#james being such a caring boyfriend-to-be
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
gingerteafairy · 3 days ago
Text
friends conversations lead to this kind of idea @blueikky
𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝
Tate wouldn’t feel embarrassed to ask you out and immediately establish that you’re the only one who matters to him. He’s certain that you’re his soulmate, and he’d do anything to protect the little world the two of you share. He would go to great lengths to keep it safe. Hobbies would include listening to music together, making fun of new clothes from the mall, playing card/board games and discovering some online game where you both could both play on his computer and your phone simultaneously. He’d also give you a pair of headphones as a gift.
𝐤𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝
Kit kept vision for the future, getting involved with someone with the goal of building a family, overcoming challenges, and dreaming of growing old together. He makes it a point to be a safe harbor, which can sometimes cause stress due to his constant drive to be the perfect husband, finding in you a reason to fight and lean on during tough times. He knew you were the one from the very first date but wanted to wait a little longer to propose so as not to scare you off. Kit would always surprise you with random gifts, like a pair of earrings he thought would match your eyes perfectly. He’d pay attention to the little details, wanting to make you feel special with thoughtful gestures that show how much he cares.
𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝
Typical boyfriend material. You two would explore life together, with trips to the movies and amusement parks becoming part of your routine. If you ever struggled with a test, he would help you study, even if the subject was completely different from what he knew. He’d definitely fix your computer for free if it broke since he spent a lot of time watching YouTube tutorials as a kid (he even recorded one).
𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞!𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞: 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬
Even without knowing it, he would be your anchor. With a lot of patience, you’d help him understand the world, teach him to speak and write, guide him in learning how to be “grown-up.” It would be hard, but in no time, Kyle would become a strong man, protecting you and the mansion with his life.
𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡: 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫
James' captivated by darkness and the concept of sin, inherited from his father. You, being a sweet-looking girl in a stable relationship, would be a formidable prey. With a carefully controlled tone, accent, and just the right amount of manipulation, he would lead you into adultery and eventually much worse, with you becoming his protégé. Even though James March is quite the tightwad, he’d make sacrifices to give you things depending on the hunt you two had together, from an expensive necklace to your favorite food. He’d only offer these gestures as a way to mark a special moment, something that proves he values the bond you share—even if it’s always under his own twisted terms.
𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭
The relationship with Kai would be intense and complicated. It was too shallow to be just a relationship but too deep to be just a friends-with-benefits situation. It would be a draining relationship, where the question “What are we?” would linger, only to be answered with “We don’t need labels” by Kai. It'd be definitely intense, passionate, and unforgettable. However, the relationship would also be restrictive due to his insecurity and jealousy, at times manipulating you when you wanted to leave, using compromising photos and messages to keep you tied to him.
𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬
Austin Sommers is pretty laid-back. You were a great friend to him, and sometimes he’d stick to the promise of “If we’re both single at 40, we’ll get married and have three cats.” As the person closest to him, he would definitely use some of your shared moments and phrases in his books, even adding you as a character, with a few tweaks here and there.
𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝
Like Austin, he’s chill, living in the moment, using you as the muse for many of his art pieces. As a true introvert, it would take him a while to open up, but soon the two of you would be cuddling after hours of oversharing about life. It would be obvious that you both shared deep feelings for each other, but a barrier of professionalism might prevent the relationship from progressing into something more. He'd give you little paintings and handmade fridge magnets.
𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟: 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩
Despite being a hero, Peter wouldn’t have the courage to ask you out right away. He’d stew over that strange feeling for a while, until one day he’d stop suddenly during a walk and ask if you wanted to be his girlfriend. If you didn’t hear him, he’d pretend nothing happened and wait for another opportunity, hoping you’d be distracted when he tried again. If you heard, he'd ran to his house and make paper rings for you both.
𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧: 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝
Max'd be a sweet, goofy boyfriend, always taking pictures of you, keeping a special box just for storing all the memories. He’d let you play with his hair, wear his clothes, and, of course, he’d snap pictures of you wearing every single one of them. For your birthday, he’d give you a Polaroid camera, since you complained that he always takes photos of everyone else, but never has one taken of him.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)
Your relationship would be intense from the start to the end. Impulsive as he is, he’d take you to get married in Vegas, not knowing that by doing so, you’d legally be married on paper. Well, he always wanted to be yours in the end, and Vegas was just a bonus from fate.
111 notes · View notes
jackcryptid · 6 months ago
Text
The Prank aftermath. Meanwhile, Peter n Sirius in the background looking confused af, and wolf Remus still in the shack.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
346 notes · View notes
resident-gay-bitch · 1 year ago
Text
little rich boy sirius who gets disowned and can barely survive without his expensive brands and the basic human need to eat at least once a day meeting the entirely too generous james potter who just falls for the vanity and sincerity of the reformed rich boy and decides that once sirius stops caring about brands and status and rich boy things and just cares about what matters in life he decides to spoil his boyfriend to pieces because he’s secretly sitting on a fucking fortune
#idk i just think it’s funny#like james would find sirius when he’s struggling with money because he’s so bad at saving and prioritising his spendings because he’s never#had too before and so james would teach him how to do all that stuff and emotionally support sirius through it all and sirius just falls in#love with this beautiful guy who’s just so generous and who teaches him so many things and finds value in kindness and sincerity and#compassion and all that jazz and james falls in love with sirius helplessly because he might be stuck up and vein and kind of selfish and#is stuck up and cares all too much about status but he’s trying so hard to be better and he finds empathy because sirius got kicked out for#the worst reasons because he’s always been the black sheep of his highly cultist christian family or whatver and he’s also outwardly queer#and james decides that he wants to give sirius everything and loves the way he looks in expensive makeup and designer faux fur coats and#heels and divine jewellery and all that jazz but makes sirius sell it all and learn what it means to be human and not rely on money and#status and brands and stuff and sirius learns what it’s like to be decent and in touch with humanity and only then does james take sirius on#a surprise luxury holiday for his birthday or something and then just buys him thousands of dollars worth of all these glamorous looking#things and sirius is like omg what the fuck jamie and then he just becomes sirius’ sugar daddy because he can’t help himself but they’re#also in love and much better people because of it and when sirius buys things now it’s not because of brands or because they have big price#tags like he used too. he now buys things with james’ credit card he keeps in his own wallet because he thinks he’ll feel pretty in them or#because he thinks james will loose it if he sees sirius walking around in it or if he sees a really cute toaster that sends him into a#frenzy that has him spending all way too much on an impromptu kitchen renovation but james doesn’t care because as long as his boyfriend is#happy and actually paying attention to the price of things and calculating the best value and taking james’ opinion as well and just being#happy and safe and accepted in his new home and family here with his jamie#please i think they’d be so cute ugh!!!#prongsfoot#bambibelle#drabble#fic idea#marauders#james potter#sirius black#jay talks
64 notes · View notes
inkdrinkerworld · 1 month ago
Note
same bday anon- i have a yelling req !!!
remus yelling at reader pre or post full moon and the other marauders don't say anything bc they're shocked, but reader thinks it's bc they agree? and then after a while they all make up and just cuddle<3 ofc if u don't wanna it's all good !!! ilysm baby !
I did it more along the lines of Remus having chronic pain than a werewolf thing :/ I hope that’s okay
You’re kneeling before Remus’ slouched body on the sofa, hand in his hair as you try to coax him to move.
“Remus, c’mon. You can’t lay like that, your bones will ache.”
You’re trying to get your ailing boyfriend to find a much more comfortable spot, his body sore and tired and the chill moving through the air wasn’t helping so much.
Sirius and James are in the kitchen- a bad idea but you’d wanted to try to coax Remus into some stretches and maybe a massage before they finished the potato and leek soup for supper.
“I can lay like this all I want, dove. It feels good.” There’s a snark in his tone, but you don’t let it get under your skin. You know how much pain he’s in when he has a flare up like this, so you brush his tone aside.
You run your hand down his cheeks, “Please Rem. I don’t want your knees to lock or your back to twinge.”
You’re as gentle as you can be, patient and understanding but you can see in your mind’s eye that way Remus wobbled and fell to the floor the last time his knees had locked.
“I’m a grown man damnit!” You flinch back from him as his tone shifts, your hand dropping from his face as you sit back on your heels on the floor. “If I want to fucking lay like this for the rest of the night I can.”
Remus’ outburst has gathered the attention of your other boyfriends, and you want terribly to respond to his words, but you can’t.
He sounds so upset and he’s so loud and you feel your chest constrict as you stare at him.
“I don’t need you hovering for gods sake! Go be a nuisance somewhere else.”
Remus speaks with such venom and he looks at you with just heat and anger in his eyes that it’s impossible not to believe this is how he really feed about you.
James and Sirius stay silent, shocked by Remus’ words just as you are- but their silence makes the shame burn hotter in your chest.
This is how they all feel about you.
“You don’t get to be mean just cause you’re hurting, Remus.” Is all you say as you stand, walking towards the front door when Sirius springs into action first.
“Poppet, where’re you headed?” He’s almost beaten you to the front door but your hand touches the handle first.
“I’m going for a walk. I want to stack stones by the river.” Sirius knows what it’s code for. You don’t want to say something mean back to Remus, you want to be kind even if he’s being an ass.
Sirius makes to grab your jumpers. “I’ll come with, you shouldn’t be alone.” You shake your head.
“You don’t have to pretend you care, Siri. It’s okay if you and Jamie agree with him. I just want to be alone.”
“Agree with him? Poppet we,” but you’re already out the door.
James glares at Remus who simply sinks into the sofa.
“You can be a real piece of work, Moony.” James says, hoisting his boyfriend out of the position he’d been in and stretching his legs long on the sofa instead of over its back.
Sirius moves to the living room again, “She was trying to help. Now she’s gone off to stack her stones when she should be tearing you a new one.”
Remus scrubs at his face, heat colouring his cheeks red. Sirius doesn’t let him off the hook. He can’t believe how callous Remus has been.
“Thinks me and James share your fuck off stupid sentiments when you don’t even believe what you said.”
James stops him from saying any more. “I’ll go look for her while you stay with him.”
Remus shakes his head, hissing as he stands; his knees shaky and weak. “I’ll go.” Sirius wants to stop him, but James knows if Remus doesn’t go do it now he’ll spend the entire time he’s home worrying himself sick and then won’t be able to face for days.
Sirius slaps his hands to his thighs, “Fuck off, we’ll all go. I’ll turn off the hob.”
They find you after you’ve already made four stacks of rocks, some with tiny rocks, some with huge slabs of stone.
Remus’ chest tightens as he spots you, your knees to your chest, toes wet from where you’re sat.
“Dove,” Remus starts to say as he stops right beside you. “I was an ass. I didn’t mean what I said.”
You just hum, looking at your stacks and trying to find more rocks for another pile.
“I hate when I can’t do the things I want because it’ll make me hurt and it was wrong of me to shout at you for just trying to look after me.”
You look at him when he crouched down, his knees cracking so loudly you’re worried he’ll topple over.
James steadies a hand on Remus’ back while Sirius procures a couple stones for you. His palm flat as he shows them to you, a little smile on his face when you take them.
“You said I was a nuisance.” Remus cringes as he heads the words back. He really can’t believe he’d been so mean to you.
“I didn’t mean it, dovey. The pain is no excuse.”
“Do you all think that?” You ask nervously, “You didn’t say anything when he said it.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, worrying it to all hell as you look between James and Sirius.
“You’re not a nuisance baby,” James says first, hurt that you’d even thought it was how they felt about you. “I know us not saying anything made things worse, but it was just shock; not how we feel.”
Sirius turns your face up to his, pinching your chin to keep your eyes on him. “You walked out before I could finish. None of us think you’re a nuisance, you’re the best damn thing that happened to us. Come home.”
Sirius is hard to have a stare off with, he doesn’t back down. But it isn’t that that does you in.
“Please dove. You can boss me around till the end of time, just come home and out of the cold.”
Remus sounds so chock full of remorse and when you look at him you find his eyes glassy. “Okay,” Sirius helps you stand, and you receive kisses from all three of them before you the river bed.
1K notes · View notes
piistolstar · 2 months ago
Text
LIKE A GODDESS
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⧼ warnings :: smut, hair pulling, service top!james, cunnilingus, whipped!james
pairing :: james potter x fem!reader
Tumblr media
exams. so many exams, you were slaving over and studying for weeks. all day every day, it’s all your poor boyfriend saw you do. it nearly stressed him out as much as it did you, not knowing how to help and make it easier. despite the times you reassured him that him being there helped.
but finally, it’s all done. and tonight you can finally rest peacefully, laying in james’ bed, spooning him without a worry in the world. james shifts, turning his body around to look at you. "are you okay?" you bite your lip in thought, letting your hand go to his hair.
"i’m better," you sigh, twirling his hair between your fingers. "but i still feel a little on edge'." james huffs out a breath, not knowing what else to say. you hear him hum when you tug his hair slightly, causing a smirk to rise on your lips. you tug a little harsher and you feel his hand come up to yours.
"stop that," he whines into your neck, attempting to pull your hand away.
"that's not how you repay me." you joke back, recalling the reward he had promised you after all of your hard work. you kissed his cheek before letting go of his hair and there's a bit of silence before he's shuffling off the bed. you hear him maneuver himself to your side before turning the lamp on.
you gape at the sight before you, your pretty boyfriend on his knees. looking up at you, hands inching towards you. "is this better?" you shift so your lower half is off the bed and your right above him. his hands find purchase on your thighs and he looks up at you hesitantly.
"you know..." his hands travel further until they're at your waist. "i really should reward you." he shrugs and one hand goes to tug at the waistband of your pajama pants. "you did so well on your exams."
you just watch as he marvels over you, taking in every bit of you like it's the first time he's seen you. "you’re so beautiful." with your permission he tugs your pants off, “like a goddess.” he kisses up and down your legs before finding his way to your stomach. “i want to worship you.”
he nudges you so your back hits the mattress, slow, messy kisses trailing up your abdomen. "let me make you feel better?” you let out a breath and nod your head, his gaze focused on you before he presses his lips against yours, a kiss that's both gentle and passionate at the same time. he brings one hand to your chin, and another to your cheek to caress the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. you can feel how nervous he was, making all the decisions.
he lets out a soft groan, as an arm slips around your waist and pulls you closer, moaning against your lips. he presses his thigh between your legs, satisfied at the noises of pleasure you let out. james smiles into the kiss and pushes his body further into you. his hands run along your sides, feeling the warmth of your body, appreciating every part of you.
he slowly tilts your head to the side and his lips begin to trail kisses down to your neck, leaving nips and bites along your collarbone. his hands slide down to the sides of your thighs and he grips them. his lips keep their focus on leaving marks all over your neck, his hips grinding down on your leg.
"what if someone sees those?" you tauntingly ask him. he pulls away from your skin with red cheeks. he hesitates, letting his hands go up and down your body slowly.
"let them," he shrugs nervously. "i don't care, i want to worship you. i'll be happy if they know." you stare at him for a moment before threading your fingers through his hair. you dip your head down to his neck, littering butterfly kisses on his skin.
a soft groan slips from his lips but it's quickly covered up with a breathless laugh. the feeling of your soft lips against his skin is just so good. he closes his eyes and hums, leaning back to brush his nose gently against yours. his thumbs rub your hips, as he looks at you intently, his gaze taking in everything about you.
he's so infatuated with you, completely at your mercy. his hands slide underneath your top, caressing your skin. he pushes the fabric up a little higher as he presses a heated kiss to your lips. his hands travel higher and higher until his breath catches in his throat.
his face flushes again when he realizes where he's touching you, his thumb gently stroking over your chest in slow, teasing circles. his eye is locked on you as he does so. he feels you tug at his hair, making his body shiver slightly. soft sighs and gasps escape him and he lets out soft moans from time to time. the feeling of being so close and touching you with the soft caresses of his hands has him reeling.
he bites his lip nervously, "can you take it off?" his pretty, glazed over eyes are now avoiding yours. his shyness gives away what he wants and you reach back to unclasp your bra. he doesn't waste any time sliding your bra off to leave your entire upper body exposed to him. he can't help but stare for a moment, as he always does. taking in your body and appreciating the sight in front of him.
"you're so pretty, angel." he murmurs, still a little breathless. you let out a small laugh before sliding your hand up his shirt, leaving ghost touches along his abdomen. he lets out a groan at your touch, his body twitching in excitement. a shiver of pleasure ripples through his body when your lips nip at a sensitive part of his skin.
with a whine he pushes your body back down, "this is about you, not me." he places his lips on your skin again, inching lower and lower with every one he places. they trail from your collarbone, to your chest, down your torso, and landing right above the waistband of your pants.
he looks up at you as if awaiting your commands, causing you to giggle. "thought you were gonna worship me? you get to decide what to do then." he stutters before shutting his mouth and nodding, hands shakily sliding your pants down your legs.
he kisses along your thighs, breathing heavily at the sight before him. you're clad in just your underwear, you're piercing eyes trained on him while you wait for his next move. his kisses come back up until his breath is making contact with the fabric of your panties.
he presses a small kiss to your clit thought your underwear, unable to bite bad a prideful smile when you hum out of pleasure. he pushes your underwear to the side and he slides his tongue through your folds.
he moans when your hand tugs at his hair again, harsher this time. he judges his nose against your clit. he can't get enough of your taste, hands snaking around your thighs to hold them in place around his head.
he feels your hand push down, attempting to control his head. with a soft groan he lets you use his face to get off. the vibrations his noises make has you squirming, your own moans getting louder and louder when a finger slips into you.
your noises turn into tired pants and your hand falls to your side. you lazily grind against his face and he holds your thighs down. you feel yourself getting close and you let out a sigh before tugging his head up by his hair.
he looks dazed and his fingers continue to work inside you, "i'm close, you're doing so good." the praise has his head spinning and his movements quickening. he leans up to capture your lips in a kiss, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you.
he pants into the kiss, his desperate hips grinding into the mattress. he feels your body spasm before you're cumming around his fingers, biting down on his lip and leaving him whimpering.
he stops and lets you catch your breath, face inches from yours. you go to praise him some more when your eyes catch on the wet spot on his pants. "did you really..." he whines before you could finish your sentence, burying his head in your neck.
"don't say anything, please."
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
rainydayathogwarts · 2 months ago
Text
Concussions and interruptions - Harry Potter
Tumblr media
summary: You aren't expecting to meet Harry's parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury. obviously jily is alive and well.. slytherin!reader wc: 1.1k
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You looked up at Harry lovingly, pulling your legs up on the bed as you rested your head on his shoulder, reaching up to brush long strands of hair out of his face. Harry scrunched his face up, smiling with his eyes closed as your fingers grazed his skin, before opening them again and returning your gaze. The hospital wing was oddly quiet, especially after such an intense Quidditch game. The day had been long enough, having to endure classes while the entire school hyped itself up for the big match, and Harry inevitably ended up making his day longer thanks to the addition of his new concussion. 
You’d waited until Harry’s teammates and friends had all left the hospital wing before taking your place next to him, hand resting atop his. He smelled clean, having showered and changed into a clean t-shirt and sweatpants “It’s a phenomenon how you’re so often the only person injured after a game.” Harry chuckled, squeezing your hand softly “Yeah well your house mates really have it out for me.” You cocked your head to the side, biting your lip. Well, you couldn’t argue with that. “Hey, if you’d been a Slytherin, that wouldn’t be the case.” Harry scoffed at your words, but you continued speaking nonetheless, a grin forming on your face, clueless to the wooden doors of the hospital wing creaking open and the two figures approaching you. “Besides, you look way better in green than red.” Harry raised his eyebrows challengingly, the movement in unison with his father’s just behind you. “Yeah well you look better in red than green.” 
You shook your head in disagreement, straightening up on the bed. Harry’s eyes were so focused on you that he hadn’t realised his parents coming to a stop behind you, waiting for their son to notice their obstructed presence. Harry stared at you with adoration, watching closely as you mercilessly tugged at your green tie until it became loose enough to fit around your head. You took Harry’s glasses of with care, putting them in the breast pocket of your shirt while carefully pulling your tie around your boyfriend’s neck. “I’m being serious, look.” Tightening the tie around Harry’s neck, you leaned across him to grab the mirror on his side table, unblocking the two adults behind you from his view. Harry squinted, struggling from the lack of visual aid, but the bright red hair of his mum and strong figure of his dad spoiled the surprise. 
“Here.” You huffed, handing the boy the mirror, but only then did you realise his distracted gaze. Turning around on the bed, your jaw dropped, immediately recognising both your boyfriend’s parents, neither of which you’d ever met before. Lily and James stood with locked arms and matching smiles on their faces, looks of fondness on their faces. You felt heat shoot up your neck at the recognition that they’d witnessed your intimate moment, and ducked your head away, distracting yourself by returning Harry’s glasses. Standing up suddenly, you freed space for Harry's parents on the bed. Lily ducked, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead before sitting next to him, while James stood, watching you closely until he averted his watch to his son, stating "Got a call someone got a concussion." James grinned at Harry, who returned the smile, running a hand through his hair.
Glancing at your feet, you debated on leaving the hospital wing to allow the family some time alone. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by a hand clasping around your shoulder. Looking up suddenly, you were taking aback by Harry's father, and more so how similar he looked to your boyfriend. "You're right kid, he does look better in green. Now you wanna tell me which of your friends knocked my kid off his broom?" You opened your mouth, turning to Harry in search for an answer, but only finding the kind yet intimidating eyes of his mother, turned back to James. "It was Malfoy." You said quietly, eyes wide in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I can leave you guys alone." You muttered again, gesturing towards the tall doors.
"Nonsense!" Lily stood from the bed, approaching you while throwing her husband a scolding look. "James you're scaring her!" She whispered, though you're sure it was loud enough for even Harry to hear. "Honestly you're both scaring me." You spoke truthfully, and James barked out a laugh, pointing accusingly at his wife. "No sweetheart," Lily started, placing her hands on your shoulders and guiding you back to Harry's bed. "That's ridiculous, we've heard so many great things about you." Your mouth fell agape as you took your place next to your boyfriend once more, eyes going wide. Your strict pureblooded parents didn't even know about your relationship with Harry. You thought the same went with him. "Oh."
Harry placed his hand over yours, squeezing it tightly. His parents shot each other a confused and somewhat worrisome look. "Y/n's parents wouldn't approve of someone who isn't a slytherin or a pureblood, so they don't know." Lily and James both nodded in understanding, but now they were worried for you. It wasn't as bad as Sirius's parents had been, was it? An awkward silence fell amongst you, and you felt the need to fill it, mumbling "Let me take my tie back." Harry shut his eyes, letting you unfasten your tie from his neck and tying it around yours, occupying yourself with the quick movements which you deliberately slowed down to ponder over the situation.
"I'll give you guys some time alone." You spoke again, leaning down to pick up your bag from its spot on the floor and placing it on your lap. You glanced at Harry, smiling at him, before his hand was wrapping around your tie and pulling you closer to him. You gasped when his lips briefly met yours, feeling the heat creep up to your face, and abruptly stood, strictly avoiding eye contact with either of his parents. "It was nice to meet you!" You squeaked, trotting over to the doors in a rush, clutching the bag on your shoulder tightly.
Harry grinned, eyes glued to the spot where you disappeared between the two doors, before he was brought out of his chance by his mother. "Harry Potter, you are evil." She half-scolded, a smile on her face nonetheless. James took your spot next to Harry on the hospital bed, a wide grin on his face as he said "The girl was already nervous enough to meet us, now I don't think she'll ever be able to face us ever again."
"Yeah she will," Replied Harry, pushing his glasses higher up his nose "Give her a year or two."
3K notes · View notes
thesweetestofdreams · 3 months ago
Text
black cat confessions
Tumblr media
poly!marauders x reader
warnings: patching up bruised knuckles very pg allusions to violence
a/n Times are tough so please enjoy a sleepy drabble with a slightly whimsical reader who will always defend her boyfriends
“Hello gorgeous, where’ve you been?” James asked as you came into the boys’ dorm. It wasn’t like you to be so late, unless of course a portrait got to talking. You could never turn down a good story, no matter how many times you heard it. 
“Detention,” you said. This garnered the attention of all three of your boyfriends. Remus set down his book, he had been trying to read instead of worrying about you, and Sirius ceased spinning his wand in his hand. James sat up from where he was laying on his bed. Oblivious to their shock you dropped your bag onto the floor.
“Detention?” James asked at the same time Sirius said “You’re joking.”
“Yeah,” you said, sounding almost as confused as they were. 
“May we ask why?” said Remus abandoning his book. 
“Well Barty said that black cats were bad luck, which is rather rude.” You fell onto Remus’s unmade bed, arms flopping on either side of you. 
“And how did that turn into detention for you?” Sirius asked as patient as could be, a trait reserved almost especially for you.
You rolled onto your stomach yawning as you rested your chin on your hand. “I told him that was hardly true but he wouldn’t give it up.” You were interrupted with another yawn. “Then he said the worst bad luck was black dogs. You could never be bad luck, Siri.”
Sirius could pretty much feel himself melting. James, as endearing as you were, was practically on the edge of his seat ready to find out what on earth their sweet girl could do to warrant detention. Remus was getting tired just looking at you and he had to fight the urge to join you where you lay.
“Well then he started talking about werewolves and of course he had nothing nice to say and he was looking right at me, so I punched him.” Just like before you were completely oblivious to the shock your statement caused. 
“You punched him?” Remus asked, and despite your tired eyes being closed you could hear the smile in his voice. The boys shared a conspiratorially prideful look. 
“He wasn’t mad. I think he thought it was funny.” 
“Sounds like he had it coming,” Sirius said, fully in agreement. 
“Professor Slughorn was mad though,” you mused.
“Merlin, what I would have given to see his face.” James laughed at just the thought. 
“I bet he went red head to toe,” Sirius added. You smiled in tired amusement. The sound of their laughs made your chest buzz, warm and full. 
“Punching people hurts,” you said looking down at your hand.
The energy of the room shifted as the amusement died down. Remus was already making his way to you, pulling your hand into his lap as he sat on the bed next to you. You didn’t fight him. He tsked at the sight of your knuckles and your fingers were dry and cracked. He turned them over in his hands ever so gently. 
“Slughorn made me wash all of the potion bottles,” you offered in explanation.
James wordlessly pulled a small first aid kit from Remus’s nightstand, while Sirius grabbed a set of pajamas they kept for you. Caring for eachother was a well practiced routine. It was an achingly good feeling to be taken care of. 
Remus spread dittany over your knuckles and any deep cracks, careful never to press too hard. James pulled off your shoes, and Sirius turned down the lights grumbling softly to himself when James reminded him of an early morning quidditch match. 
“You can sleep with me then,” Remus whispered loudly, teasing as he softly wrapped a bandage over your knuckles.
“Now this is just torturous,” Sirius groaned from his bed. James threw a pillow at him across the room. “I’m keeping this.” 
After some coaxing from Remus, you summoned enough willpower to stand and change into your pajamas. From across the room, you saw James dive into bed with Sirius who held the pillow above his head. James pinched at Sirius's waist earning a withering look from him that quickly dissolved into lazy smiling kisses. 
Finally you were lying in bed with your head on Remus’s chest. You could hear his heartbeat thump beneath you, the steady rhythm and warmth lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby. You weren’t helped by the slow circles he drew into your back. 
“Thanks for defending me, brave girl,” Remus said into your hair. 
Fighting a yawn you said, “you would have done the same for me.”
He would have done worse for you, and he would spend the rest of everyday grateful for the love he’s found.
1K notes · View notes
crescenthistory · 3 months ago
Note
did i hear you say you were writing another animagus!reader x regulus where they cuddle at hogwarts in each their cat forms? 🥺🥺
you know what they say, don't believe everything you hear... except for that, that's actually true
Words: 2.4k
Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, copious amounts of fluff, established relationship, bsf!remus, background wolfstar, reader and reg are kinda goody-two-shoes, platonic physical affection
Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with reg, wolfstar and james here & here
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat
What a conundrum.
Remus should take this as an opportunity to be a good friend. You have spent almost two decades showing him exactly how to do that, playing the perfect part of the sister-he-never-had, loving and supporting him through life. For never turning your back on him, Remus is sure he owes you far more than what he can ever repay you, so he should try every single day. He should be a good friend.
But it was just too funny not to.
"At what point is it our duty to wake them up?" Sirius' voice whispered in his ear, shaking with mirth.
"I'm wondering the exact same thing." Remus dragged his words out to avoid making a decision. "How long do you think we can get away with?"
"I mean, they are already 15 minutes late to their Charms lesson, so we're dead men walking for not having said anything so far."
Remus is just able to tear his eyes away from you to glance sideways at Sirius, a too-fond smile already playing over his lips as he sees the exact mischievous look on his boyfriend's face that he expected. The look he fell in love with, not that Remus would be sappy enough to think about that right now. "So what you're saying is..."
"Leave it for a while longer?" Sirius grinned.
"Leave it for a while longer." Remus confirmed, whispering through a laugh, shifting his body further into Sirius' side as he lets his eyes fall back on you.
Well. On what he and Sirius knew to be you and Regulus, but what all other students in the library thought was just two cats sleeping in an armchair.
There was an elongated square of sunlight cast onto the middle of the seat by one of the beautifully decorated windows of the ancient castle, every cat's dream spot. The green velvet covering the seat of the mahogany chair was already riddled with fur from how long the two of you had been curled up around each other in it, white, grey and black hairs mixing together. Your forms might as well be mixing together too, fluid in a way that defied physics yet looked impossibly comfortable. Remus supposed you had to milk as much pleasure out of being an animagus as possible to make that whole mandrake leaf ordeal worth it. Though you could not answer even if he asked you right now, he was sure you at this very moment thought it was.
Remus' smile widened as he saw your chest rise dramatically as you breathed a sleepy huff, turning your head over slightly and burrowing it further into Regulus' plush neck. Your little cat bodies laid facing each other, arms around each other in a way he thought looked a little too much like a human hug.
It would be the absolute picture of serenity, two young things with no care in the world but each other – had it not been for the large clock ironically hanging right behind you, reminding you that you were not supposed to be here right now.
The four of you – five before James ran off the second he spotted red hair a few shelves back – had spent your two hours of shared free periods to read up together, for once actually doing a considerable amount of studying during it. Sirius was rubbing it in your faces, yours by consequence and Regulus' by design, that you still had one lesson left for the day when you abruptly stood up and demanded that you need a study break. When you then promptly dragged Regulus off into a corner, Sirius got the karma of a lifetime as he grew very concerned about what kind of break you would be engaging in. That was until the two cats lazily strolled back in and made themselves comfortable in the chair they now claimed as theirs.
Knowing you, Remus knew you hadn't intended on falling asleep, but maybe the fact that you did meant you really needed it. Yes, surely, you must have been exhausted and your body demanded a rest, so frankly he is quite an amazing friend for ensuring you listen to your health and your needs.
"Cats shouldn't be allowed to be that cute," Sirius all but grumbled as he looked at the two of them. "I should hate them on principle, but look at them Moony!"
"Quite literally no one is demanding that you hate cats on behalf of Padfoot, Siri."
"Padfoot is!" Sirius gave him a you can't argue with that logic look, but Remus knew he could.
"Ah, yes, my boyfriend the dog," he mused, cocking an eyebrow at Sirius who promptly reached out with his finger and pulled it back down.
"I could so give you a comeback to that, but I respect you too much not to say it in public," Sirius muttered and Remus couldn't fight his laughter.
Something moving in his periphery brought his attention back on you, seeing you shift even more into Regulus which caused him to begin stirring as well. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, Remus whispered to you in his mind.
As always, you didn't listen to him, and ever so slowly Remus saw you peel one yellow eye open, blinking blearily at the room before turning your head back towards Regulus. The greyest of your four paws came up to gently pet at the black cat's neck, almost as if you were smoothing over the fur you had ruffled in your sleep. It made Remus' heart ache with love for you both, even as his stomach was slowly dropping.
A soft prrt! escaped Regulus before he instantly began purring and tightening his hold on you with his little cat paws, nosing his head against yours. A kind of softness Regulus rarely let himself fall into in public, though this was arguably a grey area.
It almost looked like you were about to be driven back into sleep by the vibrations moving through you from Regulus' chest. Remus noticed Sirius paying attention raptly as well, which was unfortunate.
Because when you shot up out of your seat with a small squeak, jumping as if startled as you looked towards the clock – now a good 30 minutes into your 45 minutes lesson – Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter. It earned him more than a few hushes from those around, but most importantly, it earned him your head snapping around to look at him with eyes that could rival a basilisk’s.
Considering Remus was already on a streak of making disloyal choices towards his loved ones, he didn't fight his instinct to stand up from his seat and back up when you ran and jumped onto the table right in front of Sirius' face with a hiss. You slapped at him with a clawless paw to which Sirius whispered something along the lines of "hey, knock it off, be cool" while trying to hold you at arm's length. You scowled at him as aggressively as any cat could, raising your back slightly before you arguably tut-ed at him and jumped back down.
Remus fought for his life to not laugh.
You turned around and ran over to Regulus who was still lazily stretching and gaining his bearings, not an ounce of care shown towards the near-assault of his brother. Nudging him with your head towards the end of the chair, he got the point and jumped down, already falling into his usual graceful mannerisms.
Together you scurried off back into your corner.
When you came back a mere minute later Remus swore there was no difference in your facial expression. Remus carefully walked around the table – where Sirius was still sitting with a petulant pout – hands up in surrender.
You crossed your arms, leaning your weight onto your right hip as you glared at your oldest friend, clearly expecting him to speak first. Behind you Regulus was strolling over, looking like he was trying really hard to be miffed but falling just short.
“How dare you,” you said – and it was a statement, not a question.
“In my defence,” Remus started, hands still up but so were the corners of his lips. “You two looked adorable.”
“That will surely hold up real well with the professor,” you scoffed.
“We didn’t make you fall asleep, princess,” Sirius grumbled to which you turned to him with a bitch please look Remus is fairly certain you picked up from Sirius.
“Apologies for expecting my friends to have my back. How stupid of me.”
“Very stupid indeed,” Sirius murmured as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing when he found it to be cold. He nearly spilled some when Regulus gave him a light slap up the back of the head.
Remus figured it was time to pull out the big guns.
He manoeuvred his held up hands to be stretched out towards you instead with a rueful smile as he inched closer and closer. You had a moody expression still, eyeing him with suspicion, but you didn’t move out of the way. He dared make a small cooing sound as he brought you into a hug, coddling you like one would a child after they hurt themselves to keep them from crying.
“‘M super super sorry, lovie,” Remus half-muttered half-laughed into your hair as he rocked you a little bit. Your arms were still crossed against his chest, but you were leaning into him. 
“Don’t believe you, Loopy.” 
Regulus snorted at that and Remus looked up at him over his shoulder and the boys shared a look of humour and shared love for you that warmed his stomach. Though when Sirius nipped at Regulus’ sleeve to get his attention, the faux-miffed expression was plastered right back on the younger boy’s face.
Siblings, Remus thought and chuckled a bit into your hair.
“You laughing at me?” you questioned incredulously. 
“No, I’m laughing at our boys.” His response was quick to rid himself of any further accusations.
You instantly nodded against his shoulder. “Understandable.”
“Hey! Don’t bring me into this, amour.” Regulus' chiding tone was met with you uncrossing your arms at last, reaching a hand out behind you blindly, which he immediately took and squeezed with his own.
You let your other arm curl around Remus’ back. Forgiveness at last.
He pulled back to look down at you with a goofy grin, and was pleased to see you could no longer contain yours either. “You were really cute. Didn’t want to disturb you.”
You gave him a look. “Right, no laughing at our expense whatsoever.”
“Never.”
You gave him a light shove while you snorted, pushing him away from you. “This is what I get for my sacrifice for you?” you said as you shook your head at him not much unlike McGonagall would during detention.
“I would argue you got a pretty sweet deal with that sacrifice, doll, seeing as you can curl up with your equally sacrificial boyfriend and sleep in the library whenever.” Sirius nodded solemnly, while jutting his chin towards Regulus. “This one would never let that happen in any other form.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could’ve convinced him,” you replied, looking at Regulus with an almost salacious smile. As if to prove your point – or just to prove Sirius wrong – he came up to stand closer behind you, arms going around your waist. You leaned your weight back against him with a happy sigh.
“Disgusting,” was all Sirius offered.
You raised an eyebrow at him before turning your head sideways to give Regulus a short, sweet kiss.
“Disgusting,” he groaned once more, pressing the backs of his palms into his eyes.
“Karma,” you and Remus sing-songed at him at the exact same time in the exact same tone. 
Your eyes met in surprise before you both burst out laughing, any pretend fight seeping out of you as you both beamed at each other.
Siblings, Remus found himself thinking once more.
“Well, now that we don’t have a lesson to get to anymore, I suggest we get out of here,” Regulus sighed, squeezing your hips as if to underline his point.
“Where we heading?” Sirius asked as he swung his legs out to get up.
“I don’t know where you’re going,” you started. “But Remus will go hunt down a certain Head Boy and get him to make up some excuse to Professor Flitwick for why Regulus and I did not attend class so that our absence is removed from the records.” You put on your sweetest smile as you turned towards Remus at the last part.
“Regulus, what have you done with her?!” Sirius stage-whispered his accusation at Regulus who only responded with a certain impolite gesture.
“And why would James do that?” Remus drawls, certain that his entertainment was written all over his face.
“Oh, I’m sure he owes you for something, you figure it out.” You spoke as you tried to put your bag over your shoulder to leave, but Remus and Regulus both reached for it at the same time. They gave each other a look, trying to decide who will take the literal burden, before they both turned to Sirius and dropped the bag in his lap. He rolled his eyes at the both of them, but pulled the strap over his free shoulder nonetheless. 
“You are quite the minx, aren’t you?” Remus asked, going for chiding and landing somewhere along the lines of compliance.
“Learned from the best, Rem!” you cheered brightly, pressing quick smacking kisses on both his and Sirius’ cheek.
Before they could muster up a response or a reaction, you had already hauled Regulus down the halls of the library towards the exit with half-heartedly hushed giggles. The raven-haired boy looked over his shoulder right before you turned the corner with a barely-contained smile, inhibitions straw thin in your presence.
Remus understood him well.
He turned to Sirius with a pleased smile to find him already admiring his reactions from where he stood beside him.
“I get why they’re cats,” Remus mused as he interlaced their fingers, following the general direction you ran off to, ready to hunt down James and possibly claw up some furniture. 
“Because they’re adorable but also massive menaces?”
Remus breathed out contently. “Yeah.”
1K notes · View notes
reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago
Text
Lucky
Summary: Based on this request! Reader encourages Penelope to go on a date, which ends in tragedy. This event shakes the team, leading to conflict, particularly between reader and Spencer, who blames her for what happened.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader
Category: angst, fluff
Warnings/Includes: gun mention, Penelope gets shot, typical BAU crime stuff, people getting mad at reader/blaming reader, Spencer icing reader out, Spencer being questionable boyfriend, Spencer saying mean things about reader, happy ending, Penelope is okay, self doubt/blaming
Word count: 16.7k
a/n: Spencer is kind of an ass for a while but it will make sense ! He is still an angel baby
main masterlist alternate ending
Tumblr media
“So,” Derek says with that familiar smirk, “who’s the lucky guy?”
Penelope's eyes sparkle as she smiles, her fingers toying with a brightly colored pen on her desk. “His name is James. Just this sweet guy I met at the coffee shop. You know... normal, stable. No dark criminal past.” She tries to sound casual, but the happiness in her voice is unmistakable.
“Uh-huh...” Morgan leans in, tilting his head as if scrutinizing her every word. “And you’re sure you want to go out with him?”
A slight defensiveness takes over as Penelope puts her hands on her hips, feigning indignation. “Yes! Why not? Am I not allowed to date now, Derek Morgan?”
Morgan's grin widens, and he shakes his head, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say that. Just... be careful, alright?”
Rolling her eyes with a dramatic sigh, Penelope can’t help but huff. “Yes, Dad,” she quips, wondering why Derek is being so weird about this.
But then Morgan’s expression shifts, softening into something deeper, more earnest. “No, seriously.” His voice drops, gentle but firm. “Just... be careful, Baby Girl. Don’t give away your heart to some guy who hasn’t earned it.”
Penelope hardens slightly, feeling slightly hurt that Derek feels the need to lecture her. “I know, Derek. But... he seems nice. Really.”
Morgan nods slowly and walks away, still caught in the cloud of his concern and overprotectiveness. She lets out a soft sigh, looking down at the pile of case files on her desk, feeling a little bit deflated despite her earlier excitement. She loves that Derek cares, but sometimes he can be a bit... much. She starts to drum her fingers nervously against her desk, mulling over their conversation.
That's when you come in. You'd been passing by and couldn't help but notice the tense exchange. Taking a quick survey of Penelope's expression—anxiousness and longing—you decide to step in, offering a soft but encouraging smile.
"Hey, Pen," you say gently, leaning against the edge of her desk, careful not to crowd her. "You doing okay? I saw the little showdown with Morgan. He can be a bit... intense sometimes, huh?"
Penelope chuckles softly, pushing a stray curl behind her ear. “You could say that. I mean, I know he means well, but... I just want to do normal things, like go out with a guy. And James... he seems so sweet, you know?”
“James?” you say, a teasing grin spreading across your face as you lean a bit closer. “Who is this James?”
Penelope's eyes dart to yours, and for a moment, she looks like a deer caught in headlights, her surprise quickly melting into a flustered smile. “Oh, he’s... just this guy,” she says, her voice rising in pitch as she tries to sound nonchalant. “Met him at the coffee shop. He's sweet, you know... normal.”
Your grin widens, clearly unconvinced by her attempt to play it cool. “Normal, huh? And when exactly were you planning on telling me about this ‘normal’ guy?”
Penelope tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting out a playful huff. “Oh, come on. It’s just a date... no big deal.” But the glint in her eyes says otherwise, and you know it’s a big deal to her. And that’s exactly why you’re going to keep teasing.
“Well, it’s still a deal!” you exclaim, leaning forward in your seat, eyes wide with excitement. “Tell me all about it!”
Penelope laughs, the warmth of your enthusiasm easing away the hesitation she’s been holding onto. She fidgets with the edge of her sweater, a shy smile creeping onto her face as she starts to talk. “So... I was at my usual coffee shop, you know, the one with the really good chai lattes,” she begins, her voice picking up speed as she gets lost in the memory. “And then, out of nowhere, this ridiculously attractive man just... walks up to me, like he’s in some kind of rom-com or something. And he... he asked me out.”
You lean back, eyes wide, soaking in every detail of her story. “No way,” you whisper, your excitement infectious. “What did you do? What did you say?”
“Well, I said yes, obviously!” she chuckles, though there's an underlying nervousness. “But... I felt so... I don't know. Conflicted. This just doesn’t happen to girls like me.”
“Girls like you?” Your expression shifts from curiosity to confusion, brow furrowing as you try to make sense of her words. “Penelope Garcia, you are one of the most beautiful, kind-hearted, brilliant people I have ever met in my life.” You lean in, your voice gentle but insistent, making sure she understands every word. “ ‘Girls like you’ deserve the world and more. Don’t you dare think otherwise for a second.”
Penelope’s eyes widen, your words hitting her like a warm, unexpected wave. Her smile softens, and she blinks a few times, trying to brush off the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “You really think so?” she whispers, her voice almost breaking with vulnerability.
“Are you kidding?” you say, a grin spreading across your face as you reach out to squeeze her hand. “James is the lucky one here, Penelope. Trust me on that.” 
She squeezes your hand back, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she ducks her head a little. “So, you’re saying I should go on this date?” she asks, the nervousness wavering just slightly in her voice. “Because... Derek didn’t seem so sure.”
You roll your eyes playfully, leaning back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “Derek is a man, and men are weird,” you say with a knowing smirk. “I bet he’s got some strange alpha-male possessive thing going on. It’s like, in his DNA or something, to protect his pack. Don’t listen to him. You should absolutely go on this date.”
Penelope’s smile widens, and she lets out a soft, relieved laugh. “Well, when you put it like that... maybe you’re right. I mean, he is just one guy. And he did buy me a coffee...” 
“Exactly!” you exclaim, nodding fervently. “You’ve got a very attractive guy who bought you coffee and wants to spend time with you. And, Penelope, you deserve to have fun. So don’t overthink it, okay? Go on the date, be your amazing self, and if Derek has a problem, he can take it up with me.”
She chuckles at that, the tension finally leaving her shoulders, and the smile that spreads across her face is brighter than ever. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. I’ll go on the date.” 
“Good!” you say, beaming. “And when he inevitably falls head over heels for you, I expect a full play-by-play report.”
“Deal,” Penelope says, grinning, the confidence returning to her eyes as she envisions a night filled with possibilities.
When you walked out of Penelope’s office, a spring in your step from the lighthearted conversation, you made your way back to your desk in the bullpen. As you approached your workspace, something immediately caught your eye — a fresh mug of hot coffee sitting on your desk, the steam curling upward in delicate wisps. A secret smile spread across your face as you set your things down and wrapped your fingers around the warm mug, the scent of your favorite brew filling the air.
You didn’t need to guess who’d placed it there. Glancing up, your eyes found Spencer across the bullpen, and sure enough, he was looking at you with that sweet, soft smile that always made your heart skip a beat. The quiet gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes about the thoughtful, caring man he was.
You mouthed a silent “thank you,” lifting the mug slightly as a toast of gratitude, and playfully blew him a kiss. Spencer’s cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink that always surfaced whenever you flirted with him, and he shyly ducked his head for a moment before glancing back up to meet your eyes. With a wink and a barely contained grin, he turned back to his work, trying — and failing — to hide just how pleased he was to have made your morning a little brighter. 
The sweetness of the morning, with its light teasing and the comfort of Spencer’s coffee, was short-lived. The moment Hotch called everyone into the conference room, a palpable shift in energy settled over the team. You quickly gathered your things and followed the others into the room, the coffee that had moments ago been a small joy now forgotten as you braced yourself for the case that awaited.
On the screen in the conference room was the face of a young woman — a bright, smiling 19-year-old with curly brown hair and freckles that dotted her cheeks. The smile in her photo seemed hauntingly out of place for what followed. Abby Connors, the name beneath the picture read. Hotch stepped forward, his face grave, and began the briefing.
“Abby Connors was a 19-year-old freshman at the University of Florida,” he explained. “She left home a little over a week ago to move into her dorm, but she never made it back. Her parents reported her missing, and after three days of searching, joggers found her body near a park in the Everglades, near an area the locals refer to as 'Alligator Alley.'”
A murmur rippled through the room as the next image appeared — a crime scene photo, one that showed just half of Abby’s body. You instinctively held your breath as you took in the gruesome details: everything beneath her waist was missing, consumed by the predators that roamed the swampy area. But it was the condition of the remaining part of her body that made the room go eerily silent.
“She was found with an inverted pentagram carved into her chest,” Hotch continued grimly, pointing to the markings on her torso. “Her fingers were all cut off at the second knuckle, and her throat was slit cleanly.”
You exchanged uneasy glances with your teammates, the horrifying nature of the crime setting in as you processed each detail. “So what are we dealing with?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Some kind of satanic cult?”
Rossi, who had been leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, shook his head. “It's not as simple as that. The idea of satanic cults operating as organized serial killer groups has been widely debunked.” He sat up, his expression thoughtful but firm. “The satanic panic of the ‘80s and ‘90s sensationalized a lot of things, but ritualistic killings like this? They don’t happen often in the way people think.”
“So, not a cult,” JJ mused aloud. “But this is still a ritualistic killing, right? The pentagram, the mutilation... it’s not random.”
“Absolutely ritualistic,” Spencer added, nodding in agreement. “The precision of the throat slitting, the removal of the fingers, the inverted pentagram... they all suggest that this was premeditated, and that the unsub wanted to send a specific message with Abby’s murder.”
“This type of ritualistic behavior can escalate,” Derek said, leaning over the table, a serious look in his eyes. “It’s got all the hallmarks of a kill that’s part of a larger motive. If we don’t catch this guy, he’s likely to do it again.”
“Which means we’re looking at a potential serial killer in the making,” Emily concluded, her voice grim. “Someone with a specific set of rituals and a willingness to mutilate and kill.”
Rossi cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him as he spoke with an almost reverent gravity. “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate,” he quoted in a low voice, his Italian rolling off his tongue smoothly. Seeing the questioning looks on some of your faces, he translated: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
A silence fell over the room as the weight of those words hung in the air. You knew, as did everyone else in the room, that this case was going to be dark, disturbing, and an all-consuming race to catch a killer who seemed to find something meaningful — perhaps even sacred — in the brutality of his crimes.
And with that, the team set into motion, knowing that every second mattered if they were going to save another girl from meeting the same fate as Abby Connors.
After the team closes the case, the team sits in relative silence on the jet, each member deep in thought, processing the horrors. The soft hum of the plane’s engine provides a strange comfort, and the tension of the day slowly begins to ease. Morgan sits across from Rossi, resting his elbows on his knees, staring off into the distance. Rossi watches him for a moment before speaking up.
“You did good work out there,” Rossi says, his voice steady and calm, the kind of voice that always has a way of grounding everyone. 
Morgan looks up, giving a half-smile, but there’s a heaviness behind his eyes. “Yeah... but you know how it is, man. No matter how many of these cases we close, it never feels like it’s enough.” He shakes his head, running a hand over his face as if to brush away the exhaustion. “I just keep thinking about Abby’s family. They’ll never be the same.”
Rossi leans back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah, it’s tough. But we gave them answers. And sometimes, that’s all we can do. You know as well as I do, it’s not about winning every battle. It’s about making sure we fight it.”
Morgan nods, his jaw tightening as he absorbs Rossi’s words. “I know,” he says, voice a little softer now. “It’s just... there’s so much darkness out there. And some days, it feels like it’s winning.”
Rossi’s expression shifts into something more reflective, a small, wise smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Maybe it feels like that,” he admits, “but the fact that it bothers you — the fact that it bothers all of us — that’s what makes the difference, Morgan. It means we’re still out there, shining a light in the darkness.”
Morgan's shoulders relax a little, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I guess you’re right. Just gotta keep fighting, right?”
Rossi raises a glass of bourbon from his side table, offering a silent toast. “To fighting the good fight.”
Morgan grins, and they clink glasses in a quiet, shared moment of understanding. The jet continues its journey through the night, a small point of light against the vast expanse of sky.
��
Meanwhile, Penelope walks arm-in-arm with James, her laughter bright and infectious as it echoes down the sidewalk. They reach the front steps of her apartment building, and she turns to face him. “Well, this was... really nice,” she says, giving him a genuine smile. 
James grins back at her, and for a second, he leans in as if he’s about to kiss her. But at the last second, he pulls back, laughing playfully. “Sorry,” he says, scratching his head sheepishly. “Didn’t want to be too forward.”
Garcia giggles, shaking her head at his little fake-out. “You almost had me there,” she teases, turning to fish for her keys in her bag. “Well, goodnight, James.”
“Goodnight, Penelope,” he says, stepping back and starting to walk away, giving her one last wave. 
As she turns to unlock her door, James suddenly stops, a strange stillness in the way he holds himself. He calls out to her over his shoulder, voice casual but loud enough to make her pause. “Hey, Garcia?”
Penelope looks up, smiling as she begins to open her door. “Yeah?”
James turns fully toward her, the smile gone from his face, replaced with an unsettling calm. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all night,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket.
Before Garcia can even process what’s happening, James pulls out a gun, his movements quick and fluid. The world seems to slow down around her — her eyes widen, her mouth opens to scream, but the sound never comes. 
And then, in an instant, the gun fires. The crack of the shot echoes through the empty street, and Penelope’s body jerks back, eyes wide with shock and pain as she collapses to the ground, her keys scattering across the pavement. 
James stands there for a moment, the smoke from the barrel of his gun curling into the night air. He watches as she gasps for breath, a cruel smile curling on his lips before he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving Penelope lying there, her life slipping away on the cold, unforgiving ground.
Back on the jet, you lean back in your seat, facing Spencer with a thoughtful look. “You know, I keep wondering what Penelope’s date is like,” you muse aloud, spinning your half-empty cup of coffee between your hands. “I hope she’s having fun. She deserves it.”
Spencer’s brows knit in mild surprise, his mouth opening to respond, but before he can even utter a word, Derek’s voice cuts across the cabin. “Wait — hold up.” He’s leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide and brimming with concern. “Garcia actually went on that date?”
“Yeah, she did.” You nod, meeting his incredulous stare with a small smile. “I told her to go for it. She’s gotta put herself out there, right? No reason for her to hold back just because you’re all... alpha about it.”
“Alpha?” Derek echoes, looking around at the others as if searching for an ally. “I’m not... okay, look, I just want to make sure she’s safe. And how do you even know if this guy’s legit? Did you see him? Talk to him?”
You wave a hand dismissively. “No, but she deserves to have fun, Derek. She seemed excited, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a good head on her shoulders. I think it’s great that she’s taking a chance on something new.”
Emily nods along in agreement, leaning back with a relaxed smile. “I think it’s sweet. And Penelope isn’t some naïve kid — she’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”
JJ chimes in with a bright smile, “Yeah, and besides, it’s not like she’s going to let someone walk all over her. She’ll know if something’s up. And if he treats her right, then it’s all the better for her. Maybe it’ll turn into something special.”
Rossi, watching the whole exchange with an amused smirk, adds, “Sometimes people surprise you. And sometimes that surprise is exactly what someone needs to get out of their comfort zone. Our girl deserves someone to treat her well.”
Derek’s shoulders stay tense, and he shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I get that, but... I just want to make sure she’s happy. That’s all. You know Garcia — she’s got a big heart, and I don’t want some guy messing with it.”
You reach over and pat Derek on the shoulder, a soft smile on your lips. “I get it, really. But maybe you should trust her on this. Penelope’s stronger than you think, and she’s allowed to take some risks. It’s not always about protecting her, Derek — sometimes it’s about letting her live.”
Spencer, who’s been listening quietly, finally speaks up. “She’ll be fine, Derek. And she’s lucky to have someone who cares as much as you do. But I think what she really needs right now is support... and maybe for us to just be happy for her.”
Derek looks around at everyone, the tension in his expression easing as he sees the genuine support in the eyes of his teammates. He lets out a reluctant chuckle, running a hand over his shaved head. “Alright, alright. I guess I’m just overprotective.”
“Just a bit,” you tease with a playful nudge.
“Fine,” Derek relents, lifting his hands in surrender. “But if this guy hurts her...”
“Then we’ll all be there to kick his ass,” Emily assures with a wink, and the team laughs, the conversation flowing into lighter banter, the tension dissipating as they talk about how much they hope Penelope enjoys her date — all of them unknowingly letting go of their worry while the truth of the night's events remains just out of reach.
You leaned into Spencer, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you closer until your head rested comfortably against him. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze, a silent show of support and affection.
The chatter of your teammates surrounded you, playful jokes about first-date jitters and guesses about how Penelope’s night might be going. It was one of those rare lighthearted moments that made the job feel less heavy. And as you closed your eyes for just a moment, feeling the calm of Spencer’s presence, everything felt okay.
The jet touched down smoothly, and you straightened up, reluctantly leaving the warmth of Spencer’s side as everyone prepared to disembark. But as soon as the wheels hit the ground, Hotch’s phone buzzed loudly against the table. He picked it up immediately, his expression going from relaxed to steely in an instant as he answered.
“Hotchner,” he said, his voice flat and professional.
The team began to gather their things, their attention still mostly on wrapping up the casual conversation, until Hotch’s face went stark white, his eyes narrowing as he listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. His mouth opened slightly, and you saw the shock in his eyes before he steeled himself again.
“What happened?” he demanded, his tone shifting from its usual calm to something far more urgent. He stood up abruptly, stepping away from the team, but you could all still hear him as the rest of the plane went silent, each of you glancing at one another with rising concern. Spencer’s hand instinctively found yours, and you squeezed it, anxiety blooming in your chest.
“Where was she?” Hotch’s voice was clipped, a mixture of alarm and anger. “When?”
You exchanged quick glances with your teammates. It wasn’t normal to see Hotch like this, and that fear in his voice made the hairs on your arms stand on end.
“Is she...?” Hotch stopped, and there was a pause, a terrible pause that seemed to stretch on forever. You held your breath, waiting, every second feeling like a lifetime.
“Understood. We’re on our way.” Hotch’s voice was low, tight with a struggle to maintain control. He hung up without another word, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in his muscles.
He turned back to the team, his expression grim, and you knew, you just knew, that whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.
Hotch’s voice was like ice, cutting through the stunned silence of the jet as he delivered the news that seemed impossible to process: “Garcia’s been shot. She’s in the hospital, in surgery.”
The world seemed to tilt, a rush of chaos and confusion drowning out everything else. In an instant, you and the rest of the team scrambled to grab your bags, shock and fear flashing in everyone’s eyes. It was like all at once, the air was sucked out of the room, and before anyone could fully understand what was happening, you were rushing down the steps of the jet. The roar of the engines and the slap of your feet against the tarmac seemed distant, muffled, as adrenaline took over. 
Within seconds, you piled into the SUVs, slamming the doors shut as the engines roared to life, and the cars sped off toward the hospital. The journey felt agonizingly long, despite the breakneck speed. No one spoke, but the tension in the car was palpable — every breath was shallow, every heartbeat loud in your ears. Your hand was clasped tightly in Spencer’s, and he held on as if anchoring you to reality, but all you could think about was Garcia and the thought of losing her. 
When you finally pulled up to the hospital, everyone practically flew out of the cars, running toward the entrance. The white lights of the waiting room were harsh and sterile, amplifying the dread that hung over the team. Hotch was the first to speak to the receptionist, his voice firm and demanding answers, but the only thing they knew was that Penelope was in surgery — no word on her condition, no updates, and, most importantly, no word on who had done this to her. 
And so you waited. 
The team paced, hands running through hair, fists clenching and unclenching as they tried to contain the storm of emotions within. The minutes stretched into hours, and the silence felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on each of you. Spencer held you close, one arm wrapped tightly around you as you buried your face into his chest, tears streaming down your face. He murmured gentle reassurances, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back, but his own eyes were red-rimmed and his voice strained, betraying his fear. 
Across the room, Derek’s frustration finally boiled over, and he lashed out, yelling at a nurse who could provide no new information. “What the hell do you mean, you don’t know anything? That’s our friend in there! You have to know something!” His voice was raw, the anger masking his pain, but before he could cause more of a scene, Hotch intervened, gripping his shoulder firmly and steering him outside. 
The tension in the room didn't lessen, only growing heavier in Derek’s absence. Emily sat with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped tightly together, staring at the ground as if willing time to move faster. Rossi paced back and forth, his jaw tight, not a word leaving his mouth, but the anger and sorrow on his face spoke volumes. JJ stood near you, hugging her arms to her chest, eyes fixed on the swinging doors that led to the surgery wing, willing them to open with some kind of good news.
Hours passed in that awful purgatory, time stretching and distorting until it seemed like you’d been waiting an eternity. And then, finally, a nurse came out and told you that one person could go back to see her. As a unit, the decision was made for Hotch to go — Garcia had named him her emergency contact, and he was the steady hand, the one who would be able to bring back the information without being overwhelmed by the storm of emotions all of you were feeling. 
The waiting resumed, and all you could do was cling to Spencer tighter, the fear and worry seeming to squeeze the breath from your lungs. 
When Hotch emerged from behind the doors some time later, his face was unreadable, a mask of professionalism over whatever emotions he was truly feeling. The rest of you gathered around him quickly, every muscle tensed as you waited for him to say something, anything, about Garcia. 
“Garcia’s going to make it,” he said, his voice low but firm. You let out a shuddering breath of relief, and the room seemed to collectively exhale. “She’s stable, but...” He paused, glancing at each of you, and in his eyes, you saw a darkness that made your stomach drop.
“It was her date who shot her,” he said quietly. “James. But his real name... is Jason Clark Battle.”
The name seemed to hang in the air like a curse, and it took a moment for the shock to register. And when it did, Derek’s expression twisted with a rage so violent it was almost frightening. “No,” he said, shaking his head as if refusing to believe it. “No, no, no—” His voice rose to a shout, and before anyone could react, he lunged toward you, face twisted with anger and pain. “You told her to go! You told her to go with him!”
His hands reached out to grab you, but before he could touch you, Rossi and Emily were on him, grabbing his arms and holding him back. “Derek, stop!” Rossi’s voice was sharp, his grip firm as he held Morgan in place. “This isn’t their fault!”
“Let go of me!” Derek struggled against their hold, his voice hoarse with fury, his eyes wild and filled with a grief that had no outlet. “I should’ve stopped her... I should’ve...”
Hotch stepped between you and Derek, his face set in a stern, controlled mask. “Enough,” he said, his tone brokering no argument. “This is not how we handle this. We find this man, and we make sure he never hurts anyone again.”
It felt like everything around you was falling apart, the walls closing in as the weight of the world crashed down on you, pressing in from all sides. Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to the one person who could always make things feel right — Spencer. You reached out to him, seeking his comfort, his steady reassurance. But instead of the familiar warmth of his embrace, you were met with a coldness that hit you like a blow to the chest.
He stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a look you’d never seen before — something between shock, hurt, and a kind of betrayal that cut deep. The warmth was gone, replaced by an expression that made your stomach drop. 
“Spence?” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely more than a whimper. You felt your world spiraling, desperately trying to grasp onto something to steady yourself. 
Spencer’s eyes darted to the floor for a moment, then back to you, and he shook his head, his expression clouded with confusion and anger. “You told her to go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with pain. It wasn’t an accusation, not quite, but it felt like one all the same. He kept backing away from you, his face crumpling into an anguish you’d never seen before, like he was fighting to hold himself together. And then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the waiting room, his footsteps echoing.
“Spencer!” JJ called after him, her voice urgent, but he didn’t stop. Without hesitation, she rushed to follow him, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.
Your eyes welled up with tears as you tried to piece together what had just happened, a sob choking in your throat. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, and you were falling, tumbling into a void. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging your own body, trying to stave off the cold emptiness that seemed to seep into your bones. You wanted to scream, to cry out and make sense of the look in Spencer’s eyes, the pain in his voice. But all that came out was a soft, broken whisper.
“Spencer...”
Rossi was there in an instant, a steadying hand on your shoulder, guiding you gently to a nearby chair as the reality of the situation crashed over you in relentless waves. Emily crouched down in front of you, her face tight with concern as she spoke softly, her words trying to break through the fog in your mind. But you could hardly hear her. The only thing echoing in your head were Spencer’s words — “You told her to go” — a statement that seemed to slice through your heart, over and over again.
You left the hospital soon after Spencer did. The cold night air hit your face as you stepped outside, but the chill did little to clear your head. Everything felt like a blur — Spencer’s words, the look on his face, Derek’s anger — it all played on a loop in your mind, each second replaying with sharper edges, digging deeper into your heart. You didn’t know how to feel, how to process the whirlwind of fear, guilt, and confusion. But one thing was clear: you had to find the man who hurt Penelope.
The next morning came all too quickly. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise when you arrived at the BAU. The bullpen was already a flurry of activity, the team moving with a frantic energy that matched your own desperate need to do something, anything, that could bring justice for Penelope. But as soon as you stepped inside, the adrenaline wasn’t enough to mask the raw pain that hit you when you saw Spencer.
He sat at his desk, fingers typing furiously at his keyboard, his face drawn tight with concentration. You stood there for a moment, holding your breath, waiting for him to look up — to give you some sign, any sign, that you could start to fix whatever had broken between you the night before. But Spencer wouldn’t look at you. It was as if you didn’t exist, like he’d built an invisible wall around himself, and you couldn’t break through. The red puffiness around your eyes was the only outward sign of the sleepless night you’d had, but the exhaustion in your soul ran much deeper.
When you walked past JJ’s desk, she reached out and touched your arm gently, her eyes full of concern, the pity unmistakable. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to offer comfort, but you shook your head, swallowing hard. The last thing you could bear right now was pity. Not when you had to keep it together for Penelope.
The rest of the team looked at you with the same expressions — sympathetic, worried, but no one knew what to say. And the truth was, neither did you. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, feeling the familiar sting of guilt rise in your throat, and forced yourself to look away, trying to focus on the task at hand. It was time to work, and that was something you could still do. Something you could control.
Well, the whole team except for Derek. 
Every time he walked by, you could feel his eyes burning into you, his anger practically crackling like static in the air between you. And he didn’t hold back, either. With each passing hour, he took every chance to let you know exactly what he thought, throwing thinly-veiled digs and outright accusations whenever he could. 
“This is your fault, you know,” he muttered under his breath when you passed each other in the hallway. “You’re the one who pushed her into going out with that psychopath. If she’d just listened to me, she’d be safe.”
You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed into you like a knife, but you didn’t reply. You couldn’t. You just kept walking, heading back to your desk with that guilt clawing up your throat, making it hard to breathe. There was no time to argue, no room to let Derek’s words take over. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shut them out.
And then there were the moments when Derek couldn’t hold it in, when his anger boiled over and his voice rose loud enough for the whole team to hear. “You know that if she dies... if she dies, it’s on you,” he spat, his eyes burning with a fury so sharp it left you feeling gutted. “Her blood’s on your hands. Because you thought it was a good idea to let her go out with some random guy.”
You could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on you whenever it happened, the tension in the room growing thick and heavy as they tried to balance the grief for Penelope and the pain of watching their family fall apart. JJ would try to step in, her voice gentle but firm as she said, “Derek, now’s not the time—” or Hotch would give him a stern look, that unspoken command to drop it. But nothing seemed to get through to him, and each word he threw at you landed like a punch, his grief and fear bleeding out as anger directed at you.
You couldn’t argue with him. You didn’t know how to defend yourself. How could you, when deep down, a part of you agreed with every word he said? 
So you did the only thing you could — you kept your head down and worked, staring at files until your eyes burned, listening to updates and following every lead until you were numb to everything except the hope that finding Jason Clark Battle would somehow make it right. You tried to drown out Derek’s voice, drown out the guilt, drown out the sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t encouraged Penelope, things wouldn’t have gone this way. But no matter how hard you tried to bury it, Derek’s words followed you, hanging over you like a dark shadow. 
And the work continued, relentless and desperate, with everyone pushing forward to find the man who’d hurt Penelope. But the team was fractured, split between their grief and their anger, and the chasm between you and Derek seemed to widen with every word he threw your way.
Even as you worked, though, you could feel Spencer nearby — that familiar presence that you could always sense, whether you were looking at him or not. But this time, it felt different, like an ache just below the surface, a heavy, unspoken rift. He still wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t speak to you, even as you shared the same space, both working to the same goal. And no one pushed him. No one had the time or the energy to force him to talk through his emotions, not when there was a dangerous man on the loose and a life hanging in the balance.
But every time you heard Spencer’s voice — every rapid-fire observation, every note of urgency — it felt like a reminder of how things had changed in the space of a night. You worked side by side, but worlds apart, both desperate to save Garcia, but more than that, desperate to find your way back to each other.
And so, the hours wore on, a relentless, all-consuming search for Jason Clark Battle, with every member of the team driven by the same furious need to bring him to justice. Because in the midst of all the uncertainty and hurt, one thing was clear: no one was going to let him get away with what he’d done to Penelope. Not while any of you still had breath left to fight.
The team found Jason Clark Battle quickly, all things considered. The determination to bring him to justice — to make him pay for what he'd done to Penelope — fueled every moment, every step, every search through records and combing of evidence. But as the moment of his arrest neared, it became a new kind of challenge: keeping Derek Morgan away. 
Hotch had to physically block him from joining the takedown, knowing all too well that if Derek got his hands on the man who shot Penelope, it wouldn’t end in an arrest. “Stand down, Morgan,” Hotch had ordered, his voice like a steel blade, cutting through the thick fog of Derek’s rage. It took Rossi and Emily to finally pull him back, their hands firm on his shoulders as Derek cursed and seethed, every inch of his body vibrating with the need to rip Battle apart. But they couldn't afford to lose two team members to the fallout, and Morgan was forced to stay back, simmering with fury as the rest of the team moved in.
When Jason Clark Battle was finally caught, subdued, and taken into custody, there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing that the man who hurt Penelope would face justice. But the victory was bitter, the relief tainted by the damage left in the wake of what had happened. The case might have been closed, but for all of you, it didn’t feel like a win — not when someone you loved was still lying in a hospital bed, healing from wounds she never should have gotten.
Once the reports were turned in and the team was officially dismissed, you watched as everyone else gathered to visit Penelope. There was a sort of reverence in how they spoke of her, quiet smiles and gentle jokes exchanged as they planned to bring flowers, chocolate, and anything else that would bring a smile to her face. But you couldn't go. The thought of stepping into that hospital room, of meeting her eyes, of seeing the pain and understanding what your advice had led to... it felt unbearable. You couldn’t face her, couldn’t let her see how broken you felt, knowing how close you’d come to losing her because you thought you were doing something good.
So, while your teammates headed to the hospital, ready to surround Penelope with love and support, you went home. The silence of your apartment was suffocating, and it took everything in you to not collapse under the weight of your own regret. The emptiness of being away from the team, from Penelope, only deepened your guilt. But it was better than showing up and making things worse — better than her having to see your face and be reminded of everything that happened. 
Instead, you did what little you could from afar. You sent gift baskets filled with all of her favorite snacks — crunchy caramel popcorn, brightly wrapped candies, a couple of silly trinkets you hoped would make her laugh. You sent care packages with magazines, crossword puzzles, and soft blankets she could curl up with while she healed. You tried to send all the comfort you couldn’t bring yourself to give in person, every basket and letter a quiet apology you weren’t sure you deserved to offer. You only hoped she knew that, despite the distance, you were thinking of her. That you were sorry. 
And as the days went on, and Penelope stayed in that hospital, you wondered if she could ever forgive you — if one day, when she was better and things returned to some semblance of normalcy, she might understand that all you wanted was for her to find happiness. That, even though your advice had gone so terribly wrong, it had come from a place of love. But the uncertainty of her forgiveness lingered, hanging over you like a cloud, and all you could do was hope that, in time, the rift could be healed.
Until then, you stayed away, waiting for the moment you could finally make amends — if that moment ever came.
The next workday, you sat at your desk, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, but your mind felt miles away. The sound of your own heartbeat seemed loud in the quiet of the bullpen, pounding relentlessly in your ears as you willed yourself to focus on something — anything — other than the turmoil of the last few days. You barely slept, and the fatigue sat heavy on your shoulders, making every moment feel sluggish, disconnected from reality. The tension still hung in the air, lingering after Penelope’s shooting, and it felt like every step you took was on eggshells, threatening to crack under the weight of all you hadn’t said. 
You didn't hear Derek's approach at first, lost as you were in your own thoughts. But when you did catch the sight of his broad form looming in your peripheral vision, your whole body tensed up instinctively, bracing for what you knew would be another wave of anger, another round of accusations that would leave you feeling raw and exposed.
Here it comes, you thought. The guilt clenched in your chest as you waited for the onslaught, already picturing the words he’d throw at you, the blame you knew you deserved.
But then, you looked up, and the expression on Derek's face made you pause. It wasn’t what you expected. The hard lines of anger that had been etched there were gone, replaced by something softer, something regretful. He stood before you, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his hands shoved into his pockets, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to find the right words.
“Hey,” he finally said, his voice low and rough with emotion.
“Hey.” You nodded back, your voice barely more than a whisper, your body still taut like a rubber band pulled too tight.
Derek glanced down for a moment, and when he looked back up, there was an apology written all over his face. “I, uh... I came to talk to you about... you know.” He trailed off, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “About what I said. What I did. And... I’m sorry.”
You blinked, the words hitting you like a punch you didn’t see coming. “You’re... sorry?” you repeated, trying to make sense of it, unsure if you’d heard him right.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I... I was angry, and scared, and I let it all out on you, and that wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, what happened to Garcia. You were just being a good friend.” He paused, letting out a long, heavy breath. “And I guess... in a way, I’m mad at myself. Mad that I couldn’t keep her safe, that I didn’t know who this guy was, that I couldn’t stop it... so I put all that on you. And I’m sorry.”
You searched his eyes, looking for any trace of the rage you’d seen before, but all you saw now was sincerity, and pain, and a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected to find there. Derek Morgan — the strongest person you knew — was admitting his own fear and guilt to you, and it felt like the world was tilting just a little bit on its axis.
The tightness in your throat made it hard to speak, but you forced the words out, your voice cracking around the edges. “I... I get it. I mean, I don’t blame you for being angry, Derek. And I’m sorry too. I never would’ve... I never thought something like this would happen.” You looked down, feeling your eyes burn with tears you didn’t want to shed, not here, not now. “If I could take it back, I would. All of it.”
Derek stepped closer, and before you could react, he reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t put this on yourself. Penelope’s strong. She’s gonna be okay. And you didn’t do anything wrong — you were just looking out for her, just like I was.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his voice softening. “We’re all just trying to do right by each other, you know? And sometimes we mess up. But that’s not on you.”
The tears that you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you bit down on your lip, nodding as you tried to gather yourself. “Thanks, Derek,” you whispered, managing a small, shaky smile. “I just... I just want her to be okay.”
“She will be,” he assured you, his voice full of quiet confidence. “She’s got all of us in her corner. And I know it’s hard to believe, but... we’re gonna get through this. Together.”
He gave your shoulder one last squeeze before letting go, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a small sliver of relief, like the weight pressing down on you had been lifted just slightly. 
“Derek...?” you said, your voice small and timid, almost afraid to ask the question that had been weighing on your heart since you’d stepped back into the bullpen. 
“Yeah, baby?” he answered, his voice gentle and warm, and the nickname — your old nickname — made you smile, if only for a moment. Spencer had been the one to call you that more often lately, and hearing it from Derek felt like a return to something familiar, something safe.
You took a breath, biting down on your lip as you looked down at your hands, your fingers nervously twisting together. “Have you... have you talked to Spencer?”
Derek’s expression darkened, and he sighed deeply, the sound heavy and full of exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, the weariness showing in the lines around his eyes, and when he looked at you again, there was a sadness there that made your heart sink even further. “No, mama,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Pretty boy hasn’t really talked to anyone. He’s got something going on in that big head of his, but he’s not letting us in yet.”
You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face neutral, but you knew Derek could see the worry in your eyes. The way Spencer had looked at you — the way he’d walked away from you — it was like losing a part of yourself, and the uncertainty of not knowing where you stood made it so much worse. And now, knowing that he wasn’t talking to anyone, wasn’t letting anyone in... it made you feel like you were watching him slip further and further away, with no way to reach him.
Derek watched you for a moment, then reached out and placed a comforting hand on your arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. “Whatever’s going on with him, it’s not about you, alright? He’ll come around. You know how Spencer is — sometimes he just needs to get in his head before he can come out again.”
“But what if... what if he doesn't?” you asked, your voice breaking on the last word, the fear you’d been trying so hard to suppress finally spilling out. “What if he never forgives me, Derek? What if—”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Derek cut in gently but firmly, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “You know how much you mean to him. He’s just... processing. And it might take him some time, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. Just give him space to figure it out. And when he’s ready, he’ll come to you.”
You let out a shaky breath, nodding, trying to hold on to Derek’s words. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said, though the doubt still lingered.
Derek smiled softly, a warmth in his eyes as he gave your arm one last squeeze. “Of course I’m right,” he said, his tone lightening. “And in the meantime, you’ve got me and the rest of the team. You’re not alone, okay?”
“Okay,” you whispered, trying to believe it. “Thanks, Derek.”
“Anytime, mama,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “Now let’s get that coffee. We’ve got a lot to do, and moping around ain’t gonna help nobody.” 
And with that, he led you to the corner of the bullpen, and you did your best to push the worry from your mind, to focus on what you could do here and now, hoping that Spencer would eventually find his way back to you.
The day Penelope returned to work felt almost like a holiday. The bullpen was transformed, bursting with bright colors and streamers that cascaded down from the ceiling. Balloons, in every vibrant hue imaginable, were tied to the chairs, and the break room was packed with all her favorite snacks and drinks — colorful cupcakes, glittery cookies, and more caffeine than the doctor would ever allow. The team had gone all out, putting together a grand welcome fit for the one and only Penelope Garcia. The room was buzzing with laughter and excitement as she entered, everyone cheering loudly as she walked through the doors, wide-eyed and grinning.
It was exactly the kind of entrance Penelope deserved. And as she hugged each person, the joy on her face made the space feel warmer, brighter. But you stood in the back, a small smile on your lips, content to watch from a distance. You clapped along with everyone else, but you kept to yourself, too aware of the gnawing guilt that still sat in your chest. It was wonderful to see Penelope smiling, to see her back on her feet and surrounded by the love of her family. But being there, knowing what you’d encouraged her to do, left you feeling like an outsider, not quite sure where you fit in anymore.
When Penelope finally got to you, it took all your courage to step forward and pull her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, and you clung to her a little tighter than you’d intended. The relief of finally seeing her in person, of knowing she was safe and whole, made your throat tighten with emotion. 
Penelope returned the hug with a strength that surprised you, squeezing you tightly as if she didn’t want to let go. “I’m just happy to see you, hon,” she whispered, her voice warm and forgiving. “It’s been too long.”
You pulled back, offering a small, apologetic smile, but the warmth in her eyes made it clear that there was no anger there, no bitterness — just pure gratitude and love. And for a fleeting moment, you felt the overwhelming urge to spill everything, to apologize for not visiting, to explain the guilt that had been eating away at you. But Penelope gave you a knowing look, a slight shake of her head, as if to say not now. And you understood. This moment was for her — for the joy of being back, for the healing that still needed to happen. The deeper conversation could wait.
But as the celebration continued and the week went on, you still kept your distance. You showed up, of course, participated in the day-to-day, but any time Penelope tried to engage with you beyond work matters, you found ways to cut the conversation short, to avoid anything that could bring up what happened. You didn’t want to push her; you didn’t want to burden her with the weight you were carrying, the idea that anything you say could put her in danger. And you could see she was trying to give you space, to let you come to her on your own terms. But the longer you avoided it, the harder it became to find a way back to the easy friendship you once had.
By the end of the week, it seemed Penelope had had enough. As you were leaving the office one evening, walking toward the elevators, she appeared beside you with a determined look on her face.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, planting herself firmly in your path, hands on her hips.
“Just... heading home,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the way she was looking at you made your heart skip a nervous beat.
“Well, change of plans,” Penelope said cheerfully, not giving you a chance to argue. “You’re coming over tonight. We need some serious girl talk, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Penny, I—” You opened your mouth to protest, but the look on her face was unwavering, her smile patient but insistent, like she’d already made up her mind and wasn’t going to let you wriggle your way out of it.
“Ah ah ah, don’t even try it,” she said, holding up a finger in playful warning. “We’re way overdue for some quality time, and if I have to drag you to my place myself, I will. And believe me, I’ve got the strength to do it.” She gave you a pointed look, raising her eyebrows.
You let out a sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders slowly give way. How could you say no? Penelope was right; you did need this. And no matter how afraid you were of having that conversation, of putting her in more danger, you couldn’t keep running from her. “Okay,” you said finally, giving her a small smile. “I’ll come over.”
“Good!” she exclaimed, beaming as she linked her arm with yours, pulling you into the elevator with a bounce in her step. “I’ll see you at seven. And trust me, it’s gonna be like old times. Pinky swear.”
And just like that, with Penelope by your side, the world felt just a little bit brighter again.
Being with Penelope felt so easy, so natural — just like it had always been. From the moment you stepped into her apartment, it was as though nothing had changed, as if the heavy cloud of the last few weeks wasn’t hanging over you. She’d set up her place just the way you remembered, warm colors, quirky decor, fairy lights draped over bookshelves, and the familiar scent of lavender. And Penelope, as if sensing your hesitation, knew exactly how to guide you back into a comfortable rhythm.
It started with laughter, of course. The kind only she could pull out of you, a sound that seemed to break down the walls you’d built around your heart. She leaned back on her sofa, legs curled under her as she went on about the latest gossip in her stack of magazines, her voice rising with excitement and exaggeration. 
“Okay, so tell me this,” Penelope started, waving around a magazine with glossy pages. “How is it possible that Bruce Willis can just get hotter every year? It’s like the laws of nature don’t apply to this man!”
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I guess some people are just blessed like that.”
“And don't even get me started on what I saw in the office last week,” she continued, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. “I swear to you, I saw a hickey on Hotch’s neck. A hickey. On. Aaron Hotchner’s. Neck.”
You nearly choked on your drink, the image catching you completely off guard. “No way!”
“Yes way!” she nodded, her eyes wide with the thrill of gossip. “I’m telling you, our stoic unit chief has a spicy side. And speaking of spicy sides, have you seen how Emily and JJ have been looking at each other lately? I mean, come on, are they not totally vibing?”
The conversation flowed easily, effortlessly, and before long, you found yourself leaning back, laughing, the warmth of Penelope’s company soothing all those frayed edges that had been gnawing away at you for so long. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. It was fun to catch up, to just be with her, to hear about all the little things you’d missed — the world outside the darkness you’d been living in. And you could see how much Penelope was thriving, back in her element, glowing with that infectious positivity you’d always loved about her. 
But eventually, it happened. The laughter faded, and the unspoken truth sat between you like a presence too big to ignore. Penelope’s expression softened, her eyes meeting yours with that gentle understanding you’d come to know so well. “Okay, hon,” she said softly, resting her hand on yours. “We’ve gotta talk about it. About what’s been eating you up inside.”
You opened your mouth to protest, to make an excuse, but it was like the dam broke before you could stop it. All the guilt, the fear, the shame — it all came flooding out. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t stop the trembling as you finally voiced the things you’d been holding onto for so long.
“Penny, I... I don’t know how to say this,” you started, your voice cracking. “But I’m so sorry. I... I didn’t know, I couldn’t know what was going to happen, but I feel like it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t told you to go, if I hadn’t encouraged you to see him, then maybe you wouldn’t have...”
“Stop,” Penelope said firmly, squeezing your hand. “Just stop right there.” Her eyes were intense, her voice steady in a way that cut through all the panic you were feeling. “You didn’t know. None of us did. And what happened — what he did to me — that is not on you. Do you hear me? It is not your fault.”
“But what if it happens again?” you whispered, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “What if I give you bad advice? What if I invite you somewhere, or we’re just hanging out, and I somehow put you in the wrong place at the wrong time and you get hurt again? I don’t... I don’t think I could handle it. I can’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”
Penelope’s eyes softened, and without missing a beat, she pulled you into a hug, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “Shh,” she murmured against your hair. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise you that.”
You clung to her, the sobs coming freely now as all the fear and self-blame poured out of you. Penelope held you firmly, stroking your back, soothing you like only she could. “I know you’re scared,” she said gently. “But, sweetie, you can’t carry the weight of things you can’t control. What happened to me — that was on Jason. He was the one who did this. Not you. You were just being a friend, trying to help me find some happiness. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I should’ve known better,” you mumbled against her shoulder, the words muffled but filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to go.”
“Hey, listen to me,” she said, pulling back to look you in the eyes, her hands gripping your shoulders. “You didn’t push me. I chose to go on that date. And yes, it turned out horribly. But that doesn’t mean you should stop being my friend, or stop giving me advice, or living your life like you’re walking on eggshells around me. I need you, okay? And I need you to be you, because that’s the person who’s always been there for me, the person I love. I don’t want you holding back because of fear.”
The sincerity in her voice, the love, and the forgiveness shining in her eyes broke down the last of your walls. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to believe her words. “I just... I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered again, your voice small and vulnerable.
“And you won’t,” Penelope said, her voice steady and resolute as she held your gaze. But then, her expression shifted, her eyes searching yours with a gentleness that only she could carry. “But I know that’s not all.”
A flicker of confusion crossed your face. “What do you mean?”
Penelope hesitated, biting down on her lip before speaking, her eyes dropping to her hands as she fidgeted with a loose thread on the blanket draped over her lap. When she finally looked up again, there was a hint of sheepishness in her expression, like she was tiptoeing into territory she wasn’t sure she should tread. “I know you were worried about me, hon,” she said softly. “And I love you so much for that, for being there for me even when you couldn’t actually be there. But… I can tell I’m not the eye of the hurricane inside your head.”
You felt your breath catch, the truth of her words hitting you with a force that left you momentarily speechless. It was as though she had seen straight through you, through all the guilt, all the fear — to the thing that lay beneath it all. And as much as you wanted to deny it, to tell her that it was just about her, you knew you couldn’t lie to Penelope.
You sighed deeply, the weight of everything you’d been holding onto crashing down on you again. You sniffled, trying to steady your voice as you nodded slowly. “Spencer,” you said, the name leaving your lips like an admission of a wound you hadn’t yet looked at directly. “Spencer hasn’t talked to me since we found out what happened.”
Penelope’s eyes widened with sympathy, and she reached out to take your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Oh, sweetie...”
“It’s like he just shut me out,” you continued, your voice trembling. “The day we found out about you, he walked out of the hospital without even looking back. He hasn’t said a word to me since, and every time I try to talk to him, he just... shuts down. I know he’s hurting. And I know he’s probably just processing everything, but...” Your voice cracked, and you shook your head as the tears welled up again. “It feels like I lost him too. Like I lost both of you. And I don’t know how to make it right.”
Penelope listened intently, her face softening with every word you spoke. She could see how much pain you were carrying, how deeply Spencer’s silence had cut you. “Have you tried talking to him? I mean, really talking to him? Not just about work or everyday stuff, but about how you’re feeling?”
You nodded, though your shoulders slumped as the hopelessness of it all settled back in. “I’ve tried, Pen. I’ve tried so many times. But every time I get close, it’s like he just... builds a wall. He won’t even look at me sometimes. And it hurts, because I don’t know what to do to fix it.”
Penelope was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she processed your words. Then she sighed softly, her fingers intertwining with yours. “You know what I think?” she said gently. “I think Spencer is hurting more than he knows how to deal with. And I think he’s taking that hurt and turning it inward — or maybe even outward. But I also know that he cares about you so, so much. He wouldn’t just turn his back on you for good.”
You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over again. “But what if he has? What if he’s blamed me for this just like everyone else did?”
“Honey, listen to me,” Penelope said, her voice firm but full of compassion. “Spencer Reid might be a genius, but he’s also a human. And sometimes, humans don’t know what to do with all the pain they carry. That doesn’t mean it’s your fault, and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He just needs time, and you might need to let yourself be okay with that. I know it’s hard, but you can’t carry both your own guilt and his.”
You sat there, taking in her words, trying to let them sink in. It was easier said than done, but hearing Penelope — wise, compassionate Penelope — tell you that it was okay to not have all the answers gave you a sliver of relief. 
“Do you really think he’ll come around?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability clear in your eyes.
Penelope smiled, a genuine, warm smile that seemed to light up the whole room. “I know he will. And until then, you’ve got me.”
You nodded, squeezing her hand, feeling a small, fragile hope begin to grow in your chest. 
The kindness and warmth Penelope had shown you was not extended to Spencer when she found him in the breakroom Monday morning. You were still settling in at your desk when you saw her storm across the bullpen, determination in her eyes and anger practically sparking off of her. You didn’t think much of it at first — Penelope’s strong-willed presence was no stranger to the office. But when you saw her walk straight up to Spencer, her expression dark and unyielding, you knew something was about to happen.
Spencer, who had been stirring his coffee absently, looked up in surprise as Penelope closed the distance between them, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. And then she let him have it.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Spencer?” she hissed, her voice low and venomous as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Ignoring Y/N for weeks? Shutting her out like she’s some stranger? After everything you’ve been through together, and everything she’s done for you, you have the nerve to treat her like this?”
Spencer flinched at her words, his face going pale as the berating continued. He opened his mouth to respond, but Penelope wasn’t letting him get a word in. 
“Y/N’s been tearing herself up over what happened, blaming herself for something that wasn’t even her fault! And you know what? Instead of being the partner she needs — the person who supports her no matter what — you’re just adding to the guilt. You don’t get to treat her like that. Not after—”
“I almost lost one of the most important people in my life because of her!” Spencer choked out suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion as he interrupted Penelope’s tirade. His eyes were wide and filled with fear and frustration, and he looked like he was unraveling with every word. “I almost lost you, Penelope, because she told you to go on that date.”
Penelope’s expression shifted then, the anger replaced by a deep, aching sympathy as she let Spencer’s words sink in. There was a silence, a heavy silence that felt like it filled every inch of the breakroom. And neither of them knew that in that very moment, you’d walked up to the door, hearing Spencer’s words, and froze. The world around you seemed to fall away as his voice echoed in your head, the raw pain in his tone seeping into your bones. You stayed there, heart pounding, unable to move.
“Spencer,” Penelope said slowly, her voice gentle but firm, trying to rein in her own anger. “That was not her fault, and you know it. Do the math, genius. Jason was targeting me from the start, whether I was on that date or not. He had me in his sights long before Y/N ever said anything. Stop blaming her for something no one could control.”
Spencer scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as if trying to brush off the weight of her words. “Yeah, well, you say that, but it’s not that simple. If she hadn’t—”
“No, Spencer!” Penelope’s voice cut through his, sharper now, and she pointed a finger right in his face. “You listen to me. That is your girlfriend we’re talking about. Your life partner. Your best friend. Y/N has been there for you through everything. Do you remember when you were so drugged up that you didn’t even know what you were doing, or who you were with, when you lashed out at her in the middle of the night? And did she blame you? Did she shut you out? No. She held you, she comforted you, and she made sure you got the help you needed. She has never given up on you, not once, and you’re giving up on her?”
Spencer was silent. His mouth opened as if to respond, but nothing came out. He looked at Penelope, his eyes burning with anger and anguish and something far more complicated. And for a long moment, the silence stretched between them, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. 
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, cracking with the strain of what he was feeling. “I love Y/N more than anything else in this world. But how can I trust her to make good decisions for herself, at all, if her last one almost got you killed?”
And that was all you could take. The words hit like a blow to the chest, and before you knew what was happening, you let out a sob, loud and choked and broken. The sound tore through the silence, and both Spencer and Penelope whipped around, eyes wide in shock as they realized you’d been standing there, hearing everything. 
“Y/N—” Spencer started, panic flooding his voice as he took a step toward you.
But you were already moving, already running. You turned and fled, the tears blurring your vision as you rushed down the hall, away from the breakroom, away from the words that had shattered you all over again.
“Shit!” you heard Spencer yell from behind you, followed by the sharp slap of his hand hitting the cabinet in frustration, the loud bang echoing down the hall. But you didn’t look back. You couldn’t look back. All you could do was keep running, trying to outrun the pain that seemed to chase you down with every step.
“Was it worth it, Reid?” Penelope asked, her voice breaking the silence that filled the breakroom after you’d fled. There was no anger left in her tone — only a sadness, heavy and deep, that seemed to echo around them. She looked at Spencer with a sorrowful expression, searching his eyes as if she could somehow pull out an answer that would make sense of what had just happened. “Was it worth it? To get that off your chest?”
Spencer stood there, frozen, his hand still resting on the cabinet door he’d slammed shut in frustration. The thud of it still seemed to reverberate in the air, mingling with the ghost of your sobs. His jaw clenched, his eyes staring blankly at the floor where you’d stood only moments before, now empty. 
He didn't respond, and for a moment, it seemed like he couldn’t find the words. He just shook his head, unable to meet Penelope’s gaze. 
“Did it help?” Penelope pressed, her voice gentle but insistent. “Did it make you feel better? Because from where I’m standing, you just broke the heart of the person you say you love more than anything else.”
Spencer’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I don’t know,” he finally choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Penelope. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this right. I was just... I was so angry. So scared. And I... I took it out on her.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to take it back.”
Penelope’s face softened, but there was no pity in her eyes, only a deep, aching understanding. “You can’t,” she said softly. “You can’t take back what you said. But you can make it right. You can own up to it. You can tell her the truth — that you were hurting, that you let the fear and anger get the best of you. That you don’t actually believe she’s to blame for any of this.”
Spencer finally looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed, filled with regret. “But what if she doesn’t forgive me?” he asked, his voice raw with desperation. “What if I’ve lost her?”
Penelope took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, grounding him in her touch. “Then you fight for her, Spence,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “You do everything you can to make her see how much she means to you. You remind her that you love her, that you need her, that this — all of this — was just you not knowing how to handle almost losing two of the people you care about most.”
She paused, her voice softening even more as she gave him a sad, knowing smile. “But first, you’re going to have to forgive yourself. Because all that anger you’ve been carrying? It’s not about Y/N. It’s about you.”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, nodding, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right — he knew it all along. But knowing it and facing it were two different things. And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to truly sit with the pain of it, to feel the regret for what he’d done, and the fear of what he might have just lost.
And in that moment, the truth settled in his chest like a stone: if he had any chance of making things right, he’d have to confront his demons, no matter how much they scared him. Because he loved you. And he was going to do whatever it took to get you back.
You found an empty office as soon as your legs carried you far enough away, stumbling inside and shutting the door behind you before you could even think of stopping the sobs that clawed their way up your throat. You leaned against the wall, your hands over your face as you let yourself cry — really cry — until the tears came freely, the weight of Spencer’s words sinking in like a stone in your chest. Every breath hurt, and the dam of emotions you’d held back for so long finally broke. It wasn’t just about what he said, but how deeply it cut. 
Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours; you couldn’t be sure. You let it all out, every sob, every tremor that racked through you. And then, as the tears finally slowed and the pain dulled into exhaustion, you knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. The team was counting on you. Penelope was counting on you. So you pulled yourself together as best as you could, taking slow, deep breaths and wiping your face with the sleeves of your shirt until your hands stopped shaking.
The mirror in the bathroom was unforgiving as you stood there, splashing cold water on your face. You ran your fingers under your eyes, trying to erase the smudges of mascara that had stained your cheeks, and did your best to fix your hair, to smooth away any evidence of your breakdown. But your eyes were still puffy, red-rimmed, the remnants of your tears clearly visible. And you knew, even as you straightened your posture, forcing a calmness you didn’t feel, that everyone would see right through it. That they’d probably all heard what happened.
But you had work to do, and you couldn’t afford to fall apart again. So, with a deep breath, you steeled yourself and walked back out into the bullpen, your head held high, your shoulders squared. Even if your composure was a fragile thing, even if you felt like you could shatter with the slightest touch, you made your way to your desk, focusing on each step as if it were the only thing holding you together.
The bullpen felt different now, the energy heavier than it had been before. Conversations were hushed, the usual buzz of the office subdued as you passed by. You knew they were watching, that they’d seen or at least heard what had happened in the breakroom. But you didn’t look around; you didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. You just sat down at your desk, opened up the stack of files in front of you, and forced your focus onto the work, letting it be the only thing that mattered in that moment.
Across the room, Spencer sat at his own desk, and as soon as you walked in, he saw you. He saw the way you held yourself together — the straight line of your back, the tightness in your expression, the way you refused to let your gaze wander to his. And he hated it. He hated knowing that he had done that to you, his love, that he’d been the reason for the pain and exhaustion etched into your face. He’d never seen you like this before — so closed off, so... dim. 
He watched you bury yourself in your work, your fingers moving mechanically across the keyboard, your pen scribbling across the pages as if each word was a way to silence the hurt. And all Spencer could do was sit there, guilt and shame wracking his mind as he thought about what he’d done — how he’d let his anger and fear control him, how he’d let it spill out onto you, the one person he swore to protect, the one person who deserved none of it. His brilliant, loving, beautiful girlfriend, who had always stood by his side, even when he didn't deserve it.
He made you cry. He made you doubt yourself, blame yourself for something you had no power over. And the light that usually radiated from you — the brightness he loved so much, the joy you carried so effortlessly — was gone, dulled by the weight of the hurt he’d caused.
Every fiber of Spencer’s being screamed at him to get up, to walk over to you and wrap you in the biggest hug he could manage. He wanted to hold you, to whisper a thousand apologies, to promise that everything was going to be okay and that he’d never, ever make you feel this way again. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to move, because he knew that it would take more than that — more than a hug, more than an “I’m sorry” — to fix the damage he’d caused. It would take time, and understanding, and patience — all things he wasn’t sure he even deserved from you after what he’d said, what he’d done.
Later that evening, the weight of the day still clung to Spencer like a thick fog. Unable to concentrate, unable to push past the regret that gnawed at his insides, he found himself reaching for a small comfort — your favorite book. It sat on his shelf, the well-worn cover soft under his fingertips as he pulled it down. You had gifted it to him long ago, lovingly annotated with notes, doodles, and highlighted passages. Each page was filled with bits of you — your humor, your thoughts, your heart. Categories like “reminds me of you,” “our jokes,” “my favorite quotes,” and “scenes I wish I could live with you” peppered the pages, showing just how much care, time, and love you’d put into making it special for him. It had been one of the most thoughtful gifts he’d ever received.
He settled onto the couch, the book resting heavily in his lap. And as he flipped through the pages, he let himself be pulled into the memories, letting his fingers brush over your handwriting, your underlines and notes. He read the small snippets where you’d connected a moment in the book to a joke only the two of you shared, where you’d drawn silly little hearts in the margins or underlined lines that spoke to you. And he could almost hear your voice as he read your thoughts, your teasing comments, your kind words. It felt as though you were right there with him, the warmth of you emanating from every page.
The tears came slowly, silently, at first just a sting in the back of his eyes that he tried to blink away. But as he read deeper, the notes growing more tender, the love you’d put into every word more apparent, he let them fall. He let them fall because he could feel the depth of what he’d pushed away, how much you’d loved him, how much you still loved him. And how horribly, deeply he’d hurt you.
He was reading a note that simply said, “This reminds me of the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching”. He laughed softly through his tears at your handwriting, slightly wobbly from when you’d annotated it while on a train, but the joy of that memory only made the pain sharper, cutting through him like a blade. He wished he could take everything back, go back to when things were easier and he hadn’t let his fears get the better of him.
Then his phone started ringing. Spencer’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, and when he saw the screen light up with your contact photo, his breath caught in his throat. It was that picture — the one he’d taken when he brought you to New York City for the first time, to the MET and the New York Public Library. You’d insisted on making a goofy growling face next to the stone lions out front, hands curled into claws as you posed, trying to match their fierce stance. He’d laughed so hard as he took the photo, snapping the picture while you were mid-roar. And now, as he stared at it, the memory made him smile, even through his tears.
His thumb hovered over the answer button for a moment, heart pounding in his chest, before he finally pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello? Y/N?” he managed, his voice cracking slightly, unsure of what to expect.
“Hi, Spence,” you sighed, your voice soft, almost hesitant. “I’m... um, I’m outside. Can I come in?”
The relief and panic hit him all at once. You were here. You’d come to him. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, fumbling to stand as he set the book aside, the pages fluttering closed. “I’ll be right there.”
He hung up, practically stumbling to the door, his heart racing with both fear and hope. And as he reached for the door handle, he tried to steady himself, knowing that whatever came next, whatever words you had to say, he was ready to listen. Because you were here, and he wasn’t going to let this moment slip away.
As soon as Spencer swung the door open, he was met with the sight of you standing there, tears staining your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy, your breath coming out in shaky gasps.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you choked out, your hands trembling as they twisted together in front of you. “I’m so, so sorry for everything. I should have never told Penny to go on that date. I should have... I should have called to check on her, I should have thought about how all of it affected you. I’m—”
“What?” he whispered, his voice coming out strangled with confusion and pain as he cut you off. He stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours desperately, trying to make sense of your words. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I messed everything up,” you continued, the sobs making your voice tremble as you tried to hold yourself together. “I never meant to hurt you, or Penelope, or anyone, but all I did was make things worse. If I hadn’t told her to go, if I had just stayed out of it, none of this would have happened. And you—” Your voice cracked, and you struggled to find the right words, to get out everything you’d been holding inside for so long. “You wouldn’t have had to go through this, you’d still trust me, and you wouldn’t hate me. I don’t want you to hate me, Spencer. Please don’t hate me.”
Spencer’s heart shattered at the sight of you breaking down in front of him, blaming yourself for something you had no control over, something that had haunted him every day since it happened. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying this burden when it was his anger, his fear, that had driven you away. And all he wanted to do in that moment was take away your pain, to make you see that you weren’t to blame, that he had been so, so wrong.
“Hey, hey, stop, stop,” he said urgently, stepping forward to close the distance between you, his hands hovering for a second before he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t be sorry.” He pressed his face into your hair, his voice desperate as he tried to find the words that would make this right. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I love you so much. I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m the one who hurt you, who shut you out when I should’ve been there for you.”
You trembled in his hold, your tears slowing down as you clung to him, and Spencer tightened his grip, trying to convey everything he felt through the warmth of his embrace. “I was scared,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I was so scared of losing both of you. And I know that’s not an excuse, but I... I let that fear control me, and I took it out on you, and it was so wrong. You were trying to help Penelope, trying to be a good friend, and I blamed you for something that was never your fault.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with confusion and anguish, and Spencer could see the questions there, the doubt that still lingered. “But... but I was the one who—”
“No,” he said firmly, cupping your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked down your cheeks. “No, Y/N. What happened to Penelope — that’s on Jason. Not you. And I should have been there to tell you that, to support you, instead of shutting you out. I was so scared of losing you that I pushed you away and I hurt you. And I am so, so sorry.”
The sincerity in his voice, the tears that filled his eyes as he spoke, the pain of being apart, and the love that still held you together, left you breathless. 
“Please don’t apologize,” Spencer said softly, his forehead pressing against yours. “You did nothing wrong. You were just being you — the caring, loving person I fell in love with. And I am so sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t be that person.”
You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as you pulled away, giving yourself some space. Grabbing a tissue from the side table, you dabbed at your nose and wiped away the tears that still clung to your lashes. Spencer watched you carefully, the anxiety on his face clear as he tried to read your silence. You didn’t speak for a long moment, your gaze fixed on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you thought through everything that had happened. He stood there, holding his breath, afraid to interrupt whatever was going through your mind.
“I love you, Spence,” you whispered finally, your voice shaking but full of truth. “I love you so much.” You finally lifted your head to look at him, letting the words hang between you like a fragile thread of hope. 
His shoulders relaxed slightly, a small flicker of relief crossing his face as he stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “I love you too,” he murmured, the words spilling out quickly, like he was afraid you might change your mind if he didn’t say it fast enough. “More than anything. And I’m not going to let anything come between us again.” He reached out, his hands hovering just in front of yours, desperate to close the space between you. “Please... don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion as you took in the worry on his face. “Spencer, why would you say that?”
“Well, I—I treated you terribly, and we weren’t talking, and we fought, and I was so awful to you,” he stammered, his voice shaky as the fear spilled out. “I... I know what I did, and I know I hurt you, and I just... I was scared that maybe... maybe you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.”
“Spencer,” you said softly, taking his hands in yours, your fingers intertwining as you squeezed them reassuringly. “That doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. We had a fight. A really bad one. But now we have to work through it. Together.”
His eyes met yours, and for a moment, all you saw was vulnerability — the way he was trying to hold himself together, the way he was fighting not to let the guilt and fear overwhelm him. “But what if... what if I hurt you again?” he asked, his voice so quiet it almost got lost between you. “What if I say the wrong thing, and you...”
“Then we’ll talk about it,” you said firmly, your voice steady as you spoke. “We’ll talk, we’ll talk and we’ll figure it out, and we’ll make sure we don’t let it happen again. But I’m not leaving you, Spencer. Just because we had a fight... that doesn’t mean we’re over. We’re stronger than that.” You paused, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I know we have a lot to work through. I know it’s not going to be easy. But I love you, and I’m here. We’ll do it together, okay?”
He nodded, a flicker of hope brightening his eyes, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Okay,” he whispered, tightening his grip on your hands. “Together.” 
“And, baby?” you asked, your voice soft but steady as you tilted your head to look up at him, trying to catch his eyes and make sure he really heard you.
“Yeah?” Spencer responded, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes meeting yours with that familiar mix of love and uncertainty, as if he was afraid to say or do the wrong thing.
You squeezed his hands gently, your thumbs brushing over his knuckles, grounding both him and yourself in that touch. “You have to talk to me if something is bothering you,” you said, your tone gentle but firm, the words full of the honesty you both needed. “I can’t fix anything, and we can’t work on anything, if I don’t know what’s going on inside your head. If you’re hurting, or if you’re scared, or angry... you have to let me in. Okay?”
Spencer nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, and you could see how hard he was trying to take in your words, to let them settle in his heart. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I... I’ll try. I promise.”
You gave him a small smile, leaning in just a little closer. “That’s all I’m asking,” you said gently. “We have to be able to talk to each other. No matter how hard it is, no matter what’s going on — we have to do it together.”
He closed his eyes, and you watched as he took a slow, deep breath, the tension in his body finally loosening as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. When he opened his eyes again, something had changed. It was subtle, but you saw it — a spark of determination that hadn’t been there before, a promise to do better, to be there for you in all the ways you both needed. But there was something else, too — a hunger, an intensity in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in so long. It was the way he used to look at you, that mix of need and devotion that made your heart race.
“God, I missed you so much, darling,” Spencer sighed, and before you could respond, he pulled you into another hug, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost lost your breath. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if to remind himself of your scent, the comfort of your presence, the closeness he'd gone too long without. His hands gripped your back firmly, holding you as though you might disappear if he let go. 
You melted into his hold, your own arms winding around him as he pulled you flush against him. It was a hug that spoke of all the longing and pain and love that had built up between you, a hug that was both desperate and grounding all at once. You could feel the way his breath hitched as he held you closer, the way his fingers dug gently into your back, and you knew that this was more than just an embrace of comfort — it was everything he’d held back for so long, all the love and want and need finally spilling over. 
“I missed you too,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you pressed yourself closer to him. And for that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, tangled together, holding each other like you never wanted to let go. 
Spencer pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with a need that made your stomach flip. His hands slid up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing lightly over your cheeks as he spoke, his voice low and breathy. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, the words full of both desire and hesitation — a question that held the weight of all that had passed between you, of all he hoped to mend.
You giggled softly, your heart swelling at the sight of him so close, so vulnerable. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” you teased, leaning into his touch, a smile tugging at your lips as you nodded.
Spencer’s lips twitched into a smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw that light return to his eyes — that playful, loving look he always gave you before pressing his mouth to yours. And then he was kissing you, soft at first, like he was trying to remember how it felt. But as soon as his lips met yours, you felt the relief and longing melt between you, and he kissed you deeper, his lips moving against yours with all the tenderness and passion he’d been holding back. 
The world around you seemed to blur, everything fading away as you sank into him, the feeling of his mouth on yours so familiar, so perfect, like coming home. You could taste the salt of tears, his and yours mingling together, and as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel all of him — his warmth, his love, the steady rhythm of his heart beating against yours.
He kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered, like he was trying to memorize every second, every touch, making up for every painful moment you’d spent apart. There was something so intense, yet so tender about it — a kiss filled with all the love and longing, spilling over with every movement of his lips against yours. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t slow either; it was the kind of kiss that lingered and sank deep into your bones, like a promise of something stronger, something unbreakable.
It was the sweetest kiss you think the two of you had ever shared. You felt every ounce of passion and desire radiating off him, every bit of love poured into that moment. Spencer’s hands were gentle as they rubbed your back, his fingers moving in small, slow circles, not daring to roam too far but enough to make you shiver at the warmth of his touch. Each caress was careful, as if he was both holding you close and holding himself back, trying to savor every second of feeling you close again.
You clung to him, your own hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly your knuckles were turning white, and you couldn’t bear to let go. You didn’t want to lose even an inch of contact, afraid that if he pulled away, even for a moment, you’d lose this — lose him. The world seemed to dissolve around you, and all that existed was the pressure of his mouth on yours, the faint taste of coffee on his lips, the way his hair brushed against your forehead as he leaned in closer.
Spencer broke the kiss for just a second, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mixing with yours as he let out a soft, shaky sigh. And then he was kissing you again, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the depth of what you meant to each other — not just words, not just promises, but something tangible and real. Something that neither of you were willing to let go. 
And in that kiss, you felt the world right itself, felt the cracks begin to heal, and the pieces of both your hearts start to fall back into place. You didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, but for now, this was everything. And that was enough.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry
2K notes · View notes
loveyouprongs · 5 months ago
Text
did my heart love till now?
Tumblr media
remus lupin x fem!reader | she’s a hopeless romantic who loves halloween. he loves her. or at least he very, very, strongly likes her in a way he’s never liked anyone else. enough to wear matching costumes
upcoming content: fluff! mentions of alcohol. lmk if you think i missed anything
authors note: i hope you like this! romeo & juliet is my favorite play and the 1996 film is my favorite movie! and remus is my favorite boy :’)!
word count: 2k
masterlist
remus had been staring at himself in the mirror for so long his reflection was starting to blur, like a watercolor painting made up of the soft brown of his hair, his pale complexion, and shining silver. he felt like a fool. “a lovesick fool,” james would say, but in this moment, he just felt like a fool. period.
“hey moony, have you decided what you’re going to be for halloween yet?” sirius asked as soon as he and james barged into their shared apartment. remus tore his gaze from his book at the sound of his best friend’s unnatural sounding greeting, loud and jilted as if he’d been practicing it.
“…no, wh-“
“well look no further!” james very enthusiastically exclaimed, pulling a brown bag out from behind his back which promptly fell to the ground, the contents now hanging between him and sirius. it was a knights armor. metal shoulder pads atop a slinky silver long sleeve top with chains resting across the chest.
“what the fuck is that?”
“your halloween costume!” james said as if it were obvious.
remus could do nothing but look at his two friends, who he cared for very deeply, as if they were right idiots.
“don’t you get it?” sirius asked, “it’s romeo!”
remus then felt his face red, heat rising to his cheeks all the way to his ears and he knew he couldn’t play dumb to get out of this.
last week at dinner you had said that you were planning on dressing as juliet for halloween. “from the movie of course!”
“isn’t that part of a couples costume?” marlene asked, “are you bringing a mystery man with you to my party?”
at that, remus tensed, his shoulders instinctively rising to his ears and his heart quickened waiting for your response. he hung out with you pretty much every day, you’re tight knit friend group always sharing at least one meal together. he felt like he would know if you had a boyfriend, but he was still feeling queasy waiting for your answer.
“no mystery men with me! i guess it could be a couple’s costume, but it’s so pretty, i don’t mind doing it solo.”
remus felt his body relax and continued to pick at his food, stealing glances at you whenever he could, missing the mischievous looks being traded between james and sirius.
“i am not wearing that,” remus said resolutely.
“why not? girls love this stuff!” sirius responded, tossing the costume on remus’ lap. he refused to touch it, as if any sign that he openly had feelings for you would somehow come back to bite him in the ass. it rested on his legs like an anchor.
“you want me to surprise her with a matching costume? that’s pathetic.”
“it’s sweet!” james stressed.
“yeah, and she’s always so heart eyed over that gooey romance shit, you show up in this and she’ll be begging for it!”
sirius’ crude comments was met with a smack in the head from james and an unimpressed stare from remus.
“remus, i’m telling you, this is a perfect idea! she’s single and dressing as one half of the greatest couples in history, if you show up as the other half, oh it’ll be like straight out of the pictures!” james swooned. remus felt his heart soften at his overdramatic friend, who he knew was just trying to help him be happy, but his nerves overpowered any convincing.
“you do know they both die at the end, right? kill themselves, even. not sure that’s a message i want to send.” remus muttered, standing up from the couch to go to his room, tired of his friend’s antics.
“you’ll never get a date by just staring at her, mate!” james called out, “and she’s well fit, too! you’re time is running out and you know it!” sirius added as remus walked down the hall, the metal costume in tow, only to be shoved in his closet.
but as halloween inched closer and his feelings for you only grew stronger, james and sirius’ words echoed in his head. he could never get the thought of your soft voice and sweet smile out of his mind, he liked you. so much.
you were always the one who kept listening to him when whatever he was saying was drowned out by the group. always spoke to him in dulcet tones, especially when you felt he had a headache. you were smart and funny and kind, not to mention beautiful. beautiful in a way that reminded him of the princesses and angels he would read about in books when he was a child. soft and warm, a glow seemingly always emanating from your figure.
remus would be content with just looking at you for the rest of his life, he thinks (deep down in the back of his brain, terrified of the strength of his own feelings) but it would be nice to do it without the feat of getting caught by your stare, or his friends taking the mick out of him afterwards.
so here he stood, his torso slightly weighed down by the heavy detailing, but it fit him well nonetheless. it was almost time for them to leave for marlene’s and remus could hear his friends in the living room. he had to make a decision soon.
“y’coming, moony?” james asked through the door.
remus took a deep breath, biting off a square of chocolate. he could do this. it was halloween! you’re supposed to be in a costume. and the film was popular enough, he figured, that he could play it off as a coincidence if things went south.
“…yeah, i’m coming.” he stepped out the door and walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at james’ loud gasp.
“oh my god you’re wearing it!” james practically screeched.
“don’t make me change my mind.”
“oh remus, you’re so handsome!” sirius teased in a high pitched voice, “please be my romeo!”
“for it is the east, and juliet is the sun!” james recited.
“that’s it, i’m changing!” remus exclaimed, only to be dragged back by his waist and walked out the door.
remus was hit by the noise of the party as soon as marlene swung the door open. her eyes trailed down james’ superhero outfit, sirius dressed as patrick bateman, and then remus, her face exploding in an open mouth smile. “reeeeemussss!!!!” she squealed, clearly already on her way to drunk, “you’re such a sweetheart!” she cooed, remus’ cheeks reddening more than he thought possible.
“isn’t he just? now let us in marls, it’s fucking freezing out here!” sirius said, and with a pat on the back, he and james were emerged in the crowd.
“she isn’t here yet, remus, but oh my god she’s going to love it,”
as the night went on remus had practically glued himself to marlene’s increasingly wasted side all night, no sign of james or sirius (who he would bet money are upstairs with dates, or each other), and more importantly no sign of you. he was feeling more foolish by the minute, the metal top growing uncomfortable against his sweaty skin.
disappointed was pooling in his stomach as marlene was nodding off on his shoulder, or so he thought, but he was brought out of his thoughts when a loud yelp escaped her. “you’re here! finally!”
marlene jumped up and stumbled over to a vision in white. flowing silk draped over your body, delicate, feathered wings pinned to your back. excess fabric tied around your waist, framing you beautifully. stunningly. remus felt like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself stand frozen in the middle of the living room, mouth slightly agape, willing himself to do anything other than stare.
“REEEEMUS LOOK! LOOK WHO IT IS!” marlene shout-whispered, shoving you towards him.
you felt your breath escape you at the sight. remus, tall and sweet, looking down at you, his tussled hair dancing across his forehead and his long fingers reached up to brush it out of his eyes, hand trembling. you weren’t fully convinced you weren’t dreaming.
“she, she’s pretty out of it,” he spoke softly, referring to marlene who was now dancing with a lamp.
“y-you look, i-i really like your costume, obviously” you murmured, fiddling with your hands, resisting the urge to run your hand down his sculpted cheeks.
ever since you met him, you believed remus was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. and then once you got to know him, got to experience first hand his limitless kindness, his witty remarks that always put the boys teasing to shame, and his rare barking laugh that only comes out when he finds something really funny (you elicited it from him once and have spent forever chasing that high).
all your friends said he had a thing for you. that he was always staring at you with soft, hooded eyes, move his plans around for you whenever you asked to study together, rest his jacket on the seat next to him so it would appear taken so no one else would sit down it it until you came.
but you were both famously mild-mannered, shy to a fault, and your feelings never rose to the surface, but the same couldn’t be said for right now.
“oh, thank you,” remus responded, “i thought it would be nice if we could match.”
a giggle escaped you at that and you looked down, unable to meet his eye, you both wearing twin smiles.
absolutely thrilled with your reaction, remus bent his body in half, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, eyes filled with hope, “what’d y’think?”
“i think you look very dashing, rem, i didn’t know you were a shakespeare fan.”
“hmm, not so much,” with a deep breath he let out, “i’m a fan of you, though”
the neon lights flashing over you both contributed to the bubble you found yourselves in. the rowdy guests nothing but white noise as you felt your heart pound against your chest over the soft spoken boy.
“really?” it slipped out. deep seeded insecurity worming it’s way to the forefront as you were positively overwhelmed with confronting your feelings… and that who you had them for.
remus’ heart splintered a little at your warbling ask, “yes” he let out, easy as breathing, “of course.” he placed a large hand on your shoulder, his thumb dancing on the edge of your collarbone.
“i’m a fan of you, too. more than anyone else,” you whispered with a step closer, your white ballet flats lightly knocking against the tips of his black boots, the space between you dwindling.
“aren’t i lucky,” remus murmured wistfully, “to have an angel say that about me”
with that you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips to his, immediately getting lost in the sparks. unsure of what to do with your arms, you awkwardly placed them on remus’ forearms, as if you were holding him still in place. he smiled against your lips, the breath escaping from his chuckle dancing across your face as he lightly dragged your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders.
you melted as he pulled you in, you gasped as he ran his tongue against your bottom lip, you chased after his lips when he pulled away with a stuttering breath. “y’have to give me a minute angel, or m’heart’s going to give out,”
you giggled, knowing exactly how he felt as he tucked his face into your neck.
“oi oi, c’mon lupin! what did i tell ya! i knew you could do it!” sirius shouted from across the room, thrusting his cup in the air in congratulations.
“oh christ,” remus muttered, his annoyance dissipating with your laugh.
“you are a lover, moony! borrow *hic* cupid's wings and soar with *hic* them above common ground!” james, although very drunk and hiccuping, recited.
all remus could do was roll his eyes, he had everything he wanted right in front of him. after he was done kissing you until the sun came up (and a little bit more after that), he could figure out when the fuck james seemingly memorized romeo and juliet.
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
my-castles-crumbling · 26 days ago
Text
break - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 693
The first time Regulus Black thought James Potter was going to break his heart, he ended up with a boyfriend. Because really, they hadn’t been actually been going out in the first place, Regulus had just grown so mortifyingly attached that he knew he would never be the same, even when James came to his senses and told Regulus that this strange, addicting thing between them was done.
So one night in February, when James turned to him with a terrifyingly serious expression and said the words, “We need to talk about something,” Regulus wasn’t even surprised, though his heart sank to the floor. 
He just maintained a completely blank face, squeezed his fingers into his palms so tightly his fingernails left marks, and uttered the words, “Go on. Say it, then.” 
And was completely, blissfully shocked when James said softly, “I…I care about you, Reg. I want this to be something. Have for ages.”
And after he snogged the living daylights out of him, he gave him a very stern talk about never, ever using the words ‘we need to talk’ again.
-
The second time Regulus Black thought James Potter was going to break his heart, they ended up moving in together.
Well, not like that. But it was the end of Regulus’s sixth year and James’s seventh. James was leaving, and Regulus had feared for a while that the end of this chapter of James’s life meant the end of them, as well. Every time James murmured adoring sentiments in his ear, every one of them felt like it had an expiration date, and he found himself scrambling to make plans for the summer, for the future, for being alone.
So when James sat him down, face full of anxiety and nervous determination, Regulus figured this was it. He’d finally gotten the nerve to end things. He was focusing so much on keeping himself together, on keeping his face emotionless and his breathing even, that he barely heard it when James said in a firm voice, “You’re coming home with me this summer.”
“I-what?” he asked after a minute, still processing.
“I know you’re independent and you don’t need help and all that shit, but I honestly don’t think I could make it through three whole months without you, and I’d spend every waking minute worrying about you,” James said in a rush, as if he’d practiced this speech many times. “So it’s not for you, not really. It’s that you’re doing a favor for me. So please, just- please at least think about-”
He interrupted James with a kiss.
-
The third time Regulus Black thought James Potter was going to break up his heart, they ended up engaged.
James had been acting so differently lately, coming home late from work and talking in hushed tones to his friends. Regulus had worried himself into an all-out panic, convinced that he was cheating, that everyone was in on it. That his luck had run out, and James had finally realized Regulus was not the person he thought he was, after all.
So when James sat him down after a lovely dinner at home and began his speech with, “I wanted to do this differently…” his heart again sank, because he was sure this was the end.
Until James continued. 
“I wanted to do this in front of a crowd, or, I dunno, have a flash mob or something stupid like that,” James said, smiling softly as Regulus frowned in confusion. “But I decided that you’d probably kill me if I did, and then you wouldn’t be able to say yes, so…”
And that was when Regulus saw the ring in his hand.
He didn’t take in much after that.
And when they finished celebrating their new engagement, Regulus turned to his new fiance and mumbled, “You know this really means you can’t leave me, right?” the vulnerability of the statement hanging in the warm air around them. Perhaps he was finally believing it. 
But James just looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. “Baby, I was never planning on it,” he grinned, brushing their lips together.
735 notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 5 months ago
Note
hi!!! wanted to req a poly! marauders x reader where the reader has never had anything inside before so like first time fingering if that’s okay 🫣 totally okay if not, love your work!!!! <3
Hi my sweetheart I’m so sorry I held onto this for sooooooo long but thank you for requesting I love you ! And thanks to @mareagirls for helping me out when I was struggling with the choreography haha <33
cw: smut mdni, fingering, inexperienced reader
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 837 words
Sirius, you think, is treating this all very casually. He’s lying on his stomach between your bent knees, legs kicking idly behind him while he circles your entrance with a finger. 
“Baby.” He looks up at you. “Could you stop being so nervous? I cut my nails for you.” 
“I’m fine,” you say, a bit affronted. 
Remus chuckles. His two fingers move over your clit in rhythmic, dedicated passes. 
“You’re all tensed up, sweetheart,” James clues you in. He’s lying on your other side with one arm cushioning your head. It’s almost like you could be going to sleep, except one of your boyfriends is tormenting your clit while the other attempts the breaking and entering of your cunt. 
“Not breaking,” Sirius had said when you made that joke earlier, looking at you in horror. “It’s going to be fun, not torture, you freak.” 
James’ other hand goes to your side. He gives you a little squeeze, and you gasp, ticklish. “See?” he asks. 
“Jamie,” Remus scolds, but he’s smiling. With his free hand he rubs the underside of your thigh, trying to calm you back down. “You don’t need to worry, dove. We’ll start slow, and we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” 
“I just don’t know how it’s going to feel,” you fret, shifting on the mattress to get comfortable again. 
“The point’s to find out, isn’t it?” Sirius is looking at you like he really wants to know. He holds up his index finger as though to exhibit it. “I’m only going in with the one at first, and slow like Rem said,” he vows. “It shouldn’t hurt.” 
“Definitely say if it hurts,” James agrees. 
You chew your lip, nodding. Sirius’ expression softens. 
“Just tell me if you don’t like it,” he says earnestly. “Say stop and I’ll stop, okay?” 
“Okay,” you say. 
“Good girl,” Remus praises, leaning sideways to kiss the top of your knee. His skillful fingers never stutter.
Sirius makes a soft sound of agreement, and then he slips one finger into your entrance. 
You’re prepared to be shocked, but he’s right; it’s not a substantial intrusion. You almost don’t know it’s there at first, until he swirls it around experimentally and a little “oh” stumbles out of you. Your hips shift. 
“Yeah?” James noses at your cheek, smile audible in his voice. “Not so bad, huh?”
“No,” you agree breathily. 
Sirius grins below you, planting a big kiss on the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl. You’re so tight, sweetheart, fuck,” he groans, wriggling his finger against your gummy walls. “And your little cunt is so pretty. Next time we should do this with a mirror.” 
“One step at a time,” Remus tells him mildly. But when you push your hips upwards, he obliges you, increasing his pressure on your clit. 
“S’that good, honey?” James’ lips are warm and soft against the column of your throat, teeth barely there as he suckles at your skin. “Do you like having Pads inside you?” 
“Yeah,” you answer him again, voice pitching slightly when Sirius slips another finger inside you. Your eyes squeeze shut. 
“Shh.” James presses a gentle kiss over the mark he’s left. “You’re okay, sweet girl.” His murmurings, sweet and lovely and too quiet for you to understand, trail down your chest until he finds something he likes. His arm slides from beneath your head, hand finding your shoulder and resting there with a soothing weight. 
You know patience isn’t in Sirius’ nature, so you appreciate the restraint he’s using with you now. His fingers sponge in and out of you at an easy pace, shallow and careful. When you find it in yourself to open your eyes, he’s watching you from beneath his lashes, using your expression as his guide while he works you open. 
You moan when James sucks hard at a spot on the underside of your tit. 
“Don’t bruise her,” says Remus, still sour from the mark that’s yet to fade on his left pectoral. 
“Sorry.” James pulls his mouth from your tit, smiling at you sheepishly. “Is it okay if I leave you a pretty little mark, my angel?” 
“No kissing up to get what you want, either,” Remus grumbles, but you nod, and James goes back to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 
“You’re doing so good.” Sirius is leaning his cheek against your thigh now, seemingly lost in his own sort of trance. The weight tips your leg outward so that Remus has to grab your knee to keep him propped up. “So good for me, baby. Now,” his eyes gleam, and you know the look of it well enough to be both excited and a little bit nervous, “how would you like to try the feel of something else inside?” 
“Oh,” you say, caught offguard. “Um, I don’t think I’m ready for…” 
“I meant my tongue, sweetness.” 
“Hey!” James pulls his lips from you with a wet suctioning sound. “No fair, you’ve had your turn already! I want to go.”
2K notes · View notes
brokenmenswhore · 5 months ago
Note
helloooo do u think u could do a poly marauders smut where they all get jealous and punish reader 😁
absolutely i do
punish | poly!marauders
Tumblr media
pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)
warnings: choking, rough sex (MDNI 18+), smut, spanking, triple penetration (including anal)
────── ☾ ──────
“You’re joking. I mean, you have to be joking, right?”
You toyed with your fingers, watching your hand movements in an effort to keep your head down and avoid eye contact as your legs began to shake, your feet reaching the floor as you sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m sorry, it just felt like something I should tell you-“
“It felt like something you should tell us? Fucking hell, angel, you can’t be agreeing to dates with other guys when you’re with us.”
You sighed, protesting, “but it’s not a date! He just needs help studying, I just thought it would be weird if I didn’t tell you.”
“If it’s something you have to sit us down and tell us about, doesn’t that set off a red flag?” James asked calmly, trying to level with you.
“I mean, not always,” you admitted, “I kinda have to do this with Sirius every time I even breathe the same air as a boy.”
Sirius was pacing back and forth in front of your bed, but he stopped when you spoke his name, turning toward you. “Do not act all innocent with me, you know you lead them on.”
“I don’t!” you protested.
Sirius was frustrated, his nostrils flaring as he gripped your jaw, forcing your head upward and your eyes to look at him.
“Look me in the eyes and try to tell me you didn’t say yes to him, knowing we would have an issue with it.”
“I-“
“That’s what I thought,” Sirius spat, “you knew how we would react, yet you agreed to it anyway.”
“You don’t control my decisions.”
You knew what you were doing by talking back to Sirius. He knew you made your own choices, but the truth was, you made this choice because you knew it would piss your boyfriends off. When they were jealous, they were mean.
Sirius tightened his grip. “What did you just say to me?”
“Take it easy, Sirius,” Remus said, approaching you two, “she’s clearly doing it to get a rise out of you.”
Sirius stared into your eyes. “Are you?”
Instead of responding, you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, which was the wrong thing to do.
Sirius pulled you to a stand by your jaw, spinning you around and pushing your front down, folding you onto the mattress.
“Something funny?” Sirius asked, and you shook your head no, your breath taken away by the haste of his action.
Remus leaned over the other side of the bed, his chin resting against the mattress, his face level with your own. “I tried to stick up for you, but unfortunately I think you’re going to miss your date.”
“It’s not a d-“
Before you could finish your retort, Sirius connected his palm with the flesh of your ass, causing your body to jolt slightly forward.
You gasped at the sudden pain, and Remus stuck his lower lip out, hyperbolically pouting. “Poor baby, did that hurt? Maybe you shouldn’t agree to dates with other guys.”
You sighed. “But I told you it-“
Sirius hit you again, harder this time. You nearly squeaked at the surprise of the feeling.
“Just stop talking, baby,” James said. He was standing somewhere behind you, near Sirius, but you couldn’t see him. He was always the nicest to you, and his brain felt bad when you were being punished, as much as his cock disagreed.
Sirius flipped your skirt up and pulled your underwear down your legs, exposing you from behind to your boyfriends.
“James, care to take over?” Sirius asked, backing away from your body.
James smiled, dropping to his knees, his face level with your core. You couldn’t see what was happening, but you knew it was James from the way he slowly darted out his tongue, tasting between your folds as his hands came to hold your waist, keeping you in place.
James was by far the most skilled with his tongue, so the boys elected that he would be best equipped to work you up properly.
You rested the side of your head against the sheets, whining softly as James began to taste you, swirling his tongue around your bud and sucking on your clit.
It was difficult for you to stay quiet, especially with James between your legs. The more he worked you up, the louder he became.
“Fuck,” you whimpered.
“Shut up,” Remus demanded.
You couldn’t help but continue to moan and whine as James flicked your bud, causing your legs to shake slightly as he grabbed your ass, pressing his face even closer into your cunt.
“I said shut up,” Remus warned, “bad girls don’t get to make noise.”
“I’m not a bad girl,” you protested.
Remus gave you a wide-eyed stare. “You really wanna be punished today, huh?”
You only squealed in response when James’s tongue began to move faster and faster, trying to coax you to climax.
Remus bent down next to you and clasped a hand over your mouth, shutting you up since you wouldn’t do so yourself.
Your moans were muffled under his hand, which only worked James up more. He wanted to watch you struggle, and he wanted to make you moan so loud that it wouldn’t matter if Remus’s hand was covering your mouth or not.
You gripped the sheets, trying to steady yourself. Sirius, who was suddenly behind you, lifted one of your legs until it was bent on the bed, giving James even easier access to your core. You were even more on display for the boys with your skirt forcibly pushed up around your waist.
You were whining freely underneath Remus’s hand, your orgasm threatening to crash over you at any moment. Just when you began to squirm from the near overstimulation, James pulled away, bending his body identically over yours and moving his hand to insert a finger into your core.
You tried to press your forehead into the sheets, but Remus’s grip on your mouth was too tight. As James began to ruthlessly move his finger in and out of you, his unoccupied hand pressed the side of your head into the mattress.
“You wanna come?” he whispered into your ear, and you did your best to nod your head, but it was nearly impossible.
Just as you began to squeeze around James’s finger, he pulled completely away from you, leaving your core feeling empty and your body cold due to his body no longer against yours.
Your cunt clenched around nothing, the empty feeling causing you to wiggle your ass in an attempt to get one of the boys to give you the attention you now craved.
“Flip.”
Remus’s voice was strict, your body reacting to his instruction as you stood and turned over, laying back down on the bed. Finally facing upward, you could see what was going on.
Remus stood between your legs and pulled you toward the edge of the bed. You leaned yourself up on your elbows, but Sirius was way ahead of you, gripping your wrists and pinning your arms on either side of your head.
Remus pulled down his pants, lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.
“Gotta remind you who you belong to, hm?” Remus said, slowly pushing the head of his cock into you.
He quickly pulled it back out, teasing your entrance as Sirius held your wrists down, watching you squirm and writhe in need and anticipation.
“Actually, I don’t know,” Remus said, continuing to tease you, “seems you might have already forgotten who’s you are.”
You furiously shook your head no, trying to demonstrate that you hadn’t forgotten you were theirs. You were so desperate to feel Remus inside of you, that you would have done anything to get him to fuck you already.
“Tell us you’re ours,” Sirius demanded, his face next to yours as he stood on the opposite side of the bed, still holding your wrists.
“I am, I’m yours-“
“So then you shouldn’t have agreed to date another guy,” James said, cutting you off.
The moment James’s sentence finished, Remus slammed his entire length into you, causing your body to hit forward.
You cried out, and Sirius dropped your wrists, instead opting to cover your mouth with one hand and your neck with the other.
Remus began to snap his hips in and out, not giving you an adjustment period before he began to ruthlessly fuck you. You didn’t dare move the positioning of your arms, keeping them up as you gripped the sheets beside your head.
You tried to moan and whine, but Sirius had a firm grip on your throat and was using the hand over your mouth to press your head deeper and deeper into the mattress.
Tears threatened to spill from the intensity, which was involuntary, but was also Sirius’s favorite thing.
“Aweh, poor baby, you gonna cry?” Sirius mocked.
You couldn’t help the slight hiccups that came as you cried, which only egged Sirius on more. “You don’t wanna be punished anymore, hm? Then maybe you shouldn’t be saying yes to other guys like a filthy fucking whore.”
You tried to nod your head in protest that no, you were not a filthy fucking whore, and you didn’t say yes to other guys, but you could barely move.
Remus was gripping your hips with no remorse, nearly bruising the skin from the pressure. He leaned over you, adding onto Sirius’s words as he whispered in your ear with each thrust, “filthy. Fucking. Whore.”
You were trying to catch your breath from your cries, but you could only take deep breaths through your nose. The boys were amused watching you struggle, and Remus was fucking you hard, consumed with his own pleasure and hellbent on denying you yours.
Your walls began to clench around Remus, and he immediately pulled out, bending over to steady himself. He had denied himself an orgasm in order to prevent yours. Still, he backed away from you, no intent to finish himself off when you were right there.
Sirius let go of your mouth and neck, but only to shift positions with the boys. You took the opportunity to immediately cry, “please, Rem, please, I need it-“
“Sh,” James took over, “I’m sorry, bunny, but this is a punishment, and you know what that means, don’t you?”
You sniffled, “I don’t get to come until all of you do.”
“Good girl,” James said, “stand up for a second for me, yeah?”
You stood, your legs shaking as James laid down on the mattress and patted his lower stomach. You crawled back onto the bed, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him.
He was already unclothed, and Sirius was the same, appearing behind you as he knelt on the bed between James’s legs.
You looked between the two boys in confusion before your eyes widened in realization.
“Siri, I can’t-“
Sirius could tell you were nervous, so he dropped the intense wall for a brief moment to ask you for your consent.
Despite your tears, you nodded yes, wanting to please them but also aware that you could absolutely handle it.
“Up,” James tapped the side of your thigh, prompting you to raise your hips. He gave himself a few lazy strokes before lining himself up with your entrance. You slowly sank down onto his length, sighing in appreciation at the feeling of being filled again.
When you were all the way down, James pulled your body against his, holding you tightly as he stilled inside of you.
Sirius had already lubricated his cock in preparation, bending down to bite the flesh of your ass before lining his tip up with your other hole.
James held you tightly as Sirius pushed just his tip inside, a long gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion.
You buried your face into the crook of James’s neck as Sirius slowly inserted himself into your ass. If you let out a particularly high squeak, Sirius stilled for a moment, but otherwise he moved as slow as he possibly could until his entire length was inside of you.
James lifted his head off the bed to peek at where your three bodies connected, bridged through you, and you took the opportunity to grab the back of James’s head, desperate for anything other than the mattress to ground yourself on.
You stayed in your position, heavy breathing as you adjusted to both boys, Sirius grabbing your hips and James’s arms remaining wrapped around your torso.
“Tell us when we can move, doll,” Sirius said, his composure faltering.
You gave it a few minutes, allowing the pain to subside as your hole stretched, before telling the boys, “I’m okay.”
James and Sirius exchanged a look, and James smiled wide as he slowly pushed his hips upward, stimulating your cunt. You moaned from the sudden movement, holding James close to you as he loosened his grip around your body, shifting and holding the sides of your torso as he moved, trying his hardest to keep you from bouncing. He was afraid of hurting you due to Sirius, but it was hard to hold back when you were on top of him with two cocks inside of you.
James set a steady pace, not nearly as rough as Remus, but not slow either. After a few minutes of adjusting to James, Sirius tightened his grip on your hips in warning.
You inhaled a sharp breath in anticipation right before Sirius slowly pulled a tiny bit out, pushing back in to test the waters. You nearly collapsed even more onto James’s body, but Sirius’s grip kept your hips tilted upward.
Sirius began to move in and out slowly, cautious of just how far back he pulled out with each stroke. It hurt like hell for a moment before the pain subsided, and all you could feel was pleasure twice over.
“Fuckin’ hell,” James moaned, throwing his head back against the pillows as both he and Sirius worked you up.
They tried to stay in a rhythm, one pushing in while the other pulled out, but quickly became too engrossed in the act to worry about the other one’s pacing.
You were still crying softly, whining and whimpering at a much higher pitch than you usually did.
Sirius smacked your ass, causing you to throw your head back and moan. He took the opportunity to grip your hair, keeping your head in position. At the new angle, James could see your face clearly, and he couldn’t look away.
“Who do you belong to?” Sirius asked.
You nearly choked trying to speak. “You.”
Sirius balled your hair up into a ponytail, signaling James to take over the hold. James grabbed your hair, pulling until your head was turned to look at where Sirius connected his body with yours.
Your holes were so tight around both boys that they both knew they wouldn’t last long.
“Looks so fuckin’ good,” James said, “you like it when Sirius and I fuck you at the same time?”
You only moaned in response, but that wasn’t good enough. Sirius spanked you again, and you looked him dead in his eyes, swallowing your pride and embarrassment and saying, “I love it when you fuck me at the same time.”
Sirius groaned at your words, especially the sight of you speaking them while looking him in the eyes, and he subsequently picked up the pace.
There was a sudden tap on your jaw, and you cocked your head upward to see Remus kneeling in front of you, lazily stroking his cock in front of your face.
“You wanna be a good girl?” he asked you.
You nodded your head yes, and before he could even instruct you to open your mouth, you stuck your tongue out, ready for him.
He gave you a smile in return before he pushed his cock past your lips. You struggled to move your head, your body rocking in all directions from the two boys already inside of you, and Remus noticed instantly.
“Sh, sh, keep your head still, that’s it, good girl,” Remus spoke, gently holding the back of your head as he began to thrust his hips forward into your mouth.
Every few hits, his cock grazed the back of your throat, causing you to gag a moan. The sound and sight drove Sirius over the edge, and his thrusts became harder and sharper.
James didn’t calm down as Sirius became more intense, and Remus didn’t care about either of them.
Sirius hit a final few thrusts before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed onto your ass and hips, watching as it dripped down the curves of your body.
Remus was the second to come, so worked up from earlier that he knew he would be done for within minutes, and he was right. His come shot to the back of your throat, and you swallowed the entire load, sticking your tongue out to show him you had done so.
You dropped your head in a desperate attempt to relax as James continued to thrust up into you. You were fighting with everything you were to keep from coming, and you desperately needed James to release so you could, but he was arguably being the meanest of them all.
Every time he would feel himself approaching his climax, he would force himself to slow down. He was greedy, and now that Remus and Sirius were done, he had you all to himself. He knew you were fucked out, but he also knew you hadn’t come yet, and wanted to savor the journey.
“Jamie, please-“ you cried.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered in your ear.
“I’m yours, I’m all of yours-“
“No no, baby, tell me you’re mine.”
You moved to hold yourself up on either side of James’s head, looking down at him as you spoke softly so that only he could hear, “I’m yours, James, all yours.”
Your words were enough for him.
He came inside of you, his leg muscles spasming as he hit deep within your cervix.
He came down from his high inside of you, pulling out and lifting you upward, his hands on your hips as he shifted you to lay down on the bed.
You rested your back against the sheets, looking at your three boyfriends, nervous and expectant.
“I don’t know, do you think you deserve to come?” Sirius asked.
You furiously nodded your head yes, the aching between your legs growing. You were tired, but you were desperate.
“I just don’t know-“
“Please,” you begged.
“Sirius, c’mon,” James bargained, running his fingers through his hair, “she did great. Just let her come already.”
Sirius looked to Remus, who was way ahead of him.
Remus took his position between your legs, gently spreading them apart as you whimpered.
“Sh, you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you responded, “I’m alright.”
“You ready for me?”
“Please,” you breathed out.
Remus slowly inserted himself into you, your back arching up off the bed from the overstimulation.
For the first time the whole time you’d been getting punished, Remus leaned down and kissed you. You nearly choked on tears from the happiness and relief that came from the feeling of his lips on yours. While you enjoyed the roughness and punishment, it was nice to be grounded back to safety and intimacy.
Remus continued to kiss you as he fucked you, never moving too fast for fear that he may hurt you. You were overstimulated and edged enough that within few minutes, you came hard around Remus, never breaking the kiss as you whined into his mouth.
Remus didn’t pull away as your legs shook rapidly. You rested them flush against the mattress, and Remus slowly pulled out of you, giving you one final kiss before rolling off of you.
You caught your breath, unable and unwilling to move from your position from pure exhaustion.
“Gonna get you cleaned up and then we’ll all relax together, okay?” Sirius cooed, wiping the sweat-soaked hair away from your face.
“Thank you,” you said as he gently maneuvered a washcloth between your legs.
When you were cleaned up, James lifted you off the bed, and Remus pulled the sheets down before James placed you back down, pulling the sheets up over you and shifting into bed next to you. Remus joined you on the other side.
“Fuck you guys, where am I supposed to go?”
You shifted slight forward, and Sirius took the hint, climbing over everyone to seat himself directly behind you. You rested back against his chest, exhaustion consuming your body as you fell into a sleep that meant you would most certainly miss your “date.”
1K notes · View notes
no-144444 · 2 months ago
Text
The Holidate (2020) - Lando Norris
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
Tumblr media
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
summary: Y/n, who gets mocked for being single, finds the perfect solution when she meets Lando, an F1 driver. Now she has the perfect date for her holidays, but her heart starts yearning for something more.
pairing: lando norris x fem! reader
8.8k words
disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
You stood outside your perfect family home, a cigarette in hand. “Fucking holidays,” you sighed. Quickly grabbing some tic tacs from your bag and putting out your cigarette. You covered your tracks and stood in front of the door, willing yourself not to run away. The house was the image of suburbia and the nuclear family bullshit you were used to, the shit you grew up with and believed until you realised that men weren’t shit and you had to go focus on a career if you wanted to live in Chicago. 
“Happy holidays,” you faked a smile as you opened the door, your mother running up to you with a disappointed look. 
“This is what you’re wearing to Christmas dinner? Don’t you own a dress?” you scolded, and you rolled your eyes. 
“I’m great. Thanks for asking mom,” you sighed, following her into the house while taking off your coat. 
“Y/n!” your sister, Abby, cheered. “You’re here!” She pulled you away from your mother, who was busy complaining about something or other, and brought you close. “Mike said you didn’t call him back.”
“Yeah, I didn’t,” you shrugged. She gave you a stern look. “What? I can’t date a professional clown! I’d never sleep again.”
“Well, you need to date someone! It’s been months,” she complained. 
“Well, no one wants to date someone who lays around in their pyjamas all day,” your mother added. 
“It’s called being a remote worker, mom, and, it’s not like my boss cares,” you scoffed. 
“Are you smoking?” she asked, sniffing you feverishly.
“No mom, I’m not smoking,” you answered, your tone dry and robotic. You gently pushed her off.
“Because no man wants to marry a smoker,” she barked. 
“Good thing I’m not smoking anymore,” you lied. 
“No one wants to marry a smoker,” she instilled. 
“But you-”
“A smoker who lies,” she added, knowing how you’d caught her out. 
As the night went on, in came your brother and his girlfriend, your aunt (with a random guy she’d met the day before), and your brother-in-law with his gaggle of hell-spawn children. 
You watched as the festivities played on, your aunt all over her new man, you sister battling with the drink in her hand while her husband battled their children from shitting in the manger again, and you brother being over-attentive to his girlfriend. Sometimes you pity them. They have to take care of someone all the time, they always have someone there for them, someone to come home to every night, someone to wake up beside every day, it must be exhausting. 
You stood beside your aunt in the kitchen, escaping the happy couples and watching as her new boy gobbled at the food. 
“Isn’t he great?” she giggled. 
You grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Oh come on, it’s not like I’m planning on marrying him, he’s just my holidate,” she brushed off your concern. 
“A ‘holidate’?” you questioned. 
“Yeah, a holidate, y’know a date solely for the holiday,” she explained it like it was the most normal and regular thing in the world. “No commitment.”
“Y/n, I have a friend who wants to meet you!” your brother, James, called from the other room. You rolled your eyes. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
As you sat at the (kids) dinner table, you were busy getting relationship advice from your 8 year old niece. That had to be a new low. She had a boyfriend, and you didn’t. Could your life get more pathetic?
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You all sat around in the living room, opening presents. Your sister got you pyjamas, two sizes too big. Your brother got you pyjamas, three sizes too big, and your parents got you, you guessed it!- pyjamas. At least those were the actual size. You faked as much enthusiasm as you could, and just smiled and nodded. How much worse could this Christmas get? 
As you all finished up opening gifts, your brother stood up, taking Liz’s hand. 
“Liz, I know it’s only been 3 months, and 6 incredible days, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice full of excitement. 
“Yes!’ she cheered. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” 
Your heart dropped. Your little brother was getting married before you. You were finally cemented as the pathetic sibling, forever. 
Worst. Christmas. Ever. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
Little did you know, that just a few blocks away, someone else was going through a harrowing Christmas date experience…
Lando walked up beside Mandy, a girl he’d just-so-happened to have met in a random club over the break. He hadn’t planned to come to Chicago, but he just-so-happened to have ended up there, on the basis of Quadrant meetings and deal negotiations being held there. He had gone on two dates with Mandy so far, one of them being the time they met in the club. He had no idea why he hadn’t just flown home to go see his family and siblings, maybe even see Mila and babysit for a while. 
“Your parents know this is our third date, right?” he asked as they stood on the front porch. 
“Of course they do!” she smiled brightly. “I’m not even sure I told them you were coming-”
His heart dropped as the door opened, and they immediately turned to him. 
“Lando!” her mother cheered. “He’s even more handsome than in the pictures!”
“Pictures?” he mumbled, his face dropping. Obviously, he knew people were going to know who he was, he was an F1 driver for fuck’s sake. But something about the way she said pictures made his stomach drop, and he wasn’t sure if she meant pictures that Mandy had taken of him (he never posed for any), or the ones online. Something told him it was the first option, and he felt sick. 
Then ensued a night of pure agony, he was buried in baby photos, old trophies, and a look into this random girls’ life. As he stood in her childhood bedroom, he truthfully asked himself. “Fuck am I?” and groaned when he was called down to dinner. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
After dinner, he went back up to Maisie’s room- or was her name Mandy? Anyways, to talk about the awful night. 
“What is going on?” he questioned, whisper-shouting.
“My parents fucking love you,” she smirked, pressing her lips to his. 
“What the fuck?” he asked again as she pushed him down on the bed, stripping herself. 
“Come on, y’know you like me,” she smirked, a sultry look in her eye. “You wouldn’t be here on a major holiday if you didn’t.”
“I already explained that I’m here for business purposes and-” 
She started kissing him, and he stopped caring about the strangeness of the situation when she started unzipping his trousers. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
He sat sandwiched between her parents, matching ugly Christmas sweater on, opening a box full of… swimming trunks?
“Swimming togs… thanks,” he faked as much enthusiasm as he could as they all nodded. 
“They’re skin-tight too, since it makes you go faster in the water,” Mandy explained, a bright smile on her face. 
“Togs, and a project, thanks,” he smiled, trying his best to charm his way out of it all. 
She held out her hands, expecting a present from him and his heart stopped. 
“Me next!” she cheered. 
“You said we weren’t doing presents this year,” he said, feeling the eyes of her parents on him. 
“Pardon?” she questioned, her eyes dangerous. “So you know me well enough to cum in my mouth,”
He looked at her parents and shook his head as she continued. “But not well enough to get me a Christmas gift? Are you shitting me?”
“W-what-” he stuttered before getting up. “Y’know what,” he turned to her parents. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, happy Christmas,” he turned to her. “Maisie, don’t call me again!”
“Mandy,” she corrected, tears in her eyes. “It’s Mandy you asshole.”
“Great, Mandy, then,” he scoffed before starting to walk to the door, then he remembered the ugly christmas sweater he was wearing, and off it came. He threw it to Mandy, and walked out the door.  
Worst. Christmas. Ever. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You stand behind some British guy (who you swear you know from somewhere) in the sluggish queue of a random men's department store. 
Said British guy is busy fighting with the sales clerk to take his strange swimming togs back, and you’ve had enough of it. 
“Hey, Cockney, we’ve all been waiting for ages, some of us have jobs,” you scoffed. 
“I’m actually from Bristol,” he rolled his eyes. “And what makes you think I don’t have a job.”
“You’re in the mall on a Wednesday,” quickly, you brought the two pairs of pyjamas that don’t fit you to the front. “I’d like to return these.”
“Hey!” he scoffed. 
“Hey,” you smiled in return.
“I can only offer store credit,” the clerk smiled apologetically, and you sighed. 
“Seriously?” 
“Ha,” The Brit laughed. “That’s what you get.” 
“And sir, I can only offer you store credit as well.” 
“Ha!” you laughed. “That’s what you get.”
“I’ll give you 45 bucks for it all,” the girl behind you in line smiled at the both of you. “And this voucher for the pretzel stand.”
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You walked around the mall with the Brit, enjoying your pretzel. 
“So, how was your holiday season?” you asked, making polite conversation. 
“I spent my Christmas in an ugly Christmas sweater, a strange dinner, and being with people who I think might’ve been in a cult,” he nodded. 
“Well, I'll take your ugly sweater, and raise you a seat at the kids table, my little brother getting engaged, and my mother constantly asking me to date one of her many friends' sons,” you listed. “You sure you don’t want any?” you offered him some pretzel.
“Do you know what that does to your body?” he asked. 
“Oh,” you grimaced. “You’re one of those guys.” 
“What does that mean?” he scoffed. 
“It means you’re the kind of guy to take a billion vitamins a day and talks about your micros and macros,” you laughed. Then you caught sight of the guy your aunt brought to Christmas dinner. “Shit,” you cursed, hiding behind the Brit. 
“What?” he laughed. 
“You see the mall Santa over there?” you asked. He nodded. “That’s the guy my aunt brought home for Christmas dinner, hide me,” you begged, and he walked on with you behind him, hiding you. 
“Who is he anyway?” he asked. 
“Oh, it wasn’t serious,” you chuckled. “He was her Holidate.”
“Holidate?” he questioned. 
“It’s just a person you pick up to spend Christmas with,” you shrugged. “It’s dumb, I know.”
A light bulb went off in his head. “Just Christmas, or all holidays?”
“All of ‘em,” you nodded. “I mean, I guess it’s pretty genius when you actually think about it.”
“That’s exactly what I need for New Year’s, a Holidate!”
You chuckled. “Sorry, pretty sure my aunt is already booked up-”
“No, I’m serious, I am done casually dating on the holidays! I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s exhausting. I always end up being an asshole in some sort of way or-”
“Really? Try being the only single person left in your family, at the age of 24. My little brother, who's 21, by the way, is getting married,” you scoffed. “I mean every time I see them it is a fucking palaver of sad glances and exhausting small talk about one of their ‘friends’. Why is everyone so suspicious of a happy, single woman?” 
“Because it’s obvious you’re not happy,” he said like it was obvious. “Was that a trick question?”
You sighed. “I am happy, thank you very much.”
He chuckled. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Look, humans are meant to be with other people on the holidays, it’s just a fact! We all need warmth… companionship,” he could sense the fact that he was losing you. “And someone to drunk-mock people at parties with!”
“I do enjoy drunk-mocking people,” you pondered. 
“Perfect! We can be each other’s Holidate for New Year’s!” 
You chuckled, walking on. “Funny, I don’t even know you.” 
“That’s what makes it ideal! I don’t know you, you don’t know me! We aren’t expecting anything from each other, other than showing up to the date!”
“Sure…” you sighed. 
“And we’d never sleep with each other as well, it’s a win-win.”
You frowned, a quizzitive look on your face. “Why wouldn’t we sleep together?” He looked you up and down and grimaced. “Christ, calm down with the flattery asshole.”
“Not like that, it’s just you’re not my type,” he explained quickly. 
“Goodbye, or Cheerio, I guess. Since that’s what you say in Bristol,” you scoffed, walking off. 
“Come on, it’d be perfect! No more sad glances, no more kids' table seats. I have tickets to the Skyfall party, and I need a plus one,” he explained, following you. 
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged. 
“That’s such a good party,” you sighed, knowing for the years you’d gone to it before. 
“So say yes,” he smirked, knowing he was winning you over. “I just want to have a nice night and know that my date won’t go batshit if I don’t drop down on one knee at midnight with a ring with a quarter of a million pounds.”
“What makes you think I’m not batshit?” you smirked. 
He smiled. “You’re not.”
You smiled back. 
“I’m Lando, by the way.”
“Y/n.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/n, here is my number,” he smiled, handing you his business card. 
“Formula 1 driver and CEO,” you raised an eyebrow. “Do you drive for the orange team?”
“It’s papaya,” he rolled his eyes. “And yes, yes I do.” 
“Don’t girls like… throw themselves at you?”
He sighed. “Those are usually the batshit ones.”
You nodded. “Right.” 
“Just think about the party and text me,” he smiled. 
“I won’t be texting you, I’m more of a RedBull girl myself,” you smirked, walking off. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You sighed, thinking over the past new days. Your mom had tried (and failed) to get you to meet with her new neighbour, work was already beating you down, and you just needed some fun. Skyfall party it was. 
Lando, it was. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
The party was already insane when you walked in, and you two fell into a steady rhythm of guessing peoples’ stories. 
“You look beautiful tonight,” he smiled. 
“Thanks,” you smiled. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Your tits look amazing in that dress,” he smiled, and chuckled when you smiled. “This is great! I can say whatever I want, and I don’t have to worry whether you think I’m a classy guy or not.” 
“I can wear a slutty dress without being slut-shamed, win-win,” you agreed. 
As the night progressed, you found yourself slightly (*very much) drunk and sitting, talking about your awful love lives, and your deep-rooted hatred for the film Dirty Dancing. 
“He’s such a dick to her the entire film, and she has absolutely no self-respect!” you argued.
“But isn’t it romantic or something-?”
“No! It's pathetic that she’s sold as this head-strong, interesting girl who falls for the first guy she sees at a goddamn summer camp for families, likes him the entire time even though he treats her like shit, then gets excited in the end when he finally gives her a chance, because he ‘grew to love her’. It’s bullshit!”
“So who ruined rom coms for you?” he asked. You shook your head. 
“We’re not going there,” you sighed, taking another sip of your drink. 
“I think we’re already here,” he smiled. “You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Luc,” you answered. 
“Christ, he sounds like a wanker,” he giggled. 
“He wasn’t,” you sighed. “He was handsome, intelligent, French.”
Lando scoffed. “What happened?”
“We just… needed different things,” you explained. “I wanted someone to take home for the holidays, he wanted to fuck a barista. It was a super mutual break-up,” you laughed. Lando didn’t. 
“Shit,” Lando cursed. “Ouch.”
“Well, to be fair, he was too good-looking to be trustworthy,” you sighed. “My sister always says to date-down. Then you’ll never get hurt. I gotta piss, I’ll be right back,” you said, then off you went. 
Lando watched as you left, his heart a little heavier than before. 
In the bathroom, a bride-to-be (well, they were getting engaged tonight, one of the many people you and Lando had profiled) was sobbing over a dress and you had decided to be the good person and switch with her, taking her number so she could give the dress back after she got it dry cleaned. 
You came back in a white ruffled dress with a very large red wine stain on it. You sighed. “Don’t even.”
“Did you get stabbed?” he chuckled. “Or is Carrie in now?”
“Shut up Lando,” you scoffed, dragging him onto the dance floor. 
If Lando was a good charmer, he certainly was a good dancer. You two danced along to the fast-paced, pop songs, but then came the slow set at about 10:30. ‘(I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life’ started playing, the spotlight blaring down on you two as the chords played. Your face dropped and he giggled uncontrollably. 
“Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” he cheekily smirked, taking your hand. 
The dance floor cleared off, watching as you two somehow pulled off the jump, only for him to drop you, because he was giggling so hard. 
“Nobody drops Baby on her head,” you reminded him as you two sat out of the dancing, trying to substitute your bruised egos (and bodies) with alcohol. 
“I’m going to go take a piss,” he sighed, getting up. 
Perfect timing. The countdown started just as he left, and you were left to watch all the happy couples french-kiss their way into the new year. You sighed. Had it been your worst date ever? No. Would you call him again? Probably not. You watched as people all around kissed and held the people they loved the most and you couldn’t help but feel… without. Sure, you liked how easy and painless being single was, but it was also lonely. For the first time in a while, you let yourself just feel lonely. It sucked. 
Then, Lando came running back, an apology on his lips. 
“Happy New Year Lando,” you smiled, not as enthused as earlier, but it would do. 
“Happy New Year,” he nodded, still sorry about missing it. He awkwardly kissed your cheek and you just accepted it, hoping next year would be slightly (extremely) different. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You two rode in the back of a cab, you looked out the window at the city going by, the streets you knew so well and-
“Tonight was fun,” he admitted. “I had a good time.”
“Not the worst night of my life,” you agreed.
“So… what are your Valentine’s plans?” he questioned. 
“You mean the holiday that’s in two whole months?” you chuckled. He nodded. “I don’t know! I don’t have plans yet.”
“Great, let’s make some!” he smiled. You frowned. “Come on, after that I’ll be busy until the summer! Let’s just go to a movie or something.”
“A lot can happen in two months, Lando,” you explained. “And if I don’t meet the love of my life by then, I have a tradition of buying chocolate and eating it. Alone.”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “If you change your mind, I’m here.”
“You can stay here then,” you scoffed. The taxi pulled up outside your apartment block, and back to your apartment you went, exhausted from the night. Happy New Year to you. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
“No Valentine’s day date? What?” Liz cried. Agreeing to go wedding planning with her was a bad choice, noted. You were stuck in a bright, flowery, overly-scented room shop of fabrics, designs, and glassware, all of the shit you never thought you’d have to care about. 
“I’m not dying,” you sighed. “It’s a random Thursday where chocolate is either cheap and good, or expensive and good. I’ll enjoy a bath, and go to bed early. Sounds perfect to me.”
“You should call mom’s neighbour!” Liz suggested. “What’s his name?”
“No,” you sighed. “I am not going out with someone that my mother sets me up with.”
“But what about the wedding? You can’t be single at the wedding,” Liz sighed. 
“You mean the wedding that’s 8 whole months away?” 
“Exactly! What will you do?”
“I am more than happy to be single, I don’t have to share a bathroom, a bed, or a kitchen with a man,” you argued, and Liz nodded, kind of agreeing with your philosophy (your brother was a gross dude). “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some chocolate to buy.”
As you walked to the chocolate shop in the mall, you couldn’t help but think of Lando. Maybe he’d gone off with some model, or some actress. Maybe he was in Ibiza right now partying the night away with his other famous friends. Or maybe he was right outside the shop, watching you see your ex and his fiance for the first time since the break up. 
Fuck. 
You stood, watching the two of them canoodle in front of you in line, and your heart sank slightly. Great. A model. 
“Y/n?” Luc questioned, turning to you. 
“Luc,” you faked as much enthusiasm as possible, just to keep your voice from breaking. 
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Good,” you smiled, trying to sound sure of yourself. “What about you?”
“Busy,” he chuckled. “Oh, this is Nicola, my fiancé!” He introduced you to the gorgeous woman next to him. She was basically you, same hair, eye colour, build, but if you put the tiktok beauty filter on you, and turned it up to 100. 
“Fiancé?” you gawked, pretending to sound excited. 
“Nicola,” she smiled, holding out her hand to be shaken. You took it shaking it.
“Hey baby,” Lando smiled, wrapping an arm around you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, joining in beside you. “You get the stuff for the party?”
Luc and Nicola’s faces dropped in shock. 
“Yeah, babe,” you played along. “This is Lando, my boyfriend,” you turned to the two of them, smiling. 
“You didn’t tell me your college friends were in town,” he smiled. “How’s clowning going?” 
You held back a laugh, realising you had told him the story of the couple you’d met in your 3 days of clown college. It wasn’t for you, hence not being able to call your sisters’ clown friend back about a second date. 
“Oh, we’re not clowns,” she chuckled, trying to play it off as a joke.
“Oh gosh!” Lando faked embarrassment quite well. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea-”
“No, that’s alright,” Luc stopped him. “It’s lovely to you Lando-”
“Yeah, well, we’d better run, big plans tonight,” Lando interrupted, paying for your chocolate and taking your hand. “We have a flight to catch.”
“Where are you going?” Nicola questioned, but you were already being pulled out of the shop.
“Holy shit that was awful!” you cursed. “Why is it that the new girlfriend has to be younger and hotter?” 
“Here, drink this to calm yourself,” he handed you his drink, and you took a sip. 
Green juice, gross. 
“God, I’m going to be sick,” you sighed, dramatically sitting on one of the mall benches. 
“Well, usually the younger the girl, the less chance of commitment being an issue,” he explained. “Men think like that, at least, I think they do.”
“But you don’t?” you snarkily raised an eyebrow. He chuckled. 
“I try not to,” he giggled. “And anyways, it’s kind of a compliment anyways.”
“You're right!” you cheered. “Nicola is a cry for help.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe,” you sighed. “Those Guinness truffle things are pretty strong. You want one?”
“No, I'm alright, thanks.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, you’re a professional athlete.”
“Don’t say it like it’s a joke,” he scoffed. “I am.”
“You’re just being a pussy,” you shrugged. “Real athletes enjoy chocolate. Ask Lewis Hamilton.” 
“I can if you want me to,” he smirked. 
“I trust that my favourite driver enjoys chocolate, thanks though.”
“Lewis is your favourite?” he scoffed, turning to you. 
“I’m hardly going for the fucking papayas,” you chuckled. 
“Anyways, if I wasn’t such a pussy, you would still be in a fucking sweet shop talking to your ex-boyfriend and his new fiancé,” he smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” you replied. “I owe you one.”
“I will take my hand job in the car park, thank you very much,” he chuckled, obviously laughing. 
“A hand job?” you scoffed. “What are we? 15?”
“You were giving out hand jobs at 15?” 
“Most of us weren’t 3 feet tall at age 15,” you teased. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
As the months went on, you blew through St. Patrick’s day and Easter, finding out about Lando’s heartbreak along the way. His ex-girlfriend Luisha and him had broken up over the simple reason of his fans hating her more than life itself. As the F1 season began, you stayed busy with work while he travelled and drove, and every now and then you’d text each other about your days, or call to catch up. 
It was nice, having someone to talk to. Lando didn’t judge you the way your family or friends did. He liked you for you, and you tolerated him for him.
The night of Cinco De Mayo came around the corner, and you had invited Lando to come to a random bar and get fucked up together. He’d just won Miami the day before, and he was riding high. You two danced, drank, and sang the night away, eventually waking up in your apartment. 
Waking up in your aparmtent, in only your bra and his boxers. 
“Fuck,” you whispered, the bright light basically blinding you, as the hangiety and headache began.
“Morning,” his voice was groggy and deep. “I guess we…”
“No way,” you sighed, pushing yourself up off the floor- how did you get there? “There’s no way we would’ve… one of us would remember.” 
“You can’t tell? You’re wearing my boxers, Y/n,” he smiled. “If we did it’s fine, right? We’re both adults, we can move past it.”
You grabbed your own panites from the floor beside you, and quickly hid behind a tall chair to change. “There’s no dried patch on my thigh, no wrapper on the floor, nothing hurts, I don’t feel strange,” you listed. “Can’t you tell?”
“I just feel like shit,” he sighed.
“Right, so we didn’t do it,” you offered. 
“Let’s go with that,” he nodded, giving you a thumbs up. 
“Coffee?” you offered. 
“Yeah, please,” he groaned, closing his eyes again. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You two went through Mother’s Day (meeting his mom and pretending to be his girlfriend was terrifying, but you kept it together), and eventually you invited him to your yearly 4th of July party at your parents lake house, but he was too busy racing in Silverstone, so he invited you (and your family) to come to the race. 
You watched as he sped down the main straight, full of anticipation. Right now, Oscar was in the lead for the WDC and McLaren was leading the WCC as they continued winning race after race. Lando really wanted this one though, he had to win his home race. 
You’d really gotten into F1 in recent months, and you had started to actually enjoy the races, not just watch  them because Lando was driving. 
You watched as he sped down the main straight, rain pouring down, this was his final flying lap, the one that would put him over Oscar, up to pole position and-
He spun out. 
“Fuck!” you shouted, shocked at the scene in front of you. The session was red flagged and everyone went back into the pits. While you watched, on the edge of your seat, as he was carried out of the car and put into a medical car. 
You sprinted down to the garage, ready to see him. You couldn’t let him get hurt while you were there, that meant you were his bad luck charm or something. You couldn’t have that. You watched as he exited the medical car, right outside the McLaren garage, and you breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out, looking mostly unharmed.
“Holy shit,” you whispered, taking his hand. “You’re alright after that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe? I have to go get checked-”
“You need someone to go to the hospital with you,” Will interrupted. “We’re going to stay back and work on the data, you have someone?” 
Lando looked at you with wide eyes. “Ummm-”
“He does,” you nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
He gave you an appreciative smile. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
“The doctor will be in shortly,” Maisie, his very annoyed nurse smiled as the both of you tried desperately to hold in your laughter. 
“Thank you,” you smiled, and as she left the room you and him burst into laughter again. You weren’t even sure you knew what you were laughing about, but that was fine with the two of you. 
In came… you mom’s neighbour? 
“Faarouq?” you questioned. “You’re in England?”
“I volunteer here,” he explained. “Flew in to reconnect this guy's finger, and now I’m just staying a few extra days since they’re understaffed.”
“Oh,” you smiled. “That’s awesome.”
You hadn’t noticed it before, but he really was lovely. He was kind, he volunteered, he was a doctor. He was great. 
Lando watched as you and he chatted and he couldn’t help but feel himself deflate. He didn’t know why, but seeing you with him made him… something. He wasn’t sure. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
No issues, all healthy, might experience some neck pain. Clean bill of health.  
You walked him up to his hotel room, his arm around your shoulder. You’d honestly had a brilliant day with Lando, the best 4th you’d ever had. 
You lay him down in his bed, handing him a glass of water. 
“Sorry for ruining your 4th,” he sighed. “You probably should’ve been with your family.”
You brushed it off. “Holidates should never leave a holidate behind,” you chuckled. “And anyways, it was a pretty fun day.” 
You put a hand on his shoulder, assuring him of your answer, and he put his hand over yours. You both felt it, looking at each other just a little bit too long for it to be platonic, but you quickly ended it, leaving as soon as you could.
He was a Holidate, nothing more. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
“Our hands touched,” he told Max as they set out for a day of golfing. 
“Holy shit,” he gasped. “Did you use protection?”
Lando scoffed as Max laughed. 
“I’m telling you there was a… moment, or something,” he sighed. “I’m starting to really like her.”
“Oh shit, you’ve got to get out then,” Max turned serious. 
“W-what do you mean?”
“Mate,” he groaned. “You’re a fucking F1 driver who is trying to win a World Championship right now, do you think you’ll have all the time in the world to date someone?” “But… the weddings’ coming up- and it’s on labour day. Technically that’s a holiday.”
“You’re already in too deep, bring someone else,” Max instructed. 
“Max I can juggle two things at once-”
“Mate, you’ve worked your entire life for this, do not fuck it up for some girl!”
Lando saw the truth in what he was saying (even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear), and he sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’ll text her tonight.” 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You walked into the wedding, a sour look on your face. You date, Farrouq (your mom’s neighbour) clung to your aunt all night while Lando’s date was some super model that made you want to run and hide. 
“Hi,” he smiled, coming up to you at the bar. 
“Hi.”
“Enjoying the wedding?” 
“Yup,” you nodded. “You?”
“Yeah, it’s great,” he agreed. 
“Your date seems nice,” you mentioned. 
“She left a little while ago,” he admitted. 
“Oh shit, sorry,” you cursed. “I genuinely meant it. I didn’t see her leave-”
“Yeah, it’s alright,” he shook his head. “No harm done.”
You took a sip of your drink and looked behind you to see your aunt tounging your date, and you sighed. “Any plans for halloween?”
“I’m working on it,” he agreed. Holidates once again. 
Max would murder him. He didn’t feel too guilty about it. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
Halloween rolled around and Lando put you in a fucking pirates costume with a very tight corset, but you understood that’s what you get when you put a dude in charge of costumes. You sat with your sister at the bar, waiting for Lando to catch your eye when you felt hands around your waist. 
“Ahoy mate,” he whispered, giggling.
“Fuck!” you jumped. “You scared me!”
He laughed, then stopped when he actually looked at you. “The costume looks… amazing,” he smiled, starstruck. 
“Thanks I feel like a total slut,” you joked. 
“Well you look like one too,” Abby added. “Go get a drink or something,” you scoffed, shooing her off. You turned to Lando. “What’s the plan for tonight?” 
“Get fucked up?”
“Sounds perfect!” you smiled, then took a swig of your beer. The night went off with some dancing, some chocolate, and then in came Luc with a very pregnant Nicola. 
Pregnant. Pregnant. She was fucking pregnant. You stood there in stunned silence as everyone caught up, shocked at the fact that she was pregnant. 
“Holy fuck! She’s pregnant, pregnant!” you complained as you walked through the party, feeling increasingly sick. 
“Come on, you just need a drink,” Abby scoffed, handing you some punch. 
Your stomach turned. “No, no, I’m really sick,” you shook your head, bracing yourself against the table. 
“Are you alright?” Lando asked, holding your waist. 
“No,” you leaned into him. “Not at all.”
“Should I bring you home?” he offered. 
“I’ll just get a cab, I’m alright-”
“Holidate rule number three, never leave a date behind,” he reminded you, so you let him get in the cab with you. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
It hurt. It hurt so bad. Mixing alcohol with red dye 40 and about 50 mini candy bars was not a good idea. You whined as Lando had to physically pick you up and carry you to the lift of your aparmtnt, 
“Wait, she’s due next week right?” you did the maths in your head. “They did it on Valentine’s day!” you sobbed. 
“Everyone does it on Valentine’s day,” he reasoned. 
“I didn’t!” you screamed. 
He thought back. “Hey! I didn’t either!” 
Then the lift dinged and he dragged you in, listening as you spiralled. 
Then that awful noise. Then the awful feeling. 
“Untie me,” you said, your voice low, sober.  
“Huh?” 
“Untie me,” you instructed, gasping at the strings of your corset. 
“What- how the fuck do you untie this?” he asked, gripping at the strings. 
“I don’t know! Just untie it!” you shouted. 
“I can’t, it’s like-”
“Rip it Lando, fucking rip it!” you shouted. 
“I’m trying, it’s-”
The elevator dinged and behind the doors an old couple appeared, looking less than impressed. You realised how bad it looked, but truly, it was much worse than what they were thinking. They closed again, and up another floor they went. 
You needed to get to a toilet, now. 
You both ran to your door, him ripping off your corset at the last moment before you shut the bathroom door, and thankfully you made it, but not without sobbing crying on the toilet. Fuck your sister and her accidentally giving you laxatives. 
You sat in your bath as he held the shower head to your back. 
“Don’t even look at me,” you sighed. 
“I’m not,” he said, and he wasn’t. He was trying his absolute hardest not to look at you. Even though you’d almost actually shit yourself, even though he’d heard you sobbing crying, somehow, you were still the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen, and as much as he wanted to he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He looked back at you and smiled, when he was sure you weren’t looking. Something in his heart leaped, and he knew he should’ve been weary, but he almost didn’t care. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You sat in bed as he brought you a glass of water and you sighed. “So… I guess I’ll be a story you tell at parties now? Half of Monaco will know me as the girl who-”
“The girl who shit her pants on Halloween?” 
You groaned. “Fuck off.”
He chuckled. “I meant it when I said I’d seen worse, and don’t worry, I won't tell anyone. Promise.” 
You turned back around to face him and smiled. “Thank you.”
He offered you a soft smile, and you both fell asleep like that. 
Waking up? That was a different story. You gently opened your eyes to see a very asleep Lando. His eyes scrunched up, an arm around you, his face closer to yours than it had ever been, and you smiled. The way his nose scrunched up, the moles on his face, his long eyelashes, I mean… you knew he was gorgeous before but up close? It was practically unfair. 
Then his eyes fluttered open, and he moved his arm back, staring at you the same way you were staring at him. Again, another moment. His eyes on you, having him so close. It all drove you crazy. 
He didn’t feel much different. He was tired of this charade, pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you. Like he didn’t clear his schedule the second you’d asked him if he was free on Halloween. Then he moved closer, as if he was going to kiss you. He knew you wanted it too-
You covered your mouth with the covers. “I hate it when people kiss in the morning in movies, I think it’s disgusting,” you chuckled.
He laughed. God, you were adorable. He smiled at you for a moment, then moved your hand down, looking to you for approval. You nodded, and he kissed you. 
And it was everything you’d ever wanted in a kiss. The sparks flying, the silent feelings, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. Lando made you feel like that. He made you feel… amazing. And it was everything he’d ever wanted in a kiss too. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
You resurfaced after your soft morning sex and stood in the kitchen, both of you a little bit sweaty and tired. 
“We should probably-”
“You can go, if you want,” you offered, hoping you hadn’t said the wrong thing. Lando was a famous, rich guy, he probably had casual sex all the time. You didn’t want to be one of those crazy girls that thinks that sex ties you to a person (even thought it was more than just sex to you), so you have to let him go, right? 
He looked like a deer in headlights. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I mean, I don’t mind. I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay or anything-”
“Obligated?” he questioned. 
“Well, Halloween is over, right? Holidate ending? See you at Thanksgiving?” you joked. 
His heart broke slightly. “Right.” 
Then the doorbell rang. 
You ran over, opening it as quickly as you could, only to reveal your sister, absolutely trashed. Lando stood against the counter, sighing. How could he let himself fuck this up too? You were amazing. You were the best thing that had happened to him all year. It was ridiculous how much he looked forward to your calls and texts, how often he checked his phone just to see the ‘group photo’ of you, him, Max, and your family that he’d taken at the wedding. You, with his arms around you. Even if you two were fighting that week, you still chose to stand beside him in the photo, and let him hold you. That meant more to him than anything. He groaned, hitting his head against a cabinet. How did he fuck it all up?
“I kissed the black panther!” Abby sobbed. “I kissed the guy, at the party, dressed as the black panther!” 
“W-what?” you scoffed, holding her as she cried, sending a ‘help me’ look Lando’s way. 
“I am a terrible person!” she screamed into a pillow sobbing. 
“Morning Abby,” Lando smiled. She stopped crying and turned her attention to him. 
“Morning Land… holy shit you two had sex!” 
“We did not!” you argued. 
“We didn't?” Lando asked, his voice quieter than usual. He put down his coffee mug. 
“Oh…” Abby sighed. “I should- I should go.”
“NO! No, you- you stay! I’ll make some breakfast-” you pleaded, grabbing her hand.
“It’s alright Abby, you stay, I’ll go,” Lando nodded, grabbing the last bits of his costume. “Okay?” he looked to you, hoping against hope that you’d ask him to stay. You didn’t. “Okay.”
“Bye! See you at Thanksgiving!” 
The look he gave you as he was leaving told you he wouldn’t call you again. 
How did you always fuck everything up?
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
“Mate, she shoved me out the door,” Lando sighed, doing anything but looking over the data.
Will sighed. “She didn’t even want a cuddle?”
“Nothing! We had half a cup of coffee in blissful silence, then she kicked me out!” he groaned. “Ugh! Why is dating so hard!”
Will chuckled. “It’s alright mate, there’s plenty of other fish in the sea-”
“But they’re not Y/n! I want Y/n. I want my Y/n,” he whined. “Y’know what the last thing she said to me was? ‘See you at Thanksgiving’, like it didn’t even mean anything to her. Like I was fucking meaningless.”
“At least you’ve still got her as a Holidate-”
“I cannot do that anymore,” he admitted. “I can’t just… pretend to be in love with her when I actually am.” 
“No, mate, you’ve got to keep going with it. You just act like nothing has changed and she’ll come crawling back. It’s a foolproof idea!” ౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
God, you hated Thanksgiving. Your mother couldn’t cook, your sister was busy asking you about that guy she kissed at the party, and Lando was nowhere to be seen. As you opened the front door ready to run to the supermarket and buy an entire Thanksgiving feast, you were met with the face of Lando Norris. 
“Hi,” he smiled sadly. 
“Hi,” you smiled. “I have to run to the store so you can…”
“Great,” he nodded. “I’ll drive.” 
You had realised that in the 11 months you’d known each other, you hadn’t ever driven with him. “Not too fast, not all of us have the neck of an F1 driver,” you teased, hoping to lighten the mood. He just nodded with a reserved smile on his face. Challenge failed. 
You sat in the car as he drove (definitely over the speed limit), awkwardly wondering what to say. 
“How have you been?” he asked, his hands gripping the wheel. 
“Good, busy,” you explained. “You?” “Good. Busy,” he answered, his hands gripping the wheel even harder. You were both silent for a moment. “Are we seriously just going to pretend it never happened?”
“That works for me,” you nodded, thinking that’s what he really wanted. 
“Well, for the record, I wasn’t the one who wanted to leave that morning,” he sighed. 
“It’s not like you were asking to stay, plus, you didn’t even want to have sex with me in the first place. You’re not attracted to me, remember?” 
“Why can’t you let that go?”
“Because when a guy opens with the fact that he doesn’t find you attractive, it kind of sets the tone for the relationship-” 
“I was some random guy at the mall, what would you have said if I opened with ‘hi I think you’re insanely beautiful’?!”
You both paused for a second. 
“Y/n, come on. Everything about you is beautiful. Your smile, your personality, your humour. You would’ve never gone out with me, definitely not on New Year’s.”
You were both quiet again. 
“Does that change anything for you?” he looked at you, eyes pleading. You had to make a choice. 
“No.”Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes. Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.
Why did you have to be so good at protecting yourself? 
“Fucking hell- you’re trying so hard not to feel anything because you’re scared of getting hurt, so you’re lying to the both of us-”
“Maybe I just don’t feel the same, Lando. Not every girl will fall at your fucking feet,” you scoffed. 
“Fine. Enjoy the rest of your holidays, alone, at the kids table, blaming everyone but yourself for your problems.” 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
How did you fuck it up so badly? You walked back in. 
“Where’s Lando?” Abby asked. 
“Don’t know, don’t care.” 
“What? What did you do?” Your brother asked. 
“What makes you think it was my fault?” you scoffed. 
“You should call him, he’s a good guy,” Abby added. “You should just call and apologise.”
“Why do you think it was my fault?” 
“Well if you were honest with him we could probably get through one holiday without your personal life ruining dinner for everyone,” your mother sighed. 
“My personal life?” you scoffed. 
“Is a mess,” Abby interjected. 
“Ok, my personal life might be a perpetual mess but at least I didn’t kiss some randomer at Halloween!” you argued. 
“You fucking bitch,” she cursed.
A chorus of ‘who’, ‘what’ and ‘how’ quickly fell upon the room, until it was all drowned out by Peter, her husband. 
“You kissed someone else?”
You clapped a hand over your mouth. “I am so sorry I thought you’d told him-”
“I saw no tongue,” York, your brother added.
“You saw and didn’t tell me?” Liz questioned. 
“You can’t keep a secret,” he shrugged. 
“How would you know that, you know nothing about me!” she scoffed, getting up. 
“I trusted you!” Peter cried. “You went alone, I-I thought I could trust you-”
“I go everywhere without, a-and you never have any time for me because you’re always stressing about the kids-”
“One of us has to!” he shouted. 
Then your aunt’s date had a literal heart attack, and you were all stuck in silence as the ambulance rolled away with him inside. He would be fine, but you and your aunt went with him (not by choice) just for good measure. He was fine in the end and your aunt even met the love of her life at the hospital. 
Shittiest Thanksgiving ever. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
As Christmas rolled around and you watched the F1 season come to a close, you watched as Lando finished second in the standings, just behind Oscar. You missed him. You missed texting and calling him, you missed watching him crack bad jokes and laugh until his stomach hurt, you missed his fluffy hair and pretty face. 
You missed it all. The worst part was that he was right. You were just too afraid of being in love and putting your heart on the line, that you messed up the best thing that had ever happened to you. 
౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊
He walked through the same mall that he’d met you in a full year ago, and he sighed. He was empty, alone in Chicago once again, and he was done. Another chance at a WDC that he pissed away, and he was really starting to wonder if he truly had a place in the sport. Then he thought back to you, the way you liked him even without his race suit, without his money, without everything everyone else liked him for. You. He chuckled, he was probably just another Holidate to you, someone you wouldn’t even think about. 
Then he saw you as the escalators passed, and the way you looked at him gave him a glimmer of hope that he was wrong, that you did care. But you were gone in a flash and he knew he should just let it die. 
“There he was!” Abby squealed. “Go talk to him!”
“I can't, I'd just… it wouldn’t work. He hates me!” 
“Y/n, life is giving you a moment right now, take it!” 
And that’s how you ended up with a microphone in hand in the middle of a mall desperately trying to get the love of your life back. 
Thankfully, he said yes. And yes, it was videoed and put on the internet hundreds of times, too bad he’s a public figure. 
But that didn’t matter. You two were happy. 
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)
navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
729 notes · View notes
ohwowimlonley · 1 year ago
Note
more public sex with james please 🙏🙏
No :)
-
Everyone is piled onto one large L shaped sofa in James’ living room, despite there being plenty of other seats available. James says it’s because you get the best view of the TV from where you are, but you’re convinced it’s some kind of ploy.
Sirius is sat to the left of you, James to your right and Remus to his right. There’s a pink sherpa blanket over your thighs, one that you’d offeredto the boys on either side of you, but they’d both refused, with Sirius claiming that he doesn’t need a blanket to watch a horror movie, and James saying he’d let you know if he gets too cold.
In all honesty, you’re not at all interested in the movie playing on the TV screen, despite the fact that you were allowed to pick the movie, one you knew would scare the life out of Sirius and Remus.
James’ thigh has been pressed to yours for the past fifteen minutes, and even through the expensive matierial of the blanket you can feel the heat that he’s somehow always radiating. It’s distracting, really, the way he touches you just oh so casually, like there’s no intention behind it at all. But you know better. There’s no way that he just so happens to repeatedly brush his hand slightly too high when stroking your thigh over the top of the blanket.
Quickly, but as nonchalantly as possible, you throw the blanket over his lap too, and swing your right leg over his knees. He’s suggested doing this sort of thing before; touching eachother in front of the boys, and you’ve always been eager but too apprehensive to actually try it yet.
“You sure about this?” James knows what you want. Somehow, he can always just tell. His hand is already underneath your skirt, on the brink of prodding the waistband of your panties. His lips are on your earlobe, breath fanning all the way down your neck and giving you goosebumps, “we can just go upstairs, you know the boys won’t mind,”
You don’t trust your voice. If you try to speak now, the sound that will come out will be nowhere near appropriate, so you just nod, slow and meek, and keep your eyes flitting to the boys on either side of you.
Your subtleties last not even a minute. The second James’ calloused fingers make contact with your clit, you let out a low, warbling whinge. All three marauder boys look at eachother and snicker. You don’t care about them knowing any more, you just smush your cheek against your boyfriend’s muscled pec.
“Needy, s’she?” Sirius has that toothy grin on, one that all the marauders know to be his ‘thinking dirty thoughts’ smile, “Moony can sort that out, y’know?”
You prove his point only moments later by grinding yourself against James’ fingers. He slips them over your slit, up, down, up, down, and finally allows them to circle around your empty, aching hole. A simply unholy sound leaves your mouth when he slips a finger inside, all the way in until his palm brushes your clit.
“Let them have their fun, pads,” Remus tuts, stretching his gangly arm around you and James to flick him on the shoulder, “you’re havin’ fun with Prongsie, aren’t you pet?”
“Yeah,” it’s barely even understandable, the high pitched preen you let out, but the boys always get you. James leans down, nosing alond your jawline and letting his teeth drag on the topmost part of your neck. He takes out his finger, and replaces it with two of them.
“Gonna show the boys how pretty you sound when you cum, love?” His fingers speed up, tapping against your gummy walls and grinding against your sweet spot. His other hand reaches round and tugs experimentally on the blanket still covering your modesty. He only removes it for the boys to see when you nod frantically against his chest.
“Already? Not even been five minutes, sweetness,” Sirius teases, eyes widening when he sees your pussy contract at his words.
“I think she just likes the attention,” James curls his fingers, using his knees to spread your legs further apart to show you off to his friends, “s’that it, honey? Y’want the boys to watch you get all desperate for my fingers? Want one of them to have a turn next?”
You choke back a sob as you finally cum around James’ fingers, barely even hearing the boys’ gasps of wonder as you gush creamyness around the rim of your puffy hole.
“So,” Remus clears his throat, “my turn?”
4K notes · View notes
rainydayathogwarts · 3 months ago
Note
Hi! Love your writing!
Could I request a fic with George x reader x Fred, or poly!Marauders x reader, either is fine, and a reader that loves to wear necklace because the boys always pull on it to grab her attention???
Necklace - Poly!Marauders
Tumblr media
i love it. literally read the request and began making scenarios in my head. warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive 1k wc
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The first time it happened, the action had come from an impatient Sirius, waiting for you to finish revising for your upcoming assessment. His restless whispers of your name and tireless poking had gone ignored. You were too used to it. However, when Sirius spotted the new addition of jewellery you bore around your neck, a lightbulb lit up in his mind. A loud gasp slipped out of your mouth when his finger curled around the necklace, tugging at it hard enough to pull your neck down slightly. Sirius waited for your reaction: would he get yelled at, or would you finally give him your attention. You turned your head to the side, looked at Sirius with a shocked look on your face. "Sirius." The exasperated yet amused sigh of his name had the boy smirking.
"Can I finally have your attention now?" With an arm now draped across your shoulders, you let the boy lean into you, pressing his lips against yours. Placing your pen on the table, you cupped Sirius's face, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He moaned quietly, the sound muffling in your mouth, and adjusted himself to hover over you slightly — something he only dared to do in the darkest corner of the library, otherwise you'd have his head. You parted from the kiss panting, looking up at your boyfriend with complete amazement, a laugh bubbling in your chest. "Sirius get down!" You whisper yelled at him, pushing his chest away from you. "Fine." The boy replied, with a grin too big for him to be up to any good. Sirius slipped onto his knees in front of you, parting your legs only for you to immediately shut them. "Absolutely not." You scolded, a hand tightly gripping his collar in a poor attempt to pull him back on the sofa booth. The boy pouted, climbing back next to you and pecking your lips a few times whilst saying in between kisses "Well at least come with me to the dorm."
And you had.
Sirius considered it a successful mission, laying down with you in his bed, getting your well-deserved rest after such intense events that had occured. He stroked your hair, watching your peaceful expressions while you slept, not having to worry about any of your boys. When the door opened and James and Remus had entered, stopping in their tracks at the view in Sirius's bed, he had grinned widely, telling them "You guys have to hear this." while James moaned "Without me?"
Remus had scolded Sirius at the time, saying something about 'being careful' and 'not hurting you', but now, looking at where you sat next to him in the common room, chatting with Marlene, he became curious. He rested his head on your shoulder, watching your face, becoming giddy at the hand you rested on his thigh, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be the centre of your attention now. Sirius and James sat on the opposite couch to you two, giving each other a look. This was unusual for Remus. The tall boy hesitantly reached up and tugged at the chain hanging on your chest. You barely felt the pull, but it was enough for you to avert your attention to him. "Hey, you." You mumbled, cocking your head to the side. The tired boy smiled softly, returning the greeting. You reached a hand up, brushing long strands of hair away from his eyes. "Want some attention, do you?" You mumbled, opening your palm face up on Remus's thigh for him to intertwine his fingers with yours.
Remus nodded, asking shyly "Can we go on a walk or something?" You hummed, standing up and excusing yourself from the conversation, guiding Remus out of the common room by the hand. Sirius's trick really did work.
Staring at yourself in the mirror a couple of weeks later, you began thinking. Sirius and Remus had taken advantage of the Christmas gift from your parents, using it to grasp your attention, but James hadn't. You hummed — Sirius had definitely told both of the boys about it, so what was stopping James?
It only happened with him later that day, when you were in the boys' dorm, feet kicked up on Sirius' lap with Remus sat by your side. James came storming through the door to their dorm, kicking his shoes off his feet and pulling frustratedly at his tie. The three of you sat up straighter, alarmed by the boy's irritation. You had a feeling that if anything else vexed him, he might burst into tears. James didn't greet any of you until he'd put on a comfortable jumper and joggers, walking over to Sirius to press a kiss on his forehead before doing the same with Remus, who placed a caring hand on his back. James strode over to you, hooking his finger around your necklace and pulling you upwards from where you sat.
Your eyes widened when James didn't let go of your precious necklace, in fear that it might snap. However, James only continued tugging at it, forcing you to stand from your seat until he was close enough to press his lips against yours. When you finally stood straight, throwing your arms over James's muscular shoulders and tangling a hand in his luscious waves, he secured his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground just slightly. You broke the kiss, gasping out James's name as Sirius teasingly wolf-whistled — a risk to take given the boy's mood.
James returned you to the ground, but didn't loosen his grip on you, instead digging his head into the crook of your neck as he muttered "Haven't seen you all week. Could only think about you all of detention." Your eyebrows furrowed with worry, and you asked "Who gave you detention?" "Slughorn. Could've been with you instead." You smiled, flattered by his words, and stage whispered "What to cuddle for a bit? We don't have to invite the other two." Mock complaints were immediately thrown by Remus and Sirius, who finally scoffed "We can also cuddle without you guys!"
You let James drag you to his bed, laying down so you can hold him in his arms before making eye contact with Remus, who finally stood up, walking over to you both, and leaned down to press a kiss on James's forehead. "We're here for you if you need anything, mate."
1K notes · View notes