#it next generation introductions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sodascherrycola · 1 year ago

Text

Lucky Patrick Curtis (Teen: 1975-1981)

DOB: November 11th 1962 Age: 62 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Luck, Luke S/O: Nicole Alderman Kids: Sarah, Vincent, and Xavier Best Friend(s): Dennis Morrison and John Delve Aesthetic: Lucky was a pretty wild child. He had his father’s energy and optimism that Sarah loved so. His parents were extremely young when he was born, 14 years old, and it was difficult to grow up along side them. Lucky would tag along with his mama when she went to school (something she dreaded) and eventually to work once she graduated. Sodapop didn’t want her to drop out like he had, wanted to see her make something of herself. Sarah Jane did not want to stay, stating that if he was dropping out to support the family, so could she. She didn’t drop out. Lucky was the only child for 4 years and when his little sister Magnolia was born, it was safe to say he was in love. He followed her and their mother around daily, wanted to help in anyway he could. Lucky was a good, kind hearted boy all away around. When he was in high school, he became the popular guy. Luck was always going to parties and getting wasted on the weekend with the boys. It stressed his mother out to no degree, but he always knew how to charm his way out of trouble. When he was 16 he got his now wife pregnant. His parents chewed him out, expecting him to learn from their “mistake”. When his little girl, Sarah, was born he turned his life around. He was beginning to get good grades, got back into the graces with his teachers and coaches. He became a big New York lawyer later on, total 80s wall street yuppie.

Magnolia Anne Curtis (Teen: 1979-1985)

DOB: February 19th 1966 Age: 58 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Mag, Maggie S/O: Alec Vaughn Kids: Anneliese and George Best Friend(s): Carrie Workington, Louisa May, and Sofia Palome Aesthetic: Magnolia was always seen as super mature for her age. It may be due to her young parents, or her father’s enlistment, or her older brother’s advice instilled. No one knows where it came from, definitely not her parents. She was very smart and even skipped a couple grades. It was her father’s job to help with homework while her mother cooked dinner. A lot of nights crying at the table, not from her though. Magnolia used to distance herself from her family. She was very independent and never wanted help from her parents. It didn’t help that she resented her parents from being so young. The kids in her grade would whisper about her, that she was weird, a shotgun baby. She despised her parents. Sarah Jane constantly tried to talk to her baby about this, but it was difficult to get anything out of Maggie. Stubborn as a nail she was. Soda began taking his girl out for daddy daughter dinners, which consisted of strawberry ice cream and McDonald's burgers. His wife wasn’t even upset of these outings, praying that it would work. Magnolia eventually opened up on one of those daddy daughter dates. Maggie cried, Soda cried, and even Sarah did when she got the re-telling at bedtime. It worked though, and Maggie grew closer to her parents and siblings. She even still goes out with her daddy for dinners every Thursday.

Forrest David Curtis (Teen: 1982-1988)

DOB: February 9th 1969 Age: 55 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Woody S/O: Natalie Berryman Kids: Oliver and Aurora Best Friend(s): Isaac Brooks Aesthetic: Forrest was a very easy baby. He rarely cried and was easily as good if his older brother was there in the room with him. He was obsessed with Lucky, thought he hung the moon. When he was in high school, he became friends with Isaac Brooks, and became involved in some not good things. He started smoking with him after school and whenever he could. His father once caught him and asked for a hit, but told him that he wouldn’t tell his mother. Woody thought that his dad would lose his mind over the recreational drug use, being a veteran and all that, but no. Sodapop told him that he used to smoke this stuff in the war, to “relax”. It became a regular thing for the two. Going out every couple of nights to smoke on the porch or in a random parking lot (do not smoke and drive!) and simply just talk about everything and anything. This was their bonding experience. He won two tickets to a pearl jam concert when he was seventeen and the first person he asked was his dad. They went and came back reeking of the drug and Sarah Jane had grounded them both, how she grounded her own husband, no one knows. Woody and Sodapop were each others best friends.

Romeo Preston Curtis (Teen: 1985-1991)

DOB: December 31st 1972 Age: 52 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Ro, Rome, Romey S/O: Rachel Carter Kids: Cassandra and Dylan Best Friend(s): Joseph Matthews and Aaron Curtis Aesthetic: Romeo was extremely quiet. He barely spoke, in fact didn’t speak one word until he was two years old. His first word was “no lux” when his older brother, Lucky, was tickling him to no ends. Romey was as shy as they come, Soda found him so hard to understand his young son, being certainly eccentric and outgoing himself. He loved his birthday, he got extra presents (as much as his parents could afford) and he got to be cocky to his siblings. He was his mother’s favourite, adoring her quiet Christmas present. He reminded her so much if Sodapop, not exactly with his personality, but his attitude and looks. He was very handsome and very polite and respectful to others, something Sarah Jane admired in both her boys. One Thanksgiving, Soda’s family came over and as the women were cooking dinner and gossiping, the boys were playing tackle football in the yard. Rome watched from the kitchen window with his mother until his Aunt Katherine encouraged him to join the brother’s outside. Romeo learned how to play football with his dads and uncles and quickly became involved with the sport on school teams. His family went to every game until he decided to change over to lacrosse instead. He excelled at lacrosse much more than he ever did football. He was very popular with the girls, but he didn’t notice it. He was overall a very polite and athletic kid.

Charity Dove Curtis (Teen: 1987-1993)

DOB: July 7th 1974 Age: 50 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Char, Love, Lovie S/O: Damien Sinclair Kids: Ashley, Eric, and Loren Best Friend(s): James Winston Aesthetic: Charity was the IT girl in school. She was very proud of who she was the minute she was born. It didn’t help her ego that her daddy worshipped the ground she walked on, gave her everything imaginable. She was a cheerful and loving young girl, wearing the best dresses her mother could make with old scrap fabric. Charity Curtis was the best dressed girl in all of McAlester and everyone knew it. She loved performing in local beauty contests and was a debutante when she was 15. Her southern accent increased her charm, many people admiring this toddler with the heaviest accent in all off the south. Sometimes she talked too fast and it was hard to understand what exactly she was saying, all her words mumbled together. Her special talent was and will always be her cheerleading. She was captain of her cheerleading squad in high school (just like Sarah Jane mind you) and was her team’s fly girl. She later went on to win many more championships and beauty competitions, earning her the spot of Miss Southern, Miss U.S.A, AND Miss Universe respectively. Her parents couldn’t be more proud of their gorgeous sweet daughter. When she met Damien, it was love at first sight. Her daddy was sceptical of him, but when was he not? He just wanted to protect his little girl from the harm of the outside world, and that included boys. The two actually grew to like each other, but Soda would never admit to that.

Prayer Thomas Curtis (Teen: 1990-1996)

DOB: May 18th 1977 Age: 47 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Pray, PT S/O: Sophie Anderson Kids: Ryan, Ethan, and Brady Best Friend(s): Brandon Winston and Shawn Curtis Aesthetic: Prayer was a very helpful kid. He always offered to help his mother win any housework that needed to be done. Prayer was his parents go to babysitter per his own request. He love his little siblings and cousins and decided that if his parents or aunt needs a little help, why couldn’t he? Prayer would also walk his dad’s lunch to the garage on his way to school if his father forgot to pick it up before leaving for work. Sometimes Sodapop would let his son stay a little longer to talk to customers and encourage him to actually engage with the work itself. Prayer loved PB&J’s, he would eat it for every meal every day if his mother would allow him. When he was a teenager his mom told him that he was old enough to do his own chores like his older siblings and one of his chores was packing his own lunches. Every lunch was a PB&J. Every. Single. One. Maybe a side of lays and a soda. He ate terribly growing up but still stayed very fit, probably from all the running around he did, clearly from all the sugar that was in his sandwiches each day.

Cola Robert Curtis (Teen: 1993-1999)

DOB: January 23rd 1980 Age: 44 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Cole, Coley S/O: Amelia Boone Kids: Benson, Louis, and Elijah Best Friend(s): Kyle Randle Aesthetic: Cola hated his name. He knew that his family was known for their ridiculous names, but he thought he had the absolute worst of them all. Cola. How stupid is that he thought. He refused to be called Cola outside of his house (or even in it for that matter) only Cole was allowed. Cole was embarrassed by his name, his family, and his money. They weren’t exactly poor, but they weren’t rich by any means. He was very preppy and popular in high school, being on the football team and being an honour’s roll student throughout his academic career. Cole tried his damn best to separate himself from the rest of his family. His mother understood where he was coming from to an extent, in a way that his optimistic father could never. She knew how he could feel embarrassed by their finances and names. She knew she named her children uncommon and unique names, it was done on purpose, for her husband’s sake. She knew that when her and Soda got married, they were so in love she couldn’t tell that they were poor. Not until she ran into some old soc friends and they buried her alive with her new status in the world. Cole never truly recovered from the embarrassment and bullying he went through in his childhood, still tried to block out his past and family to the rest of the world.

Angel Love Curtis (Teen: 1993-1999)

DOB: January 23rd 1980 Age: 44 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Ange, Angie, Lovie S/O: Paul Mercante Kids: Daniela, Isabel, Ellie, and Rosalie Best Friend(s): Francesca Bough Aesthetic: Angel was a beautiful girl and she knew it. Much like her older sister, Charity, she was told often times told how gorgeous she truly was. Angie started modelling in 1992 when she was 12 years old. By the time she was 17 years old, she was booking jobs with Tommy Hilfiger, Guess, and Michael Kors. She had met Paul Mercante in kindergarten and he was her first boyfriend if you will. She started having play dates with him and best believe Soda and Steve had a field day trying to figure out this 5 year old boy. He took her to their first school dance in middle school and he ended up dancing with Rachel Burnes and Angel had come home sobbing. Her twin brother, Cole, was ready to punch a kid out. It was actually Sodapop who had been the one to talk the boy down while his wife was upstairs with his other daughters calming his youngest daughter. They got back together in 11th grade and ended up getting married when she was 22 years old. Angel, at her best, was modelling for Givenchy, Dior, Dolce & Gabbana, and was even the spokesperson for Chanel. She got so famous and so excited that she had bought her parents a house when she was 25 years old.

Valentine Waylon Curtis (Teen: 1996-2002)

DOB: February 14th 1983 Age: 41 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Val, Valey S/O: Aimee Bowen Kids: Camren, Aidan, Alyssa, and Hailee Best Friend(s): Ethan Cade and Matthew Winston Aesthetic: Valentine , being the second youngest, was very funny. He learned that he was never going to be as smart as Cola or Lucky and that he was never going to be as handsome as Prayer or Romeo. He decided to be the funny one. He knew how to make people laugh, had an interesting way of making conversation and storytelling. He could talk for hours and hours on end. He was always very cheerful this one. Val hated seeing anyone upset, it hurt him deep down to find a person crying especially his own family. Valentine was very good with his younger brother Blessing. Blessing was a whey baby, crying every 5 minutes, and it bothered his mama, which in turn bothered him. Val would run to his room, pick out the most ridiculous outfit and prance around in front of his baby brother's playpen until he would giggle. Growing up, he was always compared to his Uncle Two, people reminding him that he was funny and handsome, a new word used to describe him. As he entered middle school, he noticed that he might actually be attractive. Val didn't realise his beauty. He believed that he was the most homely looking out of all his brothers, but his mama always noted his relationship to his father, THE Sodapop Curtis. Girls then started to flock to him, but because of his inner insecurities, he never knew how to talk to them. He could make all the jokes he wanted, make a fool of himself, they would eventually turn the other way because they thought him weird. Val turned to his father for advice, which didn't work due to the massive age gap. There was one last option if Valentine would ever want a wife in the future…Prayer Curtis himself. He was embarrassed to ask for help, but Prayer was actually pretty chill about it. After the advice he received from his older brother, he started seeing Aimee Bowen and the rest was history.

Blessing River Curtis (Teen: 1998-2004)

DOB: August 20th 1985 Age: 39 years old Hometown: McAlester, Oklahoma Nicknames: Bless, B, Riv S/O: Casey Moss Kids: Connor and Bailey Best Friend(s): Erick Bishop, Kevin Parrish, and Clayton Ibarra Aesthetic: Blessing was exactly what his name says. His parents were told, due to their age, that they couldn't have children anymore. The two were okay with this, thinking they were done 4 children ago anyway. Sarah Jane, the woman she is, believed that God has a plan for everyone, and that all of her children are miracles in their own right. When she fell pregnant for the 9th time in 1984, she knew this was a sign from God. It was a tough and terrible pregnancy for the whole family involved. In fact, Katherine Curtis ended up making her way down to McAlester to help her younger sister-in-law through the journey of it all. When her son was born, she had already had his named picked out from the beginning, whether he be a boy or a girl. Blessing was her baby's name. This name, he hated. When he was in grade school, his name was brought up in many bullies conversations and teasings. Blessing was a girl's name and a weird one at that. Blessing became very isolated with everyone. He started going by River because River Phoenix made it cool somewhat. As he got older he was just used to being called Riv or River. That was until Casey Moss came up to him in history class and said "Blessing Curtis, right?". He almost had a heart attack. This when he got comfortable being referred to as Blessing. Yes, people still made fun of him, but it didn't matter anymore. Casey Moss knew his name. Sarah was ecstatic when she met the girl that made her come out of his shell. She was planning their wedding before the two even admitted their love for each other. Blessing was very athletic, finding himself juggling Football, Baseball, AND lacrosse all at once one school year. He got scouted in 2002, and he got a full ride scholarship to Colombia University on Football.

#the outsiders #the outsiders next generation introductions #the outsiders introductions #the outsiders next gen #the outsiders oc #lucky curtis #magnolia curtis #forrest curtis #romeo curtis #charity curtis #prayer curtis #cola curtis #angel curtis #valentine curtis #blessing curtis #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x oc #sarah jane curtis

6 notes · View notes

softeningthesound · 1 year ago

Text

rant from a tired humanities major

Why has art and language and culture lost so much value over time? Millionaires and billionaires aren’t even paying artists anymore to decorate buildings, to create things that will last centuries and be admired for years and years. Everything is temporary and cheap and there’s little appreciation for details, for work that has value and deserves to be paid accordingly for. Then there’s the issue of incredibly rich people existing in the first place; we can’t have a second Renaissance with rich people and princes and republics paying artists for their work if we want a more equitable share of resources. Cities don’t want to pay for art, and when they do, it’s a little laughable (see the five million dollar metal ring in downtown Montreal). Architecture is incredibly lacking; we’re not creating beautiful neighbourhoods anymore, nothing is remarkable, suburbia is ugly, the Old Port only looks pretty because it’s Old. We don’t make anything like humanity used to. Capitalism was supposed to innovate but everything looks the same. Humanities and arts majors are laughed at for going into fields that aren’t considered successful or profitable, but that’s just because of the lack of value we inject into them, when art and history and art history used to be prestigious areas of study. How empty would life be without art and the humanities? Contentedness of the soul, as opposed to health of the body, is constantly looked past and set aside.

#inspired by my very repetitive lecture on the renaissance #do not like this class very much because i never feel like i'm learning anything new and i'm not super into modern europe at all #it's an introduction class #but anyway i just get mad all the time about how useless i feel studying history #how it's not a degree with a specific career in mind and how people around me react when i tell them i'm in history #how useless i feel next to 'practical' majors #and a general rant about society putting down art and forgetting its value #we live in a society don't we

6 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 4 months ago

Text

give me a reason.

LN x fem!reader

in which… ‘the one where’ lando needs to get his shit together, or lose the love of his life…

hi! it’s me! back again with angst, fluff and filth! i needed to get this the hell away from me bc i worked on it so long that it kinda stopped making sense so i fear this isn’t my best work oopsie! anyways, thanks for being the best bunch ever and pleaseeeeeee let me know what you think - likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside soooo you know what to do…

songs to set the vibes: hoax by t swizzle, no i’m not in love by tate mcrae, come over by noah kahan

warnings: 18+!! minors BEGONE! smut, angst!! but also fluff sooo..! friends to something worse to lovers, lando needs to be shot ngl, lando is so messy, max is yet again a victim, r loves wine a lot, alcohol use, swearing, lando has a bitchy gf (we hate her!) for a bit, r is just a girl, p in v, general sex acts, unprotected sex (sigh)

8.2k words

you’re perched at the edge of the booth watching. pietra plies you with drinks, knowing full well that it’s the only way you’re gonna make it through the evening. max sits beside her, an arm wrapped loosely around her shoulder as he glares at his best friend at the bar.

“he’s such an idiot.” max sighs, polishing off the rest of his drink in one. he knows he’s about to have his ear talked off about lando’s latest fling.

“such an idiot.” p scowls. you just laugh, reach for another shot of vodka.

“what do you guys expect?” you sneer, faking a smile as the bitter liquid warms your belly.

“you guys are meant to be together.” max states. p nods quickly, but pauses.

“not sure if he even deserves you though, baby.” she coos, squeezing your arm softly. you thank her with watery, bleary eyes.

lando’s on his way back over now, the pretty blonde he’d been chatting up for the last ten minutes tucked under his arm. that shuts you all up, but the cold air blasting out of the dimly lit booth could give lando and his mystery woman fatal hypothermia.

“guys, this is casey.” lando grins toothily, ushering you to move around in the booth so they can sit with you. you end up sat between pietra and casey, smushed uncomfortably into the sticky pleather. lando makes the introductions.

“my best friend max, his girlfriend pietra, and,” he clears his throat when his eyes fall on you. “and, um, my other friend.”

my other friend.

you didn’t think he could reach a new low.

“wow.” you hiccup, wriggling closer to pietra.

“i thought she was your best friend.” pietra narrows her eyes at lando, keeps her voice light and teasing.

casey is beautifully oblivious, sky blue eyes remaining firm on the racing driver at her side. you want to throttle them both.

“course. yeah.” he laughs it off awkwardly, before placing all of his attention on his latest conquest. it sounds harsh, sure it does, but you know lando and you know how he operates.

“i’m going. thank you,” you say directly and loudly to max and p, who are shuffling from the seats so you can get out of this prison of couples that you’d been so cruelly trapped in. “for a nice evening.”

you don’t bother to say goodbye to lando.

you spend the next morning crying into a cup of coffee, wrapped in three different blankets. deeply, devastatingly hungover.

you spend the afternoon that follows on the phone with max.

“it’ll be over in days, hun, don’t even worry about it. he’s probably trying to get her out of his place right now and can’t even remember her name.” max reassures, and while history would suggest him to be right, something inside of you twists with dread. “i don’t know what he’s playing at.”

“you told me that he… you said he liked me, max.” you groan, hot with embarrassment.

“he did! he does! he thinks you aren’t interested so- “

“i don’t wanna hear it max. i went to abu dhabi, flew in just to surprise him, to finally fucking tell him, and… well you know what happened.”

you’d walked into his hotel room and found him balls deep inside someone else.

needless to say, you weren’t convinced that he was as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as max claimed him to be; as hopelessly, pathetically in love with you as you were with him.

“i know, i know, but he was hurting. doesn’t excuse the, uh, emotional warfare, but he doesn’t know how you feel.”

“well, at this rate, max, he never will.”

you’re stupid for being excited for the group dinner you’ve planned. everyone’s coming, max and p, martin, some of the boys and some of your girls. and lando. you haven’t seen him for a week, not since caseygate, and if you’re being earnest, you don’t really want to. at least he’ll be alone, you think. he doesn’t bring his hookups to group plans.

you think, and god laughs.

he’s the last to arrive, the same blonde with the same striking blue eyes tucked under the same stupid arm. you sink your glass of wine before they even get to the table, leg bouncing frantically against the chair. you swear you see pietras lips recoil into a snarl.

“did you know he was bringing her?” she hisses quietly to max, looking at you cautiously.

“obviously not!” max defends, nostrils flaring.

“sorry we’re late.” you hear from the head of the table. “everyone, this is casey.”

half an hour later, after having the magical story of their blossoming relationship shoved down your throat, you escape to the bathroom.

you’re fixing your lipgloss when the door swings open. in casey walks, complete with a hair flick and a tacky, expensive handbag.

“oh, i didn’t even realise you were here tonight.” she speaks, sickeningly false. “i thought i’d notice such a good friend of lando’s.”

you suck in a breath.

“i wouldn’t get too used to little old me.” you shrug, meeting her condescending grin with a better, badder one. “or lando, quite frankly. he’ll get bored soon.”

you leave her in the dust, only letting yourself shake with rage when you know she can’t see you. you bypass the table completely, shoot p a quick text that says you’re going home, and wait for the maître d' to hand you your coat. you wait outside the restaurant for your uber, glance back to see if anyone had even noticed you’d gone. by anyone, you mean one person, and one person only.

lando’s looking around the table, something vacant in his eyes. it’s perhaps the first time you’ve properly looked at him all night. there’s something withered and haunted in his eyes, even from so far away you can see it. he seems to be searching for something, something that he can’t place. someone.

you see that same tired face in your dreams that night, joined by a pretentious, condescending smile, taunting you while you toss and turn.

casey becomes such a constant that you’re shocked that lando eventually comes to a party without her. it’s pietra’s birthday, and max is throwing her a party at their apartment.

you’re there early to help max set up when lando walks in, better rested than the last time you’d seen him. he’s wearing a loose white button up and light wash jeans that sit just right, curls a crown atop his head.

“no casey?” max asks subtlety as him and lando hug. you make no move to greet him.

“nah, she had other plans.” he scratches his nose as he says it, and you know it’s a lie. it’s been his tell as long as you’ve known him.

max stares awkwardly between you both, gesturing his head wildly towards you when he knows you’re not looking. lando shrugs, frantic silent conversation transpiring between them until you turn around.

“fuck, forgot candles. silly me! be back in ten.” max doesn’t give you a chance to breathe before he’s darting out the door, jacket slung over his arm. you glare as he disappears out the door.

“you gonna talk to me?” lando questions, hands shoved deep in his pockets. he tries to sound light, nonchalant but it just comes off standoffish, an awkward reminder of just how much distance there is between you now, and how much there has been since he made it his personal mission to sleep with every woman he laid eyes on. except you.

“depends.” you reply flatly.

“on?” you can hear his footsteps against the hardwood floor, inching closer and closer. your hands shake as you untangle the balloons, pouring them out of the packet onto the table. you feel the heat of him before you see him, closing in on you. it’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him that you can anticipate each movement before he even makes it, your senses ultra heightened.

your breath shakes.

“on?” he presses, aware of just how stubborn you can be. “what’s going on with you?”

“nothing, lando. tired, busy, the usual. nothing crazy.” you attempt to shrug him off, but apparently he’s not done with you.

“then why can’t you look at me? did i do something?” he chokes out a laugh, a revelation of how uncomfortable he is.

you brave the sight of him, turning slowly until you’re face to face. he looks beautiful, freshly shaved, curls tamed back but not enough to stop them from hanging over his forehead to frame his face. just the way you like them.

“see? nothing wrong.” you smile tightly, wondering if he can see the effort it takes to make your face move for him, if he can see the tension coursing through your veins like electricity. he seems to scan your face, taking his time, before he sighs, hums like he’s finally satisfied.

“so you’ve been busy?” lando asks, trying to revert to your status quo, but you can’t bare the agony of pretending. “hardly seen you since, uh, abu dhabi.”

“yep.” you quip, disappear into the kitchen just as you hear max’s keys in the front door.

a few hours later everyone’s had too much to drink, and the party is in full swing. lando’s persisted more than you thought he’d bother to, and you’ve managed to exchange sentences made up of more than three words apiece. you’ve left your circle to get a drink, about to slip into the kitchen, but hushed whispers stop you from entering.

your blood runs cold when you realise that one set of frantic whispers belong to lando, the other to max. you feel that you should leave, come back when it’s all clear but something tugs on your heartstrings and ties you to the threshold of the room. maybe it’s the possibility for closure, or worse, hope.

“mate you called me basically crying, telling me how in love with her you are, and when she gets there, you’re fucking someone else! what the fuck do you want from her, man?” max spits.

“how the fuck was i supposed to know she was gonna show up?” lando retorts, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“the real question is: why would you sleep with someone if you feel that way about her? why are you fucking around? why are you with casey?”

“because i was hurt, max! she’s been going on all these dates, talking about guys she’s seeing and, what, i’m supposed to put my life on hold waiting for her to love me back? i can’t do it anymore. i can’t.” lando’s voice cracks at the end and you lean into the wall, unable to feel your legs.

“you could have told her, you idiot.” max is having none of the pity party, it seems, finally ready to knock some sense into your mutual best friend.

“and ruin everything? she clearly didn’t want to be with me.” lando argues. max sighs.

“if you actually think that, then you’re a lost cause, mate.” you hear what you assume is. sympathetic slap on the back.

“i’m doing fine with casey, i’m finally getting somewhere. jesus, i haven’t even slept with her yet.” lando whines. your heart stops on the other side of the door.

“so, it’s serious then? you and casey?” max asks, skeptical.

“it could be.” lando admits.

you put yourself out of your misery, loudly opening the door to the kitchen. you act aloof, surprised to see them, but the crease in your forehead is all max needs to see. he knows you heard at least some of it. fifteen years of friendship with him means he can read you like a book. fifteen years of friendship with lando has done nothing but break your heart.

“sorry, guys, didn’t know you were in here.” you feign nonchalance. “just need a drink.” you slide past lando, watching the way his back ripples with tension at the slight brush of your body against his. you let out a deflated breath, wrapping your hand around a cold can of god knows what. all you know is you need a drink, and you need to get out of this fucking kitchen.

you find pietra on the makeshift dance floor, join her and your friends to spin and twirl and forget about the man who’s stood in the corner doing nothing but watch you.

a week passes. lando’s wine drunk. you’re laying across one of his sofas, sharing with him, and max and p sit on the other sofa. you’re all giggling about nothing in particular, latest gossip, old anecdotes, random shit that no one’s sober enough to not laugh at. it feels like balance is being slowly restored, like the good old days before it all went sour.

“still can’t believe you did a whole lap of the ski lodge naked.” you tease lando, smirking at him from your end of the sofa. you nudge his thigh with your foot, and he grabs your ankle, thumbing over the sensitive skin.

“a dare is a dare.” he replies, grinning back at you, his gaze lingering even when max interjects.

“again, mate, no one fucking dared you to do that.” max shouts, and you all descend into laughter again.

“i did not need to see some of the things i saw that night.” p grimaces playfully, and you can’t help but flush at the memory of lando’s bare ass disappearing into the snow.

“agreed.” you say, drawing lando’s eyes back onto you.

“you know you loved it.” he raises an eyebrow at you, and you stare bashfully into the wine glass in your hand. you feel his hand squeeze, nails ghosting above your ankle, making you shiver.

“got an early morning tomorrow, fuck.” max groans. “better get going.”

you hug him and p goodbye, graciously offering to help lando tidy up a little as the couple leaves the driver’s london apartment for their own.

you’re carrying empty glasses into the kitchen when you spot it, and it stops you dead in your tracks. the same handbag that casey had carried into that bathroom all those weeks ago. your skin tingles, a phantom touch making you burn.

“so you and, uh, casey are getting serious, huh?” you mumble, finally making it into the open plan kitchen.

lando stands on the opposite side of the marble counter, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, disgustingly domestic.

for her, though. never for you.

“not sure.” he responds flippantly.

“must be, can’t remember the last time you kept a girl around this long.” your attempt at a joke falls flat, even though he’s still tipsy, flushed with alcohol.

“s’that supposed to mean?” lando asks, boyish and defensive.

“nothing, just… you haven’t really seemed in a relationship-y place.” you remark, trying to appear casual as you place the glasses on the countertop.

“i wasn’t but i realised i needed to get my shit together. haven’t even-“ he starts, but cuts himself off abruptly.

“haven’t what?” you press, finding a cloth to wipe the marble clean.

“don’t wanna make things weird by telling you that kinda stuff.”

“lando, you called me when you lost your virginity and couldn’t find your way out of her apartment building. commando. you can tell me.” you deadpan.

as much as you could do without a play by play of his newfound relationship and changed ways, he’s your friend first, and he seems like he needs a shoulder. it would be careless, cruel, even, to deny him of that.

“well, we haven’t, uh, you know.” he looks at you intensely.

“oh. still?”

lando looks at you strangely, wondering what on earth you mean by that, but you swoop in with a get out of jail card that stops him from figuring out you’d eavesdropped.

“i mean, haven’t you guys been together for like a month?” you continue.

“yeah but i guess i figured i should take it slower, deviate from my, uh, usual way.” he admits, scratching his neck.

“oh, that’s… nice.”

“not according to casey.” he mutters, slinging the tea towel across the counter, frustrated.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you enquire, avoiding eye contact.

“i don’t know, she’s just… she wants it and, fuck, i was trying to be a good fucking guy for once.” lando sighs, disheartened. his eyes are trained on you but you can’t meet his gaze, it would destroy you. “i spent so much time unhappy, wanting something i can’t have, so now i just… what would,” he inhales sharply, centring himself. “what would you want?”

“huh?” you squeak, daring to look at him. the room fades away in the intensity of his stare, his eyes boring into yours. the counter that separates you grounds you, stops you from dropping to your knees and begging him to love you.

“what would you want? how would you want that to be, your first time with someone?”

you stop breathing, curling your fingers around the cool marble.

“i… i don’t know.” you whisper.

“sorry, i knew this would be weird.” he rushes out.

“no, it’s not! well, yeah it is, but,” you inhale deeply. “if it were me, i guess i’d want you to… catch me off guard.” you murmur, leaning against the counter, the swirled marble cool against the bare sliver of skin that your ridden up t shirt exposes. “you know, with a really good kiss - soft at first, but the kind that… as it gets deeper, you know something so good is about to happen.”

lando stares at you, mouth hanging open as you speak softly, so earnestly, into the empty space between you. it seems like a million miles keeps you apart, and his eyes go wild, hungry, like he wants to crawl over the surface and pin you to it as he hangs on to your every word.

“i don’t really know,” you continue, trying to brush it all off, pretend that your entire body isn’t on fire, like you’re not itching for something that cannot be scratched. “but i suppose you’d pull me close, so i’m pressed up against you, and then it would get kind of sweaty, blurry… and then it’s just happening.”

lando seems to be bracing himself, holding position, a tension running through his body that wasn’t there before. he’s flushed, and if you squint, there’s a bead of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead, giving him away. your nails dig into your palms, a reboot to your system, and you shuffle backwards awkwardly, recoiling from the counter that keeps you from him.

“okay. uh, okay.” he whispers, nodding rapidly. “i’ll keep that it mind.”

“i’ll put the glasses away in the dining room.” you tell him hurriedly, grabbing the stems and hurtling out of the kitchen. when you reach his dining room, where the air seems to be much thinner, normal, you exhale shakily and book an uber.

“thought you would stay here.” lando strains when you tell him, watching you shrug your coat on.

“can’t tonight.” you reply, clipped.

“can we… can we get dinner this week maybe? just us?” lando pleads, doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice.

“lando… i don’t think that’s a good idea.” you finally give up the ghost, looking him right in the eyes.

“why not?”

“you know why.”

he breathes your name, takes a step closer to you as you take a step back.

“no, i really don’t. why have you been so distant? i know what you saw in abu dhabi was weird but-“

“do you know why it was weird, lando? do you know how that made me feel?”

“no, because you haven’t said anything. tonight was the first night in months that you’ve seemed okay and now you’re being off again.”

“imagine finally thinking that the guy you’re in love with finally feels the same, only to walk in on him fucking some random person.” you bellow, tears slipping over your waterline. you breathe heavily, the admission taking tons off of your shoulders.

“what?” he gasps, jaw going slack.

“forget it.” you mumble, backing away towards the door. you can’t believe the relief you feel, exhausted from the pretending. you can’t even bring yourself to care about the repercussions.

“no, i- what the fuck did you just say?” lando’s eyebrows are drawn together tight, confused.

“you heard me.” your words are hushed, shy, laced with a tremble that makes his chest ache.

“i didn’t know.” is all he can say, staring at you with a desperation that makes you want to stay. you know better.

“it doesn’t matter now. you said yourself, you wanna be happy with her. so do it, go be happy with her.” you tell him, your lack of malice astounding.

“why can’t you fight for us?” he whispers, finally dares to go there.

“i did. abu dhabi. that was me fighting for you.” you scoff at his audacity. “why can’t you fight for us?”

“i didn’t know.” he repeats, voice going up an octave with annoyance. “imagine watching the girl you’ve been in love with for years go on dates, listen to her talk about the guys she’s seeing.” he hits back.

“maybe we’ve both made mistakes, lando, but i tried to put myself out there and got hurt. why would i do that to myself again?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. your heart pounds in your chest, flustered at his admission, as much as you try and hide it from him. it hits different to hear him say it to your face; it didn’t cut as deep when you’d heard it lingering outside max’s kitchen.

“if i thought for a second that you felt how i felt - how i still feel - none of this would have happened, abu dhabi, casey, none of it.”

“but now you’re with her and, great, that’s fine, i’m just not sure how to be your friend right now.”

“no, no, we’re not throwing that away. even if we can’t be together,” you both visibly deflate at the word. “i know it’s so fucking selfish but i can’t lose you like that too.”

“give me a reason, lando. because right now? you’ve already lost me.”

when you get into the uber, you’re sobbing, and you’re sure the poor man that had the misfortune of picking you up understands when he turns the radio up - taylor swift is playing - and smiles at you sadly.

he’s spinning aimlessly in his gaming chair when max finds him.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” is all max has to say, looming in the doorway to lando’s office.

“what happened to a simple ‘hello’?” lando grumbles.

“you’ll get a simple hello when you stop being a dick.” max replies, matter of fact.

lando laughs bitterly in response.

“just tell me one thing. one thing that makes no fucking sense to me. why are you still with casey?”

“i don’t know if i ever really was.” lando observes, eyes vacant and tired. “she was a distraction and i’m an asshole.”

“well, at least you know.” max mutters under his breath. lando can’t even muster a glare his best friends way.

“i ended it about an hour ago.” lando starts. “she told me that she was gonna go public, call me a cheater, say that i used her as a pawn. don’t even get me started on what she was gonna say about…” lando trails off, can’t even say your name. he feels like he doesn’t deserve to.

“fuck.” max sighs, finally walking into the room. he takes a seat on the small sofa. “what are you gonna do?”

“spoke to my team. they’ll deal with her. told me that they all deserve a pay rise and i don’t disagree.”

“and what about…” max echos his friend, trailing off. he leans forward with anticipation.

“i don’t know, man. i love her but i know i don’t deserve her, not after all this. she deserves to be happy and all i seem to do is make her miserable.”

“mate, she wasn’t miserable because you were just friends. she was miserable because you were ignoring her, choosing randoms over her. you know that, right?” max says, finally something resembling gentle in his tone.

“if i couldn’t even be a good friend, how the fuck am i gonna be a good boyfriend?”

“figure it out, you knob. all this feeling sorry for yourself isn’t working out. be honest with her for once, tell her how you feel. it’s not rocket science, lando. she loves you more than you deserve, so pull yourself together and fucking show her that she is everything to you.”

the next week is spent working far too hard and sleeping far too little.

you don’t hear from him, and he doesn’t hear from you, but it’s how it should be. if there’s no distance, you’d have a whole set of problems on your hands, forced on you by a can of worms that needed to stay sealed. it’s better this way, you relentlessly tell yourself.

max and p bring you dinner the night things change.

“you sure i can’t convince you to come work at quadrant?” max prods, taking in the ridiculous amount of papers and spreadsheets that have taken over your living room. “wouldn’t be as intense as this.”

“for so many reasons: no.” you shoot him a look, one that says leave it alone. he nods, gets the hint, and drops onto the scrap of sofa that isn’t covered in paperwork.

“you’ve been sleeping though, yes?” pietra asks, eyebrows raised with concern. she knows how you get.

you hum in acknowledgment, avoiding eye contact as you plate the food they’ve brought. p sighs.

“have you spoken to him?” max finally asks, and you know it’s taken everything in him to not ask, in the short five minutes he’s been in your flat.

“max!” pietra hisses, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“c’mon, you knew i’d have to ask, especially considering he’s been a little bitch all week.” max defends.

“i haven’t. told him i needed space.” you shrug.

“how’s that working out for you?” max gestures to the mess that engulfs the room, swallows it whole. again, you shrug.

“fine.” you stress, digging in to the chinese food. max scoffs and you snort with a mouthful of noodles when pietra glares at him.

“well, he’s miserable, and you’re behaving like someone who’s gonna end up on a true crime documentary, so sue me for asking.” he scolds sarcastically.

“okay, you want the tea?” you roll your eyes. “he told me they hadn’t had sex. i gave him advice - against the better judgment of literally anyone ever, by the way - tried to leave and he fucking ambushed me. wanted to have dinner with me, as if he hasn’t been pushing me away for months, and then had the fucking audacity, max, to ask me why i won’t fight for us, for him - oh! and he still has a girlfriend! so, you know what, you got me, i’m not doing so great but,” you choke out a laugh, opening the box of prawn toast. “too fucking bad.”

“i promise you, this will pass and casey will be gone and then-“

“and then me and lando can go back to pretending and avoiding and hurting each other. can’t wait.”

max shakes his head in defeat, knows he has to let lando fix this himself. he has no chance of winning this one with you.

“eat your noodles.” is all he has left. pietra disappears into your kitchen, and returns with a bottle of wine.

you eat together, put on netflix, slumped into the sofa as you try and relax. you’re halfway through your first drink when your phone buzzes. assuming it’s your overbearing boss, who apparently doesn’t sleep either, you pick it up and quickly wish you hadn’t.

lando: can you come over

like now

if you can

please. please please please please

we broke up.

“holy shit.”

you sit up suddenly, scan the room for your bag and a jacket. you don’t care that you’re in old sweats, you just feel the need to move, to get to him before common sense kicks in.

“you good?” max asks.

“uh, i need to go, like right now. stay and finish the wine if you want, but i just need to go to-“

“lando?” max and p ask simultaneously, and you burn with embarrassment.

“i can’t even try and lie to you right now. is this pathetic?” you question.

“no! go!” max shouts, exasperated, standing to usher you out of your own apartment.

twenty minutes later, you knock on his door.

when it opens, he’s disheveled in a way that makes you hug him immediately, his touch disturbingly foreign, and you feel him sink into your hold. he pulls you inside, kicks the door shut, and doesn’t let you go.

“sofa?” you murmur into his hoodie. you feel him nod, and you part, pad towards the lounge as you shrug off your jacket.

“hi.” he says tiredly, as soon as you’re both sat.

“hey.” you coo back. your eyebrows are drawn together as you take him in, concern woven through your features. “sorry about casey.” lando scoffs.

“don’t be, don’t even know what i was thinking.”

“well, neither do i,” you retort. “but i’m still sorry. did it happen just before you texted?” you ask.

“no, a week ago.”

“a week ago?” you gasp. “but that would mean…”

“yeah. right after you left here. asked her to come over and ended it. she told me she was gonna go to the media with a whole load of shit, so i’ve been sorting things out.”

“i’m so sorry.” you whisper.

lando laughs.

“you’re sorry? god, you’re way too fucking good for me.” he scoffs, bitter with self deprecation. “i can’t believe you even came, to be honest.”

“course i came. i might be angry at you, but you- you wanted me to, so…”

“i don’t even know where to start. i’m just so sorry about the last few months. i thought i was losing you and it drove me insane, but i should have never, ever taken my shit out on you.”

“what do you mean? losing me?”

“the dates, the guys. god, it was awful of me but it killed me.”

“that was only because i didn’t think i had a chance.”

“well, if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t think i had a chance either.” he laughs. “so what you said about abu dhabi… was that why you came? to tell me?”

“yeah, kinda. after some… encouragement from a mutual friend, i was gonna tell you that i wanted us to be more.”

lando shifts closer, your thighs pressing together. you can feel his body heat, so warm and inviting, drawing you closer.

“more.” lando repeats, tasting it on his tongue, the weight of everything he’s ever wanted since he was sixteen and fell in love for the first time.

“yeah, and then it seemed like you didn’t want that.”

“you must know by now that i also want more.” he murmurs, fingertips brushing your forearm. you keen into the barely there touch that traces over your skin.

“i’d say that’s been implied, yeah.” you joke, searching his eyes. they’re hooded, swirling with an intensity that you never thought you’d experience with another person. “um, i heard you and max. the night of pietra’s birthday.” you admit.

“fuck,” he sighs, shoulders sagging. “i’m so sorry, i swear, i never meant to put you through any of this. ‘m so, so sorry.”

“i know you are.” you whisper, loaded with a sincerity that only you could give him. “but you can never, ever treat me like this lando. i mean it.”

“i need you to know that i never meant to hurt you.” he swallows down a lump in his throat, voice wobbling just enough for you to notice.

“i do, lando.” you grab his hand, squeeze it tight.

“what do you want from me now? anything you want, i promise - i’m yours.”

“i want us to try, to see where this goes. i think we owe it to ourselves to see.”

“i never thought i’d ever get a chance with you.” lando laughs softly, the hand on your arm travelling to ghost over your cheek.

“why?”

“because i don’t think there’s anyone on this planet that’s good enough for you.” he confesses, leaning in until your foreheads touch.

“i don’t think that’s true, at least not where you’re concerned.” you breathe.

“how are you real?” it’s barely a whisper, barely audible, but it hits your ears like an alarm.

“don’t go all existential on me now.”

“then what should i do?”

“kiss me.”

“doesn’t that go against your whole ‘catch me off guard’ philosophy?” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to cup your jaw. your foreheads are still pressed together, eyes roaming each others.

“you’ll have plenty of time to surprise me.” you whisper.

you take a second to admire one another, the proximity mingling your warm breaths. when your lips finally brush, it’s slow, tentative, silent exploration. he tilts your head so that he can kiss you deeper, fingers sliding from your cheek into your hair. you emit a quiet moan, open up for him so he can taste you, and the feeling of him licking into your mouth sends your mind utterly blank.

he’s all consuming, totally intoxicating, a fresh blend of mint and something so blatantly lando that you feel like you’re floating. you find his neck, threading your fingers through the short strands at the nape of his neck. you hear something from deep in his chest, feel the vibrations of the low rumble as he presses you even closer to him.

when you inevitably break apart for air, he looks dazed, grinning like a fool as he smoothes his hand through the loose strands of your hair that fall around your face.

“i’m sorry that took so long.” lando hums, leaning in to peck your lips again. you can’t help but smile into it, in a daze of your own.

“me too.” you manage between smiling dopily up at him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he coos, still entranced. “you wanna stay here tonight?”

you hesitate for a second. he notices, interlacing your fingers with his.

“for the record, um, she never did. i couldn’t have her that close.” he mumbles, looking down at your hands guiltily.

“why?”

“didn’t feel right. she wasn’t,” he inhales shakily and meets your gaze again, piercing you with hazy blue hues. “she wasn’t you. i think that’s the real reason that i couldn’t… you know, with her.”

“i’ll stay.” you whisper, nodding softly. it’s all you can formulate as a response.

“i can make up the guest room.” he says wearily, posing it as more of a question than a statement, putting out the feelers. you scowl, eyes sparkling with a mischievous danger that leaves lando’s mouth bone dry.

“don’t bother.”

the grey linen of his bed sheets are soft against your skin as you sink into his mattress, watching intently as he pads around his room. you can smell him everywhere, a tangy, fresh musk that you want to bottle up and keep forever. lando glows in the dim, warm light of his bedroom and you feel a pang of regret that it’s taken this long to get here, muddled with a sense of relief that finally, you’ve made it.

“‘m gonna take a quick shower, okay? make yourself comfortable.” lando says, pauses for a second to take in the sight of you in his bed.

“okay.” you smile softly, eyes heavy with sleep as you relax further into the cushions. you hear the water running, white noise that allows your thoughts to run wild. the slide of the shower door grabs your attention and you think of him under the spray of water, bronze skin damp, hair slicked back.

when will it be your turn to see him like that, you wonder, musings of him pressed against you, bare and firm, flitting through your wandering mind. you realise, then, that you have him; he’s yours. why delay the inevitable?

slowly, you rise from the mattress, breathing shakily as your shirt comes off. your sweats follow, a trail of your clothes leading to the en-suite door. you can hear him humming to himself, the echo barrelling through your shaking body. you’re frantic with tension, a tinge of embarrassment, but then you consider his beautiful words, his confessions of love, and banish the feeling of shame that threatens to ruin you before you’ve even started. you unhook your bra, shimmy out of your panties, and grip the door handle. it turns slowly, steam spilling out of the room immediately, yet you shiver with anticipation.

“room for one more?” you call, and he jumps, turning suddenly.

you can’t make him out clearly, the fog painted across the shower door concealing his lean frame, and it draws you in closer, anticipation swirling in your belly.

he responds by sliding the door open, and you join him under the hot water. his eyes stay firmly on yours, body opening up to invite you in, hold you close as the spray hits you. the heat loosens your muscles, and you sink into him.

“fuck.” you hear him whisper, more to himself than to you.

“hi.” you breathe.

“am i dreaming?” lando blinks, a slow smile spreading across his face as he not so subtlety rakes his eyes over your frame.

“no,” you purr. “i’m real. this is real.”

his hands find your waist and you loop your arms around his neck, the kiss he pulls you into heated with a slow burning passion that makes you ache.

“you’re so pretty.” he pants into your mouth, firm and desperate - so sincere that it shakes you to your core.

“you’re perfect.” you choke out, mesmerised, alight in his thick hands.

“let me show you,” he starts, pauses briefly to kiss you. “wanna worship you.”

his words make you chase him for a kiss that doesn’t come. instead, he turns you to face away from him, your back to his front. you feel the cool spread of shower gel against your back, calloused hands working it into your skin gently. your hair, heavy with water, is pushed over your shoulder and you turn your head just enough to find his lips. your mouths move with intent as he works the soap down your back and over your waist. it tickles and you keen into him, enough that he holds you tighter, angles your hips away from his.

“careful, baby.” he warns lowly, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“don’t wanna be careful.” you half moan, but he grips your hips even harder.

“not tonight, yeah? let me look after you. need you to know that i’m serious about this.” lando pants, his self restraint thin as it hits your ears. you smirk.

“you back on your ‘good guy’ bullshit?” you tease, throwing him a look over your shoulder. you catch sight of his lip caught between his teeth, wet curls matted against his forehead, and a wave of pure need washes over your body.

“for you? fuck yeah.” he manages, crouches down to lather soap down your legs. his hands roam your inner thighs, dangerously, painfully close to where you really need him to touch you, and you groan defeatedly.

“you’re horrible.” you sigh when he’s back to his full height, facing you once more. he flashes you a cheeky smile, fingertips smoothing over your arms.

“wanna get this right.” he shrugs.

“we could get it right - right here, right now.” you pout.

“patience.” lando cautions, rubbing over your sternum. he grazes over the underside of your breasts, daring to go even higher. you let out a broken sigh, shuddering at his incessant attention.

“asshole.”

“we already knew that about me, baby.” he winks. he maintains eye contact as he cups your breasts, massages them just enough to leave you wanting. his touch vanishes, then, and the elastic band of tension seems to snap. “rinse off, i’ll leave a towel for you.”

just like that, he’s gone.

you stretch like a cat across the mattress, the low sun sending the early light streaming through a devastating crack in the curtains. it leaves you disoriented - the sun never hits your own bedroom like that.

quickly, you remember you’re not in your own bed, partly because of the heavy arm that sprawls over your tired body, pinning you to the mattress. his breath hits your bare shoulder in heavy puffs that warm your skin, leaving your tingling as your curl further into the curve of his body. your movements nudge his head into the crook of your neck, his nose bumping the sensitive skin there and he stirs slightly, puckers his lips into a gentle kiss at the base of your throat.

you roll over, his arm weighing heavy against the curve of your waist the whole time. when you’re face to face, his eyes are still closed, unfairly long eyelashes dusting his cheekbones, but a smile is painted languidly across his lips. he looks so soft, boyish, perfectly unreal that you snuggle closer to him.

“go back to sleep.” he groans, hardly opening his mouth as if it’s too much work in his cosy state.

“not tired anymore.” you whisper into the slight space still left between you. your lips find his jaw, trailing across it until you find a sensitive spot just below his ear. he shivers, but he still doesn’t open his eyes. you smirk, tracing your tongue carefully over the definition of his jawline. you suck, bite down gently.

“really?” he murmurs, still smiling like a fool, only intensified by your movements. you hum in response.

“go back to sleep, baby.” you coo, sealing the hickey you’ve left with a delicate kiss, one that contradicts the harsh mark you’ve left.

“drives me insane hearing you call me that.” he sighs, almost pained. the newfound friction against your thigh explains why.

“does it, baby?” you murmur, right in his ear.

“roll over, honey. get comfortable for me.” is all he says in return. electricity shoots down your spine as you oblige, resuming your previous position.

“that’s it, c’mere.” lando rasps, sliding impossibly closer. you can feel the full length of his body pressed against yours, heat seeping from his bronze skin onto yours. your eyes flutter shut, a delicious buzz coursing through you as the anticipation grows.

you can feel where he’s hard, solid against the curve of your ass and you keen into him, arched into his front as much as you possibly can be. your thighs clench together, liquid heat pooling between them. your mouth hangs open as his hand grazes the outside of your thigh, smoothing over the thickness of them before he pulls them apart. his hand slots between them - a perfect fit - and he wastes no time grazing his knuckles over the damp cloth of your panties.

“lando.” you sigh, utterly content. it’s been a long time coming, but it already seems like it was worth the wait.

“you’re so wet for me already. you want me?” lando growls against the shell shell of your ear.

“touch me, baby.” you plead, pressing your ass harder against him. he hisses, thumbs hard at your clit in response.

you mewl, squeezing your thighs around his hand but he forces them apart, his arm tensing as he does. you grip it hard, nails digging into his forearm but he doesn’t relent. he rubs firm circles into the bundle of nerves over your panties, fingers dipping down to press into the wet patch quickly pooling in the lace.

“take them off.” you urge.

he quickly complies, fingertips grazing your hips as he slides the material off of your frame. as one hand settles back between your thighs, two deft fingers pinching your clit, his other snakes under the old mclaren t-shirt he’d leant you. he traces the pudges of your belly, scaling up, up, up, tickling across your ribs until he caresses the curve of your breast, his whole hand engulfing it. he plucks a nipple between his fingers at the same time he slides a digit between your folds, spreading your wetness around.

“feeling good for me, honey? do you know how sexy you are for me, making a mess, wearing my shirt?” lando muses, dangerously low. his voice is strained, a side affect of the hold your have on him, of how entranced he is by the way you writhe against him.

“so good.” you choke, rolling your hips to meet his hand. “need more.”

“more? is my girl greedy?” he taunts, circling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“please?” you’re not above begging him. it does the trick.

you both moan at the way he stretches you around one finger, the single digit sliding deep. he grinds it into you, palm nudging against your clit with every move he makes. one finger becomes two and you gasp out his name, your hand finding his under the shirt, holding it to your chest. he squeezes your flesh, tweaking at your nipple until it’s hard between his fingers and your ass is grinding faster into his crotch. when he moves on to your other breast, you choke out a moan that tears through the both of you, the tension so thick in the room that it’s stifling.

“c’mon baby, i need you inside of me.” you beg, your voice a pathetic garbled whine, one that makes him falter and suck in a harsh breath.

“not sure you can take it, pretty girl. so tight just around my fingers.” lando challenges, slowing his fingers so that you can hear exactly what he’s doing to you. he curls them with every thrust, reaching a spot that temporarily leaves you blinded in the throes of his searing touch. “you’re gonna cum for me like this first, yeah? and then we’ll see if you can take me.”

“can’t- lando please just-“

he shushes you.

“you’re gonna let me give it to you, honey. you’re gonna take it all, because you’re a good girl, right?” his voice is so condescending, so commanding that it makes you throb around him, his fingers flexing harder and faster as he senses your lurking orgasm. “that’s it, honey, i can feel you. come on.” he urges.

your body spasms hard against his as it hits, any semblance of sleep shaken out of you as you fall apart. he holds you close, rides you through it - palm flat on your overstimulated clit while his fingers gently coax you over the edge. he’s hitting every spot, toying with every piece of you he can get his hands on. the hand alternating between your tits roams up to your neck squeezing briefly, just to tease, before he cups your jaw, turning your head enough so he can capture your lips in a feral kiss. it’s needy, full of greed as he swallows your cries of pleasure, keeps them all for himself.

when you go limp against him, the coils of tension finally loosening, he slips his fingers out slowly. you’re panting against his chest, descending back to reality, when you hear the telltale hum, a soft pop - he’s sucking his fingers clean.

“taste so fucking good.” he finally speaks, slick fingers pushing your shirt up your body and you manoeuvre it over your head. it’s tossed away, lost to the shadowy room.

“lando,” you hum. “i’m ready.”

it’s a plea that he can’t ignore, the duvet rustling around you. you feel him kick off his boxers and then he’s pressing his cock against the curve of your ass once more. its big, leaking already, and your mind goes completely and utterly blank.

“you feel so good against me.” he notes, dazed at the sensation of your bare flesh warm against his. “you sure?” he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss against the base of your neck, his hands working to reposition your legs so that he can slip into you.

“never been more sure in my life.” you promise, tingling with the anticipation.

he’s so close that you can feel the pulsing heat of him between your parted thighs. the head of him nudges over your clit and he drags himself up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. you’re frustrated - ready to flip the two of you over, fuck yourself full, but he beats you to it. the stretch of him makes you gasp, knuckles white as you grip the soft bedding. when his hips meet yours, he pauses, teeth sinking into your shoulder, utterly overwhelmed. you’re not doing much better, one hand snaking up behind you to find his curls, tugging softly on the messy strands. he likes it, groaning into the marks he’s leaving on your shoulder, lips trailing messily up your neck.

the sunlight streams harshly through the crack in the curtain, momentarily blinding you. it leaves you with only the feeling of him, a golden haze invading your other senses. he’s gripping your hip so hard that you’re certain that you’ll be able to map out each of his fingerprints after.

“can i move?” he rasps, punctuating his request with a delicate kiss just below your ear. you shiver, clenching around him tight, and he bucks into you inadvertently. it sends sparks shooting up and down your spine, an electric wave of pleasure that has your eyes fluttering shut.

“you better.” you implore.

“you’re fucking perfect around me.” he grunts, beginning to build a rhythm. it’s one that leaves you both breathless, brainless, unable to utter anything besides the relentless chants of each-others names, the needy wanton moans that neither of you can hide.

lando’s hands are everywhere, your hips, your ass, wrapped around your sternum to pull you back into him, plunging himself even deeper into you. you claw blindly at any part of him you can reach, braindead from the way he’s fucking you. you and him are like a tidal wave, surging closer and closer to shore after years of dormancy, of an aching, crushing build up. now, as it peaks, it could destroy you, wash you away and leaves you nothing. you know he won’t. you know by the way he’s holding you, by the soft whimpers he lets you hear, by the way he makes you feel more alive than you have in months.

“i’m so close.” your voice quivers, pleasure bleeding into the edges of your words.

“i’m gonna get you there, pretty girl. you’re so good for me.” he promises, one hand slipping between your thighs. he finds your clit, plays with it between his fingers. messy swirls combined with precise flicks make you shake “i can feel you, honey. can feel you holding back. let it all out for me.”

he sounds wrecked, like he’ll die if he can’t feel you let go around him. you feel the start of your orgasm crawling from the tips of your toes, up your legs, and into the fire pit of your belly.

“that’s it, give it to me.” lando whispers, his voice so far away, even though he’s right there, talking you through it with his lips pressing the shell of your ear.

“i love you, lando.”

with that, you shatter into a million pieces, convulsing around him, against him, trying to get impossibly closer to him as you simultaneously try and squirm away. he holds you close, barrelling into you with fast, deep rolls of his hips. each thrust taps into your special spot, stars clouding your vision, his name the only word on your lips, the only word that has ever existed.

“where do you want it?” he asks quickly, urgently anticipating his own end.

“inside of me.” you pant, delirious, but he’s not in the space to do any critical thinking - you love him! - so he takes your words at face value.

a guttural groan hits your ears like a sonic boom, his body tight and firm against your sweat slick back. he squeezes you tight as he fills you up, submitting totally to the heat of your core, to the intoxicating way you draw him in.

“i love you, too.” he mumbles into your shoulder, kisses the words into your flushed skin. “i always have.”

he flops onto his back, slipping out of you carefully first, a lazy smile on his face. his eyes are shut, angelic once more as if he hadn’t been whispering filth into your ear just a minute prior.

“we gotta do more of that.” lando laughs, blindly reaching out for you. you slip into his welcoming arms, draping yourself over his body.

“think i need a shower. maybe you can make up for leaving me in there last night.” you giggle, agreeing that, yes, you absolutely need to do more of that.

he hugs you closer, a kiss placed atop your forehead.

“you can have anything you want, honey.”

phew.

taglist.

@mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen

#lando norris fic #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #friends to lovers #smut #fluff #angst #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #f1 angst #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut

2K notes · View notes

midniqhtt · 2 months ago

Text

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 07/02/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs six II one I two I three I four I five

gif credit - @/newavengers

here are some bucky barnes stories i’ve read, loved, and reblogged. all the admiration for the writers who share their talent so generously. please be sure to read the warnings on each fic. and if you enjoy them, let the author know by a comment, reblog, or both! ♡

𑣲 friendly banter I @wwinterwitch

sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

𑣲 friendly introductions I @/wwinterwitch

bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, and he's brought a few people with him

𑣲 a place for yelena I @eufezco

after disappearing for weeks, consumed by her own darkness, yelena shows up in your house unexpectedly and decides to reach out to you and bucky, her best friends, just to find out that you're pregnant and you wanted her in your baby's life.

𑣲 in the middle I @ama3003

Being caught in the middle is always hard.

𑣲 everything’s just perfect I @/ama3003

You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

𑣲 thunderbolts? I @ang3ltine

An unexpected surprise awaits you when Bucky shows up at your house with a group of strangers

𑣲 alone in this shitty world I @starktonyx

After Yelena’s sudden outburst, the group scatters around the streets of New York. And, as if this wasn’t already the weirdest day of your life, you find yourself reaching to comfort the last person you ever thought you'd feel sorry for, John Walker. And Bucky is as confused as you are.

𑣲 would you still love me if i was a worm? I @/starktonyx

A stupid little question turns into a makeout session. Your teammates hate to see it, except for one.

𑣲 small circles I @aquaticmercy

Bucky Barnes is still getting used to modern dating… and hates that you have to work with your exes.

𑣲 interstate love song I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky tells the team he saw his Hydra days in The Void. You are the only one who knows him well enough to know he is lying.

𑣲 meet me halfway I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

𑣲 patron saints of nightmares I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky needs to go on a mission, so he asks the rest of the team to take care of his girl.

𑣲 elevator, baby! I @/aquaticmercy

The team thinks Bucky has a crush on the tower’s interior designer. They don’t know that they’re already married.

𑣲 cycle I @/aquaticmercy

Bucky gets jealous of your friendship with Bob… until he realises he has nothing to worry about

𑣲 get around I @/aquaticmercy

After going on a date with Bucky, Sarah realises they're better off as friends. So she does the next best thing: sets him up with you, the Wilsons’ childhood best friend.

𑣲 milestones I @/aquacticmercy

Bucky feels guilty for missing three months of his baby’s life while on a mission.

𑣲 not exactly a secret I @navybrat817

You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.

𑣲 don’t look or touch I @/navybrat817

Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

𑣲 hit to the head I @/navybrat817

Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

𑣲 for better or for worse I @helaintoloki

You want a divorce, but Bucky needs your help for one last mission. Luckily, marriage is all about compromise

𑣲 grumpy!bucky I @lovebugism

the one where bucky wants to kiss you but the rest of the thunderbolts won't seem to let him

𑣲 in the suit?! I @delicatebarness

𑣲 you or nothing I @feathersandferns

when the Thunderbolts enter the void, Bucky goes missing. You take it upon yourself to find him, venturing into his deepest pockets of his shame.

𑣲 midnight confessions I @jobean12-blog

A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

𑣲 drawing the line I @fireinmoonshot

Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts.

𑣲 super soldier domesticated I @writingcroissant

Domestic scenes with Bucky Barnes, because Bucky Barnes deserves to be happy.

𑣲 the one that got away pt2 I @writing-for-marvel

When Bucky enters the void, he expects his memories as The Winter Soldier to haunt him, or perhaps even death itself, instead, he finds himself face to face with you the night you broke up.

𑣲 congressman!bucky I @bruisedboys

𑣲 dye me a lie I @byhuenii

You’re just a girl. an Avenger with a mind-reading gift, hair that changes when the heart breaks too loudly, and feelings for Bucky Barnes that you’ve done everything to bury. But the silence between you is loud. Misread glances, inside jokes that don’t feel like yours, and insane jealousy. He doesn't know how to love you. You’re not sure how to stop.

𑣲 a kiss to change everything I @marvelwitchergilmore

When Bucky becomes the Winter Soldier again, he follows you around. Only you. Funny thing is, you and Bucky aren't exactly friends. So why is the Winter Soldier protecting you?

𑣲 winters child I @/marvelwitchergilmore

You and your daughter live across the hall from Bucky. However, one night when your daughter won't settle, you turn to him for help.

𑣲 a thousand times before I @marvelstoriesepic

Bucky travels to an alternate universe for the sake of a mission. But he doesn’t expect to come face to face with a version of you that loves him, completely and openly. Back in his own world, he is left with a truth he can’t keep to himself anymore.

𑣲 a soldiers solace pt2 I @daystarpoet

Bucky has kept his marriage secret for three years now. He always intended to keep it that way. That was until a mission went sideways, and he found himself having to resort to the one person he swore to protect.

𑣲 i thought we were already dating I @danysdaughter

you thought you were spiraling over a situationship—meanwhile, bucky barnes had been acting like your very committed, very oblivious boyfriend the entire time. one public meltdown, a congressional office full of witnesses, and a very intense kiss later… you're officially his girl (and he never doubted it).

𑣲 wanna be yours I @daddyjackfrost

Bucky’s been in love with you for longer than he’ll admit. But when a moment of clarity after a misunderstanding on his part cracks the tension between you wide open, he finally gets to show you just how much.

𑣲 if we talked I @pellucid-constellations

After overhearing some choice words between Bucky and his best friend, you make the difficult decision to avoid him. For a week. Bucky loses his mind in the process.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fic recs #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts

1K notes · View notes

deathanddogs · 9 months ago

Text

Translation:

Jehan: "Revolution without the guillotine", how I've longed to hear that phrase!

Jehan: Had you been there for the French Revolution, the great poet André Chénier would not have been decapitated

Jehan: I wished to convey that splendor, so I wrote a poem.

Jehan: It is called "The Poppy: Blooming in the Snow"

Grantaire: You are all like the sons of the French Revolution

Grantaire: The rights of the people, the Republic, democracy, civilization, progress, religion, revolution

Grantaire: What's the point of such things?

Grantaire: There are other things to learn: The best coffee is to be had at the Cafe Lemblin, a wonderful chicken dish to be had at Mother Sauget's

Grantaire: Good lasses at the Ermitage on the Boulevard du Maine, that sort of thing.

Courfeyrac: Then why did you follow me?

Grantaire: ...ah... I don't know either

Grantaire: ....... hello~

Grantaire: My apologies for the mess

Grantaire: Forgive me, I am Grantaire

Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras.

He had need of Enjolras.

That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it,

and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him.

#every time i see this part i jump in the air and go YIPPEE!!!#jehan's design is so silly #when i was first glancing through this manga i did not realize who he was #i saw him introduce himself and i was like 'omg that young lady is a fan of jehan! can't wait for his appearance!'#i've internalized grantaire's introduction too much so whenever i catch some of those key terms #i black out and start reciting hapgood #so most of grantaire's speech here is altered everrrr so slightly to reflect the original a tad bit more #nothing major just phrasing stuff #i usually take やあ as a general quirky greeting so that's where the hello~ comes from #for jehan's poem title japanese poems have a unique title format #i took a quick way out of it and went with my good ol' buddy the colon #oh in grantaire's list of things that signify next to nothing to him #republic and democracy were connected by に #i wasn't quite sure what to do with that so i just separated them à la Hapgood #and in the first line #the word i translated as phrase more literally means resonance echo or sound #i played around with those a bit but none felt quite right so i landed on just phrase #'sons' was also literally heirs but another Hapgood moment for me

68 notes · View notes

moonchild9350 · 3 months ago

Text

Special Session

summary: hyunjin has a special request for you, his photographer.

pairing: idol!hyunjin x photographer!fab!reader

genre: smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 2.8k

warnings: soft dom hyunjin, groping, masturbation (m), teasing, dirty talk, use of term slut/good girl, public sex, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, implied overstimulation, reader is cute and shy hehe, cum tasting, taking pictures while semi-nude

notes: i've wanted to write something for this photoshoot since it happened and thus this was born. enjoy ;)

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2025).

General Masterlist

“Everyone, this is Hyunjin.”

Heads turn toward the entrance at the man dressed in all white standing next to your manager, Gene. You along with the others break out in mumbled whispers, admiring the long black hair that is styled perfectly on Hyunjin and how handsome he is. Hyunjin has a charming smile plastered on his face as he slightly bows to the small crowd gathered.

After the brief introduction, the set is bustling with makeup artists flocking after Hyunjin, attending to last minute touch ups and Gene conversing with the light technician. You grab your trusty camera and join the others, making sure everything is good to go while waiting for your cue.

That moment comes pretty soon and you wait on standby as two assistants help Hyunjin get into the white claw tub that is in the center of the room underneath multiple stage lights that bathe the area in a soft white glow. As he’s getting situated, Hyunjin catches your eye and you swear you see him smirk, but only briefly before he’s focused on the assistants again.

Hwang Hyunjin, a successful dancer, known worldwide for his languid moves that tell a story with each step. A heartthrob that reaches out to the many women he encounters throughout his day, his charm and handsome looks enticing his prey to step into his web. When your manager stopped you to discuss you taking on the photoshoot for the idol, you about near passed out, shocked that you’d get the opportunity to film the star.

“Y/n! We’re ready for you!” Gene calls out, snapping his fingers for you to get in place.

You nod and scramble towards the tub and the man who sits in it. He gazes at you through his eyelashes, giving you a smile as he notices your slightly trembling hands. Hyunjin has dimples that adorns his face, giving him almost a ferret like appearance which makes you flush, the thought cute in your mind.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asked, waiting on your instruction for his first pose.

You consider him for a moment, deciding how you want this shoot to go in your mind. “Just act natural with slight seduction and I’ll snap away.”

Hyunjin nods moves his arm against the lip of the tub, his lithe fingers gently resting on the ceramic. You can’t help but stare at the digits, admiring how long they are, how they slightly curve at the nail as he bends them. The water shifts gently as he moves his torso so as he can face you.

You find yourself blushing and you quickly raise your camera to your face, looking through the viewfinder as you focus on his frame. Pressing the shutter, the camera clicks and you look at what you captured, gasping as you take in the beauty on the screen.

Hyunjin shifts again ever so slightly and you snap his picture. Again and again you both repeat the process, moving succinctly and in tandem with each other. Eventually, Hyunjin sighs and his hands slam down onto the surface of the water, causing the fluid to hit the side of the tub. You startle at the sudden movement, your eyes widened as you take in the annoyed expression on the idol’s face.

“Everyone leave.” Hyunjin announces, plastering a look on his face that screams try and defy me.

You start to turn to follow your coworkers when Hyunjin reaches out to grasp your wrist. Stopping in your tracks, you gaze down at the digits gripping your flesh, your breath catching as his hand flexes, the veins popping out.

“Everyone except you.”

“M…Me?” You croak, confused as to why he wanted you to stay.

Hyunjin waits until the door clicks, signaling that you both are alone together. Dropping your wrist, he smirks and a mischievous look graces his face.

“How about a little private shoot?” He murmurs and settles into the tub once more.

You cock your head giving him a confused look. “Private shoot?”

Hyunjin merely nods and eyes you. You stare back in silence and at one point his eyes rake down your body and back again, his gaze paying special attention to your thighs that are peaking out of your skirt.

You try not to pay attention to how his white shirt clings to his torso, his toned chest visible and his nipples hardened and poking through the shirt. If you drift your gaze further down, you notice his white pants soaked through, his bulge present that has you swallowing at the sheer size of it.

You’re not sure what a private shoot entails, never having done one for an idol, but you feel confident you can make it through the shoot, a part of you wanting to please the man in front of you.

Hyunjin knows he has you in his grasp, the anticipation as to what will occur during the rest of this shoot planted on your face. He smirks and brings his hands down to his crotch and palms his bulge, giving it a squeeze as he maintains eye contact with you.

You gasp as you watch him fondle himself, your core clenching as his lips part in a sigh and his head tilts back. You can’t help but look at his hand, watching as he strokes along his now hardened length and gives the occasional squeeze. Your mouth waters at the sight as your thoughts wander to how his cock would feel in your mouth, how heavy it would feel against your tongue, how full your mouth would be.

You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts as Hyunjin clears his throat, giving you a stern look.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s begin.”

Your hands are trembling, nervous at what you are about to do, but nonetheless you raise the camera to your face and you snap a photo of Hyunjin with his hand wrapped around his clothed cock, the head clearly visible through the now see through pants. The room is quiet except for the click of the shutter and patter of water against the tub, mixed in with Hyunjin’s sighs and your shaky breath.

You are about to snap another picture when Hyunjin reaches for the button of his pants, his fingers undoing the metal before he’s sliding the zipper down. You watch in anticipation as he grasps his cock, stroking it a few times before letting it bounce gently against his abdomen.

You can’t look away, your eyes glued to his length. You take in how long it is, how the mushroom tip is bright red and leaking, drops of precum littering the tip. He gazes at your expression, his cock twitching slightly at the change of your breathing to something more ragged.

“Like what you see?” He smirks, teasing you with his words.

“Wh…what?” You stutter embarrassed that you were caught staring at his cock.

“Cat got your tongue? Go on and take the pictures.”

Take the pictures? But you can’t take his photo…not with his cock out. Hyunjin seems to read your mind as he waves his hand as if to dismiss the unspoken concern. He then gives you a stern look and bites his lip. “Go on.”

Raising your camera to your face, you focus on him in the tub, his hard cock on display. You can see he’s dripping, the drops of liquid sliding down his long length and into the water. You try to breathe in and out slowly, willing yourself to calm down. It almost works that is until Hyunjin grasps his cock at the base and slowly strokes the length and lets out a guttural groan.

You’re about to stop yourself from snapping the next photo but think better of it and instead continue on as if it’s the most normal thing. Hyunjin tips his head back, his beautiful neck on display as he strokes himself, his wrist sliding up and down with purpose as he pleasures himself.

At some point you lower the camera to watch him with your own eyes, watching as his long fingers tease the head, spreading the steadily leaking precum around. You gasp and your core is set aflame at the sight. His gaze finds yours as he continues to stroke, his eyes hooded and pupils blown as pleasure wrecks through his body. You swallow and clench your thighs together, wishing for some kind of friction to relieve the ache that has made itself present.

Hyunjin notices your movements, his eyes roaming your chest and eyeing your tits, imaging how it would be to wrap his lips around your nipples. He makes his way down to your skirt that’s covering what he wants most. It doesn’t go unnoticed how you’re rubbing your thighs together, breathing deeply as he strokes his length.

His groans get louder, echoing around the empty room, landing on your ears. As the stage lights above shine light onto his body, little droplets of sweat fall from his hairline and down his cheeks from the heat. Hyunjin makes sure to make eye contact as he feels his orgasm approach, hot and tingling, beginning in his abdomen and slowly traveling to his cock.

He brings another hand to fondle his balls. They are full and aching, ready to release his load as he reaches that sweet bliss he longs for.

You find yourself whimpering quietly as you continue to watch, your mouth parting, your chest rapidly rising and falling. Your arousal drips steadily from your pussy, coating your panties and soaking them through. They stick to your folds easily and you move your thighs ever so slightly, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the sensation of the fabric on your swollen clit.

Hyunjin opens his mouth and moans but recovers quickly, urging you to continue snapping his picture. Your hands are trembling as you catch his pleasure on film, the sight beautiful and erotic. Water sloshes up the sides of the tub as Hyunjin strokes faster and he mumbles your name, lost in bliss.

Snap, Snap, Snap and with the third shutter click, Hyunjin lets out a moan that starts deep in his chest and spills out easily as he comes, thick spurts of cum covering his hands and landing on the water that swirls around him.

Quickly, you capture the sight of him falling apart in front you, making sure to capture the strands of hair that are now plastered on the side of his face, how even more sweat pours down his face. You groan internally at his lips, slightly parted until he bites down on the flesh, turning them cherry red.

His hardened nipples are visible through his shirt, nice and pink, that it makes you lick your lips. You snap a few more shots as he lifts his hips slightly, making sure he milks every last drop of come from his cock. Finally he stops and his focus transfers to you as he gives you a lazy grin.

“Come here,” he murmurs and watches as you shuffle over to him, satisfied at your obedience.

“Lick,” he commands and lifts his hands toward you.

You stare at his cum covered fingers, the substance thick and clinging to the digits. You lean over and wrap your lips around two of his fingers and suck, swirling your tongue around them to gather the salty liquid. Hyunjin smiles, giving you an approving look as you clean his fingers, the look causing you to let out a moan.

Hyunjin chuckles and withdraws his fingers. “Now, come sit on my cock.”

You stand frozen in shock, your brain wrapping around his demand. However, you don’t think long but instead pull your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, allowing your tits to spill out. Hyunjin watches as you shimmy out of your skirt, pulling your panties with it, baring your wet pussy to him.

Standing completely bare in front of him, you blush and fiddle your thumbs not sure what to do next. Hyunjin hums in approval, enjoying how shy you are in front of him. He feels his cock swell, needing to feel your pussy wrapped around him, and he mumbles something under his breath that you strain to hear.

“Come on.”

You obey instantly, shuffling to the tub and carefully stepping over the edge. Your feet sink into the luke warm water and you settle in front of him, your knees on either side of his thighs. Hyunjin looks at you expectedly, his arms sprawled on either side of the tub.

“Well, get to it.”

Your hand dips into the water and grasp his length. You savor how it feels in your palm and you shiver at the thought of it spreading your open. Lifting your hips slightly, you bring the tip to your entrance and slowly lower, gasping at how he feels inside you. He smirks at your reaction and watches you continue to sit on his cock until you are resting comfortably in his lap.

You drag your eyes to his face, taking in his dilated pupils, how they stare at you with lust causing you to clench around him. You feel so full, his cock fitting nicely inside you as if he was made for you.

You’re about to touch him when he grabs your wrist to stop you, giving you a disapproving look.

“Nah uh. Fuck yourself angel. Make yourself feel good.”

You let out a whine and move your hips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feel of his length rubbing against your walls. You repeat the movement again and again until you picked up speed, slamming your hips down over and over onto his cock.

Hyunjin’s moans mixed with yours, a symphony that graced your ears and more arousal to leak out of your pussy, mixing with the water that has now turned cold beneath you.

However, you feel everything but cold as you focus on the pleasure, on how his length rubs against your sweet spot, on the fapping sounds of your ass hitting the water as you bounce on his cock. Your breasts bounce with each movement and Hyunjin can’t help but stare at them, watch as your nipples become even harder with his passing moment.

“That’s it angel. Pussy feels so good, such a slut for me hm?”

You let out a mewl at his words, your hands slamming onto his wet shirt as you try to ground yourself as you switch to swiveling your hips.

“Look at you fucking yourself on my cock. You’re supposed to be working, tsk, tsk.”

Hyunjin sits back and rests his arms on the tub, not moving an inch as he watches you edge yourself, as you’re desperate for your relief. Your nails are digging into his shirt so hard he can feel it. The pain just adds to the pleasure however and he smirks, imagining the half crescent marks that will be present on his chest later.

He slaps your ass and you let out a yelp, squeezing your eyes as a wave of pleasure shoots through your body straight to your core.

“Again!” You beg, eyes flying open to look straight into his chocolate brown ones.

Hyunjin brings his hand down again and again until you’re whimpering and dragging your hips against his cock in fervor.

“I bet you’re close hm? Gonna come all over my cock?”

“Yeah, m’gonna come on your cock Hyun. Ah!” You let out a loud moan and let go, your walls squeezing around his cock. Your thighs shake at the intensity and your toes curl as you dig your nails so hard into his chest, little pebbles of blood paint the fabric of the white shirt.

“Such a good girl. But you’re not done. I haven’t come yet. Keep fucking yourself angel.”

You stare at Hyunjin in shock. “But…it’s too much,” you murmur.

“Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You nod your head, not wanting to disappoint him.

“Well then ride.”

Taking a deep breath you rock your hips, wincing slightly as the feel of his cock rubbing your sensitive walls. Hyunjin just sits there and watches, as you slowly pick up speed, your whines turning into moans as the pleasure took over.

“Such a good pussy. Not gonna let you go angel. You’re mine you hear me?” Hyunjin grunts as he struggles to keep eye contact, his orgasm encroaching by the second.

“I’m yours,” you moan as you feel his cum coat your walls, triggering another orgasm from you.

Your head falls onto his shoulders as you tremble, savoring how full you feel and completely worn out from his cock. You both sit there in the tub, the water settling around you as you both come down from your highs. Silence fills the room and the lights above beat down on your back, warming up the skin gently.

Hyunjin pulls you back and lifts your chin, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes.

“My good little slut,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your lips, sealing in your fate of becoming his. “Now how about we finish this photoshoot?”

divider by @strangergraphics

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek @skzdreamer13 @lezleeferguson-120

#stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x you #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x you #hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin fanfic

932 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 2 months ago

Text

Hot Doctor Boyfriend

Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

Summary: PTMC's in a tizzy over the admission of one of the city's biggest stars to the ER. Jack realizes that introductions, and explanations, are going to need to be made.

Word count: 2.5k

A note from the author: I'm not a medical professional and thus know nothing about how fast CT scanners can be made available. I also believe that sports injuries are sent to an actual imaging center the next day and not to the ER, but it made for a fun plot so please don't come for me on any of this. Thank you to the 150+ of you who voted that you wanted to see this trope in particular, and to the over 300 of you who voted on the poll in general!

In his personal life, Jack Abbot is not one to put much belief into superstitions. Black cats crossing paths, not opening umbrellas indoors, tossing salt over the shoulder—it’s never made sense to him why these have become rituals that are so ingrained in society. He’s a man of science and logic, and science and logic dictate that superstitions are fanciful and have no influence over events that may or may not happen in one’s life.

In his work life, though? Oh, superstitions are very much to be believed and adhered to. Saying that it’s too quiet while on a shift is a recipe for disaster. Full moons almost always bring out the crazy in everyone. For whatever reason, the hospital defies those carefully-held beliefs in science and logic and becomes something otherworldly. Jack’s certainly not about to ruin the careful balance that an emergency department achieves, and so he fastidiously follows these superstitions the moment that he clocks in.

He’s in late tonight, having used a couple of hours of PTO to attend a niece’s choir concert. The moment that he hits the ER floor, though, he’s wondering if he should have taken the whole night off instead. People are acting weird tonight. Huddling around in loose groups, giggling and talking, spreading information amongst themselves. They all keep looking a certain direction too, almost like they’re waiting for someone, or something, to appear. Even when he passes, they only bother to look busy for a few seconds before going back to their previous states.

By the time he reaches the ER floor desk, he’s feeling thoroughly rattled.

“Did the moon suddenly go from waxing to full during the duration of my walk from the parking lot to the ER?” Jack asks the assembled staff.

Mary, tonight’s charge nurse, shakes her head and smiles. “Nope. Full moon is still another fourteen days away.”

“Couldn’t tell. Why are they acting like this…all the–the whispering and shit? I hate it when they do that; feels like they’re conspiring against me.”

“We have a VIP in the ER tonight.”

Jack’s brows furrow. “Myrna’s back already?” Though Myrna’s a frequent flyer, coming back a mere two hours after discharge would be a new record for her.

“Nope. An actual VIP.”

He thinks for a couple of seconds, trying to decide who would be important enough to have an entire floor of medical professionals—people who have enough degrees combined to bring a thermometer up to triple digits—acting like nervy teens. “Okay, you’ve hooked me. Who’s disrupting our orderly chaos?”

Mary leans over the desk, eyes bright and a grin playing at her lips. “Sidney Crosby is sitting in North 3 right now.”

“What?”

Hockey is not the most popular sport in America. In fact, out of the four big professional sports leagues in the US, hockey is at the bottom. But one would have to be living under a rock to be in Pittsburgh and not know who Sidney Crosby is. He’s the city’s sweetheart; not only is he one hell of a hockey player, but he’s also a great guy. How many times has Jack seen something on the news about him donating his money or his time to local causes? How many times has he gone semi-viral for playing street hockey with random groups of children?

“Hold on,” he says, hastily grabbing a tablet from the charging docks. Not because he doesn’t believe Mary (he doesn’t make it a point to question any of the nurses, who regularly save his ass), but because he’s wondering what the hell one of the most decorated hockey players of the 21st century did to land in PTMC’s ER. Even as he reads, Mary verbalizes his chart for him.

“He was chasing a puck behind the net during tonight’s game against the Panthers and took a hard check. The training staff pretty quickly diagnosed shoulder dislocation, but they obviously don’t have the right imaging equipment at PPG. He arrived with one of the trainers, and they’re waiting for a doctor now after yours truly took vitals.”

“And you didn’t accost him or anything? I’ve seen those hockey romance novels you read,” Jack smirks.

Across from him, Mary flushes red. “I only fangirled a little bit, thank you very much.”

As his brain begins to catch up with what the commotion in the ER actually means, Jack’s own excitement fades a little. If Sidney Crosby’s here, and if he got injured during a game, then chances are that means—

“Guess we’re doing this now,” he says with a sigh, earning the curious eyes of those around him.

“Doc, you alright?” Shen asks, pausing in his walk from one bay to the next.

“Just fine.” He looks over the interns and residents who aren’t currently on a case, deciding which one won’t lose all professionalism the moment they’re faced with a veritable star. “Santos, you’re with me.”

Santos stares at him, the energy drink she was planning on taking a sip from paused halfway to her lips. The residents are on only their second week of night shift and are still getting used to life on the dark side, including the quirks of their new boss. Shen says he scares them, but that’s ridiculous; they all worked the PittFest mass cas with him just fine!

(Although…maybe that’s why they’re a little wary? The fact that the one and only time they interacted with him was during a pretty traumatic event where he was barking out orders? Oh well, that’s a conversation for his next therapy appointment.)

“Me?” Santos points to herself.

He has to fight himself from rolling his eyes. “Unless there’s somebody else here named Santos?”

“No, no sir.” She loops her stethoscope around her neck again and hurries after Jack, already halfway to North 3.

He pauses just outside of the doors and pretends to check the tablet in his hands, taking a quick moment to prepare himself for the finality of what comes next. When he and Santos enter the room, he goes against his medical instincts and doesn’t immediately greet the patient.

“Y’know, if you missed me that much, you didn’t have to have somebody stage an injury to see me,” he says.

From the chair next to the hospital bed, you smile. “What can I say, handsome? Our schedules haven’t meshed recently, I needed to get your attention somehow.”

The two others in the room are watching the exchange with the intensity and confusion of a novice attending Wimbledon. They’re both trying to figure out dynamics here, wondering what’s led to this moment where one seeming stranger is talking to another like they intimately know each other.

Finally, the hospital’s own VIP speaks. “Wait, is this hot doctor boyfriend?”

Though Jack isn’t facing her, he can hear Santos’s gasp as a surprised, “Boyfriend?” falls from her mouth.

You sputter while trying to remember how words work, and Jack laughs. “That was said to you in confidence, man!” you complain.

Jack steps closer to the bed and holds out his hand. “I guess that’s me. Dr. Jack Abbot.”

Sidney Crosby (the part of Jack that’s watched hockey since he was a little kid sitting in the den with his dad tries not to start freaking out) raises the hand that’s not currently in a sling to shake Jack’s. “Sidney. Call me Sid.”

He’s a little too starstruck to feel comfortable calling him a nickname like Sid, but it’s nice to have a friendly patient every once in a while.

Behind him, Santos’s thumbs surreptitiously tap on her phone, surely letting every resident in this hospital know that Jack Abbot is off the market. Jack rolls his neck, looks at Santos until she realizes she’s been caught and puts her phone in her scrubs pocket, and gets to work as best as he can.

“It’s already in your chart, but I want to hear it from you,” Jack says. “How’d you end up in the sling?”

“Jarry dumped a puck behind the net that couldn’t be iced. I went to chase after it and got checked, but hit the boards wrong. Felt a popping and pain right away, which is never good,” Sidney explains.

“I’m guessing this isn’t your first dislocation?” Jack asks, helping to remove the sling so he can examine the injury.

“Far from it.” Sidney’s scoff is cut off by a pained groan when Jack begins to feel the joint. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch.”

“You need some meds?”

“We administered 600 milligrams of ibuprofen at the arena,” you supply. “A little morphine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Santos?” Jack turns to look at the resident.

“On it,” she says, already heading to grab the needed supplies.

“Your staff is diagnosing it as a dislocation, too?” Jack asks you.

“Like Sid said, he reported his pain as immediate and swelling has continued since the incident, which are two of the biggest indicators for dislocation. A preliminary exam at the rink says dislocation as well. We’re confident in that diagnosis but need imaging to confirm,” you report.

Santos, who’s returned with morphine and is working on drawing it up, looks at you. “You’re a doctor, too?”

You shake your head. “Athletic trainer. I work for the Penguins.”

“Nice.” She grins as she injects the morphine through the IV (Jack’s not sure if she’s smiling at your career or getting to do tasks related to her job).

Sidney relaxes almost immediately, the morphine quickly going to work. Jack takes the opportunity to finish his exam, confirming what everybody’s expected. “Your shoulder’s definitely dislocated. I’ll push you to the front of the CT line, and pending results, we’ll hopefully be able to pop it back in within the hour.”

Jack grabs the tablet and puts in the orders, adding, “Yes, it’s THAT Sidney Crosby” in the ‘notes’ section in the hopes that radiology will actually take him seriously.

“I gotta know,” Sidney asks you, “how did you and hot doctor boyfriend meet?”

“You remember when the front office gave us all tickets to the Steelers game in September?” He nods. “I was tailgating with some friends from marketing when a fight broke out in the spot next to ours. Fists started swinging and one almost got me when I turned around to see what was going on. Jack pulled me out of the way just in time.”

“I was a goner the moment you reared around with your fists raised like you thought I was going to fight you,” Jack recalls fondly.

You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes, and you look down. Though you don’t say anything, Sidney seems to already know what you’re looking at and grins.

“Tanger or Geno?” Sidney guesses.

You laugh lightly. “Tanger. Wanting to know if they’ve popped the shoulder back in yet.”

“Didn’t the game just finish?” Santos asks.

“Ten minutes ago, if that. Kris Letang’s an impatient one.”

“Holy shit, that’s so cool,” Santos whispers under her breath from the biohazard disposal receptacle near the sink, a rare crack in the badass persona she tries so hard to maintain at work.

“We win?” Sidney wonders.

“2-1,” you confirm.

Mary knocks before popping her head into the room. “CT’s ready.”

“Santos, go with?” Jack steps towards her and lowers his voice. “Make sure that nobody hassles him.”

She nods and takes one side of the bed, a couple of members of the transport team taking the other. You rise from the chair and move to Sidney’s side, stealing his phone and other personal items so that he doesn’t have to worry about them getting lost (or, god forbid, stolen by some superfan working tonight).

“You’re in good hands, okay?” you reassure. “See you soon, Sid.”

He gives you a halfhearted wave and then is gone. The room, so quickly full of life as doctors and nurses filed in and out to provide care, has gone quiet just as fast.

Just another day in the ER.

Now that it’s silent, Jack gets the joy of focusing his full attention on you for the first time today. To his pleasure, he finds you looking at him already, eyes and smile both soft.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Hi.” It’s breaking so many hospital protocols to give you a kiss, but he can’t resist a quick one. Not when you’re standing there in your team-issued quarter-zip and ice-friendly tennis shoes, looking very professional (Robby’s right—he really is whipped). “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. How was Reneé’s concert?”

Jack smiles, pleased that you remembered. “Good! She killed her solo.”

“Oh good, I know you said she was nervous…” you trail off, looking over Jack’s shoulder and out the door. “Why are they staring?”

When he turns his head, he sees a small group of residents and interns curiously peering inside to see that Jack Abbot does have a life outside of work. Of course, they all scatter like marbles upon realizing that they’ve been caught. Javadi’s the last one to run, stuck like a deer in headlights until Mohan pulls her along. “I…may have not told anybody except for Robby and a couple of close friends here that I was seeing someone.”

“Jack!” You sound scandalized, but he can tell by the grin you sport that there’s no offense behind it. “We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I’m not in the business of telling everybody my business. And you’re one to talk! I’m just ‘hot doctor boyfriend’ when you’re at work?” He can’t help but smile as he says it, from both the name and the fact that somebody cares about him enough to call him such a thing.

“Hot doctor boyfriend is fun to say! Adds some mystery to my life. Plus, hockey players are terrible gossips. It gives them something to talk about.”

“Maybe I was trying to do the same. Add some mystery to my life.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that he’s full of shit. “Sure, Mr. Brick Wall.”

“I think I prefer hot doctor boyfriend.” He earns himself a kiss for that. Screw propriety, he thinks as he leans in and steals a couple more precious seconds.

“We should go out there,” you murmur against his lips, “they’re gonna think we’re hiding.”

Jack sighs before pulling away, knowing that you’re right. “Or, and hear me out, we just stay here, away from the interns, and wait for Sidney to get back.”

Your eyes catch somebody else outside. “Aw, but he looks nice!”

Whitaker waves, sandwich in hand. When Jack shoots a stern look through the doorway, he quickly scurries off.

“You’re being too social for my taste,” he complains.

“Blame it on still being in work mode.” He can understand why a person would need to be personable in a stadium with almost 20,000 screaming fans, and he does not envy you at all.

“You and I have very different definitions of work mode.”

“My sweet, anti-social man,” you coo, patting his cheek affectionately before taking his hand and leading him to the door against his better judgment. “C’mon, let’s go say hi to everyone before Sid gets back and we both have to be professionals again.”

#dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #the pitt #the pitt imagine #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot fic

701 notes · View notes

sodascherrycola · 1 year ago

Text

Instagram Intros (Noel Gallagher's Kids)

Malcolm Flynn Gallagher (@colmgallagher)

DOB: September 2nd 1985 Age: 39 years old Hometown: Manchester, England Nicknames: Mal, Malc, Mac, and Colm S/O: Claire Durney Kids: Kayleigh and Riley Best Friend(s): Cristofer Hensley, Shelby Bennett, & August Webster Aesthetic: Malcolm grew up with a strong relationship with both his teenage parents and his grandmother, Peggy. He was often babysat by his nana while both her parents worked to afford housing and food for the three of them. He loved hanging out with his Uncle Liam and spent most of his time with him. Liam introduced him to football, and eventually became obsessed. His father ended up working doubles to make enough for Colm to join a local team. This is something that he would try to bond with his younger brother over, though James didn't seem as interested with this. Colm ended up playing football for 14 years, going to uni on a scholarship.

James Conrad Gallagher (@jamesconradgallg)

DOB: May 18th 1990 Age: 34 years old Hometown: London, England Nicknames: Jamie, Jay, JJ, Con, Connie S/O: Michelle Michaels Kids: None Best Friend(s): Kiersten Krause Aesthetic: James was a very shy child, always seeming to like being alone. He wasn't always this way, before being extremely talkative and expressive. When James was around 5 years old he was one of 4 James' in his kindergarten class, and a note was sent home to his parents explaining that he needed to have some sort of nicknames so the 4 don't get mixed up. He started getting referred to as his middle name, Conrad, or Connie for short. Kids were not kind to him afterwards and he got heavily made fun of for this. He became very quiet and introverted to a point that he wouldn't even speak to his parents. Noel slowly started to introduce him to the music industry, in hopes that it might be a good outlet for his young son. Luckily for him, James took to this and actually became a producer as he got older.

Molly Quinn Gallagher (@mollywally)

DOB: February 19th 1997 Age: 27 years old Hometown: Camden, England Nicknames: Molls, Wally S/O: Darren Maguire Kids: Sophia, Leon, and Elliot Best Friend(s): Teagan Hale, Jordyn Conley, and Caitlin Cunningham Aesthetic: Molly was always Noel's quiet favourite. He would never admit it, but she was. She knew it as well. The minute she flashed her big blue puppy dog eyes, she got whatever her heart desired from Noel. Mary was not a fool for this trick however and has had to have multiple talks to Noel about toughening up and being a bit more strict with her, but he can't help it. Molly looks just like her mother and Noel can't seem to see through it. She was a very expressive young girl, always doing some sort of art or sport. She took a liking to her mother's song-writing and has helped her on many occasions writing tunes for her father or other famous celebrities. Molly was named after her mother's maiden name, Quinn, being Mary's previous surname. This was because her mother and father had recently gotten married after finding out they were pregnant with their daughter. Mary was devastated to say the least, when she realised that Quinn wasn't going to be her last name, and that it was now Gallagher. Of course, it was her decision to change her name but it still upset her nonetheless. So Noel went to the nurse while Mary was feeding their wee one, and gave her the name. The rest was history.

Beckham Eoin Gallagher (@bekywitdagoodhair)

DOB: July 25th 2000 Age: 24 years old Hometown: Camden, England Nicknames: Beck, Bex, Becky S/O: Natalia Brooks Kids: None Best Friend(s): Justus Rush, Jayden Reyes, and Finley Holt Aesthetic: Where to even begin with THE Beckham Gallagher? For starters, he was born prematurely and scared the life out of his parents. He almost died, something about his lungs not breathing properly. Noel was trying to see what was wrong with his son but the nurses wouldn't let him even hold Beckham. He eventually decided to just pick him up, ignoring the words from the nurses, and held him against his bare chest like he had done with his other 3 children. Like a miracle, Beck started breathing normally, matching his breaths to his fathers. As he grew up he became more and more rambunctious, only ever having the energy of a mosh-pit at all times. The amount of times he's woken his parents up is too many to count on a hand, the amount of times he's gotten in trouble for not staying still in class is too many to count on a hand. Beckham never got any smack from his parents though, of course not, he's their miracle baby. Noel and Mary are just happy that their little boy has the lung capacity for all the gleeful screaming and running around he does all the time. When he was a teenager he stopped all the girl's hearts too. No one was every pined after more than Beckham Eoin Gallagher in his high school. So much so in fact, he had 3 dates to the prom because he was too nice to say no. He switched them out every little bit, and never got caught surprisingly. His future wife, Natalia, was the school's prom photographer and has photos of him with all 3 dates and will never fail to use it to her advantage.

Kieran Connor Gallagher (@kier_gallagher)

DOB: October 11th 2003 Age: 21 years old Hometown: London, England Nicknames: Kier S/O: Janey Moore Kids: None Best Friend(s): Jackson Hughes and Leah Olsen Aesthetic: Kieran was well mannered and polite. He had a strong relationship with his twin sister, Cecilia, and they were stuck together like glue. They had gotten split apart in year 2 at school, and it was such a mess Mary had to go in there and try to negotiate with the principal to put them back together. They had been in the same classes up until high school, this is when they wanted to be as far apart from each other as ever. Kieran ended up befriending Jackson Hughes, Mary didn't like him too much. He was kind of a bad influence on Kieran, introducing him to alcohol and drugs at the beginning of year 9. This is when Noel had to have a conversation with him, sit him down and have a proper talk about his behaviour. He was just acting out in ways Noel didn't think he would have to worry about with his youngest son. Kieran had always been an easy-going kid, so what was he going on about? He was struggling with school, a cocaine addiction, and his best friend Leah, had quietly chosen to be friends with Cecilia when the two decided to split ways. Kieran was diagnosed with depression when he was 15, after he had attempted to… Noel had held him so damn close that night, fearing that he almost lost his little boy. He had gotten better after his mother started him up at therapy, he started gaining his relationship back with Cecilia, and is all together better now.

Cecilia Bridget Gallagher (@ceciliagallagher)

DOB: October 11th 2003 Age: 21 years old Hometown: London, England Nicknames: Cece, Celia, Sicily S/O: Nathaniel Carson Kids: None Best Friend(s): Jamie York, Leyla Watts, and Leah Olsen Aesthetic: Cecilia was a simple kid, never wanted anything, never asking for anything, even though she knew her dad would give her anything her heart desires at the snap of her tiny little finger. She was very smart, excelling farther than her twin brother, which did put a bit of a strain on their relationship. The two were never not in the same classes and were constantly being compared to one another, mainly Kieran to Cecilia. She never understood why he was so angry, he was cool, had loads of friends, and people liked him. Why would he be so upset about not being like her. Cecilia just made him feel dumb. This was the cause of their fallout. She went off to be a proper student with their friend Leah. She ended up having a good social group and superior grades. She had many times offered to help tutor Kieran, but gave up when she could feel the glare he gave her from across the dinner table. Celia couldn't stand being so distanced from her built in best friend. When Kieran had nearly died, she stayed by his side the whole time in the hospital, not even leaving to go to school. The two eventually reconnected and became closer than ever. She became a journalist in The Sunday Times when she was 19 years old and is quite well-known in England.

Penelope Niamh Gallagher (@whos_pennygallagher)

DOB: September 10th 2010 Age: 14 years old Hometown: London, England Nicknames: Pen, Penny, Elle, Ellie S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Malik Rhodes, Skyla Garrison, and Kole Cross Aesthetic: Penelope is the definition of youngest daughter. She's absolutely spoiled in every way, and she likes to get what she wants. She is in no way though, a brat about it. Penny, being the youngest and by a good amount of years, had a lot of her parents attention. Mary always dotes on her because it's her last baby and she just wants to cherish it as much as she can. Noel just can't say no to a little girl her wants a pretty pink dress and princess shoes. Yes, her parents were getting old, and yes, that sucked for her, but her siblings always stepped in when her parents couldn't. In fact, Penelope was the closest with her oldest sister Molly and older brother Beckham. They adored her. She was born to be a princess and every one knows it. She became really into fashion at a young age, and she is now her own little fashion icon. Gen Z took a liking to her unique outfits and she blew up on tiktok. She often got Noel to join in on her tiktoks too, which people loved! He was very gentle with her, he didn't mind being goofy if it meant Pen would giggle away. Everyone thought it was precious. Penelope is also known for tricking people into thinking Oasis was getting back together, showing her Uncle Liam and Aunt Sarah whenever she could in videos just to make her father mad. Mary did put an end to this if you were wondering.

#oasis #oasis oc #oasis next gen #oasis introductions #Malcolm gallagher #James gallagher #molly gallagher #Beckham gallagher #Kieran gallagher #cecilia gallagher #Penelope gallagher #noel gallagher #Mary gallagher #Mary quinn #instagram introductions #oasis next generation

6 notes · View notes

marauder-misprint · 5 months ago

Text

Mystery Girl

Sirius Black x fem!Gryffindor!reader

5.7k words

cw: pining, bad flirting advice, fluff

You allow yourself to gaze in his direction for longer than usual. Your head is propped up on your hand, elbow resting on your desk, as you tap the tip of your quill to your lip in faux-thought. Professor Flitwick had announced the rest of class was to be used to work on the essay he assigned last class. Yours is about half done. You really should be thinking about what to write next, or looking up more information in your textbook. But, alas, you stare at Sirius with no real thoughts in your head. If anyone asked though, you would say it was just his general direction.

Sirius isn’t even pretending to work. He’s having a full fledged whispered conversation with James, occasionally leaning forward to include Peter and Remus, the latter of which is attempting to finish his essay. You’re a bit surprised that Remus hasn’t finished it already, but with friends like Sirius, James and Peter, getting work done can be a challenge.

Every once in a while, Sirius looks in your direction and flashes you his impish grin. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. You’re close friends; you’re one of the few that knows he’s an animagus. A few too many drinks one night got you that information. He recapped the whole process for you that night, which left you wondering how he managed to go through it all without mentioning it to you. The more you thought about it afterwards, the more you realized that his letters that summer were particularly odd.

You became friends with Sirius during second year when you shared a detention with McGonagall. She had you scraping gum off the bottom of desks while Sirius was sweeping ash off the floor and then mopping and polishing. It was a long and grueling evening for two 12-year-olds. Through complaining and cracking jokes, you managed to survive and a friendship was fostered. It certainly helped that you continued to get assigned detention together over the years.

Somewhere between here and there, you realized that you wanted more than friendship from Sirius, but with him being who he is, you had no way of knowing if your feelings were reciprocated. You buried them as deep as you could. You didn’t want any of your friends, especially the mutual ones with Sirius, to know that you had a crush on him. You’d rather live in the pain of watching him flirt with girl after girl that wasn’t you but have him as a dear friend than live in that same world except have him reject you and never speak to you again.

His wild grin brings you out of your thoughts. He raises his eyebrows as you shiver violently. You look down at your essay, not giving Sirius any attention. You figure he’ll assume you were zoned out, which you were to a point. You don’t let your graze fall back on him for the rest of class, allowing you to miss how he looked back at you several times.

Sirius catches up with you when Flitwick dismisses everyone. Not having worked on his essay, putting his stuff away had only taken him a moment while you carefully place your things into your bag.

“Must’ve had some train of thought going,” he muses, leaning on your desk slightly.

“What do you mean?” you ask, not looking up.

“Could’ve sworn you were staring right at me. I acknowledge you and nothing!”

You hum. “Then, yeah, I suppose. I was trying to make some progress.”

“And did you?” he asks as you leave the classroom and walk together to your next class.

“Not much,” you sigh. “Added a paragraph but it’s still too short. Can’t even bewitch my handwriting to be larger to make it close enough.”

“We can work on it later. I have…” His voice trails off as he looks at the parchment hastily shoved into his Charms’ book. “Half of an introduction.”

You laugh as you gently bump into Sirius. You are mildly surprised that he even had that much done, but once he sits down and actually works on it, Sirius will finish his much faster than you ever could. At least he was offering to work on it with you. That meant you could ask him to look over yours when you finally finished.

---

The common room empties out slowly as students head to bed. You’ve been sitting on the couch since dinner with your History of Magic textbook laying in your lap, open yet unread. Your eyes are unfocused, staring at the dancing flames in the hearth. Every once in a while you pick up sentences from your friends sitting around you. It’s nothing too exciting. The boys are discussing the intricate details for their next pranks on the Slytherins; the girls making plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend. And you were supposed to be catching up on the assigned reading.

It isn’t until Sirius falls dramatically into your lap that you tear your eyes away from the fire to see that everyone else has gone to bed. His dark hair splays across your book as he looks up at you with his stormy grey eyes.

“Did you finish the chapter?” he asks with a lazy smile. “Or were you seeking divine intervention from the fire?”

“Divine intervention,” you reply, lifting his head ever so gently so you could remove your book, close it and set it aside. “The creation of the Being Division in the 1800s by some bloke Stumpy? End me now.”

Sirius chuckles.

“I’m glad Binns didn’t assign an essay on it. Imagine!” he says, making you smile. “There’s that smile. It’s not like it’ll be on an exam or anything.”

“Sirius, you know it will.”

“And you can look at my paper. Or James’. Remus. Peter, wait… maybe not Peter. But Lily and Marlene would be okay.”

“And that’s cheating. It’s one thing on essays, but exams are another.”

“Fine, study. Put in more effort than you need to.”

You ruffle his hair in response, earning you a noise of complaint from Sirius. You are allowed to play with his hair when it involves running your fingers through it or braiding it. Ruffling it and making it messy? Treason.

“Can I… talk to you about something?” Sirius asks as he adjusts in your lap.

“I don’t know… Talking? Us? I don’t think we’ve ever done that before!” you tease sarcastically.

“No, really, love. I need your opinion on something.”

There is something more earnest in his voice that tells you it’s serious. You know he debated saying that it is but knew you would laugh and say that everything is Sirius with him. It was a dumb joke that you couldn’t get enough of.

You nod somberly.

“Yeah, Sirius. We can talk about anything.”

“So… there’s this girl.”

That one sentence is a punch to your gut. He wants to talk to you about a girl? While past girlfriends have come up in conversations before, it was always a fleeting topic, or they were key players in a story, like dates gone wrong. You thought it was understood that your friendship with Sirius avoided each other’s love lives - not that you ever had a boy to talk about with him.

“O-okay,” you manage to say.

“I really like her. I just… I can’t tell if she likes me and the boys are no help.”

“So you’ve come to me because I’m oh-so-experienced in love?”

“I came to you because you’re a girl. How do girls show that they’re interested when they aren’t obviously flirting?”

You poke his cheek as you say, “Used to the obvious flirting, aren’t you?”

He grins up at you. “Obviously.”

“Well, from what I know, they lean in when you talk, laughing at any and every stupid joke you make. When they touch you, they let their hand linger, especially if it’s on your hand or arm.” You demonstrate your point by touching his bicep and giving it a gentle squeeze. “A little more brazen, they’ll compliment you subtly. You should be able to see it in their smile. Maybe they’ll flutter their eyelashes at you if they are bold. Or desperate. They’ll also jump to your side if you’re alone.” You sigh. “Again, you know I’m too experienced with this flirting thing so…”

“Yeah, but you must’ve flirted with guys before. You’re no hermit.”

You exhale out of your nose. “I don’t flirt much.”

“Much! So you do! Your expertise shan’t be taken for granted!”

Your expertise. Sirius really has you on a pedestal. You sit with him for a while longer, running your fingers through his hair to make up for your earlier ruffling. He closes his eyes as he enjoys the feeling.

Over the next few days, you make a point to not do any of the things you listed off as flirting. You only lean forward when he talks at meals so you can have the excuse of needing to be able to hear him better. You rarely find yourself in a position to have your hand on his so that wasn’t an issue. You aren’t one to bat your eyelashes or stroke his ego. Your two vices are laughing and being at his side, but he’s your best friend. Could you really be expected to not spend time with him and enjoy yourself when you are with him? You think you’ve played it off fairly well.

Sirius thinks you’ve given him faulty advice. He is hyper aware of every interaction he has with this girl. He’s overanalyzing every move she moves around him, and every move he makes. What’s even more frustrating to him is that some of the things you listed off, he can’t imagine her doing. It’s just not who she is.

He decides to bring it up again to you in the Transfiguration Courtyard after classes. James and Marlene are tossing a quaffle back and forth while Lily, Mary, Remus and Peter work on various assignments. You and Sirius are sharing a pack of cigarettes off to the side at Mary’s request. She claims she can’t focus when there’s a cloud of smoke around her head. There’s enough space between you and the rest of the group which gives Sirius the privacy he requires for this topic.

“You know that girl I was telling you about?” he asks you.

“The one you’re so in love with?”

“Yeah, that’d be the one.”

“Then, yes, I know of her. You never told me who it is though.”

“That’s not important right now,” he says, running a hand through his hair before immediately shaking it out. “She’s not doing any of those non-obvious flirting things you said.”

“She’s not?” you echo with your eyebrows raised. What girl could resist the temptations of Sirius?

“She’s not. But now I’m wondering if I’m the problem?”

You laugh loudly. Sirius’ firm gaze and stoney expression tell you he’s not messing around like you assumed he would be.

“Tell me how you, you, could be the problem?”

“Like I told you before, I really like this girl. I do. She’s amazing, a real sweetheart, and I don’t want to mess it up before it’s gone anywhere. So I haven’t flirted with her the same way I’ve flirted with other girls.”

“Damn, Black. You must really like this girl.”

“I do. So much.” He takes a breath and leans in a hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong though. I know she wouldn’t like my usual flirting. She doesn’t respond to the new method. How do I get this girl’s attention?”

You sigh and shake your head.

“It’d be easier to help you if I knew who it was,” you tell him.

“Yeah, I know that, but I… I can’t tell you.”

“Sirius-” you chastise.

“Love, I can’t tell you.”

“Have you asked the boys how to flirt with this mystery girl?”

“Sirius Black, master flirt, is not going to those virgins for help.”

You bite inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all: Sirius calling himself a master flirt, knowing damn well that James and Remus weren’t virgins, and that Sirius was willing to come to you, an actual virgin, for help.

“So what do I do?”

You can’t hold back your laughter any more. It breaks through. You expect Sirius to look upset at your laughing but instead he’s smiling at you.

“I’m not trying to be mean, Sirius, but you do know who you’re talking to, right? A girl who’s never been flirted with? And you’re turning down asking Potter, king of pining, for advice? Like I’m one hundred percent sure that Lily knows he likes her.”

You glance toward James and then Lily. You missed the flash of disappointment that crosses Sirius’ face when you say you’ve never been flirted with. He knows for a fact it isn’t true, but it wouldn’t help his cause now to tell you otherwise.

“I’m talking to my best friend who I think is more perceptive than she realizes,” he states. “Humor me: how would you like to be flirted with?”

How would you like to be flirted with? The question repeats in your mind as you think. Sirius can practically see the gears turning in your head. He waits patiently for your answer. It has the potential to change everything for him.

“I… I want genuine compliments. I want to be told that I’m pretty but also that I’m enough and to hear what they like about me, you know, beyond looks. I want them to choose to spend time with me. I want them to do all that chivalrous, gentleman-y things like carrying my books and holding doors,” you list off. As you continue your ramble, your face grows hot. “I sound like a spoiled child,” you laugh. “I want, I want, I want.”

Sirius smiles at you with an adoring look in his eyes.

“Maybe so, but I did ask you what you wanted.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “So no big, grand gestures for you? I’ll make sure to tell all your suitors.”

You roll your eyes as you’re fairly certain there are no potential suitors for him to tell.

“I don’t know how you’ve been flirting with this mystery girl if it hasn’t been your usual tactics, but the little things really do add up.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I went from one extreme to the other?”

“Why, yes, yes I would,” you smirk.

“Oi! Looks like rain, we’re going in!” Lily yells in your direction.

Sirius stands up first and holds out his hand to help you up.

Throughout the rest of the week, it’s like a switch flipped in Sirius. He’s more attached to you than normal. He’s always there to hold open a door for you, to offer to carry your books or put your supplies away. He starts using pet names with you more. You find it all a bit peculiar. He was spending so much energy on you rather than trying to win over his mystery girl. You try not to think too hard on it.

When the weekend came, your whole friend group made their way to the quidditch pitch. It was nice when Gryffindor wasn’t playing so James and Marlene could jeer at the players, complain about calls and plays and explain moves to everyone. They bring a higher energy to the stands. But you couldn’t focus on their comments too much. Sirius is pressed into your side with how packed the Gryffindor section is. To make it more comfortable, he draped his arm loosely over your shoulder. His cologne overtakes the rest of the smells that accompany the stands. You’re not complaining about that, but it did make it hard to think about anything else. Again, you try not think too hard about Sirius’ mystery girl, or the fact that your body is much closer to Sirius’ than Lily’s, who was on your other side.

After Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff, you claim a table for yourself in the common room. You have an essay for Transfiguration to finish. Lily and Marlene had fretted earlier about your insistence on getting it done today when you had all of tomorrow to work on it and there was a party tonight. They certainly didn’t like you pointing out that it was Ravenclaw’s party so your presence wouldn’t be missed and you had more homework to do tomorrow. Merlin forbid school didn’t come easy to you.

When they accepted that you were a lost cause for the night, they grabbed Mary and left. You are able to work in peace for a little over half an hour. Then the Marauders traipsed down the stairs. Their sheer presence sends energy pulsing through the room. You briefly look up as they pass your table. Sirius spins around after passing you and walks up to you, slamming his hands on the table.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” he demands. “Pretty girls belong at parties.”

You feel your cheeks warm. You drag the feather end of your quill over the pages of the open book and essay in front of you.

“These essays. They never seem to write themselves.”

“So you’re just not going to the party?”

“Padfoot! Come on,” James calls.

“Love?” Sirius asks, ignoring his friends.

You sigh and look up at him. He’s looking at you so ardently.

“Not until I finish this essay. So I’ll either be extremely late or I won’t go,” you answer him.

He pulls out the chair across from you.

“Head over without me! We’ll catch up later,” he yells over his shoulder as he sits down.

Then he grabs your essay, scanning it to see how far along you are.

“Sirius, go to the party,” you tell him, reaching for your essay but he holds it out of your reach. “Your mystery girl is probably there. You could be making your move. My essay will get done.”

“Mystery girl will be there whenever I get there. However, your essay is more important than any party, and I don’t want to go if you’re not there.” He flashes you his wide grin. “How can you expect me to have fun when I know you’re back here, suffering?”

You sigh and lean back in your chair. With you no longer reaching for your essay, Sirius is able to finish reading it over. He hands it back to you and grabs your book. He flips a few pages before placing it back in front of you and pointing to a second you hadn’t looked at yet.

“You’re closer to finishing that essay than you think, love. You really just need a summary of that section and a conclusion. Then it’s upstairs to change and party time!”

“Thanks, Sirius.”

You lean over the desk to read the section he pointed out. After a few minutes, you glance up at him. He’s been watching you read and make notes.

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll find you at the party when I’m done,” you say, although you have half a mind to crawl into bed when you’re done. Especially if Sirius’ mystery girl is at this party, you’re not sure if you have it in you to watch him flirt with her, a girl he seems to be in love with.

“Please, don’t act like I don’t know you. If I leave now without you, you won’t go. You’ll finish the essay and then you’ll hide here. Nope. You’re going to have fun tonight if I have anything to do with it.”

“Fine…” you mumble, turning back to the book to reread the last paragraph.

Another half an hour or so passes until you’re semi-satisfied with your essay. You set your quill down as you reread the entire thing, a frown appearing on your face. It’s not nearly as good as you want it to be. You should probably rewrite it.

“Ah, give it here,” Sirius says, holding his hand out expectantly.

“It’s no good,” you reply, shaking your head. “I need to rewrite it.”

“Let me read it. I’m sure it’s fine.” He tilts his head while giving you a firm look. “Go change. I’ll read it while you’re gone. If it’s as bad as you think it is, we’ll work on it more. If you’re being hard on yourself, we’ll get you a drink to help you unwind.”

You sigh dramatically. You leave the essay on the desk for Sirius to grab, instead of handing to him. You trudge up the stairs to your dorm to change into something more party-like. Your indecisiveness means that you try on several outfits before finding something that you don’t hate. You don’t want to look like too much, too good. If you’re going to try to help Sirius get this mystery girl, you couldn’t be outshining her.

When you return to the common room, Sirius has cleaned up all of your things into neat piles.

“Oh, you look lovely!” he declares when he notices that you’re back. “And your essay, easily an E. Trust me. We ensure that Pete gets at least an A on every essay and that was better than what he’s turning in.”

You roll your eyes at the ‘we’. You knew the Marauders often treated homework as group assignments. He holds out his arm for you to take, which you do with some hesitation.

“Shall we go find your girl at this party?” you ask.

“We shall,” he says with a smile as he leads you out of the Gryffindor Common Room and toward Ravenclaw Tower.

Once past the eagle knocker, Sirius is quick to get a drink in both his and your hands. You scan the room, seeing the rest of the Marauders and your other friends. You aren’t looking for them though. You’re trying to see if you can spot the girl who is so beautiful and desirable that Sirius would switch up his methods to diminish the risk of losing her.

“Let’s find your girl,” you say, leaning into Sirius’ shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything, but he guides you around the room. You pause to say hi to some of your friends in Ravenclaw. You expect Sirius to keep walking in search of the girl. He doesn’t. He remains at your shoulder, giving friendly smiles to the people you’re talking to. You lead him toward where the other Gryffindors are gathered.

“Black!” Marlene yells as she grabs him by his shoulders. “Thank you for getting her out!”

You’re taken aback by her comment, although it wasn’t uncommon for you to miss a party. You often found yourself reminding your friends that Hogwarts was in fact a school and not a party central.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he tells Marlene, grinning.

He puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You feel your face burn so you try to hide it with your cup. Maybe you can pass it off as the room being too hot or being flushed from the alcohol. Only Sirius knows it’s your first drink, right?

You try to focus on what your friends are saying and laughing about, but the feeling of Sirius’ arm, his hand and his body are too much. Your body feels like it’s being constantly electrocuted. You take slow sips from your cup, as if the drink will somehow alleviate the feeling. You can only imagine how this looks to his mystery girl. You pressed into Sirius’ side with his arm around you as he talks and laughs? You’re trying not to melt into his touch. You try to keep the idea of this other girl in your mind. But you like having his arm around you a bit too much.

“Shit, this is a good song!” Sirius roars before lowering his voice to whisper in your ear, “Dance with me, lovely?”

You look up with him with concerned eyes. “How will that look to that girl you really like?”

You hate that you have to keep reminding him that he was supposed to be looking for this girl and flirting with her, rather than spending all of his time with you. He just gives you his trademark smile.

“It will show off my amazing dancing skills. Come on, you didn’t say no!”

He pulls you away from your friends into the crowds of people dancing. Sirius is far more at his leisure than you are. You would much rather be on a bench off to the side, sipping on a new drink as the music fills your senses. At least, you think that until Sirius has his hands on your hips, helping you move to the music.

“Ah, there it is! She does have rhythm!” he cheers with his face close to yours. It’s close enough to feel the heat of his breath and to smell the spiked punch.

Everything about the moment makes your heart pound in your chest. For a second, the idea of his mystery girl flits into your mind, but she is banished as Sirius spins you around. Your laughter mixes with his and the sounds of people around you, laughing themselves and singing along to the music. You never fancied yourself a dancer before now, but with Sirius so close and all of his attention on you, it feels right. You wouldn’t mind if you could live in this moment forever.

When the music switches to something slower, you prepare yourself to see Sirius move back toward your friends. You don’t expect him to place his hands on your waist and pull you even closer.

You don’t expect him to lean in and whisper, “Put your hands around my neck, sweetheart. That’s how you slow dance.”

You do as told. It makes it easier to hide your bright red face in his shoulder. You know how to slow dance; you just never did it with anyone before. You certainly hadn’t expected your first slow dance to be with Sirius. It made sense to a point though that it would be with your best guy friend, someone you were comfortable with.

The song ends too soon for you. The next song is back to the upbeat rhythm that previously filled the room. Your heart beat is too loud in your ears to process it.

“I need another drink,” you tell Sirius before walking away from him.

You did need a drink, but you also need a moment away from him. ‘He’s in love with someone else’ is on repeat in your head. You can’t have yourself falling deeper in love with him when you know his heart belongs to someone else, someone he wouldn’t even tell you the name of.

When you have a fresh glass in your hand, you turn to look for Sirius in the crowd where you left him. He’s not there. You spot him back with the Marauders. It makes you frown. He was supposed to be finding this girl and asking her to dance, not spending the whole night with you and the boys. You want to remind him of that, but something prevents you from doing it. You walk over to the girls, hoping that maybe they’re talking about something interesting.

“Isn’t this so much better than essays?” Lily asks, leaning almost all of her body weight on your shoulder as soon as you join them.

“I mean, I guess so,” you answer.

“Oh, please,” Mary laughs. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself with Sirius out there.”

Your blush immediately returns.

“So is it a thing? You ‘n’ him?” she asks.

Marlene turns her full attention to you at the question and Lily throws her arms around you in a hug.

“It really should be!” Lily gushes, her voice far too loud in your ear. “You’d be so cute together! It’s obvious he adores you!”

You smile as you shrug Lily off.

“Sorry to disappoint, but he’s infatuated with someone else,” you say, mockingly saying infatuated to make yourself feel better. You try to hold in a sigh.

“Who?” Marlene demands. “We’ll take care of her!”

“Dunno. He won’t tell me.”

Marlene and Lily don matching frowns and furrowed brows.

“Darling! There you are!” Sirius’ voice booms.

The three girls glare at him.

“What’d I do?” he asks, his arm finding its place around your shoulders.

“I’ll tell you what you did, Black,” Marlene starts.

“Nothing! You did nothing,” you say quickly, cutting Marlene off before she can say too much.

While you’ve never said anything directly about liking Sirius to them, you’re sure it’s obvious to them now and you’ll hear more about it tomorrow.

“Well, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks cautiously, eyeing the girls who are still glaring daggers at him.

“No, you’re not,” you say firmly, also eyeing the girls.

You really hope they don’t say anything right now that would embarrass you and possibly hurt the friendship you have so carefully preserved.

“Then I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal you away again!” he says cheerfully and steers you away from them.

He takes you to a quieter area down a few flights of stairs and stopping on a landing. Based on the doors you’ve passed, you figure you’re by the dorms. You’re glad that he took you down rather than up because the air is significantly cooler.

“Did you find your mystery girl?” you ask as he leans against the wall, sipping his own drink that he must’ve refilled at some point.

He nods.

You cock your head to the side. “Then why haven’t you stolen her away to this little spot?”

He chuckles. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

“You’ve already ditched her?” you ask accusingly.

“No!” He stands up straighter and moves closer to you. “No, I’m with her right now.”

“But it’s just us here?”

He takes another step toward you and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh, darling, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are so clearly not a Ravenclaw.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit. “Are you calling me stupid?”

He throws his head back, laughing.

“Yes! Yes, I am.”

You scoff and take a step back from Sirius.

“Well then.” You turn to go up the stairs because why did Sirius steal you away to insult you?

“No, listen!” He reaches out to stop you from heading back to the party. “You’re not stupid. Blind? Maybe. A bit dense right now? Yeah.”

“You’re not helping yourself,” you say dryly.

“It’s you. You’re the… mystery girl, as you’ve been calling her. It’s been you the whole time.”

You freeze for a moment.

“What?” you breathe. That can’t be right.

“When I asked you about how girls flirt? I was asking how to know if you were ever flirting with me. But then you never did any of those things. Maybe one or two once or twice. So I asked how I could flirt with you. I know you enough to know that you wouldn’t want me to use those cheesy or dirty lines on you. You wouldn’t want an overtly public declaration of love to ask you to Hogsmeade. But even with your advice, you don’t seem to respond to me.”

He stops talking for what feels like an eternity. He’s scanning your face for a reaction, for any kind of sign from you, but all he gets is utter shock and confusion.

“What?” you repeat in the same quiet voice of disbelief.

He takes a step toward you so that his body is almost touching yours.

“The girl I really like and don’t want to mess things up with? She’s you. She’s been you for a while now. And I’m asking you how you feel about me because you can be so hard to read sometimes.”

His voice is so soft and honest. You blink slowly as you gaze into those grey eyes you love so much.

“She’s me?” you echo his sentiment.

“Yes. Please, love, I need to know. Do you like me or have I just made a rather large fool of myself?”

“That’s why you didn’t want to come unless I did,” you whisper more to yourself than to Sirius, ignoring his question and the way his eyes filled with uncertainty as you did so. “That’s why you’ve been complimenting me more and offering to carry my bag. Oh…”

“Love?” he asks with a wavering voice.

You’ve never heard him so nervous before. His hand slowly reaches up to cup your face.

“Please…” he whispers.

“This is all… real?” you ask, placing your hand on top of his.

“Yes. It’s so real.”

You smile. It’s wide and filled with the most joy you’ve ever felt. But then it disappears as you glare at Sirius.

“Don’t you ever call me stupid again,” you say firmly.

“I won’t.” There’s a beat of silence. “Wait, so do you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. It was a moment of Gryffindor braveness that you usually didn’t showcase. It took Sirius by surprise. He takes a moment to process that you, the girl he’s been pining over for a while, is kissing him and that he should kiss you back. But he does and it’s everything you’ve dreamed it would be. All of those times you’ve thought about his mystery girl, you never really considered that she could be you. As much as you dreamed it, you never really believed you could be the girl he described as the sweetest, the most beautiful, the kindest and most wonderful, perfection. But you were and you felt it as Sirius wraps his arms around you to hold you close, even after you broke away from the kiss.

“Oh, the girls were glaring at you earlier because I told them you liked someone else after they asked if we were dating.”

“Hmm, too bad that someone else is you,” he mumbles against your shoulder, still not letting you go. “We can correct your misinformation later. You’re mine now.”

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you

978 notes · View notes