunshine?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “Never. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with ‘Potter.’”

He hummed thoughtfully, lacing our fingers together. The simple gesture sent a comforting sensation coursing through me that no spell could replicate.

“What makes you think you’ve earned us being on a first name basis?”

“Scoring the winning goal isn’t enough?” he asked, mock-offended.

“Not even close.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my stomach flutter. “Then what if I told you I’d do whatever it takes?”

“You are persistent.” I laughed.

“Only for you.”

James usual playful retorts absent in his tone.

I looked up at him, my breath catching at the way his eyes searched mine.

“Maybe just maybe I don’t mind that anymore.” I added, just loud enough for him to hear.

His grin returned, but this time it was softer, almost shy. “Does that mean I can finally take you on that first date?”

I hummed tapping my chin, pretending to think about it. “Maybe.”

I had the teasing tone now.

He laughed, his thumb brushing against my hand. The world seemed to still as he leaned in, stopping just short of my lips. The question in his eyes was unmistakable. I nodded, barely visible.

When his lips met mine, it was like every piece of the puzzle I hadn’t known was missing finally clicked into place. His hand came up to cradle my cheek, the kiss warm and steady, filled with a kind of tenderness I hadn’t realized he was capable of.

When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I felt his smile against my skin.

“Finally,” he whispered, his breath tickling my nose.

I giggled shaking my head. “Don’t ruin the moment, Potter.”

“James,” he corrected.

“James,” I echoed, and it felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” He placed a quick kiss on my lips.

#james potter imagine #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #maruders #marauders imagine #marauders era

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alchemistc · 1 month ago

Text

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #tommy six months later: so when i told you not to slow down i was actually assuming you'd just move into my house in like two weeks #buck: at least we're arguing about communication instead of ghosting each other this time #tommy: are you gonna move in with me or what you fucking brat #buck: i'd like to talk about how many kids you want first

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callsign-rogueone · 2 months ago

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hour thirty-eight

Bodhi Durran x reader (darling!) words: 1.7k 🏷️: set during fourth wing, aftermath of reader's RSC (not described in any detail, just that you're injured from it), dain and love cameo (you'll eventually be getting love's pov of all this!), xaden gets sucker punched (he kinda deserved it tho), feral bodhi and then sweet soft bodhi in the same post, I'm not the happiest with this one but here it is anyway.

Thirty-seven hours. Thirty-seven fucking hours since Bodhi has seen any trace of you.

You clearly aren’t out with your squad doing land-nav or anything, because they’re still here, enjoying their weekend off. And they have no idea where you are, either. They haven’t seen you since before he did.

He’s retraced your steps a dozen times by now. You’d had dinner, washed up and spent the night in his room, woken up early for a leadership meeting, then vanished off the face of the planet, and everyone is acting like it’s business as usual.

Everyone except Xaden.

He might be mister unaffected and cool to everyone else, but his cousin can smell that something is off with him — cornering him and Garrick in the hall after dinner.

“I’ve checked the infirmary, I’ve checked the death rolls, and the rest of her squad has no idea either, but I know you know something. You’ve got that look on your face. So please, tell me,” he begs, his voice wavering.

He watches the two older boys exchange a look, knowing neither of them want to be the one to say it.

Xaden sighs, evidently having lost the silent battle of eye contact. “I just need you to trust me. She’s going to be fine — she should be back in the morning.”

“Back from where? Where are the fuck is my wife, Xaden?”

He winces. “Part of the second-year course is interrogation training,” he begins carefully.

“You mean she’s being tortured?”

Xaden exhales. “Yes.” He doesn’t bother to dodge the first punch Bodhi throws — letting it hit him right in the jaw.

It’s Garrick who lunges forward, grabbing the younger man around the waist and pinning his arms to his sides to hold him back from throttling his cousin. Bodhi thrashes in his grip, uselessly trying to get free. “You didn’t think to mention this to any of us? To your own fucking sister? Because she’s missing too, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Bo,” Garrick says softly, “you need to take a breath. She’s going to be fine. Both of them will.”

Garrick’s words don’t mean anything to him. “Don’t fucking start with me, Gare. You had plenty of opportunities to tell us, too. You could have mentioned it a year ago, when you found out yourself.“

“We didn’t tell you for the same reason that Cuir didn’t tell you, nor did the Lieutenant Colonel,” Xaden says levelly, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everything they do in RSC is supposed to be a surprise that you can’t prepare for. It’s all classified, and those who have completed it are forbidden from telling anyone what happened.”

“Bullshit. When has that ever stopped you before? Since when do you give a singular shit about the rules?”

“Bodhi,” Garrick warns, glancing around the hall, but thankfully nobody is around to have heard them.

“Fuck — off,” he pants, finally cutting loose from the section leader’s grip. “If you tell me to breathe again, I swear—”

“Bodhi,” Garrick repeats, louder, nodding toward the end of the hallway. “Look.”

The younger boy turns, his anger immediately replaced with relief as he sees you.

Xaden’s shadows rush up to cushion your bruises as Bodhi gathers you into his arms. “Gods,” he breathes into your hair, “I was worried sick — I had no idea where you were. Was Callwell with you?”

“Yeah. She’s in the infirmary, with Dain.”

Bodhi pulls back to look at you, taking stock of your injuries. “Why didn’t you go with them?” he asks gently. There’s no scolding in his tone, just the same soft concern you can see in his eyes.

“I wanted to find you, and make sure you were okay. I didn’t know if they’d taken you too,” you say softly, your voice dry and scratchy.

Xaden and Garrick both look guilt-stricken. Good, Bodhi decides. They should be.

“We stayed after class to talk to Kaori, and I got that feeling, but I didn’t know what was going to happen, or to who. As soon as we stepped out into the hallway…” you don’t finish the sentence. “They messed up — they weren’t supposed to take me, just her and Dain. But I was walking with them, and I guess they thought we were in the same squad.”

There’s a second of silence. “M’sorry I scared you,” you say softly.

“Don’t apologize, cridhe. I’m just glad you’re safe now. Let‘s get you to the healers, okay?”

You hum in acknowledgment, fighting to keep your eyes open. It’s going to be a challenge for him to limp you back down the stairs and across the campus in this state, with your energy completely drained and your legs injured as well.

“I can…” Garrick offers, stepping forward.

“I’ve got her,” Bodhi snaps over his shoulder, steadying you with an arm around your waist. “She’s my responsibility, not yours.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” you murmur, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. “Knowing it was coming would just have made it worse.”

Oh, gods. Now he knows — now he and Imogen and the rest of your friends are going to be waiting to be whisked away to the dungeons for a weekend of suffering, constantly anticipating an ambush, bags being thrown over their heads and getting dragged down to the dungeon to be beaten. That must be how you feel all the time with your signet, always focused on some looming tragedy or catastrophe.

You haven’t let it break you thus far, so he won’t either.

Your walk to the infirmary is mostly silent, save for the occasional soft praise from Bodhi, gentle murmurs about how well you’re doing and that you’re almost there.

——

Dain’s forehead and nose are bloody, a dried up cut splitting his cheek, but it’s nothing compared to the state of your friend who sits beside him, tears slowly dripping down her face.

“She shielded us,” you explain to Bodhi in a soft voice. “So they took it out on her the worst, and made us watch.”

His heart twists as he realizes exactly how cruel and how realistic this training is, to punish someone for protecting their friends. They’d probably done that with the goal of getting you or Dain to crack, to exchange information for relief from the sight of her being broken bit by bit and the sound of her screaming.

But from the looks of her, the two of you had held fast — not telling them anything.

Dain continues whispering to her, his thumb stroking over her knee as a healer presses a hand against her ribs, inspecting for cracks. They must find one, because she curls in on herself with a soft whimper of pain, squeezing her eyes shut.

Another healer appears, beckoning you forward. She doesn’t protest as Bodhi comes with you, keeping a hand on your back as you walk. “Second year?” she asks, a soft sadness in her voice.

“Yes ma’am,” you say quietly, realizing that at her age, she’s probably bandaged up a thousand cadets after they’d gone through the same thing.

That means someone else on this campus has beaten a thousand of you half to death.

“You think anything’s broken?”

“No, ma’am. Just some cuts and bruises.”

Bodhi helps you out of your ruined flight jacket, baring your arms, but the healer doesn’t flinch at the sight of your relic, nor the purpling bruises across your chest and shoulders. She’s gentle, silently working on disinfecting and stitching and bandaging with a learned hand.

You let your head loll against Bodhi’s shoulder, your eyes closing. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck.

“You picked a good one,” she remarks, a knowing smile on her face. “He’ll take care of you, like a warrior should.”

You turn your head to look at her. The sentence doesn’t quite make sense in the common language, but in Tyrrish, the words “husband” and “warrior” sound nearly identical.

“Smart girl,” she praises, knowing you’ve figured it out from the look on your face.

“I am in your debt,” Bodhi says softly, not wanting the other healer to hear. “She is my world. Thank you for holding her so gently.”

She offers you both a soft smile. “May she one day be free.”

Your eyes widen, but you quickly force the rest of your face into a neutral expression. This might be a trap — a way for the school to see if you’ve inherited your parents’ ideology. And any evidence of any of you having thoughts about a second attempt at secession will mean the end of Xaden’s life.

She doesn’t pry or say anything further, just rising from her seat and cleaning up the tools she’d used before crossing the room to help the other healer.

You cast another glance back at your friend. Dain is still with her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as Nolon works to fix her broken bones. Her eyes are closed, her breathing steady now that the pain has dulled.

“I’ve got her,” he promises quietly, seeing your hesitation. “Get some sleep, if you can.”

You nod in acknowledgement, letting Bodhi guide you back to the rider’s dorms and mindlessly following his lead as he gets some things from his room, then takes you to the showers, helping you out of your bloodied uniform and washing the blood from your skin in near-silence.

The rest is just muscle memory — brushing your teeth and tugging one of his shirts over your head, padding across the hall to his room and climbing into your side of his bed, tucking yourself under his arm and pulling the blankets over you both.

He plants another kiss to your forehead, his heart softening at the way you nuzzle your cheek into his shoulder in response — you’re too tired to lift your head up enough to return the kiss, but he knows that the way you’re curled into his side is an ‘I love you’ in itself, an indication that you feel safe with him, to let your guard down in this death trap of a school, to finally relax and sleep after two days of pain and fear.

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi and darling #mine #girlfriendverse

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reiderwriter · 8 months ago

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In Case I'm Mistaken

Chapter Five of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your first run-in with Spencer Reid since he left you so spectacularly is fraught with tension. Sexual and otherwise.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI pregnancy symptoms, morning sickness/ throwing up, fingering, rough sex, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, choking, slapping, creampie but she's pregnant already, mild case details, etc.

A/N: We're halfway through! I sincerely hope everyone enjoys how stupid and oblivious Spencer is being because I can't promise he'll wise up anytime soon lmao. If you're enjoying the series, let me know in the comments ♡

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

When you left Spencer's apartment, you expected a call or a text or an email in the next three days. Penelope told you that's most likely when they'd wrap the case and when he'd be back at his apartment to see the stunt you had pulled.

You tried to force yourself back to work in the meantime, and it almost worked. Until you had to spend three hours a day crouched over a toilet bowl, emptying your stomach lining again and again. You had spent almost a full month like that before you realised you hadn't heard from him.

First, it was cases, then it was casework, and then it was cases again, but if probed, Spencer truly would have no idea you'd tried to get in contact with him at all. And it seemed he didn't care in the slightest.

He'd been home, but he hadn't been looking for anything out of place, so he hadn't seen anything out of place. Certainly not a bookshelf spelling out “CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THIS.” It was your choice to leave the cryptic message though, and you hadn't exactly left him any notes to say that you'd dropped by.

But finding out you were pregnant on a night you'd half-expected to throttle the man who'd impregnated you (verbally) and then having cried on his couch with one of his very close female friends? Yeah, you were confused and lost, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

With emotions and hormones running high, you couldn't even tell if Spencer was purposefully ignoring you or not.

The only saving grace in that month was your promotion.

It literally could not have come at a better time, and you'd enjoyed signing the papers greatly knowing you'd be blindsiding your boss with a pregnancy announcement in the next three months, should you be able to carry the baby successfully to that point.

You'd had your first check-up without a call from Spencer. You'd picked out your first baby outfit without a call from Spencer. You were pretty confident that you'd give birth to the goddamn baby without a call from Spencer.

Which is why when you found him in your office a month later, you wanted to wrap your hands around his neck and slowly choke the life out of him.

Between classes, you'd taken to running to the bathroom to hang your head in shame, not over morning sickness at all yet. You'd taken to keeping cereal bars and pregnancy safe snacks in your office in case you needed something else to help you power through the morning.

That morning was worse than others, with less than half your students in attendance and still two hours to waste standing up in front of a podium - department rules.

You'd thought you were going to expire in front of that toilet bowl, sending up your prayers as you checked your watch and realised you'd have a class again in an hour or two that you weren't fully prepped for.

So you slinked back to your office and tried to throw yourself onto the sofa, but unfortunately for you, a large man was blocking your way.

“Can I help you?” You eked out, voice weak but still able to convey all the annoyance you felt at the door.

“Sorry, sorry, this is your…?" The man said, smiling down at you. You had to give it to him, the man was good looking but you just waited for him to stand aside again.

“Do you mind?” You said, gesturing to the door you now knew the man was blocking. He wasn't letting you in for some reason, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why. It was your goddamn office for christ's sake. Your snacks were inside.

“Sorry, following orders.”

“Right, and whose orders would those be Mr…”

“SSA Luke Alvez,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You'd have introduced yourself politely under any other circumstances but in reaching out his hand and giving his title, you'd seen the flash of his FBI badge on his hip and knew exactly who was behind this.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, ducking under the man's arms and slamming the door to your office open to find Doctor Spencer Reid huddled over some files, two women flanking him on either side.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The two women looked taken aback, straightening immediately as they looked between you and Spencer. He was slow to take his eyes off whatever it was they were working on, as if playing with you once again.

You really regretted keeping his desk around, seeing how comfortable he looked there, how normal it was for you to see him there.

“Doctor Y/N. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to-?” You scoffed and slammed the door once more. “Yeah. Okay.”

One of the women quickly excused herself from the situation, almost as soon as she realised that once you'd finally locked eyes with Spencer, neither of you looked away.

“I'm sorry to intrude, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, I'm the Unit Chief of the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. We really wouldn't be here if it weren't an emergency.”

You had to give it to the woman, but she caught on quickly and stepped between the two of you, breaking eye contact and forcing your attention onto her. You introduced yourself quickly.

“Doctor Y/N Y/L/N. I trudt that if you're here, something bad has happened.”

You noticed a flash of something as Emily shook your hand, hearing your name. It was subtle, and it was quick, but you saw her eyes flick to your stomach and then back up, and you froze.

She knew. Penelope hadn't exactly broken your trust - you never told her to keep a secret from anyone but Spencer - but you felt your guard go back up twofold.

“Emily, can I talk privately with Y/N for a moment?” Spencer asked, and you resisted the urge to cradle yourself, to cover whatever it was she may have seen in your appearance or the way you held yourself that became your tell.

You wanted to tell Spencer you were pregnant, sure, but you'd wanted to tell him a month ago. Now? Now you were pissed off.

The older woman quietly bowed out, reminding Spencer to reconvene with her in another hour. She shut the door quietly after she went, and you listened carefully to the retreating murmurs of her and the other agent down the hall until you were confident you were more or less alone.

And then you picked up the nearest book and threw it.

“Y/N! Listen, I can explain-”

You threw another book, and this one hit his arm. He winced and rubbed it quickly as he flinched away from you, picking up your third weapon.

“Explain what? Explain why you've commandeered my office for secret FBI business? Explain why you left me behind like a discarded cum rag after we had sex? Maybe you-”

“Y/N, I had a case, I didn't want to-” You threw another book, but he batted it away this time.

“Can we just talk like adults, please?” He stepped forward and grabbed your wrist just as you reloaded with another book, forcing the tome from your grip in a few seconds.

“The Norton Anthology? Really? You'd bludgeon me to death with that thing.”

“It has some interesting essays on psychoanalysis and literary theory. You should be honoured that I'd even think of throwing it at you.”

He just scowled and sat you down on the couch, following you there to sit next to you.

“Why are you still so frustrated? I thought we moved past this- this resentment?”

For the last few weeks, you'd hoped that Spencer was just clueless about what you were going through. That he'd been swamped with work and hadn't seen your message. But getting the confirmation in real time was winding.

The air was knocked from your lungs, and you had to fight to fill them again, refusing to let yourself be so downright pathetic.

“What resentment did we move past exactly, Spencer? Because I remember the sex, but I do not remember your apology.”

“Why should I apologise?” The sincerity in his voice had your fingers itching to knock his lights off for him.

“Well, gee, for a starter, maybe for finding my address online and showing up to my house uninvited and unannounced.”

“I did announce it. You just blocked my number and email.”

You scoffed and threw yourself back in your chair.

“Number, yes. Email? No. You sent it from an unauthorised network email. All your emails sat in my spam folder until last month.”

He furrowed his brows at the news, but you just crossed your arms and waited for whatever he'd say next to get out of taking responsibility.

“I'm sorry.”

To say you weren't expecting that was an understatement. You felt so uncomfortable with the words you fidgeted in your seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Yes, well…”

Standing, you moved to your desk and grabbed the snacks you'd come here to find, slamming your desk draw shut and keeping the desk between you, sitting in your chair.

“We're working a case.”

“I can tell.”

He leant over the desk and grabbed one of your snacks, opening a cereal bar quickly and taking a bite.

“Three of the students in our faculty have gone missing in the last 30 days.”

You nodded as you listened, but your eyes were on your snack, in his hand, in his mouth. The bastard.

“I need to use the office for a few days. I won't disturb you, but we need some space as a base on campus, and this is our best option.”

“Not afraid I'll walk away with critical documents this time?”

“This time, I have everything memorised. I've read all the documents. You can't ruin the case this time.”

You stood and grabbed your snack from his hand as he lifted it to take another bite, throwing it straight into the trash can.

“What was that for?”

“For being a jerk.”

You stomped over to your bag and pulled out your headphones, putting them on as he attempted to keep talking to you.

“Y/N, you're being immature-”

“You just stole my snack like it's playtime at recess, Spencer. I'm not the immature one.”

You turned the music on as he attempted to talk to you, but you didn't budge or take them off, returning to the couch to lay comfortably once more.

Something about the infuriating, beautiful man had you wanting to act out, reaching new levels of immaturity.

You felt the dip in the couch as he joined you there, felt him waving in front of your face. You smiled at his growing frustration as you heard him raise his voice just slightly.

Then, your legs were pulled out from under you, and you squeaked in shock as Spencer Reid pulled you into his lap, making you straddle him. Your eyes blew open, and you grabbed at his shirt for balance, leaving you open to his attacks as he knocked the headphones off your head.

“You're such a…a..”

“Jackass? Okay, sure, but I'm a jackass you're going to listen to.”

“Make me.”

The words were a dare, a challenge you didn't think he'd rise to. But his hands snaked around your neck, and he pulled your lips down to him, silencing you completely with another angry kiss.

Your lips parted immediately, all too happy to take in his wondering tongue as you battled for dominance. His hands trailed up and down your body, cupping your ass cheeks, squeezing your already sensitive breasts, pushing your skirt up so his hands could roam underneath.

You squirmed in his lap, memories of the last night you'd seen him rushing back. His tongue, his hands, fuck, his cock. Pregnancy hormones or just plain old lust, you wanted it all over again, and you didn't stop to think about it for a second. Any second he was kissing you was a second he wasn't talking.

You ground your hips into his as he worked a finger into your underwear, scraping against your clit as he pulled his head away, burying it in your neck as he began nipping and licking your skin, on a mission to taste every inch of you.

“Spencer,” You gasped as he began rubbing your clit faster, your body providing all the juices he needed to make you feel good.

“Spencer, we should- fuck!” It'd been only minutes, but he'd already pushed you over the edge, and you died your first little death cumming on his fingers.

“We should fuck? Yes, yeah I can get behind that,” he said, laying you down again and slowly pulling down your damp underwear.

“That's not what I was going to say, you bastard,” you said, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss.

“I know, but this is much better, don't you think?” He pulled away and fumbled with his pants, pulling them down only far enough to free his cock before sliding into you. He sheathed Himself inside you, pushing inch by inch until he was at your limit, and then he stopped.

He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your neck and collarbones, he took his time with each spot, making a line down your body, a record of every place he had possessed you without moving an inch.

“Spencer, you can't- need to-” you whined, not minding sounding like a petulant child about to throw a tantrum when he was giving you a pretty great reason to do so.

He had eaten your snacks and now he was just keeping his cock warm inside of you, not even bothering to rub your clit anymore, his hands more focused on keeping his weight up.

“I need to do what, Y/N? Tell me, but be quiet about it. This office isn't soundproof, remember.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit-”

You tried to roll your hips under him, to take the pleasure you needed, but he stopped you, letting his hips press deeper into yours, making himself heavy. You tried another tactic.

“Oh, come on Spencer, you can't even fuck me properly now? Pathetic.’

“Watch it-” he said, but you cut him off again.

“Watch what? You're not doing anything. Maybe I'll ask that little friend of yours outside for some help instead, I'm sure Agent Alvez would be more than happy to-”

A short, soft slap to your face cut your words off as he spoke, the hand that hit you immediately pushing down to your neck and squeezing lightly.

“You're. Mine,” he spat, and started immediately rolling his hips into you quickly.

You wrapped your legs up and around him, your hands lifting to grab his wrist, keeping his hand in place around your throat.

He fucked you harder and your breaths became shallow, eyes locked with his as he panted and writhed above you. He didn't look away. You couldn't. You were drunk on his cock, completely unable to sober up and just waiting for your orgasm to strike you once again.

You weren't two civilised people in that room, but animals, forcing one another to submit, to give in to temptation.

His hand on your throat came loose as he came, chest falling down to yours as he flooded your insides with cum once again. To give him credit where credit was due, he kept his cock inside of you and rubbed your clit again to completion, swallowing your every moan and whimper with a kiss, enjoying the feeling of you convulsing on his cock.

When you were both finally done, he let himself rest on top of you, burying his head in your neck and inhaling your scent as you both dropped back down into reality.

“Get up,” you said first, pushing him up and watching him peel out of you as you reached back to the coffee table for the box of tissues there.

“We need to clean up,” You said attempting to tidy the cum leaking out of you away, as if it were merely a spilt drink.

He sat up, giving his cock a wipe down before putting his clothes back together. You both sat side by side, minding your own business, making yourselves look as inconspicuous as possible and ignoring the elephant in the room.

He broke the silence first.

“The girls, they're all our students. The only thing they share is that they all took both of our courses.”

Your heart dropped as you remembered he wasn't here for you, that he had other jobs and responsibilities. You were merely a pleasurable afterthought.

“Shit,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You stretched out and stood, sore but still able to make your body work for you.

“You're sure there's nothing else? No clubs, no extra curricular?” His jaw tightened as he ground his teeth together, unsure about how much to tell you.

“They fit a basic profile which tells us the unsub is killing people as a scapegoat and…hasn't got to his intended target yet.”

You nodded as you took in the information, standing and leading yourself back to your desk and grabbing your bag again.

“Look, just… just use the room until you get your guy. I'll work from the library or a study room or something, just…” You ran another hand through your hair, exasperated.

“Y/N, no, we don't need to out you out, we shared the office space before, we can-”

“We can't. Five minutes alone in this room together today proved… that we can't. Don't get distracted.”

You grabbed more books, turning away from him to avoid the guilty looks he was shooting you.

You'd almost collected everything, hesitating as you grabbed your pregnancy vitamins from your draw, stuffing them quickly into your bag before moving closer to the door.

It opened before you could open it, and Emily Prentiss made herself known again.

“Good, you're already packed,” she said, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over her own.

“I didn't know you all wanted rid of me so badly,” you said, trying to keep your voice as even and pleasant as possible and greatly failing.

“We don't want to get rid of you. Y/N, I'm afraid it's quite the opposite.”

Your heart slowed to a stop, and your blood ran cold as she offered you a sympathetic glance. You must've stumbled a bit backwards because Spencer's hand was immediately on your lower back, his body curved protectively around you as you too wrapped your arms around yourself, around your baby.

“We've had contact with the killer, and we think you're his intended target,” Emily explained in as even a tone as you'd ever heard someone give a death sentence.

“We've contacted WitSec, but until then, we'll be taking you into protective custody ourselves. I have a spare room, and we'll grab some of your things before you move in, everything you need to feel comfortable. Do you understand?”

“No,” you said, but it wasn't your voice. You felt grateful, though, because you didn't understand. There was someone trying to kill you, and you absolutely didn't understand. You'd just had sex with Spencer Reid again, and you hadn't told him you were pregnant with his child, and nothing made 6 there was someone trying to kill you.

But it wasn't your voice saying no, so you stopped thinking and kistened.

“No, she'll… she'll stay with me,” Spencer said, gripping you tighter and pulling you closer, nearly crushing you in his arms.

“Spencer, it's not up to you,” Emily said, her voice a clear warning even to your buzzing ears.

“Y/N? Y/N, listen to me, please,” he said, gripping your shoulders again and twisting you around so he was all you could see, ducking his head lower so you were directly in his eyeline.

“Y/N, I'll keep you safe. Come and stay with me.”

You thought about his apartment and the message you'd left. You thought about the month you spent waiting for him to call, and the month that you'd spent wanting to rip his throat out. You thought about his hands on your skin, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his cock buried inside of you. You thought, too, about the doctors appointments you'd have to reschedule. You thought about the baby clothes you'd have to leave behind. You thought about how you'd have to hide your morning sickness, and your growing baby bump, and your hormones, and all the supplements recommended by your Doctor because you already loved your baby and you wanted them to be healthy.

You thought that if you went with him, you'd have to tell him and confront whatever decision he made regarding you and the baby.

You thought logically that you shouldn't do it. But his hand grabbed yours, fingers intertwined, and he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand, and you were nodding.

“Yes,” you said when you should've gone with Emily.

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and immediately bundled you out of the office and out of your comfort zone.

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redflagshipwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Fast Car Four (of four)

masterpost

Jason swallowed down hysterical laughter. “No, I don't.”

Major understatement. Jason did not want Danny to talk to Batman. There were a couple reasons!

Most crucial to his mission was that he was pretty sure Danny would make him seem a lot less dangerous and intimidating. He needed Batman to think the Red Hood was a coldly calculating threat, not a nice guy who tipped well. Danny was weirdly blithe about hanging out with a man who was over the national news for mass murder and taking over a drug market. Now that he was mostly over the shock of Danny’s attempt to throttle him for endangering his academic ambitions, he kind of desperately wanted Danny to like him. But again, that was not conducive to the impression he needed to make on Gotham..

But also, Jason wasn't made of stone. Danny was wrong about being in danger from Batman. Whatever he was, he clearly wasn't a criminal. He was some kind of persecuted minority. The highest Batman-related-risk he had was adoption.

‘Pretty goddamn terrible risk,’ Jason thought, remembering Dickie's screaming fights with Bruce and his own catastrophic blowout.

Alright. How to make this work in the context of his plan?

“Lemme think for a bit,” Jason said aloud, just so that Danny would steam less. “Obviously, he isn't going to forget about you. He knows your name, where you live, alla that. The best way to get him off your ass is to make you irrelevant as a lead.”

Emotionally compromising him really wouldn't hurt, either. It was really goddamn hard to make Batman sloppy. But Jason knew how to press his buttons. He thought it over and wordlessly led Danny into the safehouse to offer him bottled water from the fridge.

“He's not going to find you here, by the way,” Jason absently reassured. “Do you have to go to class today?”

Danny grimaced. “I can miss a day.” He cracked open the water bottle. “One day.”

Jason suppressed a cackle. He had one day to do something that got Danny off of Batman's sonar. He loved a generous king. “Thanks, honey,” he said. And then he flatlined.

They looked at each other.

Neither one of them spoke. The air was very tense with… something.

Jason looked back at his phone and pretended to be very busy.

‘I wish I wasn't a dumbass,’ he mourned. Jason took a moment to be wistful for a better world. ‘Fuck. I need to solve this. How do I- would dramatically escalating my timeline work? If I skip all the chess moves and just confront Bruce…’

He cleared his throat. “What are, uh, your thoughts on using your powers to commit a major crime for me just once, so that I can get the Batman off your case?”

Danny's lips thinned. “I'll hear you out.”

Jason's mind raced. “So, uh, you stay here today, where he definitely can't see you. I have to go out for an errand or two, but you can just camp out here.” He frowned. “Actually, Batman won't go out in the day.” Bruce had work. “You can go to your classes. You probably should. School is important.”

“And Batman isn't going to like, track my car by traffic cameras and see that I came from here?” Danny raised an eyebrow.

‘He is going to do exactly that to see that you came here, and it’ll take him all day.’

He felt a vindictive spark of joy over how Bruce’s old man neck was going to hurt after hours spent squinting at his monitors. He’d used to microwave rice packs and hand them over periodically so the big dope didn’t wind up laid up in bed the next day.

‘Wonder if the new kid does that.’

Jason snorted and hopped up on the kitchen counter. “No, he's definitely going to do that. But it'll take him a while and I'll burn this location anyway…” He trailed off as an idea hit. “D’you know anything about cars?”

It turned out that Danny knew enough.

So Jason made them breakfast, sent Danny off to school, and then went out to intimidate the minions he'd had for literally one friggin day.

That turned out to be completely unnecessary. Apparently the Joker got the news channel in Arkham and he was pissy about someone making a major news story under his old alias.

In another world, Jason would have flipped off the TV and hunkered down, let this chance pass him by because the stars were not aligned. But right here and now, there was a hot boy depending on him. So Jason was just going to make it work.

Danny came back to the safehouse after classes. “Are you sure Batman is gonna come here?” Jason watched with eagle eyes as Danny absently picked at the pot roast he'd had going all day. Danny liked potatoes. Noted.

“Yeah, for sure.” He cleared his throat. “And he’ll follow me if he hears word I’m out.”

“Leaving me to actually do this.” Danny looked kind of disgruntled about it.

Jason opened his mouth to point out that drawing Batman away on foot was a lot more demanding than what he wanted from Danny, but then he made eye contact and felt a chill up his spine. Danny’s stare looked positively dangerous. He was gripping his eating utensils with what was obviously way too much force and leaning ever so slightly towards Jason.

‘I think he’ll attack me with his spoon if I say that,’ Jason thought with admiration. ‘This man feels no fucking fear.’

“I’m sure that you can pull it off,” he said instead. “It won’t take too long with density shifting.”

Danny made a sound deep in the back of his throat that conveyed a deep and enduring skepticism. Jason took a big bite of his own food to move the interaction along.

There was a huge sigh.

Some latent instinct cued Jason in that eye contact was required. He put down his food and focused on Danny. He conveyed his full attention as much as he possibly could while wearing a mask. He momentarily wondered if he should take it off but no, that was nuts.

“Tell me that you’re sure this will work,” Danny said. He blinked at Jason, looking weary. “Personally, I think that this sounds like it will just piss him off beyond belief and it’ll point to me. I can see the benefit in sabotaging his transportation, don’t get me wrong, it’ll slow him down. But why this? Are you sure that I wouldn’t be better off just going to him and telling him I don’t really know you and I ran because I was afraid of him?”

Jason swallowed. “Danny.” He radiated his sincerity, willing Danny to feel it. “You don’t have to open up to him. Taking three tires off of his car is going to be psychological warfare because I did that to him when I was a kid. It’s going to make him think of me and put him way off balance. When I confront him, he will not be thinking about a gig driver.”

Danny nodded slowly through that bit of personal information. He licked his lips. Jason tried not to imagine that he was doing the licking.

He cleared his throat but his voice still came out hoarse. “I know you don’t know me very well.” Fuck it, it was clearly time for a big swing. Jason unpeeled the domino and did his level best not to let on that it hurt like a fucking BITCH to remove without using the right solution.

It was the right move. Danny was riveted at the show of trust, gaze darting over his exposed features before blinking and settling into intense eye contact. “I have your back. Okay?” He pulled his hand under the table to hide that it was trembling. “If Batman doesn’t put me in jail tonight, I will do whatever it takes to keep you off the radar. Alright?”

There was a nonzero chance that he was going off to die. Jason fervently hoped that his shitty fucking father pulled through for once in his miserable life and shot the Joker in his evil head. If he tried to find some clever solution, Jason was going to have to kill the fucker himself and then try to avoid getting the shit beaten out of him by his dad.

He felt a moment of painful regret that he was doing this. But he had to. It was his whole reason for being. He had to give Bruce this one last chance to show that he cared Jason had suffered and died.

It was like Danny looked right into his soul. “Alright.” Danny nodded slowly and then his face underwent a whole transformation. He didn’t look like a tired college kid. He looked capable and determined. Jason felt his chest seize. “I believe you. And-” he hesitated before barrelling on. “If Batman tosses you in jail, I guess I’ll get you out. I owe you dinner.” He indicated the table.

Jason felt himself smile. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Yeah, dinner.”

He probably should have wondered how Danny thought he’d pull that off. But in that moment, he had no doubt. They were going to go out, at least once, and see if they could be something.

He was going to come back and he was going to take Danny out to a real dinner. He felt it in his bones.

They finished eating in silence. Then Danny silently watched Jason get ready for war, putting on his armor and rechecking his equipment. At the door, Danny handed him his gloves. It felt like a benediction. It felt like he was sending Jason off to battle with his favor.

“Four hours,” Danny said. There was no arguing with him. He reached out and wrapped his cool hand around Jason’s wrist. Maybe he was feeling Jason’s pulse. “I’ll find you if you don’t come back.”

Jason reversed the grip. He brought Danny’s hand up slowly enough that there was plenty of time for him to pull away. Instead of a rejection, he saw Danny’s pupils dilate. He pressed a kiss to the back of Danny’s hand. “Four hours,” he agreed. Then he put on his helmet and went out to face the night.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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echantedtoon · 2 months ago

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When You Kiss Me: Upper Moons

Upper Moons reaction to you leaving lipstick marks on their faces. That's literally it. Zohakutan and Daki are both written as PLATONIC in this .

KOKUSHIBO:

*Genuinely honest? He literally had no idea there was lipstick markings on his face. Legitimately neither did anyone else when he showed up at a meeting.

*He had just let his wife hold his face and kiss his eyelids sweetly before he came over. He was a usually stoic man but there's no way he'd refuse you wanting to kiss his face over and over again before he left(he's putty in your hands) and would've let you continue if Muzan didn't summon him personally.

*The problem is that mans rarely blinks, so no one legit can tell that there's bright red lipstick on his eyelids until after hours of sitting there silently listening to Muzan's tantrums on not being able to find the spider lily, he blinks. Its fast and short but it was enough to cause Muzan to pause staring at him.

*"Why do you have those?" "Those what?" "Lipstick marks. On your eyes." He's confused by the statement until he gets a chance to look at himself in a mirror closing two pairs of eyes and freezing at the sight of your kiss marks on his face.

*He's calm but mostly shocked. Slowly blinking his eyes before reaching up an arm to wipe his face on his sleeves a small smile on his lips. He's going to be having a talk with you later for pulling a stunt like that...but he's not against you covering his face in kisses again in private.

DOUMA:

*You really think he's not above letting you kiss him all over and leaving marks all over him? No..if anything this man is on his knees so you don't have to strain on tip toes to kiss him.

*He's already closing his eyes and puckered up wanting your love and affection after being deprived of it for decades. Tbh doesn't even notice the kids marks all over his face, too busy smiling like a dope ass you kiss his forehead, nose, cheeks, and other parts of his face.

*Probably won't even notice how his cult are looking at him awkwardly or confused or looking away flustered until someone takes him aside after his sermon to let him know.

*is he embarrassed? Not in the slightest. In fact he's proud to show off his love marks. Makes him feel like its a way to show others that he's yours as much as you're his. Low key wants you to use different colored lipsticks to plant multicolored kiss marks on him to match his eyes.

AKAZA:

*He's a big simp for you. So if you even mentioned wanting to kiss his face, he's hugging you gently and practically giving you silent puppy dog eyes for the affection. He just wants his pretty girlfriend to love him and secretly loves when you hold him. He has a cuddle need.

*Absolutely melts into putty when you squish his cheeks and kiss him over and over. He's mumbling how much he loves you with literal heart eyes rn. Which is why he growls angry when he's summoned for a meeting and taken away from you.

*Unfortunately also too angry to realize that he didn't wipe the obvious kiss marks on his lips, forehead, and cheeks so when Douma started laughing uncontrollably at him, he didn't even notice assuming the blonde was being an asshole as always to mess with him.

*To busy yelling at Douma to realize everyone ELSE is also staring at his face as he throttles Douma. Eventually someone breaks the silence (probably Douma between laughs) and Upper Three freezes in embarrassment. His face going a deeper pink than his hair.

*Cursing out Douma still embarrassed and ripping his vest off to rub at his pink face. Douma is not going to let him live this down. EVER.

NAKIME:

*Doesn't mind it if you do it and at the same time doesn't care. Her face is 85% covered by her hair anyways so even if you leave kiss marks on her ninety percent of them would be hidden to everyone else but the two of you.

*She takes at least twenty minutes staring into a mirror at herself however, staring at the kiss marks for a long long time especially if it's the first time you've done this. She'll wipe it off eventually with a smile on her face. Eventually she'll kiss you once back to get revenge.

GYUTARO(ft Daki's reaction:

*You'd probably have to either catch him off guard to do it or really, really, REALLY convince him to let you do it. It's not that he doesn't love your kisses, he's just not super used to anyone giving him genuine affection.

*Eventually you're able to kiss his face while you're cuddling and he can't get away. Eventually he just melts letting you kiss him all over until Daki starts whining and demanding his attention again after so long.

*He gets up with a grumble not realizing that there's bright red lipstick marks on his face and goes to calm her down from whatever tantrum she was throwing. Something about a girl bullying her. However she stops as he enters the room before bursting out in laughter. His confusion quickly turns to horror as she points out his face.

*From now on you're not allowed to wear lipstick while you kiss him. He's too embarrassed to speak about the incident.

*Daki does however recommend different lipsticks and shades for you to try out if you'd really like to get her brother flustered. A dark green to match his hair really has him flustered. Pouts if you don't give her a kiss on the forehead.

HANTENGU(+CLONES):

*Adores it strangely enough. Once you get the idea in his head and do it the first time, he's crawling back to you whenever someone upsets him and clutching onto your dress tugging at it and begging for you to kiss him better because whatever person was mean to him for no reason again. Unfortunately once the other clones see him covered in your kiss marks prepare for the others to come bugging you outta jealousy.

Sekido:

*How did you even convince him? He thinks the entire concept is entirely stupid. "What is even the point of it?! It's useless!!" Is his answer every time he sees Hantengu or one of the other clones covered in lipstick. He genuinely thinks it's dumb, until you finally convince him to let you do it. Reluctantly he does to get you to shut up. Man goes red in the face as you covered his face. He's drawing a blue screen staring at himself in your mirror. This is NEVER going to be spoken about EVER again!

AIZETSU:

*The first after Hantengu to get them. He literally comes to you crying with watery puppy dog eyes and literally begs you to give him the same treatment. He's so cute like this you can't say no. The others are literally very jealous of him when he just curls around you hogging your attention and shows off the marks he's gotten. From now on he develops the habit of crying and begging for more kisses. The marks are an assurance that he's yours.

UROGI:

*BOY. IS. READY!! As soon as he sees you giving out kisses he's on you like green on clovers. Literally. He's scooping you up into his arms before anyone else can get to you, flies off somewhere if he has to before sitting down in anticipation. Won't admit it but he's self conscious about his claws so if you kiss his claws it'll make his heart skip a beat. Lowkey gives cute sparrow chirps as you kiss his forehead.

KARAKU:

*(warning for slight innuendos) You're playing a dangerous game if you decide to give Karaku his round of kisses like he's been begging for. But he won't just want it on his face. He'll want you to kiss his neck, his lips, his chest- You refuse as he implies more that has his dirty mind racing. He pouts no matter how much he flirts and brings it up but you don't budge. He'll whine and complain about you being no fun, but he'll settle for you kissing his mouth leaving his lips red. Likes to tease the others about him making out with you more.

URAMI:

*Probably the most impatient out of ALL of the clones. He literally just scoops you up and holds you up out of reach like a kid unwilling to share a toy. Holding you up to his face and bluntly stating- "Kiss me." It might've been romantic if it wasn't so blunt and he sounded like he hated the idea. In reality he just wants it as soon as possible.

ZOHAKUTAN:

*Doesn't get it. Though he cares about you like a big sister he thinks it's gross but pouts if you don't at least give him a small kiss on the forehead when he appears.

GYOKKO:

*"SO ARTISTIC!!" Are his words when you first suggested the idea to him. You're telling him you want to put on lipstick and leave kiss marks all over him? Uh YES PLEASE!!

*It's all just another form of art to him and in a way it is. The paint is your lipstick, the paint brush your sweet lips, and the canvas is his beautifully gorgeous face!! Of course this man is going to let you put kiss marks all over him! Has no shame about it either.

*He's blushing the entire time you do it and takes an entire hour in the mirror admiring himself. Low key he's probably gets you a lipstick that matches his aesthetic. Purple or light green so it better matches.

*He doesn't wash it off for a long time after and you're later given a blank white vase he wants you to decorate with more kiss marks.

KAIGAKU:

*Like Sekido you'd have to REALLY convince him to let you do it. Of course he refuses at first giving all the usual excuses. "NO! It's stupid! Why would I even do that!?" and "I said NO! Stop asking already!!" Eventually he gets tired of you asking him and one day just throws his hands up and reluctantly agrees to let you do it but with conditions.

*This is the ONLY time he's letting you do it and it's going to be strictly PRIVATE!! You happily agree if it meant just being able to do it. He's scowling the entire time he watches you smear on lipstick and pucker up to kiss him. He complains about it the entire time but makes no move to stop you from planting kisses all over him.

*When you finish and he looks at himself, he goes blank. Mind buffering as he stares at the red kiss marks on his face ... Before he eventually grumbles wiping at his face as you giggle. He's red in the face yelling it's stupid but he actually doesn't mind you kissing him again.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #hantengu x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #sekido x reader #Urami x reader #aizetsu x reader #nakime x reader #Kaigaku x reader #gyokko x reader #gyutaro x reader #zohakuten x reader #daki x reader

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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A Bite Sized Romance

Summary: you offer to make dinner for Azriel, but he gives you half-assed reasons as to why he can’t make it.

Author’s note: I love love love this idea it’s been floating around my head for a LONG time 💕

“Have you ever had ratatouille?” You ask Azriel, taking a bite of the dish in front of you.

Every Thursday, you and the shadowsinger go out to a different restaurant, usually in Velaris, occasionally in other courts. Seeing the shadowsinger could be difficult during the week, especially with your busy schedule, so you two set aside Thursday nights to eating dinner together.

Your brain had a hard time understanding that these were not necessarily dates, even though that is exactly what Cassian, Mor, the whole IC, and even Azriel and yourself call them.

“No, what’s rat patootie?” He says, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Ratatouille,” you correct, sighing wistfully, “it’s a traditional dish my mom used to make when I was a kid. I don’t think annyone in Velaris makes it. This dish kind of reminds me of it, but it’s not the same.”

You sit up, a smile stretching across your face. “Maybe next Thursday I’ll cook it for us. It’s so much better homemade - what do you say?”

He stills at your words, almost choking on his food. Through coughs he tells you, “surely there’s somewhere we can go for it, I wouldn’t want to trouble you with cooking.”

“But I like cooking,” you object. “And despite the copious amounts of meals we’ve shared together, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for you.”

He doesn’t want to budge, so you pull out the big guns.

You pout your lip, making your eyes look as sad and endearing as possible, “please, Az? It reminds me of being a kid again. And I’d love to share that with you.”

Mother forsake him, he couldn’t say no to your sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sure he’ll figure a way out of it before Thursday comes. Perhaps he could find a way to get impaled.

You squeal, “oooh you’re going to love it!”

Thursday was fast approaching, and Azriel was trying to use every excuse in the book to keep this dinner from happening. He told you Rhys had to send him on a mission that night, which you immediately turned around and went to Rhys’s office and asked him to send someone else.

Rhys, having no idea what you were talking about, sees Azriel in the doorway who tells him mind to mind, “come on, say you have to send me.”

Rhys sends the equivalent of a smirk to Azriel mentally and tells you, “my mistake, I didn’t realize what day I was telling him to leave.”

Azriel stood in the doorway and gave his brother the finger from behind you.

Azriel made excuses, all ranging from Cassian needing help with training, Feyre needing an escort to the Hewn City, even to Mor needing help with the upkeep of the horses in the guard. Every excuse was denied by his so-called family, not allowing him to use them as scapegoats. It was starting to make you suspicious.

Thursday morning after Azriel’s last ditch attempt to get out of the dinner, involving some excuse about Eris needing rescuing, you sigh, exasperated.

“Okay Az, it was just an idea. Clearly you don’t want to do it, so just.. don’t bother, okay? Go save Eris from whatever it is that’s attacking him.”

You turn, wanting to leave the kitchen before Azriel sees how much this actually upsets you. “That’s not-“ he starts, trying to grab you as you pass him, but you wriggle from his grasp, disappearing into the hallway up to your bedroom.

Az was sitting on the kitchen counter, wallowing in self-pity over how poorly he handled that situation, when Cassian walked in.

“And what do you have to be so upset about, pretty boy?”

Azriel lifts his head, looking at Cassian eating a stupid banana. Gods, he wanted to throttle him. “Oh no, I’m Azriel and a beautiful woman wants to cook me dinner, even though I eat dinner with her most nights and have weekly dates with her even though I deny anyth-“

Cassian stops, taking a bite of his banana. He looks up, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh my gods,” he says, his mouth full of banana. Azriel decides to play the denial game, because surely Cassian did not figure out the secret he’s kept guarded for several months while eating a fucking banana.

Cassian looked at him, turning to look up the stairs where you had left just a few moments ago, “you two?”

Azriel rolls his eyes, “we’re friends, yes.”

Cassian rolls his eyes even harder. “I’m not an idiot. You follow her around like a pitiful puppy,” he says, coming closer to his brother, “you two eat just about every meal together, but the one day she offers to cook for you suddenly you can’t find time for her?”

Cassian narrows his eyes at Azriel, “you ashamed of her or something?”

Azriel’s eyes widen, not only at Cassian’s question that he could ever be ashamed of you, but also at Cassian’s change in demeanor.

Cassian slips into the protective big brother role when it comes to you quite easily, Azriel thinks as Cassian puffs out his chest while he strides over to stand next to Azriel.

“Now why on earth would I be ashamed of her?”

Cassian inspects Azriel for a second before asking, “then why haven’t you told her?”

He pauses, then asks, “how long have you known?”

Azriel huffs, “known what?”

“That she’s your mate.”

Azriel stills at Cassian’s words. They liked to poke fun of Cass, calling him a dumb brute, but Cassian was no fool. If any member of his family were to discover his secret, it would be Cassian.

Azriel looks at him, “a few months. I’ve been… waiting.” He sighs, “I keep wanting to tell her and then I psyche myself out. Once I tell her, things will be… different.”

Azriel hates how quiet his voice becomes as he says, “what if she is ashamed of who the mother picked for her?”

Cassian’s chest deflates, all sense of protectiveness over you gone and replaced with protectiveness over his brother.

“Then she’d be a fool.”

Looking down, Azriel watches as Cassian’s foot gently nudges his own, a silent request from Cassian for him to look up.

“There is no way she would ever be ashamed of you or be upset that you’re her mate.”

The way Cassian is looking at Azriel makes him want to shy away, but Cassian keeps his gaze steady, almost locking Azriel’s eyes into place.

“I’d be willing to bet she has journals full of doodles where she draws little hearts with your names in it, and she also writes “Mrs. Shadowsinger”

The rise in octave in his brother’s voice causes a laugh to burst out of him, but Cassian continues.

“I once tried to sit next to you for a meal and I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as she did to claim her seat. Honestly, this will come as a shock to no one.”

Azriel looked back up at his brother to find him already looking at him, a soft gaze grazing his face.

“We’re happy for you two.”

Azriel scoffs, “I take that to mean you’ve already told Rhysand?”

Cassian starts walking away, going to pick up the remainder of his banana. “Oh yeah, we’ve had a bet for about a year now. Rhys thought the bond had snapped for her, but I knew it would be you. You’ve made me a much richer man, Az.”

Cassian bows in thanks, ducking out the door as Azriel throws a different banana towards the space he was occupying.

You had been sulking in your room for what felt like hours after Azriel’s latest rejection. You spent the whole time flipping between thinking about all the little moments that had you swearing there was something happening between you two, and each and every excuse he had made to get out of this dinner.

Was your cooking that bad? Was he tired of you taking up every one of his Thursday nights?

The two of you spent an absurd amount of time together - you ate most meals together at the house, you saw each other multiple times every day. Were you wrong?

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but before you can respond, the door is opening and Cassian pokes his head in. He has a hand covering his eyes, but he’s made a slit between his middle and ring fingers, allowing him to still see.

“Are you decent?” He asks, looking around the room.

He sighs at seeing you dressed on your bed, pulling his hand away from his face as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, “Cass the whole point is to not see someone naked.”

He rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to you on your bed, “you don’t even want to give me a peak? I’ve had such a hard day, a little skin would make me feel better.”

You laugh, picking up a pillow and hitting him with it. He lets you hit him, pretending to fall dramatically onto his back.

“Tell Rhys I loved him,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to die.

You laugh at his foolish antics, but Cassian continues to pretend he’s dead. You lean into him, about to poke his face, when he grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Now come on, I’ve got shopping to do and I need your help.”

After Cassian had left, Azriel spent some time trying to decide how he could make this up to you. He didn’t want to force you into accepting a bond that you didn’t know about by presenting him with food.

He paced his room, his long legs gliding across the wooden floors making no noise. His shadows were combing through the house, trying to find out where you had gone after your earlier spat.

Azriel replaced with pacing with purposeful steps as he headed towards his bedroom door, the perfect solution coming to him.

“Thank you Cassian,” you say, squeezing his arm your hand was tucked into.

“For what? My incredibly charming presence?” He smirks down at you.

You scoff, “I felt awful earlier but you pulled me out of my spiraling, thanks.” You say, nudging him a bit.

Cassian had gotten you out of your room and the two of you walked around Velaris, mostly people watching and talking.

He hums, “well, both of my brothers are idiots,” he says, getting a laugh out of you. “They take turns on who holds the idiot stick. Today it’s Azriel.”

“Do you ever hold the idiot stick?”

“Occasionally, very rarely, I will pass it between the two of them, so I only have it for a moment or two.”

You snort, looking down at your feet. If Cassian thought Azriel was being stupid, does he see what you see?

You start to ask him, to prod him for more answers about Azriel, when he pats your hand, turning your attention to where the two of you had ended up on this walk.

The townhouse.

Your brows crease in confusion as Cassian removes your hand from his elbow, pats your shoulder, and tells you to have a good night.

You start to sputter, wanting to know why you’re here. He shrugs, “I don’t question my orders.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning around and walking away.

You turn back around, looking at the entrance to the townhouse, afraid of what you’ll find on the other side of the door, but going up and knocking anyway.

The door opens, but no one is there. A small shadow swirls around you, moving up from your feet to your face, caressing your cheek before zipping off to the kitchen.

You step through the threshold and a new shadow comes and shuts the door, another two come and help you take your coat off and hang it up for you.

You walk towards the kitchen, where you can hear the clattering of plates and some delicious aromas filling the whole house. Inside the kitchen you find Azriel, with a frilly apron tied around his waist, putting the finishing touches on two plates at the table.

“What’s all this?” You ask him, doubt creeping in that this isn’t meant for you.

“Sit, sit,” he beckons, pulling out a chair for you. You look around the room, covered in flickering candlelight and flowers. He must have been working on this for hours.

You look down at your plate, the bright colors of ratatouille catching your eye. You gasp, wanting to know how much effort he went to find a recipe for it.

He takes off the apron, sitting across from you.

“I… made an ass of myself, and I’d like to apologize first and foremost for that.” You open your mouth to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “Let me finish, I have.. a lot to tell you.”

He takes a deep breath, stilling his nerves. You look so pretty in the glow of the candles, and the slight concern you’ll hate him is enough to distract him, but he has to tell you this.

“There’s a reason I didn’t want you to cook for me. A few months ago we were in the library, reading, and I looked up and I watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, laughing at something in your book and I.. felt it.”

You’re in a trance, listening to him speak.

“I felt like I was dying and coming back to life, like your hand was wrapped around my heart, squeezing in time, keeping it beating. I made up some half-assed excuse to leave, because I needed to talk to Rhys.”

You looked at him, hoping your gaze would encourage him to continue.

“Rhys confirmed what I thought it was - the bond snapping. And I was terrified.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was terrified if I told you, you’d deny the bond, you’d break my heart. So I… put off telling you. I couldn’t.”

He looks down at his lap, fidgeting his fingers.

“I kept trying to tell you, then I’d chicken out. Then when you offered to cook for me, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let you accidentally accept the bond, accept me without knowing about it.”

He sighs, “I felt awful when I realized you thought I was rejecting you. Far from it. So I’ve uh.. made you dinner.”

You finally speak, “you made me dinner.”

“I made you dinner. And dessert, actually.”

Leave it to Azriel to outdo himself by finding the time to make dessert.

You weren’t letting a single emotion show on your face, and it made a shiver run up Azriel’s spine.

After what could have been hours, you slowly smiled, looking at him, “what kind of dessert did you make?”

He pauses, “I uh made you- us, uh chocolate mousse. I made two, but I thought we could share one.”

He looks at you, still not giving anything away, “if you want to, of course.”

He shifts, your silence making him uneasy.

“If you don’t want to accept it, I understand. I kept it from you, and I’m me, loving me would be rotten work- what are you doing?”

In the middle of his rambling, you picked up your fork, getting a nice helping of food on your fork, bringing it up to your mouth.

“Well, my mate made me dinner, and it looks incredible. Why would I not want to take a bite?”

He looks at you, a rush of emotions flooding him. Surprise, confusion, elation.

“But, but I can promise you to love me, to be my mate, it’s rotten work.”

You smile, “not to me it’s not.”

You pause, “not if it’s you,” and take a bite.

His chest sings, feeling warmth radiating throughout him. Feeling love radiate through him, and he realizes that’s you.

You keep eating the food, that hum getting louder and more vibrant, until you’ve cleared your plate, and stride over to him.

You grab his face in your hands, tilting his head so he’ll look into your eyes. “If you think I am not aware of who you are, what you do, your darkest parts, you are mistaken. And if you think I will shy away from those things, you are a fool.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you swiped your thumb across his cheek, swiping it away.

You smile down at him, and he has never felt so loved, so whole as he does in this moment. His mate, the one person the cauldron deemed would understand him, just chose him.

He feels like that little boy, looked in the dungeon, daydreaming about being saved by an angel. And he has.

He stands up, cupping your face in his hands, “I was in love with you before the bond snapped for me. I’m not here just because the cauldron told me to be, let me assure you that.”

You smile, a heat creeping up your cheeks. “I’m only here for the chocolate mousse.”

He laughs, a genuine, roaring laugh.

You pull his face in close to yours, gazing into his eyes. “And I have been in love with you since the day after I met you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “the day after?”

You smile, “well I thought I was in love with you that first day, but then on that second day I heard you speak, and I knew no one would ever compare.”

You feel his happiness in your chest, as if his heart is also in your ribcage, yours and his intertwined, dancing through your chest together.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his mouth so close to your own your breaths are intermingling.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his hesitation.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel angst

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sinofwriting · 6 months ago

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Favorite Track - Max Verstappen

Words: 503 Word Prompt: Favorite

Masterlist | Support Me!

Max turns his head, catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. “Good book?” He asks, as he brakes into turn 13.

“Very.” She smiles, moving closer to him and his sim rig. Bending, she presses a quick kiss to his lips, giggling when he lets go of the wheel with one hand to grab at her.

He smiles against her lips at the sound, his other hand leaving the steering wheel when she tries to wriggle away, it wasn’t like he had never driven this track before. “Join me?”

She straightens, looking over at the armchair she sometimes drags over to sit next to him when he’s on the sim but not streaming. Her face wrinkles a bit at the idea of dragging it over and she shakes her head.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t talking about you sitting in the chair.” One of his hands leaves her, patting at his thigh.

“Max.”

He grins up at her. “Join me. Just for a few laps.”

“I won’t fit and I’m not about to break your sim rig.”

He rolls his eyes at the idea of her breaking it. “Schat, it won’t break because you sit on my lap and you will fit.”

Her mouth opens, clearly ready to protest and he takes the opportunity, using his strength and tugging her down and into his lap, only his fast reflexes preventing her knees and legs from slamming into the steering wheel.

“Max!”

He lets out a small hum, ignoring her squirming as he adjusts her in his lap. His chin rests on her shoulder as he looks down, easily adjusting her legs so they are splayed apart and on either side of his. It’s a familiar enough position for the both of them. She squirms again, but he doesn’t let go of her and she sighs, head falling back against his right shoulder.

“You’re not gonna be able to do anything, I’ll be in the way.” She murmurs.

“A bit, but that’s fixable.”

“Max,”

He presses a kiss to her neck, quieting her. “Just scooch down a bit and rest your head here on me.” he taps just below her throat.

She huffs, but moves like he told her. “Better?”

He reaches for the steering wheel, easily able to hold it and rotate it. “Perfect.” He tells her, smirking as he notices the way her head is turned a bit to look at his one arm.

Restarting the lap, he instantly notices the differences between before and with her weight on him. He has to press a bit harder on both the throttle and brake, it’s the slightest bit of more pressure and he adjusts easily enough.

Spa is a good track despite its tragedies, his favorite, and as he starts another lap around it, he’s even more grateful that he decided on it now that he has her in his lap. It didn’t need another reason to be his favorite, but it never hurts to have another reason he supposes.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #sins fics

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gotta-winwin · 11 days ago

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𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1

⭐ starring: vernon

💌 genre: fluff, light angst

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter, allusions to sex, weed + alcohol

🪽fic rating: pg/16+

☁️ masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart. i know i said the release date was the 20th...but inspiration struck and i have zero patience when posting fics. enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin and @chugging-antiseptic-dye for beta reading !

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.”

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show.

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.”

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time.

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.”

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all.

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?”

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?”

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?”

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school? You lied to me!”

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?”

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.”

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him.

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor.

“Ditto.”

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?”

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence.

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.”

“With the utmost pleasure.”

You had to begrudgingly admit that Vernon looked good doing his thing onstage. Vernon. It was still odd to even call him that, when you had known him your whole life as Hansol.

Raising your camera, you followed his every movement onstage, staring at him through the viewfinder. He looked almost iridescent under the lights, shining alongside his jewel-encrusted microphone as he rapped, commanding the stage.

“He’s doing well.” Chan slid up behind you, cradling a bundle of wires in his arms. Your entire high school friend group seemed to have conjoined once again, following Vernon on his tour as various supporting crew members. You supposed all the credit went to Joshua, who had been the only one to keep in contact with everyone else.

You hummed, eyes still trained on Vernon.

“Remember when we used to make fun of this? Vernon onstage?” Chan shook his head in mild disbelief.

You could remember it as clear as yesterday, leaning against Hansol in the school courtyard as your group laughed, thoroughly amused by whatever rap he had performed that day. “Everyone told him it was impossible.”

“Except for you.” Chan looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” It was surreal to see him thrive in a life you had basically built with him. You were at his first audition, every coffeehouse show, sitting by him in each shabby and rented studio. “I never thought he’d get this big, though.”

The sheer size of the crowd had been overwhelming at first. You were greeted by the venue’s cheers when you had entered, taken aback by the crowd and by how many fans Hansol had gained. There were fans waving banners, glow sticks, and various trinkets dedicated to him as they cheered, already excited despite the main act still being backstage. It was a bitter pill to swallow: the idea that he was so beloved.

“Maybe you should forgive him.”

You whipped your head to look at Chan, insulted by his suggestion. “I’m not forgiving him.”

“He’s changed!” Chan protested. “He doesn’t actually hate you, he’s just- being stupid.”

Rolling your eyes, you recalled all the times Hansol had hurt you. “I am not forgiving him.” You repeated, more firmly than the last.

“Y/N.” Chan’s eyes pleaded with you. You knew the youngest member of your group still believed in fairy tale endings, but this was harsh reality, and Chan needed to learn that.

“He broke up with me, Chan.” You turned back to the camera, ending the conversation. “I’m not forgiving him.”

“Hey, man.” Joshua moved Vernon’s headphones off his one ear, catching his attention. “Haven’t you tried…just talking to Y/N?”

Vernon let out a deep sigh as he turned to face him, rolling his shoulders back as he mulled the idea over. “What’s the point? We just end up fighting either way.”

“Yeah, but try actually talking to her. Nicely.”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you do that?”

“Boy.” Joshua pushed Vernon’s forehead with a finger, shaking his head disapprovingly. “How did you even start dating her in the first place? Be nice. Ask questions. Sound interested. It’s not that difficult, Non.”

Vernon had to begrudgingly admit that a part of him did want to speak with you without a fight. He was longing to experience the kind of conversations you had shared with him before, splitting open your heart and baring your soul to one another without fear of judgement. Conversations long forgotten by now.

“I’ll talk to her.” Vernon promised Joshua, moving his headphones back and returning to his laptop. “Don’t worry.”

Joshua nodded, glancing over at Chan, who shot him a knowing look, pointing his chin towards the bunk beds, where you were sitting, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Vernon staring down at you from his spot on the bunk ladder, hands clutching the rails as he balanced himself on the third rung.

You greeted him with a noncommittal grunt, hoping he’d leave you alone. The amount of tour photos still to be edited on your laptop was overwhelming, and you were in no mood to fight him today.

“Whatcha doing?” Vernon followed up with a question, rocking back and forth on the spot, a lazy drawl in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden interest. “Editing your photos.”

He leaned down for a better look. “They look good.”

“No.” You sighed, your shoulders sagging a bit at your words. “The colors are off, and the saturation- I can’t get the lighting to behave.” Waving vaguely around the photo where his face was, you sighed again. “It’s not doing you any justice.”

“Are you saying I look good in person?”

Yes. But you’d never admit that. Coughing as you tried to save face, you shot him a heavy side eye. “No, I’m saying it makes you look uglier than you actually are.”

“You still fucked this ugly person.”

“A stupid teenage mistake I’ll never make again.”

He fixed you with a withering stare.

“Are you done now?” You asked, moving your eyes back on your work. “You should leave, unless you want me to release these with you looking ugly.”

Vernon hopped off the ladder, muttering something about why he even bothered trying in the first place.

“Hey.” Joshua invaded your space next, poking his head into your bunk. “I saw you talking to Vernon.” A meddling smile crossed his face when you swore under your breath.

“Nothing special, Josh.” You pushed his head away from your laptop. “Stop trying to stir the pot.”

Ignoring your statement, he continued. “How was it?”

“The conversation? Bland.” You grimaced. “Vernon? Same old, same old.”

Joshua frowned. “Meaning…what exactly?”

“Same inflated ego, same dumb face.” You looked up from your laptop once again. “Look. I really need to get this done. So-”

“I got it.” Joshua squeezed your hand before climbing back down, an amused smile on his face the entire time. “Just play nice, alright?”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you returned to stare at Vernon’s picture, hating how perfect the universe had allowed him to be.

The air was biting and cold as you stepped off the tour bus for the first time in eight hours. Placing down your bags to stretch your legs, you contemplated whether or not it was really worth it to spend a night off the tour bus if it meant rooming with Vernon.

Both Joshua and Chan had insisted it was the only sleeping arrangement that would make sense.

“I am not sleeping on the couch.” Vernon announced as you both stepped into the hotel room.

Throwing your bags on the floor, you let out a guffaw. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t care where you sleep as long as it’s not next to me. Also, I’m showering first.”

You looked up from your bags to see him sporting a shit-eating grin, already making his way to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Bitch!” You yelled after him, growing more annoyed when you heard him laugh behind the door.

“How original.” He called back, the sound of the shower turning on reaching your ears. “Don’t try and peek.”

You scoffed, setting your things on the countertop. “I’m not stupid enough to blind myself.”

“Bitch.”

“Who’s unoriginal now?”

Cringe pooled into your stomach as you replayed the immature spat you just had with him.

Joshua’s words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you listened to the sounds of Vernon showering, mindlessly unpacking your bags for the night. You’re both adults now. Just talk it out. Play nice.

Perhaps he had a point about the two of you being adults now.

“Y/N!”

The sound of your name coming from his mouth jolted you out of your sudden epiphany. Turning, you spotted a dripping arm poking out from the bathroom, the door opened to a crack.

“I forgot to grab my clothes.” Vernon mumbled, his ears pink as he poked his head out, eyes pleading with you. “Can you-”

Play nice. Fighting everything in you to not laugh, you nodded, moving over to his suitcase to pull out his clothes, pointedly avoiding eye contact as you handed it to him.

A snort escaped you as the bathroom door slammed shut.

A thoroughly embarrassed Vernon stepped out a few minutes later, his hair dripping water onto the carpet, his eyes cast downwards as he made his way to the work desk in the corner, setting up his laptop and the various pieces of equipment he used to produce.

“I can hear you laughing.” He mumbled as he sat down.

Your shoulders shook with the effort to keep quiet. “I’m not laughing.”

“I can see your shoulders shaking.”

Pulling a chair to sit a few ways away from him, you watched as he began to work, the sight bringing back old memories you thought you had forgotten. Watching him produce late into the night as you laid in bed, the dimmed lights of his laptop keeping you company.

“What are you working on?” Your voice was soft, quiet, gentle. An olive branch.

Vernon moved his headphones to the side, glancing at you before returning attention to his multicolored launchpad. “Music.” He restrained himself from adding the duh he knew was unnecessary.

“New song?” You leaned in for a closer look.

Vernon’s lips twitched, knowing full well you couldn’t understand what you were looking at. “Old one. Wrote it a couple months before we graduated high school.”

You hummed. “Can I hear it?”

He seemed surprised at your request, his fingers pausing as they hovered over his mouse. “Sure.”

With trembling hands, he removed his headphones to place them on you, adjusting them until they fit snugly over your ears.

You got something to say? Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head? It's always the same Why don't you take your heart out Instead of living in your head? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out?

Vernon’s voice dripped like liquid gold into your ears as you sat and listened, entranced by the melody and taken aback by how nostalgic the music was. This was the Vernon you had known. None of the current rockstar bravado you had seen him display onstage. The Vernon singing in your ears was the same Vernon you had fallen in love with, baggy jeans, unkempt hair, a knack for telling bad jokes. This was Hansol.

The music ended as you faced him, catching him staring at you already.

Vernon had always loved watching you absorb his music.

“Heart out is special.” He mumbled, knowing the words wouldn’t be heard by you. “Wrote it about you.”

The idea had sparked within him one night, after realizing that maybe he just wasn’t a man of many words. How he longed for you to just take apart his heart and understand him that way.

“Hansol-” You started, taking off the headphones and placing them on the desk in front of you. “We need to talk.”

He nodded. “I-” I still love you. The words caught in his throat.

“I’ve been thinking about what Joshua said. About us being adults now.” The words spilled from your mouth as you finally bit the bullet. “He’s right. We’ve been bickering like children when we should just talk it out. Talk it out, and then we can both move on. Leave the past in the past. Walk separate ways.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart putter to a stop. “But I don’t want to walk separate ways.”

“What?”

His eyes met yours as he repeated himself. “I don’t want to walk separate ways. I want to walk together.”

Rage coursed through you as you stared at him, appalled by how simple he was making it out to be. “You can’t say that.” You blurted out, standing up and pointing a finger at him. “You have no right to say that.”

“Y/N-”

“No.” You cut him off, your tone hard, feeling your eyes well up with sudden tears. “You have no right to say that. Not when you were the one who was cruel.”

“I wasn’t-” He protested once more, only to be cut off by you again.

“You broke up with me.” You reminded him, your voice holding a steely edge. “Over text. And then you blocked me with no explanation. You made me suffer for months before we graduated- and then you just left!” A stunned laugh escaped you as you relieved your past together. “You have no right to ask for more.”

“Y/N, please.” Vernon grabbed your hands, clutching them tightly in his. “I- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Why did you break up with me?” You asked, a question that had been killing you all these years, rotting away as it sat, unanswered.

Vernon opened his mouth and nothing came out. He closed it and looked away.

“Of course.” Something between a sob and a laugh echoed from your lips as you pulled your hands away. “You haven’t changed at all, Hansol.”

Vernon watched you walk away, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. He picked up his headphones and continued to work, ignoring the ache in his chest as the music blurred before him, fresh tears clouding his sight. Vernon knew you were right. He hadn’t changed. All these years and he was still a coward, owning a heart filled with a hundred things to say to you but a mouth that refused to help.

Vernon couldn’t help but look your way as his concert progressed into the night, sneaking glances towards your section as he plastered a look on his face that he hoped passed as ‘chill.’

He hated how your camera seemed to be pointed everywhere except at him.

Although Vernon would never admit it, he could still remember all the times he had been the focus of your shots, smiling at him from behind your camera as you chided him to stay still. His insecure teenage self had always hated being the center of attention, but now that he had grown and learned what it was like to lose you, he found himself missing once being your muse.

Perhaps it was time for him to speak out, he thought, as he watched your eyes flitter across the crowd.

Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head?

A sickening pang landed in his stomach as he lowered his microphone, his own advice seering through the front of his mind.

He had to tell you that you had never stopped being his.

The tour bus reeked of alcohol and puffs of weed as the band relaxed after their last show. Declining to drink, you sat next to Chan, keeping a watchful eye on the group as their designated sober friend.

You hated how painfully aware you were that Vernon was missing. It was a habit you still couldn’t kick -- how you still seemed to be hot wired to notice him first, even in a crowded room.

“Y/N.” Joshua poked your ribs to catch your attention. “Vernon’s looking for you.”

Frowning, you scooched away from him to avoid the liquid that was sloshing dangerous from his cup. “Why?”

He shrugged. “He’s waiting outside.”

You found him sitting on the curb, a few meters away from the bus, scuffing his feet against the gray asphalt. An empty can of beer sat by his side.

“Hansol.” You could tell from his composure that he was drunk. “Let’s go inside.” Walking closer, you tried pulling him up by his arm, failing as he continued to sit.

Vernon let out an unintelligible grunt.

“Hansol.” You repeated, suddenly getting a strong sense of deja vu. “We’re not children anymore, Han. I can’t keep picking you up each time you crash out.”

He looked up at you with red eyes, an all too familiar pout on his face. “Y/N.”

“Hansol.”

“Remember how we used to play two truths and a lie?” He suddenly asked, echoing the countless times the two of you had played the game for fun. “We never finished.”

“What?” Your throat suddenly felt awfully dry as you recalled the instance he was referring to. That one time you guys had played, just a few days before your break up.

“We got interrupted halfway by my mom. I never got my turn.” He frowned when he realized you were still standing, your hand gripping his arm as yours dangled loosely by your side. “Sit down, let’s play.”

“You’re drunk, Hansol.” You reminded him.

Shaking his head, he insisted once more. “Let me finish.”

There was nothing you could do but humor him, and you had to admit, you were curious as well.

Vernon exhaled loudly before speaking, his breath hitting the air in wisps of smoke. “Okay. Two truths and a lie.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands.

“I broke up with you because I didn’t love you anymore. I never actually wanted to be a rockstar, not initially at least. And-” He paused, breathing deeply once more. “I’m still in love with you.”

You felt your lungs constrict and explode.

“You’re drunk.” Standing up, you pried your hands apart, throwing his back into his lap.

Vernon nodded, his eyes unfocused as he stared at some spot on your jeans. “Guess.”

“Hansol.” Your tone sterned, knowing he was a few seconds away from passing out or throwing up. “Vernon.”

Maybe you were the one who felt like throwing up.

Because you knew none of the things he just told you could possibly be true.

Vernon knew he had done something wrong when he woke up with a splitting headache, his ears ringing as he rolled out of bed. He had barely regained his bearings before Chan barged in, pulling the curtain that separated his bunk from the world apart.

“Vernon, Y/N’s leaving.”

A lighting bolt shot through his spine. “What?”

“She told Joshua she can’t do it anymore. Something about having enough photos for tour posts already, so she’s leaving.” Chan stared down his disheveled friend, shaking his head. “What did you even say to her last night?”

“What?”

“She came back looking like she wanted to hurl.”

“I need to go.” Vernon stood up, stumbling to put on his shoes as he unplugged his phone from the charger.

Chan wordlessly pointed him towards your direction.

“Y/N!” Vernon scrambled out of the bus, missing the last two steps down entirely as he ran to catch up with you.

“Hansol-”

“I love you.” He panted out, the words escaping him like a breath of fresh air.

The rejecting words you had been meaning to say caught in your mouth, slipping back down your throat and choking you. “What?”

“I love you. I always have.” He pulled your bags out of your hands. “Please don’t leave, I just got you back.”

“Hansol, I-”

He held up a hand, a wordless request to let him finish. “Let me tell you something I should’ve said years ago, please. Without the games this time. I love you. Hell, I never stopped. I broke up with you because-” He paused.

You half expected him to bail again. To let history repeat itself.

“Because I was scared.” He finished, and you felt your lungs begin to work again. “I was being a stupid teenager who felt the touch of a real lover and got spooked. You were so fucking real and it terrified me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Vernon averted his eyes at your question, chewing at his bottom lip as he thought. “I guess the longer I stayed away the easier it was.” He let out a dry laugh. “You were already so perfect in my memories I didn’t want to risk erasing that by trying again and failing.”

“Why now?” You could feel your chin quivering as tears gathered, awaiting his answer.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He stated simply. You used to hate the fact that Hansol was a simple man, thinking it meant he could never care for you in that deep and encroaching way you wanted.

“You wouldn’t have failed.” You told him, because in your life it had only ever been him. “And I was never perfect.”

“You were to me.” Vernon held out his hand, a wordless request to try again. “You still are.”

You took it with no hesitation, because now, you knew simplicity was just his way of life. And to Vernon, loving you was the simplest thing to do in the world.

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