#make me even more of a lovestruck fool for you than i already am

[wildsaltair]

not pictured: me lying at his feet in a melted puddle of desire

[mumms-the-word]

Love Letters

Alistair and Lucy Amell

These letters were written as a collaboration between @callmethebrightness and myself for the lovely @elspethdekarios's birthday. callmethebrightness wrote the AMAZING letter from Alistair (and I'm obsessed with it, she nailed his voice so well) while I wrote Lucy Amell's reply letter <3 This was so much fun to work on and I am in awe of the talent my friends have in this little corner of tumblr. Thank you @elspethdekarios for trusting us with your OC! I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and that you adore these love letters!

Full text under the cut!

Alistair's Letter by @callmethebrightness

To Warden-Commander Lucy Amell, Hero of Ferelden: Lucy, I love you. I know, bad form to start a letter like that; without even a hello and how are you, but it's literally the only thing that comes to mind when I think of you, so I had to write it down first. I love you. There. Now to the rest. We're making strides looking into the Wardens and Corypheus, this "false Calling" he's managed, though it's not the sort of progress I'm particularly excited about. Every time I think I've figured out the worst of it, more bad news rears its ugly head. I'm a bit less skeptical now that we have some proper allies: not only the Champion of Kirkwall, but Inquisitor Sulah Lavellan, who has all her people putting their heads together to do something about all this. We should consider having an army at our disposal for all our problems, it's really marvelously convenient. Skyhold is an amazing place. Not just the fortress itself, where I've gotten into all sorts of places I shouldn't be ("Oh, I haven't seen this door before" -- surprise, it's a dungeon. No, thank you.) but the people and the activity here. It feels like everyone from the servants to the Inquisitor herself is committed to working together. I've met Fereldans, Orlesians, city elves, surface dwarves, ex-Templars, mages, farmers, nobles, Chantry sisters, Dalish spies, qunari, Tevinters...I could go on. If anything might be able to actually unite all of Thedas, the way the Chantry says it does, it's this thing. It's this place. Maker, I wish you could see it. Every time I see something incredible in my travels, I think that, you know. "Lucy would love this, I wish she could see it." And every time I see something horrible I think, "Maker, I wish Lucy was with me." You get the idea, don't you? You, with me, all the time, no matter what. Sometimes you're all I think about. But you knew that already. We're going to figure this thing out, Lucy. I'm going to make sure the Wardens have nothing more to fear from this Elder One, even if I have to fight him myself. And when you return, whether you've found what you're looking for or not, and I see you again -- I'm going to take you in my arms and never let you go. I mean it. That's not an exaggeration. I never want to be apart from you again, Lucy. Nothing is more important to me than that. What else? I love you. I miss you. Leliana is scarier than ever, but in a good way. I've eaten Orlesian cheese and do not care for it. I miss you. I told the Inquisition's ambassador I would include a small note in their missive to the Hero of Ferelden but my letter is now longer than the official one. I hope those creepy ravens of Leliana's can carry a little extra weight. When you see it, write her back and tell her it's creepy; she won't listen to me. There are less terrible birds, Leliana. Maker, I miss you so much I don't want to stop writing to you. Is that odd? Probably. But you wouldn't say odd. "Alistair, you're too sweet." That's what you always say when I'm being a fool, especially a lovestruck fool. Can't say I don't appreciate it, though. I'll write you again soon. There's talk of the fortress at Adamant, a potential siege. All sorts of military talk I do not care for. Whatever happens, you'll hear from me soon. I never can stand to wait long. Yours forever, Alistair

Lucy Amell's Letter (by me)

To Warden Alistair: [In a smaller script] Leliana, don’t be nosy! You’ve got your own letter! My darling, I love you. I don’t care if it’s bad form, just seeing those words at the start of your letter gave me so much joy and comfort that I couldn’t even read the rest of letter at first. I just wanted to linger there on those words and imagine them in your voice. I love you. I love you. I love you. And, Maker’s breath, I miss you, too. As my journey out west bring me farther and farther away from recognizable society, I find myself traveling alone more often than not. There are good people out here, and plenty of interesting distractions, and more than enough danger to keep my mind occupied, but again and again I wish you were at my side. I know taking down the Elder One is important, but these days I wish I had been more selfish and brought you along. But what’s done is done, and it’s good that you’re there, trying to shake some sense into our fellow Wardens. Someone has to.  What you’ve told me about the situation, and what little Inquisitor Lavellan has included in her letter, troubles me. It sounds like Corypheus is more dangerous than we thought…but if the Inquisition has the army and the resources that you say it does, then I trust them to succeed. And I trust you to survive whatever comes your way. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes, the two of us, haven’t we? Regardless, I’ve asked Inquisitor Lavellan to look after you. I know, I know, you would say I’m fussing over you too much (but I know you love it). But if she’s your ally, then she’s my ally too, and I feel no shame in asking this much of her. I want you in one piece when we meet again, my love. Be good for me. Don’t wander into dungeons that you can’t wander out of. Avoid the Orlesian cheese if you hate it so much. Remind Leliana to eat every now and again. I know her work keeps her busy, and I can only imagine that the death of the Divine has shaken her more than she’s letting on. And take care of yourself, too.  Oh, and I’m not telling Leliana that her birds are creepy. Just be glad she’s not sending missives via nug, or we’d never get letters to one another. I’ll write soon, my darling. I love you. I miss you. Yours always, Lucy [below, in a messier scrawl, as if added to the end of the page in haste] Alistair, I’m glad I didn’t send this letter right away! I’ve got big news. I think I’ve found something, and if I’m right, it means the end of this journey is in sight. I don’t want to say what it is just yet, but…I have a really good feeling about this. This might be the cure we’ve been hoping for.  But if not, I don’t care. If it’s not this, then I’ve got nothing else to investigate out here. If this isn’t our cure, then the silver lining is this—I’m coming home, and nothing is going to stop me. Meet me in Redcliffe when all of this is said and done. Whether I’ve found the cure for our Callings or not, I will be there, in the place we first started to fall in love, at the start of the next summer. And once we are together again, my love, I swear that nothing will ever separate us again. With all my love, Lucy

[katyspersonal]

Brador 1, 2, 25, 7 <3

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like Brador a lot!! I love his design, for starters: both the very concept of a normal dude in normal suit putting a cleric beast scalp over himself and just his face underneath! Also a really mysterious character. A kind of misanthropic, likely nihilist philosopher that has a lot to say on life, human nature and society! I am a huge sucker for such characters.. even if within Soulsborne, this kind of deep insight (HA) on the world is usually misery and despair. What always draws me in is "a character worth talking to"!

He feels for me like someone that defends the (morally questionable) fundament of the Healing Church because he is blackpilled on how exposing the truth and changing the system will be just another pointless turn of the vicious cycle. Like... bro, you telling me you don't realize that Church's ways are doomed after witnessing Laurence (or another cleric) become a beast too? You might be a dumb bitch but you are not stupid! It strikes me more as him wanting the institution to run its natural course into dying, without extra panic or god forbid, a more corrupt person taking the mantle after Laurence's authority is crashed. But interpretation of him just being a very devout, lovestruck madman that stands with his (not yet) cancelled boss is fun and is good too! He is very depressing yet engaging character in either way!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Weird, but I love how he secluded himself in the cell and haven't had anyone visit it in... decades, maybe? His real body is old! And only attacked via astral projection. I get this is just more efficient and safe seeing how the bells and curses work in Bloodborne setting, but why not ring the bell from the comfort of his bedroom or something? He either didn't even trust himself to keep his mouth shut, or it was the price he was willing to pay to never part with the beast hyde of the person he valued (because someone might connect the dots for all you know), or both!

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I feel deja vu, I swear I said that somewhere already.. My first exposure to him was a portrait of him and some other hunters on a shared canvas, and he was depicted without the beast scalp! Seeing his (very flattering xd) portrait and title 'Brador the Church assassin' gave me an impression of a very serious, collected, handsome guy that'd just stalk the enemies and quietly kill them...

Well, turned out that he was a bit more feral than them, not to mention using not a poisoned dagger but an ass huge mace with the spikes made out of his own blood! 🤣 Not that I started to perceive him as, how kids call it, "skrungly scrimblo", but apparently some passion and madness got added to my initial much chill impression x) I like both the reality and the first impression, though! Guess you can't go wrong with the concept of an assassin in any way.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Wait, fandom does things for this character?? WHERE????? /lh

Okay, I jest, Brador is just unfairly underrated xd But I fucking love the theory about him killing Laurence, it makes sense and it is the most heartbreaking one! ...until someone writes a very engaging and deep story between him and a cleric OC friend, I guess... I also enjoy when him and Maria interact! They are functionally doing the same thing, and share this "Fools do not become smart when they are given knowledge, they just become more dangerous fools" attitude.

Thank you for the ask! <:3

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Family Ties // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: hey lovie!! i wanna start by saying i adore your writing for bridgerton and harry potter and i always find myself coming back to it,, if you’re up for it, would you mind writing a benedict imagine? i was thinking something sweet and domestic?? like maybe him and the reader have kids and they’re going to visit the rest of the family? take it however you want!! <3 - @ddaeng-danvers​

A/N: Thank you so much!! I truly hope you like this. This is the first thing I've written in close to a month now and I love how happy it is. There’s love, and family, and fluff. I am so happy with it. This features characters seen in the prequel books ‘The Rokesby’s’ - I finished reading book 2 today and I think I'm going to own all of Quinn’s books by the time we reach summer.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: children, marriage, fluff, female reader, she/her pronouns, bridgertons being bridgertons, family fluff, love, romance, kissing, cute, mentions of pregnancy. SPOILERS FOR THE PREQUEL SERIES BUT I CANT BE SORRY, I LOVE GEORGE TOO MUCH.

Word count: 3.3k

Giggles and gasps lighten the morning air as you take those first steps outside. The grass is still wet with morning dew and it dampens the hem of your dress, but you cannot bring yourself to care as the laughter of your children surrounds you.

“You can’t catch me!” Your daughter declares, laughing loudly as her steps quicken on the slick grass.

A quiet smile crosses your face as you watch the scene unfold in front of you.

Your daughter, Violet, continues to laugh wildly as Benedict grabs her from behind, lifting her onto his shoulders. She settles there quickly; having spent a lot of time on Benedict’s shoulders when her little legs wore themselves out from running and exploring.

“My love,” Benedict greets, smiling widely at you, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did until I realised I was alone.”

Benedict casts his eyes upwards, gesturing to the four year old currently busying herself with trying to tidy the permanently messy locks of her father. “Someone,” Benedict emphasises with another glance upwards, “Woke up too early and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Your body warms at the obvious love in Benedict’s voice – for you, for his daughter. Close to a decade being married and he has every capacity to reduce you to a lovestruck fool. It’s perfect, really.

Chuckling, you gaze lovingly at your daughter. “Did you wake your father up?”

She nods; not an ounce of apology on her small face as she continues to mess up Benedict’s hair. “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she defends, “I’m excited to see Grandma Violet.”

“I’m sure she’s excited to see you too,” Benedict comments, reaching for his pocket watch to check the time. “We’ll have to be setting off soon. Are we all packed?”

You nod, meeting the loving eyes of your husband. “The footmen have everything covered. Where is John?”

Benedict gestures to the overgrowth behind him. “He joined us when Violet wouldn’t keep quiet. He shouldn’t be too far behind.”

“I’ll go in search. Get Violet ready for me?”

Benedict nods, smiling down at you before dropping the first kiss of many to your lips. You watch the pair leave; Violet chattering away about the birds singing in the trees before heading off in search for your eldest child.

“John Edmund Bridgerton,” you call out, voice loud in the quiet garden, “Where have you gotten to?”

“I’m over here,” John calls; his dark brown curls popping up between the rose bushes.

“Shall we head inside? We need to get ready to make the journey to London.”

John smiles, making his way to your side. “You look more like your father every day,” You comment absentmindedly, running a hand through your son’s hair.

John flushes at the compliment; his father was an exceptionally strong man as well as incredibly talented in whatever he pursues. “Thank you,” John replies, reaching for your hand to begin the walk back to your home.

---------

Bridgerton House had always grown violet hyacinths; they perfumed the air, making every inhale sweeter than the last. The door to the Bridgerton London home is opened before you get chance to place your feet on the ground after stepping down from the carriage.

Benedict steadies you as you straighten your skirts whilst trying to keep an eye on your children, making sure they hadn’t fallen out of the carriage. The laughter of your children floating on air has the tightness in your chest relaxing.

You take a moment to stand beside your husband, enjoying the feel of his hands on your waist. It had been so long since a moment alone had been found between the two of you; one of you running after Violet before she scared off another governess. Her stubbornness was to be admired, but it made it hard to teach her the basics in terms of literacy.

“Are you alright?” Benedict asks, noticing your hesitancy.

You smile widely at the love of your life. “I’m fine, my love. I just wanted to be close to you.”

Benedict’s face softens at your confession; he would be the first to admit that he found himself missing you even when he was sat next to you. There were no problems in your marriage but being so busy meant that there was little time for the two of you.

Benedict takes your hand; dropping a kiss to the back of it before turning it over and placing a lingering kiss to your wrist, over your pulse point. You gasp at the intimacy of it, your toes curling at the promise in his eyes.

“Mama!” Violet cries, taking your hand and dragging you through the house in the direction of the portrait gallery with all her might.

You chuckle, turning to Benedict with a helpless look on your face. He holds his hands up, letting you take the lead with your headstrong daughter. “I shall announce our arrival,” Benedict laughs, blue eyes focused on the way his daughter’s slippers slip and slide on the marble tiles of the entrance hall. “John,” He calls, “Would you like to join me?”

Imperceptibly, John takes a step in your direction. An incredibly smart but shy boy from birth, you sometimes worried over his place in the loud, boisterous family of the Bridgertons. “If it’s okay, I want to see where mother and Violet are going.”

“Of course,” Benedict smiles, ruffling John’s hair, knowing how he needed to get used to a new environment before feeling comfortable.

Benedict presses a kiss to your mouth and then to your cheek before taking the steps two at a time to hurry to the drawing room where he can greet his mother and siblings before answering their questions about your whereabouts.

Letting yourself be led through the ornate home of Violet Bridgerton, you can’t help but smile at the determinedness of your daughter. Her little feet stomping away on the marble tiles as she pulls you to the portrait gallery – her favourite place in the whole house bar her grandmother’s knee.

The gallery hasn’t had a new addition to its walls in years; the last painting being of Anthony and Kate on their fifth anniversary. Violet saw it as fitting that their London home had an up to date portrait of Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton. Anthony had argued, but one look from his mother had him falling silent �� knowing a losing battle when he sees one.

Generations of Bridgertons line the walls; their famous blue eyes watching the latest generation walk the halls of their once home. John remains silent by your side as he meets the gaze of the men of which his name is descended; if he feels their pressure at such a young age, he doesn’t say.

One painting catches your eye. A young woman and her husband; his hand is resting on her shoulder as she remains seated. They both stare out of the painting; their eyes filled with the stories of generations passed but utterly silent on the matter.

“Who is this?” Violet asks, effectively distracted by the bright colours of the painting.

“That’s your Great Aunt Billie and her husband,” You comment absently, mind occupied with Billie Bridgerton’s eyes.

“Have we met her?” John asks, hand reaching for yours.

“You have, John. She and the Rokesby clan came to your christening. I doubt you remember, you were so young, my darling.”

John flushes at your use of his childhood pet name. Not even ten years old and he was already growing too old for such things, but you didn’t care – he would always be your darling, your first born, the very boy that made you a mother.

“Where are they now?”

“I suppose they are still at Crake House in Kent. We should have to pay them a visit the next time we visit your Uncle Anthony.”

“Can we?” Violet asks, her Bridgerton blue eyes wide with promise and excitement.

“If your father allows it, I see no problem with it.”

The children seem placated at that. With their hands in yours, you make your way to the drawing room where the rest of the family have gathered. Benedict spies you immediately despite being deep in conversation with Colin and Hyacinth; his body and soul finetuned to your presence – feeling uplifted when you’re beside him, feeling as if he was missing a vital part of himself in your absence.

“Grandma Violet!” Your youngest child cries, launching herself for the skirts of the Bridgerton matriarch. Her small arms barely make their way around the legs of the elderly woman who cannot contain her amused giggle at the exploits of her granddaughter. Instead, she gathers young Violet in her arms, placing her on her knee to get a better look at her.

“You have grown,” The matriarch murmurs, brushing back the dark brown hair of her granddaughter.

“John!” Anthony calls, drawing the attention of his nephew. Releasing your hand, John crosses the room to talk to his beloved uncle; the topic of conversation, you know not but they both look incredibly animated and devoted to the matter.

“Where were you?” A low voice sounds in your ears, making you jump. The voice turns amused as a low chortle escapes your husband’s mouth. “I’m sorry, my love,” he offers in apology as an arm wraps itself around your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“If you must know, we were in the portrait gallery.”

“What drew you there?”

“Your daughter,” You comment, tone amused.

Benedict moves to inquire further but is cut off but the gong signalling that dinner has been served. At once, the family moves as one – all ravenous and desperate to begin their meal.

“(Y/N)!” Colin calls out, catching up to you on the way to the dining room.

“Colin,” You greet fondly, “How is married life?”

“Wonderful,” Colin sighs, “Penelope is… Penelope is wonderful.”

You laugh, elbowing the third eldest Bridgerton. “Surely, you remember the early days of your marriage,” Colin states, “The honeymoon period.”

“It doesn’t leave you,” You reply, catching sight of the love of your life just ahead of you. His head is bent as he reaches for the hand of your daughter; her whole hand wrapped around one of his fingers. It sends your heart into a tizzy as you inhale sharply; the love you feel for Benedict Bridgerton could rival the love of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, of the sonnets written by William Shakespeare himself.

“No,” Colin comments, glancing between you and Benedict, “I don’t suppose it does.”

------------

Dinner with a large Bridgerton crowd was never a quiet feat; conversations flowed in every direction. Societal propriety non-existent as everyone spoke over each other; happy to have the company of their siblings, nieces and nephews, sons and daughters.

“Anthony,” You begin, reaching for your glass as you draw the attention of the head of the family, “When would you next be at Aubrey Hall?”

“Kate, the children, and I travel back in two days. Why?”

“We were in the portrait gallery earlier. Violet was rather taken with a portrait of Billie Bridgerton and her husband, George. If Benedict has no qualms, could we travel with you? I think Violet would like to meet them.”

Anthony beams; rather liking the idea of bringing the Rokesby’s back into their lives once more. “I must admit that I haven’t travelled to Crake House in a long time. What a terrible nephew I must seem.”

Violet frowns, picking at the food on her plate. “What a terrible sister-in-law, I must be. It must be close to a year, probably longer since I’ve seen Billie and George. Longer since I’ve seen Edward and Cecilia.”

“That does it,” Anthony declares, “We shall all travel to Aubrey Hall before dropping in on Crake House.”

Meeting Benedict’s eyes across the table you smile at the clear affection written on his face. “You have no objections do you, my love?”

He shakes his head. “Never, my love.”

Turning your attention to Anthony, you nod your affirmation. “Should we write in advance of leaving here?”

Anthony wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll send a missive with the morning messenger; if I tip generously then there shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Violet adds absently, “I just can’t believe I’ve left it this long. I’m so rarely in Kent and they never journey to London.”

Colin reaches to his right, placing his hand on top of his mother’s. “They will more than understand. Aunt Billie was father’s sister after all. I think even Aunt Billie finds it hard to return to Aubrey Hall.”

“Then it’s decided,” Benedict smiles, “We shall journey to Aubrey Hall and get settled there before descending on Crake House.”

“Do you think Gregory would like to join us?” You ask, thinking of your youngest brother-in-law.

“He’s in his final term at Oxford,” Colin replies, “He’s sitting all number of exams right now, I don’t think he’ll have the time.”

“A shame,” Anthony comments, thinking of his youngest brother and the stress he must be under, “But I’m sure he can complete the journey in the summer.”

“He always was Aunt Billie’s favourite,” Benedict states darkly. You raise your eyebrows at your husband in question. “Gregory struggled with the pronunciation of some plants when he was a child; Aunt Billie thought it was adorable,” He explains, sounding far off as if trapped in a memory of his youth.

Smiling widely at your husband’s tone, you coo, “I’m sure Violet will be her new favourite when we explain what inspired our visit.”

Dismissing all social expectations, Benedict rounds the table, reaching for your hand, pressing a long kiss to the back of it before stating loudly. “You, my love, are a genius.”

“It has been said before,” You laugh, watching your husband return to his seat with promises of the night alight in his eyes. His eyes remain bright as he gazes at you over the rim of his wine glass, no longer paying attention to the conversation pertaining to the history of the Bridgertons and Rokesbys. Instead, his gaze remains fixed on you as he thinks of all the good you have brought to his life – loving him, marrying him, bearing his children. His love for you is endless, and he’ll spend the rest of his life proving that to you.

--------

Crake House was just as grand as Aubrey Hall. The Rokesby’s gaining the favour of the monarch in the seventeenth century leading to an earldom and a rather large estate that bordered on the Bridgerton’s at Aubrey Hall. From then, the two families had been intertwined – as close as two families could get.

“It’s very big,” John comments quietly to Benedict as they leave the carriage.

“Don’t let that intimidate you, John,” Benedict says, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

As Benedict finishes his sentence, the door to Crake House is pulled open by a strong hand. Deep blue skirts are the first thing you see, and you know that Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton has arrived.

“Bridgertons!” A feminine voice cries, “I have Bridgertons on my doorstep once more!”

“Billie,” Violet sighs, a fond smile on her face as if the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice has transported her back to times long thought of as memories.

“Anthony Bridgerton,” Billie admonishes as she hurries down the stairs, her elderly frame not a hindrance to her speed whatsoever. “How long have you taken residence in Aubrey Hall? How long has it been since you came to see me?”

“Aunt Billie,” Anthony murmurs, “I don’t suppose you could ever forgive me.”

Billie Rokesby nee Bridgerton eyes her nephew; looking him up and down before taking his face in her strong hands. “Are you well, my boy?”

For a moment, tears shine in Anthony’s eyes as he is reminded of his departed father. He nods wordlessly; trying to get a grip on the feelings rushing through him at the love that emanates from Billie. “I’m well, Aunt Billie.”

Billie nods, stepping back, clearly happy at the information offered by Anthony. She casts her shrewd gaze over her brother’s family; happiness alight in her eyes as she takes sight of your daughter, hiding behind your skirts.

“Who do we have here?” She asks, stepping closer to Benedict and yourself.

“You met John when he was just a babe in arms, but Violet is our youngest,” Benedict introduces, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Violet?” Billie gasps, dipping at the waist, “Violet Bridgerton, it is an honour to meet you.”

Violet giggles from where she has her face hidden in your legs. You reach down, tapping her on the shoulder. “Come now, sweetheart. Let’s say hello.”

Violet peeks her face out of your skirts, her blue eyes meeting the kind, aged ones of Billie. Violet curtsies, remembering her manners despite her age. “I saw your painting at Grandma’s house.”

“Which one?” Billie asks gently, eyes flickering to the Bridgerton matriarch. “Please tell me it wasn’t the one that Edmund commissioned as an anniversary gift for George and myself.”

Violet Bridgerton covers her mouth to stem the laughter that threatens to bubble over. “The very same.”

Billie huffs, turning to you, “I was six months pregnant, and Edmund thought I would want nothing more than to sit for a whole day with nothing to keep me company.”

“I think you look wonderful,” Your daughter compliments, tripping up on her pronunciation of ‘wonderful’.

Billie’s eyes shine with happiness, “Thank you, my dear.”

“I think our guests might like some tea,” An exasperated but fond voice calls from the doorway. Billie’s face softens at the sound of it; she turns to her husband, finding him watching her with a loving smile on his face.

“They aren’t guests, George. They are my family, and by marriage, your family.”

“All the same, I’m sure they would like something to drink and to rest a little.”

Billie pouts, knowing a losing fight when she saw one. You take in the sight of the pair; their hair had greyed over time, their face becoming wrinkled but their love – it was so palpable, it could be felt in every aspect of their conversation and every expression they sent each other.

Billie and George manage to wrangle the whole Bridgerton clan into their drawing room with promises of food, tea and stories of their mother’s youth. Violet pales at such a promise but Billie’s hand on her arm steadies her.

Your children, John and Violet, join their many cousins on the carpet. They all sit cross legged, eyes intently focused on the elderly couple sitting on the pale green couch. Billie gestures animatedly as she begins one of her many adventurous stories. George leans further back into the cushions, happy to let his wife regale his extended family with the very story of how they had fallen in love. A story told many times, but a story he would never tire of hearing, especially not from his beloved wife’s lips.

You watch all of this from where you sit, perched on the window seat. You smile at the sight of Anthony, Colin and Hyacinth watching Billie with nothing short of wonder written on their faces as they are reminded of the aunt that had explained the way of the land before they had truly understood what it meant to be part of a family with such a large responsibility.

Benedict joins you on the window seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as his heart sings at the sound of his children’s laughter. Silently, he reaches over to take your hand in his. He rests your tangled hands on his thigh; needing you close for a reason he cannot seem to find the words to explain.

“I love you,” You whisper, needing him to hear the words that have begged to be released since you had rolled up to Crake House.

“I love you too,” Benedict responds, his hand tightening around yours.

*********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley​

[gryffindors-weasley]

To Love Someone

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Love doesn’t always work out how you’d like it to, and sometimes it does.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: angst, jealousy, heartache, fluff, kissing, requited love

Shock. That was the very first thing you felt upon hearing what was supposed to be delightful news. What was supposed to be a celebration of the next chapter of someone’s life. But that feeling quickly subsided, for you hadn’t expected your very best friend to hold the same feelings for you as he did him. You never did, though a small part of you had hoped this was some fabricated nightmare that you would eventually wake up from. But much to your dismay, it was not.

Now, you were in attendance of yet another dinner at the Bridgerton home. There had been an extravagant event held in celebration of the engagement one week prior of course, but everything after that, even just a simple dinner seemed to be just as celebratory all the same.

Benedict and Eloise, as a matter of fact even Anthony, knew of your long-standing feelings for their brother. Feelings that now seemed absolutely ridiculous as you sat before the happy couple, feelings that made your heart crack pitifully within your chest. They knew, and they were rather surprised to hear the announcement as well because they were sure you were the perfect match. They were certain with the way they always caught him staring when you weren’t looking.

“This cake is rather delightful, is it not, Y/n/n?” Eloise murmurs to you once she catches your painfully longing gaze lingering on her brother.

You break away from him with furrowed brows after she kicks you under the table, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to suppress the lump forming within it. You look at her for a moment, scrambling to remember the words you only half-heard her say. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

You pick at said cake with your fancy fork clutched in your shaky hand, hearing her soft sigh in defeat beside you. She knew her attempts at distraction were futile, valiant yes, but futile. It was hard to watch you sit there and sulk; she did not quite know what it felt like to be heartbroken, but she couldn’t imagine it to be easy. So, she knew she must at least try and call in reinforcements, her brother.

“Y/n,” Benedict starts on your other side, nudging you with his elbow to further gain your attention. “The garden seems to be in full bloom, you don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk with Eloise and I after dinner, would you?”

You laugh softly at their more than obvious efforts, but you nod in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, Benedict, that would be lovely.”

When things moved from the dining room to the drawing room, Violet Bridgerton had talked the three of you into staying in their company for just a bit more before you could run off. Maybe not talked into, more like told the three of you in a hushed matronly scolding. You had no choice but to oblige to her wishes.

You sat between the two on the couch, breathing out a sigh as you wring your hands in a half hearted attempt to do something. Not even talk of Lady Whistledown could capture your attention for more than a mere moment or two. Not even Benedict’s teasing jokes to draw a portrait of you and the frown seemingly permanently on your face could get you to smile for more than just a few seconds at a time. For just about everyone seemed to be enamored with Miss Andrews.

It wasn’t hard to be you will admit, she was beautiful with many talents; she has even traveled quite a bit with her family. You knew that was of interest to him. You couldn’t blame her for being so captivating, but you couldn’t bear it either. Not with the way she linked her arm around Colin’s, or the way her parents spoke so highly of her that it made your head spin.

It was when you found yourself looking at Colin that it became far too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away just yet, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much you needed to. It was when he looked at you that had done it. The conversation and laughter seemed to fade in swirls of commotion around you, the shared gaze fleeting and agonizingly slowed all the same. For it was the first time all night that he had directly looked at you and you couldn’t take it. You could not stay.

Politely, you excused yourself, making your way to the door in a rush that left Benedict and Eloise to frown at each other. The room felt all too crowded no matter the fact that it wasn’t, the uninterrupted chatter and music still continuing in your absence.

The tears became harder to ignore with your newfound time to yourself, your chest heaving in your overwhelmed state. You had made it nearly to the end of the lavish hall before you were stopped.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath as you closed your eyes briefly, willing the tears to dissipate before turning around with a soft smile, your best friend closer than you had thought. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? I know Hyacinth is still rather new to the piano, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He jests, laughing softly.

You bring yourself to laugh quietly despite your pressing desire to be anything but jovial in that moment. “I am quite alright, Colin.”

His brows furrow at your obvious distress, he could tell from the very moment you arrived at his family home in the early half of the evening. He was far too oblivious to see the cause of your behavior, but not so much to not notice you’d been acting differently. He knew you were lying to him.

“What is the matter, Y/n?” He asks again as he sees you rapidly begin to grow more upset, and he reaches out for your hand.

You pull away from his grasp, averting your teary gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him would be perfectly suitable. “Nothing is the matter, Colin.”

You were certain your words couldn’t possibly be believable, not with the way your chest had begun to rise and fall at a much more noticeable pace, and not with the way your cheeks had flushed and obvious crimson. One must be a fool to not see the clear turmoil and upset painted all over you, weaving around your every word. Each passing second had only worsened such a feeling, and the more you allowed yourself to look at him, the more trouble you had found yourself falling into. You simply could not bear it anymore.

The crease between his brows only deepens upon your dismissive behavior, his hand falling back to his side as he takes a deep breath. “Well it would appear that something is bothering you. I know you far better than to believe that, Y/n.”

You laugh humorlessly, looking down at your feet as you all but crumble in front of him. Your chest tightened and your heart felt as though it could burst. He knew it may not have been appropriate of him to do so, but he reached out to grab your hands once more and you did not fight it, for this would likely be the last time. The look on his face was a silent plea for you to tell him of your troubles, ones he hadn’t known were caused by himself. His grip was gentle and warm as he waited for you, and the feeling fluttering in your stomach was unable to be ignored.

“I know it is not proper of me to say this,” You start, and his brows remain knit together. No matter how heavily your heart had been pounding, your words spilled out before you could stop them. “But I love you. I am in love with you, and you are in love with someone else. You are to marry. That, Colin Bridgerton, is what is the matter.”

He swallows thickly, his gaze on you far too intense to hold as you clear your throat and bring yourself to pull from his grasp, fervently willing the lump within it to disappear. His mouth opens, then closes almost immediately as he tries desperately to figure out his wording though his attempts prove to be futile.

“I—I do not know what to say.”

The hurt had crashed down on you in waves, immense and unrelenting as you stood before him. The tears pressing just behind your eyes rapidly became too hard to ignore. Yet despite the anguish pulling harshly at your heart, you take a deep breath and compose yourself once more.

“There is no need to say anything at all. I just—I am sorry. I needed to tell you,” you state, straightening your posture as you lift your eyes to meet his once more. Your lip began to quiver the more you held his gaze, and with a soft and faltering smile, you offered a simple nod. “I should be leaving now.”

You turn on your heel and walk away from him, desperate for a change of scenery and desperate for a breath of fresh air. Though impossible, it felt like the lavishly decorated walls were closing in on you in that very moment.

“Y/n, wait!”

It had crossed your mind that maybe you should stop, maybe you should turn around and listen. Maybe he’d have something to say that could be just what you are hoping to hear. But you couldn’t find it in you to look at him for another moment, so you part from him and continue down the nearly vacant corridor. It was only when he was distant enough that you let your tears fall, quickly wiped away by the satin glove on your hand.

—

Dealing with the aftermath of your lovestruck confession was not an easy feat, in fact, you felt as though you never wanted to show your face to the ton again. You were perfectly content staying in the confines of your bedroom for the rest of your life. Fortunately for you, your blunder hadn’t made it into Lady Whistledown’s story of the day, but what had been the talk of the ton was the ever spectacular planning of the wedding of Mr. Colin Bridgerton and Miss Hazel Andrews. There had been an excerpt on the very event every day for an entire week, possibly more but eventually you’d stopped looking to save yourself the heartache already striking down on you.

You had stopped visiting the Bridgerton family home because you had known you would run into him, and the very thought had made your stomach churn and twist in knots as you remember that very night but a handful of weeks ago. You feel as though you might never forget that, much to your dismay. For heartbreak does not leave someone completely, there will always be fragments of its torment left behind in everything you choose to do.

Eloise has come to see you frequently, always with a box of the very sweets she insists she does not share with anyone. She always has a message to pass on from her siblings, even Colin, especially Colin, but she always finds herself feeling unsure of if she should bring him up. So instead, she tells you her latest findings on the unmasking of Lady Whistledown; she could never run out of things to tell you of that. She tells you of how Benedict might just drive her crazy if he asks about you but one more time. She tells you of the ball you are invited to.

In the current moment, you had been seated at your vanity, sifting through all the letters Colin had written to you over the last three weeks. They had since tapered down when he hadn’t been getting responses in return, and you had been too afraid to read any more than just a few. Too afraid to see in writing that your love is unrequited, too afraid to read the possibility that he hadn’t wanted to see you anymore. You were perfectly content with the undesirable hurt you had now, you did not want to add to it.

A knock on your door had startled you from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you,” your mother announces, a soft smile on her lips as you look at her reflection in your mirror.

Your heart nearly flipped in your chest as you sat there, turning to face her directly. Your mind had been racing with a flurry of thoughts; you missed him, but insecurity wore away at you and told you his visit would not be of anything good. Could not be. He had visited several times and the outcome was always the same, so surely he does not believe your excuses, surely he is fed up. “Tell him I am not here, mother.”

She nods at the expected answer, closing the door behind her quietly and leaving you be as you rushed to your window. In a matter of a few moments you saw him, and it felt as though your heart had stilled. You watched as he drug his hand down his face, watched as he turned to look up at your family home and you took a step back from your window, even though he would not be able to see you. You watched as he turned away, got in his carriage, and disappeared down the street.

You turn on your heel and release a shaky breath, your gaze falling to the gown dangling neatly from its hanger.

—

You fought to conceal your frown and your obvious discontent to be at such an event. However, your mother had made you attend and Eloise just might go crazy if you leave her to fend for herself one for one more ball. And as if on cue, her arm links with yours after you’ve taken all but three steps into the boisterous ballroom.

“Hello stranger, how nice of you to join me on this wonderfully dreadful evening,” she greets in faux annoyance, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“Hello, Eloise,” you sigh, leaning your head against hers for just a moment. “It is rather dreadful, isn’t it? I’m certain I’d much rather—”

“Stay in your room?”

You raise your brow at her and she does the same, a knowing smirk gracing her lips and you shake your head with a soft smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. If you keep it up Eloise, I just might leave.”

“That is absolutely not happening.”

“I have to concur!” Benedict chimes in, appearing at your other side with a smile on his lips. You huff out another sigh as you look up at him, something akin to annoyance in your gaze.

“I do not believe there is anything you have to do.”

He pretends to ponder your words for a brief moment before offering you his arm much to his sister’s dismay. “I believe I have to offer you this dance.”

You squint up at him skeptically, your lips pursed as he returned your stare with a grin, head tilted as his arm remains offered to you. You bite the inside of your cheek and huff out a sigh through your nose, a groan sounding from dear Eloise as you reluctantly allow yourself to be escorted to the dancefloor.

“I am not thrilled about this, I hope you know that,” you state, falling into rhythm with the cheerful music regardless.

“I very well do. Much like I am not thrilled that this is the first time I am in your presence in nearly a month,” he jests, and you frown at him and his counter.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just what kind of dance you had been talked into, and the laughter coming from the one to blame was more that indication that he was very much aware of that fact from the start.

“Benedict, don’t you dare spin me off to your brother,” you warn firmly, looking up at him with a threatening glare.

“Do you really think so little of me, Y/n/n?” He asks in a scoff, feigning hurt as he nearly pouts at you and your very logical assumptions.

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” you say, softening your stare as you exhale a sigh.

“I will not do such a thing, but I cannot guarantee he would be as gracious as I am,” he says with a grin, passing you off to the arms of the eldest Bridgerton brother before you could get another word in edgewise.

You breathe out an exasperated huff as you fall into your rhythm, pursing your lips.

“Please, do not act too excited to see me, Miss Y/l/n,” Anthony jests, offering you a lopsided smirk to counter your lingering frown. “What ever is the matter, my dear friend?”

You roll your eyes at the playful insincerity held in his words, for he knew exactly what was the matter long before you had even confessed your feelings for his brother. In fact, he may have been the first to realize them.

“Do not call me that, Anthony. You know perfectly well what is the matter.” Despite the bite in your tone, you couldn’t suppress the smile that had tugged at the very corner of your mouth as you stepped around the dancefloor.

“You do know that my brother is not engaged, do you not?” He asks, raising his brow at you curiously. You furrow your own, eyes narrowing up at him in disbelief.

“Anthony, now is not the time for your humor,” you scold, looking away from him. As much as you would like his words to be true, you cannot imagine that they would be.

“It is nothing of the sort,” he defends, “You don’t believe me? Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

You found yourself tightening your hold on his hand in a pitiful attempt to stay put, but before you can get another word in you are passed into the very arms you had been trying so desperately to avoid, his hand slipping in yours in a fit too perfect to ignore. Your breath caught in your throat upon looking in his eyes, upon being so close and you quickly found yourself averting your gaze. You were quite sure your cheeks were a deep scarlet with the way they’d burned. This had reminded you of the exact reason you hadn’t wanted to attend this very ball in the first place, it was a nightmare and you were now living it.

“How lovely it is to see you,” Colin greets and you’re unsure of his sincerity with the edge behind his words, falling into the pace of the jovial dance with a practiced ease. “I was beginning to think you just might go the entire evening without speaking to me.”

“It is merely a coincidence, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“You do not have to be so formal, Y/n,” he sighs, and you continue to move about the dance floor as you keep quiet. “And am I to assume that it is also merely a coincidence that you are not home each time I have paid you a visit?”

“Do you not have a fiancée to dance with? She is rather popular in Lady Whistledown’s stories, as are you,” you inquire, desperate to take the focus off of you and his question.

You try to keep your racing heart steady, and you hope your shaky hands aren’t too terribly noticeable. Your attempt to keep him from asking any further questions about the matter seemed to have worked in your favorite just this once.

“Then you should have seen that Miss Andrews and I are no longer to be wed.”

It feels as though your heart stills in your chest as you swallow thickly, meeting his gaze once more. A crimson blush stains your cheeks as you look at him, not a trace of a lie expressed on his features. Your heart had beat impossibly faster, and the realization of just how close you had been became increasingly apparent. Not to mention, it felt as though the very walls of the ballroom just might collapse on you if you spend a moment longer in there.

Anthony had not been lying to you, that much was obvious. The thoughts began to swim in your head in a whirlpool now. What the reasons could have been for his numerous visits to your home. What the words written in each of those unopened letters could have said. It engulfed you and rushed over you all at once.

You clear your throat, releasing his hand from your grip and stepping away from him. “I shall need a moment.”

You left him to stand there as you weave your way through the jovial crowd, your obvious distress drawing more than a few stares as you lift the skirt of your dress to keep yourself from tripping as you rush out of the room. 

It was a rather chilly evening to be wandering about the gardens by yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about such trivial things. It was much preferred to the stuffy ballroom that was not nearly big enough to house you and the Bridgerton boy you had fought so hard to avoid. The commotion of the jovial event was rapidly fading the farther you immersed yourself amongst the finely manicured shrubbery and blossoming trees. Though it’s outstanding beauty could not fully be appreciated with such a sour mood, it would have to wait for another time.

Your chest heaved and your eyes watered, the sight of him after having kept your distance for weeks on end proving to affect you just as greatly as it always had and always will be. How ever were you to move on and find another suitor when you were still hung up on him?

You suppose you should be happy at the news, but right now that was not the case.

Perhaps you would simply never marry, it seemed like a viable option in this point in time. To put your heart out on the line for another just did not seem of interest to you nor will it ever. To love someone hadn’t felt as rewarding as Mrs. Bridgerton had once told you and Daphne, it felt as though it had been just the opposite.

A breeze swept over you, promptly causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you paced about the lush grass in hopes to ease your mind a bit. As refreshing as the night air had initially been, you were beginning to feel no better than you had when you were confined within that room.

Any and all attempts to ease your mind became futile when a voice had cut you short.

“Y/n?”

You startled at his presence, refusing to turn around if only for a moment more as you let your eyes fall closed with a sigh. “I believe I asked for a moment alone.”

It’s quiet briefly before he speaks up once more. “It is not safe for a lady to be out at this hour by herself. I don’t think my mother would be very happy with me should something happen to you on my account.”

“I am perfectly fine on my own,” you state, walking farther from him into the heart of the large garden.

“That may be true, but I am not leaving.”

You exhale a frustrated sigh, spinning on your heel to face him with a narrowed gaze. “Just why have you followed me out here? I do not wish for your pity, Colin.”

His brows furrowed as he takes a step closer, looking down at you with a look you cannot place. “My actions are not out of pity, Y/n,” he starts, his tongue swiping over his lips as he thinks over his next words. 

The tears pressing behind your eyes threaten to spill as you stand there before him. 

“Then what are they of?” You ask, lowering your voice before you draw any attention to yourselves should anyone be wandering. “What are they of?”

He inhales a deep breath at your upset tone before huffing it out through his nose, looking away only briefly before his gaze returns to you. His mouth opens and closes once, and again as the words nearly remain caught in his throat. For feeling so strongly, it was difficult to voice them. “I came out here because I miss you.”

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with a gesture of his hand.

“You have hidden yourself from me for the last three weeks. I have written you letters, I have come to see you, and I have been unsuccessful with every attempt I have made. I believe it is fair to say that I do.”

You stand there, frustrated and overwhelmed with his words.

“It is not easy being in the presence of someone who both makes your heart flutter and ache all the same,” you state defensively, a tear spilling over your flushed cheek. “I sincerely apologize for not returning your letters and distancing myself from you, but I believe it was in my best interest.”

“I believe it was not.”

You frown as your brows furrow, frustration building within your chest as it heaved under your distress. “Why is that?”

He stares at you, tears lining his eyes as the crease between his brows deepens. “You are my best friend, you are—”

“Why have you called off your engagement, Colin?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looked down at you, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face as he fought to find the words to say under your expectant stare. Words that played so easily in his mind yet so painfully difficult to speak.

“I realized I did not love her.”

You scoff, willing the bout of hope in your chest to go away.

“That cannot be so. I’ve seen the way you look at her, I’ve heard the way you talk about her. I simply—”

“I didn’t marry her because it is you that I love,” he declares, standing a bit straighter. He finds himself speechless for a moment now that your full attention is on him, now that the quiet of the night is obvious. But as he looks at you, he knows. “I am in love with you, with all that I am. I’m afraid it took your absence for me to realize it, but it has. It was always you, it will always be you.”

You stand there, seemingly frozen in your spot as you look at him in disbelief. “But I—you love me? You…”

Before you could find the words you hadn’t even been sure of yet, his lips had pressed to yours in a soft kiss. One of hesitancy to solidify his words, yet feather-light in fear of ruining the remains of your friendship. One that only intensified once you had gotten over the utter shock you’d been hit with, your hand reaching up to settle on his cheek. His arms envelope you in an embrace, so tight it had only proved his earlier words of missing you. Even in your absence you had entranced him all the same.

In that very moment, it felt as though sparks had danced across every inch of your skin, a feeling you had only ever thought of but never imagined to be true, to be quite so blissful. But what did remain to be true was the very fact that you had been kissing the love of your life in the secret confines of a garden.

Your fingers had begun to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck briefly, smoothing over his cheeks and down to rest on his chest when you part.

“Marry me,” he breathed against your lips, his forehead against yours. Not a drop of hesitancy could be found in the proposal, nor was there any humor.

You found it hard to catch your breath in that moment as you pull away only slightly, allowing yourself to look in his eyes. They sparkled with sincerity, with the promise that he loved you entirely. His kiss swollen lips quirked up in a smile, his gaze hopeful. It was then that you smiled, bright and beaming as you kissed him once more, murmured your acceptance a thousand times over.

To love someone was a risk in and of itself, but to love someone could be just as beautiful.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @elennox03

[masquette]

2 halves of a whole .

∿ pairings :

a Camilo Madrigal x fem reader !

∿ summary :

You and your brother had a little challenge, and now you had to prove your love towards your significant other, Camilo Madrigal.

∿ warnings :

none .

∿ genre :

fluff ♡ .

∿ this will be written in :

third person, following [Name]'s pov .

∿ Part One , you're here !

∿ Part Two , link .

∿ Reminders :

I am not fluent in spanish, anything said in this language is translated from Google.

This is not proofread. If you spot any grammar/spelling mistakes, please do inform me.

“Rigel, I swear to God, don't you dare touch that cake!” Threatened [Name], her expression angry. “Oh come on, hermana! Just one bite? Please?” Her brother pleaded with his signature puppy eyes. The maiden scoffed, “That's not going to work on me, brother dearest.”

The female slapped his hand that tried to sneak it's way towards the sweet delicacy, eliciting a pained help from the raven haired male. “Ow— [Nameeee]!” He whined dramatically.

“Oh stop being such a baby, I didn't hit that hard.” She rolled her eyes playfully, making the male pout.

He sighed exasperatedly, held his arms up in a defeated manner. “Okay, fine. I get it. That cake is for your ‘cariño.’” He put an emphasis on the ‘cariño’ part, his tone mocking.

Rigel leaned on the counter, arms now crossed. “Honestly, sis, you're waaaay too giving. Love him that much, don't you?” This was his way of revenge, teasing.

“You really think you can tease me, huh?” [Name] challenged, a hand on her hip. “I'd tell the whole world about how much I adore mi chameleon.” She proposed.

“Okay? Prove it then.” He shot her a competitive glare, which the female reciprocated. “Oh, I will. Not only to prove my undying love—” She placed a hand on her chest, closing her eyes dramatically. Rigel made a gagging noise. “—but to prove your stupidity, as well.”

“Hey!” He barked, [Name] just waved him off. She made her way towards their balcony, ushering for her brother go follow. “Come on, idiotá! I'm not leaving you alone with that cake!”

He rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay! What are we even doing in the balcony? Oh god, you're not gonna sing, are you?” He asked, feigning disbelief. “I mean, I could..” [Name] held her chin, pretending to think.

“You are not going to sing, my eardrums will seriously explode. My poor ears already have to suffer listening to you blabber.” He held his ears delicately, faking hurt. “Oh would you stop already. At least my voice is better than yours.” The maiden elbowed him in the stomach, crossing her arms irritatingly.

Rigel bent down, clutching his stomach as he groaned in pain. “Why do you have to bully me on the daily?” He grumbled.

The [Hair color] ignored him. “Dolores, I know you can hear me. Just want to warn you, please cover your ears.” She said, her brother sending her a confused stare.

The maiden took a deep breath before,

“CAMILO MADRIGAL! I LOVE YOU!”

she yelled as loud as she could, hoping it'd reach her beloved. The whole world? Her whole world was and always will be him, so no one else mattered as long as he heard her.

Camilo's ears perked up, heart fluttering. It was her voice. Her voice. A voice that he loves so much, a voice from someone so special to him.

His cheeks flared, the brightest grin he could muster was plastered on his face. Opening his window, he shouted these words,

“[NAME] [LAST NAME]! I LOVE YOU MORE!”

His response made her smile, momentarily forgetting about her and her brother's little challenge.

“I— wow.” Uttered Rigel, clearly in shock. “I told you, didn't I?” [Name] smirked at her brother.

Camilo's words echoed in her head, her cheeks redenning just at the mere thought of him. God, she was so in-love with this troublemaker.

Her brother sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is why I have high standards.” He muttered, to which the maiden grinned smugly at.

“Well, now I proved it. You're officially stupid.”

“Okay, I'm officially stupid, and you're officially a lovestruck fool.”

“Well, I can't deny that..”

[Name] couldn't wait for tomorrow. Their first year anniversary. She considered the day much more special than her own birthday. She couldn't help but feel elephants stomping around in her stomach, she was ecstatic.

And just like that, the pair couldn't stop thinking about each other as they stared up at their ceiling, wide awake. Thoughts only circled around the other.

I love him, so much.

I love her, more than anything.

My other half.

2 halves of a whole .

january 13 of 2022 .

edited , february 09 of 2022 .

[sporadiclilbook]

Can I request a Claude x reader x Sylvain fic with an s/o who acts coy but is actually scarily perceptive? Like they notice Sylvain's inner turmoil almost right away and they notice the echoes of Claude's trauma in being ostracized and alienated and their care manifests in extremely subtle ways. How would they react once they find out that they're pining for the same person?

I hope ya like this anon! Hoping that this is how you wanted it too. Golden Deer!reader for plot reasons.

Truth of your mask

(Yan!Sylvain x Perceptive!Reader x Yan!Claude)

You hummed as you walk through the halls of the academy to get to the dining hall. Everything was going normally, nothing much was happening other than getting a new teacher. A former mercenary no less. However you can't seem to read them at all. Not even when you try to talk to the new professor. No smile, no frown or pout. Just.....blank. Usually it was pretty easy considering how most people is full of expression, but your new teacher was like a blank canvas.

It interested you, truly. Perhaps you can continue to observe them and learn a thing or two. You sit down at one of the long dining tables to dig in into your favourite meal. You ate a bit slow considering there was no need to rush. You suddenly heard someone sitting right next to you and immediately knew who it is. "Is there something you need, Sylvain?" You asked as you blow softly on your food to cool it down. "Nothing just checking up on the most attractive person I know."

"Stop it Sylvain, there are lots of other attractive students here too you know....." As you pretended to blush and faced the opposite direction of him a bit. Now you may not be the best with close ranged combat and prefer to strike afar but you admit, you were quite good at intel gathering. Whether it's playing a shy role or feigning ignorance, you think you were quite the expert at it. "No need to be shy now babe, show me that beautiful eyes of yours." Sylvain was a tom fool to you, to think he would easily fall for this act is hilarious to you.

Slowly looking at him, you predicted that he would be wearing that same flirty grin that he always have talking with literally anyone he fancies in the academy. "I-uh....my eyes aren't exactly that extraordinary." You quickly averted back your eyes to your food. Eating it up a bit quicker now. You would have looked at him longer but everytime you do you felt something was off with him. You've seen him flirt around before. His expressions was all the same. It was a typical playboy face. It was different of course when he was alone. There were times when you catch him spending his time in solitary. That's when you notice the pain he has.

It looked like regret and weight of responsibilities. Doesn't help that he is the heir to House Gautier because of his crest. You approached him once, when it was raining, to talk to him a bit. Sure he was annoying at some times but letting him stand there looking so miserable didn't felt right. Of course this doesn't reveal your perceptiveness to him. To most it would look like he had a bad day but to you? You knew he was clinging onto something negative. Something he can't run from.

Ever since that day, he always seemed to make an effort to speak with you. Sometimes Felix or Prince Dimitri will berate him for disturbing a student from another class but there was no real harm, were there. Maybe he just want to make you one of his flings. At least that's what you thought until you see it in his eyes. It was not an usual flirty eyes. It was not lust or some kind of playboyish ones.

It looked like infatuation. Genuine infatuation.

That's when it hits you. It must have been something related to his past. Was he not loved by his family? Is this why he was seeking flings, hoping to finally find the one? Did he decided you were the one simply because you talked to him to ask if he was ok?

Perhaps you were wrong. There are times when your expertise was wrong. Rarely, yes but the chances are not zero. But for now, you will keep him at an arms' length. "Nonsense, your eyes shines brighter than the stars." You smiled sheepishly at him. Not knowing what to respond. He was about to talk more when suddenly a new yet familiar voice join. Your house leader, Claude.

"Well well if it isn't Mr.Smoothtalk, he's not bothering you right (Y/N)? What am I saying of course he is." Claude was like you, observant. But he only looks whats on the surface and not below. But who knows, he was quite eccentric. Maybe he does know you're feigning ignorance. Maybe he doesn't. But then again he would have talk to you about it. He's secretive but sometimes he will overshare his thoughts, ones that has no purposes anyway. You remember the day you enrolled here. Being a citizen of the Alliance automatically sorted you into Golden Deer. He was nice to you. Welcoming you and showing you around. In fact all of the Golden Deer was. Leonie might said something without thinking at times but she would apologise. Raphael was a gentle giant. Hilda was lazy but you reminded her of Marianne and that wanted to make her put in effort.

Claude was always all smiles and schemes. Even so, not even he was immume to you. When you spot him in the crowds of students it was clear as day. He felt isolated. Different. Foreign even. It intrigued you. Why would he felt out of place? Could it be tied to the fact he suddenly show up as the grandson to the leader of the Alliance? As curiosity plagued you, you made an effort to befriend him slowly. Pretending to have problems with class that you known he was good at and even picking up a bow sometimes seeing how his heirloom relic weapon was the bow Failnaught. He learns about you and vice versa. One of his simple mistake was when he invited you for tea.

He served you Almyran tea. He asked what you think of the tea and you just said tea was tea. Just like how people are people. The blend is different but in the end, it's just another beverage. He seemed delighted at your answer and you were delighted at his actions. He was Almyran or half-Almyran. It make sense seeing how Lady Tiana eloped a long time ago. Even after years, people talked about it. You decided to keep it a secret. You didn't really care about his heritage. What only matters to you was bringing back the cat that was killed by curiosity with satisfication.

Oh however. He too, had the same look upon his face. The same as Sylvain's. No one notices it, only you did. From their expression to their subtle acts. How Sylvain's pick up lines sounds like him courting you instead of flirting. Claude subconscious favouritism over you. And it scared you, truly. What were they planning exactly? Does Sylvain needed someone to finally let out his trouble thoughts to? Did Claude wanted to see if he can become vulnerable around you and reveal his secret himself to you? What is their true motives?

"Oh? Hello to you to Mr. House Leader. No need to worry, I'm not bothering them too much." Claude sat to the vacant spot next to you. "Yeah I can see that. But talking to someone who is enjoying a hot meal isn't that nice you know." You continued eating as you ignore their bickering. At least neither of them would talk to you and instead hurled passive-agressive responses to each other. When you finally finished your meal, you stood up. "You're done already (Y/N)? I was hoping I could talk to you a bit but see you at Golden Deer I guess." It was clear as day that Claude specifically said to meet you in class as in a mockery to Sylvain. "U-uh, yeah....see you at class Claude..." With that you returned back to class.

Claude and Sylvain sat together in a tensed silence. But they knew why they were still sitting here. The still noisy atmosphere of the dining hall proved perfect to conceal their conversation. "(Y/N) huh? Not a bad taste but I'm afraid you can't have them." Claude chuckled at Sylvain's statement. "Can't have them? They're in my house. They're Golden Deer not Blue Lions. And you think you have a chance?" Sylvain gritted his teeth at him. "And so? That won't stop me." Claude just shooked his head at him. "Oh Sylvain, maybe if you didn't use all your brains for pick up lines you'd have a great chance. It's unfortunate we liked the same person." Claude smirked at him. He knew the day Sylvain kept pestering you that he was also lovestrucked like he was. But Claude thinks you don't deserve someone like Sylvain. While Sylvain thinks Claude is trying to take advantage over your 'meek' personality. Seeing how schemeful he is.

"Bring it on then, Riegan."

"Don't hold it against me when you lose, Gautier."

[joanie-writes]

Omitting Sins

Arthur x F!Reader

Next Chapter

Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter 1

I consider myself a businesswoman before I consider myself a sinner. I could see a priest if I wanted to confess, but there isn't time for forgiveness in a working woman's world.

Some may consider me a sinner because I take pride in how I look; others may consider me a sinner for other things... But what's a couple of little sins today? When all there seems to be now are killers and thieves. They've sinned far worse than I have in my opinion.

Pride is a sin I can omit for my conscience, but Lust, that is a sin that I cannot omit. I am not a working woman in that sense, if the men that wander into my bar are looking for that, they knew where they could go, and it surely wasn't here. When my father was still alive, I was working here alongside him, we were a team, Samuel and I.

When I was young and silly, it was no surprise that I fell head over heels for a man that showed up at the saloon seemingly out of nowhere one day.

He was so kind, and handsome, we even talked of getting married. I was too lovestruck to figure out that he was a no-good outlaw, on the run from his sins. Until one day; he started a nasty argument with some feller, I don't remember over what. When Daddy came to see what was going on, he lost his temper and shot the man and Daddy. That was when I pulled out the gun we kept behind the bar for emergencies and shot him right back.

Everybody knew Daddy and I because we owned the only saloon in town, so when the sheriff came to see what had happened, I didn't need to explain much. So, I suppose both Pride and Wrath are sins that I can omit for myself.

I never forgave the man I used to love and don't plan to; some people aren't worthy of forgiveness. I happily watched them bury him in an unmarked grave, and spit on it afterwards.

The saloon stayed closed for some time after Daddy's death. But I had customers to serve, and food to buy, so it opened quicker than I would've liked. The regular patrons of the bar basically became my bodyguards, they will rough up any fool staring longer than I liked or somebody causing a ruckus. They all adored Daddy, a few considered him a brother, and most of them have been coming to the saloon since I was just a baby, so they all grieved with me.

That does not mean that I don't sometimes use my charm to ensure that some desperate bonehead would buy plenty of booze that night. What can I say? An untouchable bartender and good liquor keeps them coming back for more.

Being a female bartender in this age isn't easy work though, when my familiar faces aren't in, it's just me and the strangers I serve. And I can't always have my regulars sticking up for me. Establishing my own authority in my own bar, takes some grit. The incident from a few months ago is a good example.

The bar was just starting to get busy, I greeted everyone coming in, pouring drinks as asked, serving meals. There was a steady flow of people arriving, most of them seeming tired and just ready to relax. I don't mind the slower nights, they aren't as much to keep up with. But when I saw this man walk, more like stumble in, already half soaked, I knew he would eventually be a pain in my side. I'd seen him a few times before, but I didn't know him.

I observed him hobbling around, being rejected by the poker table, and the group of ladies in the corner. But then he began making his way to the bar.

"You know if you spew in here pal, you'll be the one cleaning it up." I informed him, he leaned on the bar, pointing a finger at me, "You're a loudmouth bitch, you know that?"

"Oh, believe me, I've been told." I answered, setting down the glass that I was drying. I reluctantly gave him a beer upon payment, and then all seemed fine. Until it didn't.

"We're gonna head over to that hotel for a nice night now. Aren't we?" Was what I heard him say to one of the women that he was bothering early. The girl was tugging away from him, looking more than uncomfortable.

In the blink of an eye, I was pressing my pistol against his lower back. "Drop her hand right now and walk out that door with me." I muttered, everybody's attention now on us. He did as I said, his hands in the air.

"You never show your face in this saloon again! You hear?" I shouted and pushed him down the stairs, still pointing my gun at him to make sure he understood. He nodded quickly, scrambling away afterwards.

Every local here knew that this was not the place to be a fool like that, but I never had to remind them because they all respected me, and loved alcohol too much not to do so. It is only newcomers and people passing through town that cause mayhem. At least that's what I've learned in my experience.

So, like every morning, I got up, got ready, headed downstairs, and opened the bar. I smiled fondly at the picture of Daddy on the wall, I hope that I’m making him proud.

The day was typical, not getting busy until later that night. I made sure that everybody sitting at the bar was happy and went to go clean up a few tables, that was when my attention was turned to the door. In walk five gruff-looking men, men who I had never seen before. I could hear their spurs intertwining with the piano playing in the corner. Typical cowboys that I can play like a fiddle. I'll make sure that all their dollars are mine by midnight.

They occupied one of the larger tables, I dusted off my skirt before heading over. "Evening boys, what can I get you all tonight?" That was when I noticed how handsome one of them in particular was. He was broad, blue-eyed, and had dirty blonde hair beneath his hat. I shook my head, recomposing my thoughts and turning back to what seemed to be their boss.

I took note of the gold rings adorning his fingers, and expensive clothes, easy money. "Can we get a round of beers please, Miss?" "Of course." I ran my hand along his shoulder as I walked back to the bar, hearing them tease and snicker after. I smiled at my other customers, serving a few other people.

I didn't take long before returning with their drinks, taking the liberty of passing them around. I frowned at the unlit candle in the centre of the table, and then an idea popped into my head. I was facing the blue eyed man as I leaned over the table, with my lit match, returning the candle to life. I smiled at his starstruck face and blew out the match, winking subtly and sauntering off.

Henry, one of my regulars, belly laughed when I returned, he always took joy in watching me use my charms for some extra dime. "Oh, stop it." I hushed him, pouring him another drink, "I can't help it Y/N, they're just too easy for you!" "I know, feels like I need a challenge." I wiped the bar top, collecting tips people left there.

I watched a few of the men finish their drinks, returning with more, and then a few more. Each time I made sure to use some good old grace to fascinate them. It had slowed down in the last hour or so, the busybodies of town all gone for the night.

I piled up another tray, this time with six shots of whiskey and returned to the men's table. "This round is on me gentlemen, you've been entertaining." You have to spend money to earn money, right? They cheered, a few of them thanking me, all of us downing the smoky liquid. They weren't out of control, but they were definitely tipsy.

"Can you sit down a moment, Miss?" The one with longer hair and a raspy voice asked, I took a look around the place, everybody seemed fine, or had reached their limit. What the hell? Besides, I had a gut feeling that they would tip me well tonight, especially if I did this. "Sure." I smiled cheerfully, looking around for an extra chair. That was when the same man patted his knee, I held back from rolling my eyes, sitting down on his knee.

The handsome man that had caught my attention earlier shifted in his seat, looking down at his hands in silence.

"So, what are y'all's names?" The man that seemed in charge introduced them all. His name was Dutch, there was also Javier and Bill. Blue eye's name was Arthur, and the man I was seated on's name was John. "Y/F/N, pleasure to meet you all." I leaned over, shaking Dutch's hand gently.

My suspicion was raised when Dutch told me they were all a part of some business from the East. I didn't believe that for a second, but as long as they didn't cause trouble, I didn't care much. Arthur didn't speak much, or look at me much either, he only chuckled at the jokes that the other had to say, he seemed sort of shy?

In return, I told them that I owned the saloon, not informing them of much else, because I knew what they were. I took Dutch asking me about the other businesses in town as my cue to leave them be, and then a drunk John giving my behind a sly pinch as my second cue. He wheezed in laughter when I swiftly left at his action. "Next time won't be so funny." I mumbled but I couldn't help but blush slightly as Arthur cussed at him for doing such a thing.

I cleaned up the table later that night. They did end up paying me quite well, better than I thought they would... The sight of the sheepish cowboy stuck in my mind. He intrigued me; it had been so long since somebody had come into the saloon that genuinely grabbed my attention. It helped that he was handsome, but there seemed like there was so much more to him than that.

I groaned in annoyance. Lust is not in my stars, I can't afford to do that again. And I do not have the time to deal with whatever sins he has carting along behind him. I'd be better off burning down the saloon myself.

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Five (Final Part)

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, arguing, jealousy, fluff, kissing

You stood at your door, hand gripping the hardwood as you looked up at him with a crease between your brows and a narrowed gaze. He could see the confusion pooling in your eyes, could see the myriad of emotions flooding over your face. He could see it all and none of them seemed to be good.

He expected that, he did, and he also expected for you to slam the door in his face and he was fully anticipating it.

You swallowed thickly as your heart raced in your chest, gripping the door a little harder. “What are you doing here?”

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart,” he says, his unease in his tone as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

You roll your eyes in an instant then, a huff leaving your lips as you take a step back to turn around and close the door. Now was not the time for his teasing antics, now was not the time for him to be so lighthearted. You were trying your hardest to keep that pressure behind your eyes at bay, to try and stave off your tears because the mere sight of him had your heart squeezing in your chest.

“Y/n, wait,” he urges, palm pressed to the door to keep you from shutting him out.

“What exactly am I waiting on?” You ask, anger in your tone as your eyes squint up at him, and you try to ignore the race of your heart.

“I need to talk to you, really, I do.”

You rolled your eyes, watching his gaze narrow down at you in a flash of confusion and frustration. “I think you’ve said enough, Dean. I heard you loud and clear. I really don’t think there’s anything else you need to say.”

“Would you cut it with the attitude, Y/n?” He asked, voice a fraction louder as his frustration simmered in the pit of his stomach.

His jaw tensed as he bit back his anger, trying his hardest not to lose his temper because he knows it’ll only dig him deeper in that hole. He knows he’ll only blow it even more than he already did. So he bites it back as he looks at you, as he watches you roll your eyes at his words.

You laugh, humorless as you shake your head. You pull your gaze from him, looking away as you rub your tongue along the inside of your cheek. That pressure was building behind your eyes, threatening to boil over despite your annoyance with the green eyed Winchester. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was making your decision to leave easier or harder the more he stood on your doorstep.

You spun on your heel and turned around, the door left open as you heard him huff behind you. “C’mon, Y/n. I really—”

You stopped in your tracks at the pause in his words turning and catching the way he eyes the packed luggage and duffel bags, his gaze lingering on every single one. You saw the way he swallowed hard, the way he nodded softly, the way he bit the inside of his cheek. Your jaw tensed as the crease between your brows smoothed for a moment as you watched him, returning once he looked at you once more.

He looks at you for a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “You weren’t kiddin’, huh?”

That tension in your jaw increased for a moment. “Had a little encouragement.”

Your tone was sharp and your words were indirect, but he knew exactly what you were talking about, he knew exactly who you were talking about. It made that feeling in the pit of his stomach build and swirl there, made a pang in his heart.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says, quiet and soft and spoken through near gritted teeth as he looks at you with a spark of worry and fear.

You laugh softly, humorless as you nod and your arms cross over your chest. Didn’t mean that. Those words stuck in your mind in a loop in that moment, replaying over and over as you looked away, looking to the pile of packed bags by the door. Those words sparked a feeling within you, one of relief as you looked at them but it was quickly replaced with frustration.

“Sure as hell seemed like it,” you said, lips pursing as your gaze pulled to him.

“Y/n, I—”

“You said it was a great idea. You even said you’d pack my bags, Dean,” you said, faux amusement in your tone. You always did that when you were angry and he knew that, he knew you like the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean it!” He said, voice louder as the words fell from his lips. Your brows furrowed more as you looked at him, watching as his chest heaved a little heavier than it did moments before. “I didn’t mean a damn thing I said.”

You look at him, the words rolling over in your mind as you did, the emotions flooding over you as you did. He was so clearly distraught as he stood in front of you, that much was evident and you couldn’t deny it. But that hurt, that feeling simmering in the pit of your stomach was still as insistent as ever in controlling the way you felt. In swaying the way those words made you feel.

You saw the way his cheeks tinged pink, rapidly making you all the more aware of the freckles spattering over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. You grit your teeth for a moment, that ever familiar pressure behind your eyes building again as that lump in your throat makes it’s reappearance.

“Then why’d you say it?” You ask, words so soft and full of something that tugged at his heart as you stood there, that look on your face nearly tearing him in two. But he stayed quiet as he stood there, swallowing thickly as he looked at his feet with a quivering frown, a mix of anger and regret coursing through him. “Why’d you say it, Dean?”

“I don’t know,” he says lowly, quietly as he shrugs his shoulders. He felt it was the hardest thing in the world to be out right with his feelings in that moment, couldn’t spit the words out for the life of him despite the way they sat on the tip of his tongue.

You scoff then, eyes rolling as you shake your head and turn away from him. “Yeah, right. Of course you don’t.”

His eyes narrowed then, his stare returning to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You pick at the straps of one of your duffel bags, unzipping it to look inside despite having no real reason behind it as Dean stepped closer. “Y/n.”

You zip it back shut before brushing past him to get to your suitcases by the door, hearing his huff sound behind you.

“Y/n.”

You turn to look at him, tears beginning to line your eyes as you did and your breathing is a little bit heavier than before.

“You’re stubborn, Dean. You’re so damn stubborn all the time and you can’t even tell me just why it is you said what you said to me that day. You’d rather brush it off and act like you don’t feel anything like you always do. You always do that, Dean Winchester, and it’s driving me insane.”

“I was jealous!” He said, nearly shouting as his chest heaved and his lip quivered under the pressure of his emotions. “I was jealous, okay?”

The tension in your shoulders relaxed a fraction as they slumped a bit more, your brows furrowing. You may have suggested it that day, might have brought it up, sure, but to hear him say it, to hear him admit it was something entirely different. You didn’t know which emotion to feel first, didn’t know which one to express first.

You thought maybe he was but you didn’t fully believe it, couldn’t fully believe it. Confusion pooled in your stomach as you looked up at him, your eyes telling of that feeling.

“Seriously?”

He rolls his eyes then, his shoulders dropping as he looks away briefly and a sigh leaving his lips.

“Would you quit yankin’ my chain, sweetheart?” He said, frustration wrapping around his every word as he looks at you once more, your expression unchanged save for a little more of your own frustration.

“You’re seriously jealous of Sam?” The dimples by the corners of his mouth deepen at the question, his posture stiffening. “Why?”

You watch the way his nostrils flare slightly, almost unnoticeable to someone who hadn’t been paying close attention to his every expression, every feature on his face. But you were, you find yourself doing that a lot and you’ll never admit it, not for a long while.

“C’mon, Y/n.”

“No, I want to know. Why?” You ask again, arms crossed over your chest as you stare up at him.

“What is this, twenty-one questions?”

He sees just how unamused you are, he can see it with the way your frown pulls downward just a little more, and how your gaze narrows even more. It’s your silent way of asking him that same question, and he can see just how much it bothers you. It’s written all over your face on how badly you want an explanation because clearly you’d been far too oblivious for your own good.

You’re the smartest person he’s ever known, you along with his brother of course, you had a knack for picking up on everything. You had a talent for reading him like a book, could sniff out his lies from a mile away. You knew green eyes like the back of your hand even though you told yourself you couldn’t stand him, told him that on more than one occasion despite the words being followed by a smile you knew you could never fight. He knew how well you could figure him out and yet you were oblivious as ever when it came to this.

He wished you would’ve caught on, wished you would have realized because he doesn’t know how you haven’t yet. He became less and less discreet the more time went on and it nearly drove him crazy. Dean Winchester knew his way around flirting, knew just the right things to say. He could sweet talk better than anyone but he was a mess around you. A heart hammering, lovestruck fool when it came to you and it scared the hell out of him.

It was terrifying and exciting to feel so strongly for someone, for someone he deemed to be the embodiment of sunshine. You gave him a hard time, gave him a run for his money. He met his match with you and he always knew that. You weren’t afraid to toss his wit right back at him with a smile on your face that makes him weak in the knees. You’ve gotten good at doing that to him.

You make his heart race and his mind stick on you, you’re someone he knows he can’t stop thinking about even if he tries. He’s never been hung up on someone the way he’s hung up on you, never felt so strongly for someone that he’d do anything just to get you to stay even though he doesn’t feel like he’s doing a very good job. In fact, he feels like he’s blowing it as you stand there and give him that look that makes his stomach twist in knots.

But he stands there, his words caught in his throat and sitting on the very tip of his tongue as he looks at you with a tense jaw, his tongue swiping over his lips. He stands there and watches the flurry of emotions flicker across your face and none of them are helping his cause.

You look up at him for a second more as you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly as you brush past him with no real idea of where it was you were going—anywhere in your apartment but there would suffice.

“Sam and Bobby are gonna be here soon,” you say, tidying up things that didn’t need it.

It’s quiet and tense, near unbearable in that moment as he stands there. As he stands there with a million and one thoughts running through his mind, all of them revolving around you.

All of them.

“I love you.”

You stilled in your spot, heart jumping in your chest as you stand there with parted lips. Your gaze has yet to fall on him as it lifts from your hands. In fact, you’re not even sure you heard him correctly as you stand there for a brief amount of time that felt like hours to him, wordless and unreadable.

But you looked at him, brows furrowed and you watched as he swallowed thickly. You took a step or two closer, a couple more.

“You what?” You ask, soft and baffled and entirely unsure of the three words you just heard.

His jaw tensed some more, his gaze shifting to the side as he shook his head slightly, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip before his hand dropped down to his side and he looked at you.

“You know what, just forget I said anything,” he says, quiet as he turns on his heel in all but a few seconds before reaching for the door knob.

Without a beat of hesitation your hand wraps around his wrist, tugging him to turn around and he does. He does and he looks at you with that crease between his brows and those green eyes fall on you once more. He looks at you in a way that makes your heart race more than it already had been and anything you might’ve said in that moment dissolves on your tongue and slips from your mind.

Seconds feel like hours as you look at him, your gaze flickering downward to the way his lips remain parted, thinking about the way his breath fans warmly over you in a mere whisper of a touch.

But just as quickly you lift your eyes to his once more until you couldn’t, your hand settling on his cheek as you lean on your toes and press your lips on his. He parted from you for a brief moment as the beginnings of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, pressing into yours once more as he draws you closer, arm circling around your waist as his other hand hovers on your cheek.

Your hands drop to rest on his chest, his kiss gentle and firm all the same as his nose bumps against your own when he tilts his head. Breaths mingle and sweep over your lips, warm and soft and it feels as though your heart just might burst in your chest at the mere thought of kissing Dean Winchester. At the mere feeling of his kiss that was more than hard to part from.

But you don’t stray far, his lips brushing against yours softly as you settle back on your heels some. You’ve got that smile, the one that drives him crazy and it’s sitting pretty on your lips and making it all the more difficult for him to keep from kissing you for the rest of the day, for an indefinite amount of time.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” you whisper, soft as every word is nearly spoken against his lips.

He hums softly as he nods, the tips of his fingers tracing over the curve of your ear and the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kisses you once, twice, three times more. The last lingered longer than the others, lingered even when the thud of two car doors sounded, muffled on the other side of the door.

“They’re here,” you murmur against his lips, sinking back on your heels as he nods.

His hand is warm on your cheek as he stays for a moment longer, pulling away with all the reluctance in the world as his finger hooks in the curtain on the window, tucking it back in hopes it wasn’t so. In hopes he could stand there in that living room and kiss you for the rest of the evening, for the rest of the day. But he eyed Bobby’s truck, and he eyed the two of them walking up the stone pathway and his head tips back with a groan before he makes his way back to you.

In a matter of moments the front door pushes open, confusion crossing Sam’s face at the sight of his brother despite having already seen that ever familiar car parked outside. Bobby was soon to follow after as he stepped inside, his gaze bouncing from Sam to Dean to you.

“What?” He asks, speaking his own confusion.

You look at Dean and he looks down at you, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards as he bites the inside of his cheek, the beginnings of his own smirk shining through.

“Nothin’, Bobby,” he says, his gaze still on you with all the contentment in the world simmering within him.

—

Dean set the last box on the floor with a thud, sighing as he stood up straight with a stretch and a sigh before he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Have you always had this much stuff?” He asks, his groan in his voice as you put the last of your things on the shelf in your living room.

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes at the older Winchester.

“Have you always complained this much?” You counter, brow raised and you watched the way his lips pursed and his brows dropped to a neutral expression, one all too telling of his lack of amusement at his words.

His gaze followed you as you walked by, pinching his chin softly with a smile of more than enough amusement for the both of you.

“I already know the answer to that one,” you say, catching his frown as he catches your hand, letting it slip through his fingers as you brushed by him in favor of walking towards that last box.

“You’re a pain, you know that, sweetheart?”

“Actually, I do,” you say with the sweetest grin you can muster.

You sink to a squat as you swipe the scissors from your back pocket, gliding them over the seam of the packing tape before tossing them to the side. You opened the flaps of the cardboard box, the corners a bit dented and worse for wear. You knew exactly what was inside, you knew it all but you still sighed, still bit the inside of your cheek as you peered in at its contents.

Within the box sat all your law books, all your notes and all your assignments, some graded and finished and some left undone as they sat within a plethora of binders and color coded folders. A wave of emotions coursed through you and rumbled in your stomach, that familiar pang hitting your heart and weighing heavy in your mind.

You’d gone back to Stanford with Sam, you’d gone back a week ago like you said you would but for reasons entirely different than you planned. You’d gone back and packed up the rest of your belongings with a more than understanding best friend and even though he was sad to see you go he wouldn’t hold you back, not even for a second. You packed your stuff and moved back to Kansas, Dean Winchester waiting for you in the airport with that smile on his face and a kiss at the ready.

You were back and you were staying.

You heaved another sigh as you brushed your fingers along the textbook sitting on top of the pile, dust collecting in your fingers as they swept over the cover and wrapped around its edge. You lifted it from the box, heavy in your hand as you stood to your feet.

You looked up at Dean, his expression curious and confused for a moment until his eyes landed on it, and he nodded. He took it from your hands and set it back in its box, folding the cardboard flaps over it once more before shoving it off to the corner with a push from his boot.

He turned to you, a half smirk on his lips as he looked down at you. Your brow raises in curiosity, your gaze narrowing at him.

“What, Winchester?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up a little higher as his arms circle around your waist loosely, his hand coming up to brush along your cheek, thumb swiping away a bit of dirt that sat smudged along your skin. His lips purse in his smirk as your arms rest up and wrap around his neck, he tipped back slightly to look at him.

“I’m glad you came back here,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes roll and a laugh falls from his lips at that.

“Why, ‘cause you got me all to yourself now?” You ask, watching as his smirk turns to a grin.

“Well, yeah,” he starts, pressing a kiss on your lips. “That ain’t so bad.”

He laughs again when you shove at his shoulders, your smile shining through faux annoyance as he pulls you closer once more. His smile softens then, softens as he looks at you and the sincerity filling his expression is something you can’t miss.

“But I’m serious. It takes a lot of guts to make that kind of a decision,” he says, and you bite back your smile as you look up at him, head tilted as you sigh. Just those words themselves had settled your nerves on the subject, had put your worries at ease on committing to such a big decision. But your attention is quickly pulled to green eyes as his smirk returns, telling of the fact that he’s up to no good. “Especially considering you’re, you know, stuck with me.”

There it is.

You tip your head back and laugh, a sight and a sound that makes him weak in the knees as he gazes at you, his heart racing when you look at him once more with that lingering smile.

“You’re somethin’ else, Winchester,” you say, breathing out a contented sigh.

“I know,” he says, his smile softening as he drops a kiss to your lips before he sighs softly. “‘M sorry for being a pain in the ass, sweetheart.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Which time?”

His lips pursed and his head tilted as your smile remained. You knew exactly what he meant, could see it in his eyes and could see it in his expression that held all the sincerity in the world. But you didn’t want to think about that. It was over and done with and to be fair, you’re both a couple of stubborn idiots who were too in love to see it. Too caught up in your feelings to realize it.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you start, watching the beginnings of an eye roll. “You’ve got that broody frown you do. Actually, maybe it’s even a pout—”

Your words are cut short with your squeal as he draws you close and lifts you off your feet for a moment, cut short as he lips press to your own to quiet your teasing as his smile presses into yours.

His lips were warm and soft as he kissed you, and any last bit of stress and worry, every last bit of anguish over your decision dissolved in that very moment. When you first came back to Kansas a few months ago you had no idea what you were doing, and you still wouldn’t say you do. When you first came back you had no idea you’d end up in this very moment, but life has a funny way of surprising you.

You were here and you were staying. You came home to something old, and you wound up with something new.

—

Series Taglist: @myloversgone @colereads @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93 @poptart06294 @bakugouswh0r3

General Taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[gyuluster]

one last present | (f)

“Soobin gifts you something unusual, but oddly perfect.”

oneshot | established relationship! au | 1.7k words

s u m m a r y : soobin has one last birthday present to spoil you with, and you certainly did not expect it.

w a r n i n g s : literally just fluff, so much fluff, soobin is best boyfriend, a little nerd information about animal disease but nothing too grim, a little kiss at the end ):

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : hello hi this sounds all over the place but idc because it’s @soobmint birthday and this is tailored very much to her liking anyway happy birthday chae i love u so much <3

back to masterlist

“I’M NOT ACCEPTING ANOTHER PRESENT FROM YOU.”

The said boy furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out slightly at your words. Despite the image being extremely adorable, you refused to submit.

Choi Soobin had spoiled you enough.

“But, ____,” he began, getting up from the sofa the both of you were cozily settled upon. A few of the opened presents fell on the carpeted floor from his lap, and, letting out a noise, he instantly dropped to his knees, picking up the objects.

“No buts!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “You’ve gifted me half the shopping mall! You can’t expect me to accept more!”

The pout was more prominent with every word of refusal. “Honey,” he murmured, and the endearment had your heart skipping a beat. He propped the fallen presents atop the coffee table before you, standing up straighter once again. “I like buying you gifts. I mean, It’s your birthday after all.”

Indeed it was so. Of course you knew, but your boyfriend made sure that you never forgot — the excitement which radiated from him these past few weeks almost became unbearable, knowing he was planning all these lavish outings and presents, but you could not help but go along with his wishful preparation. His pure, unadulterated joy at wanting to make your birthday as special as possible truly touched your heart.

“And plus, after this one, there are no more.” 

When you answered him with a raised brow, quite unconvinced, he raised his fist into the air, a little finger erecting. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise, huh?” You could not help a small smile escaping. “That serious?”

Nodding, he hovered the finger closer to you. “This present will be your absolute favourite.”

Looping your own pinky with his, he helped you off the sofa, making sure you didn’t drop any of the gifts around you. Then, wrapping the rest of his fingers around your hand, he led you out of his living room.

Taking a long journey into the hallways, you both turned to the kitchen, a vast marble sensation of countertops and island bars, courtesy of his parents’ wealth. Catching sight of the wall-length, transparent doors, Soobin held out his free hand, careful to be quiet as he opened the doors into the nature beyond.

The Choi’s garden was another world entirely — perhaps bigger than his house, a fine collection of all the fruit trees, bushes and flowers, scattered upon the lush grass, freshly trimmed this morning. You closed the door after you stepped into the cool evening air, the sun on its way to descent below the horizon.

“Where is this present, Soobin?” you asked him, curious as to why he steered you outside. He only answered with a knowing smile, converse quiet against the grass, hand on yours unwavering.

Your confusion only grew as, swiping past the trail of gran old oaks and birches, you ended up upon the small pond right at the end of your boyfriend’s garden. It shimmered with the golden light of the dying sun, a few crickets resonating around its edges. The little reservoir was your favourite place inside his domain, a lilting peace always exuding from the calm waters, lapping against the slight bank. 

However, as your eyes wandered, there was a new addition, settled beside the pond. “What is this?” you wondered out loud, gazing over the small, wooden structure, slightly bigger than a sandcastle. Its detail was incredibly intricate, a tall arc carved out in the front, a moving creature fidgeting at the edge. The roof was slanted, like that of a miniature cabin, and your previous interest had only heightened, tugging on the sleeve of Soobin’s white shirt.

“Stay here,” he said, letting go of your hand for a moment. Carefully stepping along the edges of the pond, he kneeled next to the wooden construction, leaning in as his hands slid inside the open doorway. You crept a step closer, craning your head forward to catch a glimpse, but when you saw your boyfriend murmuring sweet nothings to the unknown inside, you stopped.

That was when he brought his hands out, now very much occupied. 

A gasp escaped you at what was revealed.

Two small ducklings snuggled in the folds of Soobin’s hand, making soft quacking noises as his finger stroked each of their heads softly. Your face morphed into one of infinite tenderness as a smile curled instantly upon his lips at the reaction.

Slowly, as not to disturb the animals, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving their faded yellow coats. Only when he stepped before you he looked up, sharing some of his elation within your gaze.

“My last present,” he declared. Hovering his full hands closer to you, he added, “Here.”

You did not dare answer him, holding your hands out as, ever so gently, Soobin dipped the ducklings into your care. Their webbed feet clung onto your palms as they curled against you, welcoming your warmth. Your nerves had to be thanked for that, rising with each caress of their feathers against your skin. 

Your eyes lifted to the boy before you.

He was not wrong at all — this really was your favourite present. “How…” you got out, but of course he knew, of course he knew that you had wanted these creatures for so long. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you wanted ducks — it was certainly a bizarre first pet to have, but you always found these types of birds adorable. Whenever you and Soobin would walk through the parks in your city, you would rush to the waterworks within nature, and stare at the families of ducks for hours on end. Sometimes, the poor boy had to haul you out of the forests, but he always found his heart turning in on itself whenever he stole a glimpse of your excited smile.

So when he ended up in the animal shelter one day, weeks before tonight, in search of these animals, he saw these two baby ducklings, and instantly made sure to whisk them away within his pond, hiding them and their little cabin from your curious footsteps. 

Until this day. When now, they nearly slept with the gentle stillness you kept them in.

He could see it in your eyes. You were already in love with them.

“What…” you gulped, thumbs caressing their tiny heads. “What did you name them?”

Soobin’s hand crept up to his neck, scratching awkwardly. “You better not laugh.”

You narrowed your brows. “Why?”

He pointed at the left duckling. “So this one is Aristotle,” he began, awaiting your teasing, “And this one—” pointing to the right, “—is called Plato.”

There was a long silence before you burst into soft laughter. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, locking his hands behind his back. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, baby!” you gasped out, grinning. “I didn’t realise one semester of Greek Philosophy could change you this way.”

“Stop!” he whined, stepping closer as he observed the slumbering ducklings. “I don’t know, I just really liked the ring of it, okay?”

“Awww, don’t worry, Soobs,” you reassured him, nudging his leg with your foot. “I like the names.”

It was his turn to give you the unconvinced raise of his brows. “I’d bring out my pinkie, but my hands are a bit occupied.”

Satisfied, he nodded, watching you tend to your living gift with your fingers. “There’s something a little wrong with them, ____.”

Smile fading, you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “The lady at the shelter mentioned some time of...preen malfunction?” 

You knew exactly he was inferring to. “Malfunctioning preen glands?” Your fingers brushed against the base of the ducklings’ tails, feeling an odd texture around their feathers. “I researched this while I was looking for ducks as pets. It means that their feathers don’t dry properly, which can be really dangerous for them.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I should have looked into it further!” He groaned, swiping away his hair from his line of sight. “How am I going to take care of them properly?”

Your stare upon him seemed to calm him down. “Soobin, it’s okay.” Gingerly, you patted their backs. “I know how to treat this.”

“I’m sorry for putting this responsibility on you, honey,” he mumbled, taking one final step to you before planting his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to have some ducklings, but seeing these sick ones just...it did something within me.

“I felt like I had to get them somewhere safe, ____. And the only safe haven I could think of was you.”

Your eyes widened, his touch all the more prevalent. Soobin noticed, cocking his head. “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

His hands crept up, sliding from your neck to hold your face in his slender fingers. “Do you not realise that I associate you with all the good things in the world?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, refusing to let the sting of tears win over you. “There’s a reason I presented you with the ducklings, honey. If you’re so good to me, then little Plato and Aristotle will forever be loved.”

Oh, God. How could you fight the waterworks after that?

Raising upwards, you closed your eyes as you captured Soobin’s lips, insides singing at how he welcomed the touch. His fingertips stroked your cheeks as he leaned further into the kiss, moving against your mouth like a lovestruck fool, yearning for you and everything you represented. 

As the sun fully descended, you opened up slightly for him, the boy clinging onto your bottom lip till a soft moan escaped you, causing him to lose nearly all of his senses. He might have gone further, may have teased his tongue along the swell of your mouth, but he held back. 

If it weren’t for the creatures nestled in your hands, he would have dared, but he pulled back, breathing a little panted as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheeks. 

“Happy Birthday, ____,” he whispered, eyes swirling with lifelong affection.

“I love you, Soobin,” you replied, lips curving upwards.

Then you looked down at the slumbering ducklings, smile growing.

And I love you two, too.

[wonglix]

➺ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴄʀᴜsʜ

⤷ fluff

*•.¸♡ hongjoong ♡¸.•*

hongjoong would be a bit shy at first, until he realised that keeping his distance from you to avoid getting nervous wouldn’t benefit him in his mission to get closer to you

he’d love to invite you over a bit more often, starting slowly by making sure there always were other members around because it would be weird if he’d ask you to spend time alone with him all of a sudden

he’d come up with excuses like “we need opinions on our new choreography!”, “we’re not sure if the song sounds right, could you listen to it?”

slowly but surely he’d start to invite you while less and less members were around until it was just the two of you and he realised that these moments, just you and him sitting and talking were definitely his favourite ones

this would also confirm his crush for him, since he was doubting his feelings a bit. seeing you joking around with him in his studio, listening to him rant about some irrelevant stuff his members did that seemed like the biggest problem at that moment would really hammer home the fact that he did indeed fall for you

he’d start to be a bit more touchy, his hand resting on yours, brushing hair out of your face, innocently letting his hand rest on your knee, tugging you closer to him when he was showing you something on his phone.

he’d also begin to be a bit more bold when asking you to spend time, offering to let you stay the night if it was late, taking you to his favourite restaurant, meeting up at a convenience store at 3 am just to have some cheap ramen and talk about anything.

a cutie that gets really soft once he confirms his feelings, getting close to you one pretty smile and hand holding at a time

*•.¸♡ seonghwa ♡¸.•*

he’s already very caring, protective and gentle, but once he started crushing on someone he’d essentially just start showering them in love whenever he could

he’d check in on you way more frequently, always asking how you’re doing and if you’ve eaten. he’d be the one to walk you home whenever you visit them, and if it got too late he’d offer to sleep on the couch to you could sleep in his bed

i feel like his caring nature could be very easily be mistaken as brotherly and he knows that, so he makes sure to flirt with you from time to time, just to hammer home the fact that he is interested in you.

he wants to make sure that you slowly start to understand that there’s a reason you’re always the first one he serves dinner to, or that there is a reason that makes him value your opinion over anyone else’s

he’d accidentally brush your hands together and wink at you once you look at him, would compliment you very cheekily and might even drop a cringy pickup line here and there

he loves to take care of you and he’s the first one to show up when you mention that you’re not feeling well. it’s hard for him to keep his feelings to himself when you’re laying there like that, glossy eyes and weak smile on your face

he might’ve mentioned something about having fallen for you while you were having a bad fever, rendering you unable to remember anything. he was glad you didn’t remember, he wanted it to be special once he confessed; something you could think back to that would make your cheeks flush and heart race

caring, flirty love bug that just wants to take care of you and cuddle you close to him and make you happy

*•.¸♡ yunho ♡¸.•*

yunho would probably be quite obvious, showing all the telltale signs of someone having a crush: he’d be glued to your side with a constant blush on his face, he’d giggle at everything you said whether it was actually funny or not and he was trying his absolute hardest to make you laugh, even if it meant embarrassing himself

his members caught on fairly quickly and kept teasing him about it, getting closer to you on purpose to make him jealous. yunho hated the fact that he couldn’t really do anything, he couldn’t just walk up to you and san as you were sitting extremely closely together on the couch and demand san’s seat, right?

so a lot of his pining was spent observing you and his members, how they would purposefully hug you just a second too long, hold your hand just a bit too much, sit next to you just a tad bit too closely - it all got on his nerves and he made sure to nag them once you left. it might be childish but he was scared that you might fall for one of them, that you might interpret their closeness as flirting.

after realising that making him jealous wouldn’t lead to him confessing but rather to him doubting himself the others knocked it off for yunho’s sake. they ended up hyping him up a lot, telling him to just do the same they did - staying close to you and making you see him in a different light

they kept hyping him up and mysteriously vanishing every time you came over from them on, leaving you two alone and causing poor yunho to almost suffer from multiple heart attacks because wow, you’re so pretty!!

even though he was close to you and always made sure to stay close to you, he also ensured that you would be comfortable around him. if you had a bad day and didn’t want him so close to you he would understand, scooting away and listening to you talk about what’s been bothering you

he’s also ready to shower you in all the affection you need though, wrapping you in his arms when you come to him crying, his heart hurting and his mind telling him to press a little kiss to your head, just a small peck to calm you down-

all in all he’s very obvious and soft, his heart definitely on his sleeve and you would be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way he smiled at you with hearts in his eyes every time your eyes met

*•.¸♡ yeosang ♡¸.•*

he’d be so incredibly shy once he realised that he had a crush and it would definitely take him a while to warm up to them again

everytime he’d see you he’d feel his hands get sweaty and his mind was racing; what was he supposed to talk to you about? would you be uncomfortable if he sat next to you? he really wants to hold your hand but god, that’d be so random and out of place, he couldn’t possibly do that

it was really hard for him to be nice to you again, scared of outing his feelings if he ended up being too gentle with you. he wasn’t ready to confess yet, he didn’t even know how to yet and the last thing he’d want is for his crush to just get exposed without him planning to

he would probably confide in some of his members, hoping that they could help him out with the problem at hand. they’d give him some tips on how to subtly get closer to you, how to express his feelings without actually confessing

while he was still shy and a bit quiet around you, he managed to get himself to spend some time alone with you. he realised that his pounding heart and the occasional shy stammer were nothing compared to the happiness he felt when he talked to you, so he began to talk to you more often

on the phone, on face time, when you came to visit them - you and yeosang were talking a lot, and while he still got the soft blush on his cheeks and sweaty hands he’s more than happy to spend time with you

over time the casual talks would evolve into deeper ones, the two of you confiding into each other. this would mean a lot to him and it took everything in him to keep himself from kissing you

shy sweetheart takes some time to come out of his shell but once he does, he swears there is no place better than with you next to him

*•.¸♡ san ♡¸.•*

san would turn into a bit of a show off, doing his absolute best to get his crush to praise him and swoon over him, like look at me!! did you see that? yeah, you saw that. amazing, right? yeah, amazing

though he liked showing off, he caught himself getting soft and mushy over you a lot. it’s hard for him to keep his crush to himself, so he confessed his feelings towards you to his members and to his surprise they all already knew somehow

like?? how could they’ve possibly known?? he was so discreet while balancing three plates on his head while trying to jump rope just to get you to laugh??

he doesn’t mind making a fool of himself as long as it meant to hear you laugh and giggle at him, but what made his heart flutter the most was by far the way you’d scold and care for him every time he accidentally hurt himself during one of his skits

his mind was racing and his heart pounding, a lovestruck smile etched on his face while you were frantically searching for a bandaid. all he could think about was that there was no way you’d care for him this much if you didn’t like him too, right?? no way you’d be so mad at him for accidentally hurting himself like that!!

while san loves to get praise and see you gush over him and care for him, he was also very big on showering you in praise and adoration. every time you told him about something you achieved he was there to hype you up, to praise you and tell you how well you did

he would get so happy for you that he sometimes couldn’t hold back and you would occasionally feel a very gentle, almost unnoticeable kiss being pressed to the to of your head while he was crushing you in a hug

adorable goofy show off that really is just a very soft gushy mess for you on the inside, that sometimes struggles with keeping all the affection he has for you to himself

*•.¸♡ mingi ♡¸.•*

it’s like a lightbulb went off over mingi’s head once seonghwa asked him if he planned on confessing to you. he genuinely just thought that he really enjoyed your company and that that was the reason for his blushed cheeks and pounding heart

he didn’t expect to fall for you so the signs were a bit unclear to him but once he knew, he could barely think about anything but you and the others would catch him just sitting somewhere, daydreaming with a dumb smile on his face

he keeps asking you to go to places with him, if it’s grocery shopping, visiting an arcade or just going to the company to record - he thrives off of your presence and he’s addicted to the bubbly feeling in his chest he gets when he’s around you

he used to be quite open when it came to his work, mingi loved showing you what he was working on; now he’s just way too shy to show you what he’s working on because he catches himself writing about you a lot and it makes his cheeks burn every time he realises that his mind drifted to you again

he fell for you and wanted to be with you, but he also fell in love with the idea of crushing on you; the shy glances and the way you’d look into each other’s eyes just a bit too long for it to be friendly excited him a lot. yeah he was shy and feels his heart hammer in his chest at the smallest things you do, but it’s such a nice feeling to make you smile and look at him with eyes as enchanting as yours

he enjoys seeing the occasional blush spread on your cheeks a lot and it made him fantasize about how nice it would be if you were dating because he wants nothing more than to kiss those pink cheeks, to have you giggle in embarrassment in his arms-

he likes to take you to experience new things, the thought of sharing memories with you all too exciting for him to pass up. he tends to innocently take your hand in his, excuses flowing out of his mouth each time, “i don’t want to lose you!”, “i know the way”, “it’s dark and i feel better like this”

lovestruck honeypie that is not only in love with you but also with the idea of loving you and crushing on you

*•.¸♡ wooyoung ♡¸.•*

wooyoung would amp his teasing up to the max, almost making it seem like he was picking on you while simultaneously flirting shamelessly

he’d never took it too far though, always very in touch with your feeling and hyper aware of the smallest changes in your behaviour or facial expressions

he never wants to hurt your feelings with his snarky comments or make you feel uncomfortable around him with his weird flirting. the second he notices that you’ve stopped giggling at his antics, he immediately stops

as confident as he was, he was still too shy and nervous to just confess - which leads to him relentlessly teasing you all the time. he’d either tease you about things you do or say, or simply try to make you nervous because how dare you make him this feel this shy? that’s not fair, so now it’s your turn to be nervous!

he’d love to show up randomly, taking you out for a spontaneous dinner or a calming late night walk - anything to spend some time with you

he always uses the excuse that “the others are asleep”, “they’re all busy”, “they don’t like that restaurant” even though the only thing he wanted to tell you was “i just wanted to see you”

he tries his best to keep his teasing masquerade up, refusing to let the soft part of him take over. he doesn’t want to think about how beautiful you look when you laugh at one of his mindless jokes, how stunning it is to watch your expressions change while you’re telling a story, how incredibly cute it is when you struggle with something, how bad he wants to press a kiss to your tear-stained cheeks when-

a teasing softie that has to figure out a more efficient way to get closer to you apart from picking on you and making you blush with his excessive flirting

*•.¸♡ jongho ♡¸.•*

jongho could be described as “confused”. he wasn’t really sure what to make of his racing heart and sweaty palms at first until it finally clicked - which made him switch from “confused” to “panicked”, back to “confused” because he had no idea what to do

he didn’t know how to handle his feelings, on one hand he just wanted to tell you what he felt and hold your hand and maybe even give you a little kiss on your cheek. and maybe he’d be confident enough to kiss the cute little pout away you get every time he teases you, and oh how badly he wants to take you out to his favourite restaurant, just the two of you, and-

on the other hand though, he was also really nervous, like what if you didn’t see him that way? what if you were in love with someone else? his mind was racing just as bad as his heart was and it was draining

every time you interacted he was torn between flirting with you, making you realise that he thought of you as more than just friends and continuing to treat you as a simple friend, staying in his lane

it ended with him being very flirty and playful with you one day, and very distant and quiet on the next. he kept going back and forth, never knowing what exactly he’s supposed to do - one day he’ll hold your hand while walking, the next he’ll not even sit next to you

it left you confused while jongho was panicking inside, because oh god, why did i scoot away? oh wow, they’re smile is so pretty! i like y/n so much, i really want to-

while he was usually calm and collected on the outside, nervous or affectionate thoughts were bouncing around in his mind. you did manage to break through his calm exterior, making him blush and giggle shyly. it was really hard for him to decide which approach it will take and you will definitely realise that something’s going on at some point

a little shy and unsure, but is genuinely very infatuated with you. has to figure out how to approach you and has a hard time calming his thoughts when he’s with you

[stardusttrashed]

Lovestruck (Finale)

Part 4

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Connie x Sasha

Word Count: 2K

A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who stuck around for this series and showed it some love. also, if you haven't already go check out the playlist I made that gives professor Erwin vibes :)

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Smith,” you squeaked as you squeezed past the door into the old familiar room. “Hope you didn’t haveta wait too long,” you smiled apologetically.

Erwin turned around, looking up from the whiteboard he was writing away on. He smiled handsomely, quietly sighing in relief, “actually, you’re right on time as usual.” He closed the distance between you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “How much’d you spend? I’ll pay you back,” he reassured you as he led you towards his desk.

“You can pay me back by coming to movie night,” you purred, quickly throwing the idea out there as you took a seat on his desk. You rummaged through the plastic bag, taking out two to-go boxes as Erwin rolled his desk chair over. “You’ve been officially invited by Thing One and Thing Two. And they’ll probably lose their shit if I show up without you.”

“Sasha and Connie, right?” he confirmed. You hummed in response. Erwin tensed up momentarily once he saw you sitting on his desk, sinful thoughts running rampant in his mind. He was curious how much of a good girl you’d be for him. Or if you’d let him eat something else for lunch. It didn’t make it any better that you still had his shirt on. A blush painted his cheeks as he pushed the thoughts down, plopping in his seat and scooting closer until he was sitting between your legs, “I’d love to, darling.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, occasionally broken by strings of giggles as you stuffed your faces with the Chinese food you brought. You took turns feeding spoonfuls of each other's food to the other, goofy, uncontrollable, lovestruck smiles printed on your faces. There was so much you both wanted to say to each other, wanting to ask about the other’s day, or ask trivial things, or address what you were. But neither could muster the courage to break the moment. So instead, you spoke through lingering touches and longing gazes.

“Erwin,” a familiar voice said dryly, followed by the footsteps of them entering the room. “Found your sandwich in the fridge in the staff room.” Erwin’s eyes went wide, more surprised about being caught than the actual sandwich. “Figured I’d bring it before you starve.”

You sent Erwin a playfully threatening glare, “you had food?! I- you little,” you quickly hissed, stopping short as Erwin apologetically squeezed your thigh.

Erwin chuckled embarrassedly, removing the hand on your thigh to scratch the back of his neck. “I must’ve forgot.” He looked back and forth between you and Levi, both of you looking back at him with unconvinced expressions. He was busted for sure.

“Right,” Levi drawled out as his eyes scanned the desk, taking in the to-go boxes and how close you and Erwin were sitting. “At least you’re not starving. And glad to see the two of you finally grew a pair and made things official.”

“W-well,” you stuttered, to no avail. Levi was already walking out of the room, muttering something about how you should at least lock the door. Gradually, your shock shifted into overconfidence. “Missed me that much, huh? Pretty lame excuse if you ask me.”

“Shouldn’t be much of a surprise, darling,” Erwin cooed, his blue eyes practically filled with hearts. It felt like butterflies were coursing throughout his entire body as you leaned down to kiss him. It was short and sweet, just a lingering peck, yet you left him breathless. “Y/n, I- um.” He could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably warm. Your soft giggles weren’t helping either. “Hold on.”

You watched as Erwin struggled to hold onto his cool. It was still weird, no matter how many times you saw him grow flustered. He was the gorgeous giant of a man that left men and women alike flustered, yourself included. Yet, you always seemed to be the one to turn the tables without doing anything but being yourself. He wasn’t some Greek God, okay, well looks-wise, yes. And personality-wise. Okay, maybe he was a Greek god, but that didn’t stop him from being a friendly giant or a big cinnamon roll around you.

“I, uh,” he quickly glanced up at you before returning his focus to the journal he pulled out of his desk drawer. “I got you this,” he held the small journal out to you.

You gingerly took it from him. A thin gold rope chain tucked away in the journal as a bookmark tapped your hand as it swayed from the movement. You prayed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks grew warm as you opened the journal to the page the chain rested against. In the center of the lined paper lay a key strung on the chain. The key wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain house key that covered a neatly written note. You glanced up at Erwin momentarily before moving aside the key to read the note aloud. “I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her, and it is the beginning of everything. F. Scott Fitzgerald,” you read, your throat growing tighter with every word.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing anything,” Erwin quickly spoke up once you finished reading. “I just, well, I figured you could use my place as a place to write and get some inspiration. I don’t want to pressure you, though. This can be completely platonic, and we can ignore-.”

You set the journal aside and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss. Your lips moved lazily against each other, savoring everything from the moment to the taste of one another. Time seemed to slow as you lost yourself in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands on your hips. You could feel him surrendering to you, giving you everything he could until he was left with nothing, not even a breath… until you reluctantly pulled away. You rested your forehead on his, your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to catch your breath enough to say something.

“And for a moment, I thought I loved him,” you breathed, altering the quote slightly to fit the situation more. Your breath fanned across his lips, giving him visible chills as you continued, “but I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.”

“Committing Great Gatsby quotes to memory, are we,” Erwin teased, his voice husky as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Only the most beautiful ones that’ll impress my professors, er, used to be professors.”

“Consider the job done then.” Erwin looked at you like you were the only one, not just now, but forever. His ocean eyes shone like he was looking at the sun, and in a way, he was. You always were a star that he couldn’t help but gravitate to. He lost you for a while, but just like the planets orbiting around the sun, he managed to find his way back to your warmth.

You reached out and pushed a stray hair back into place, “not polite to stare, baby. Even if ya look cute doing it.”

“Dance with me,” Erwin blurted. He needed to hold you, to bask in your warmth. He wanted to do what he should’ve last night, holding you close as you swayed to music that could better articulate the feelings he has for you.

“What?”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged, “dance with me, and I’ll stop.” He stood up with a devilish grin on his face. “Just one dance?”

“Erwin, I don’ think this is the place-” you were cut off by Erwin scooping you up into his strong arms bridal style. You held onto him despite feeling utterly safe as he maneuvered his way out of the classroom. “Baby, where are you taking me?” you squealed with childlike giddy.

“To a place we can dance,” Erwin looked down at you with a wicked smile as he walked out of the building with you still cradled close to his chest. The soft drizzle of rain welcomed the both of you, which made you squeal and hurriedly attempt to cover your head.

“Erwin Smith, take me back inside before I kick your ass!”

“No, can do; you said we couldn’t dance in the classroom.” He sent a kind smile to the people passing by. “Besides, as sweet and sugary as you are, you won’t melt.”

“You don’t know that.” You smacked your hand against his chest, “I hate you right now.” The soft drizzle was gradually becoming a steady stream of droplets that made any efforts to protect your hair futile. With a huff, you gave up, allowing the rain to return your hair to its natural state gradually. “Happy now?”

Erwin kissed the tip of your nose before gently setting you back on your feet underneath a large canopy tree. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was a stark contrast to the soft apologies that tumbled from his mouth. “I promise, messing up your hair was not part of the plan.” His eyes flitted up to your curling hair, a proud smile forming on his face, “I was right, though. You look absolutely amazing, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping it’d distract from the bashful smile tugging on your lips. “One dance,” you held up a finger for emphasis. “That’s it.”

“Just the one,” he gently pressed his lips against yours. “Unless you beg for more.” His laugh rumbled in his chest like quiet thunder as you playfully swatted his arm.

“Well, Mr. DJ, what’re gonna dance to?”

“No idea,” Erwin admitted with a bashful smile, looking up from his phone. “Just wanted an excuse to hold you close.” The soft, familiar strumming of a guitar filled the air before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

With an outstretched hand, he looked at you with such genuine adoration that for a second, you forgot how to breathe. You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to guide your hands towards his shoulders. It felt silly, dancing in the middle of campus in the rain, and at the same time, it felt so surreal, like you two were straight out of a book.

“Only fools rush in,” Erwin quietly sang as he slid his hands around your hips. “But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you.” He had a smooth, calming singing voice like he was born to be a crooner. He didn’t sing around others often, not sober at least, but something about you made him feel like it was the right thing to do at this moment. Every word that fell from his lips was for you, and you only as you both sway in time with the music. He was yours, and the look in your eyes told him you were his.

You pressed yourself closer to him, the rest of the world slipping away. He was too warm, made you feel too secure for it to be reality. And yet, here he was, the man you secretly fell for years ago was in your arms singing Can’t Help Falling in Love to you. The increasing heaviness of the rain or people staring didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him.

“I-,” you jumped at the sound of your ringtone, sending you plummeting back to reality with wide eyes. “S-sorry, I gotta,” you trailed off sheepishly as you pulled your phone out of your pocket before accepting the facetime call.

Erwin paused the music for you, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he played with your newly formed curls. It was hard for him to fight back the awestruck look on his face as your hair seemed to grow curlier by the second.

“Did you do it? Please tell me you did? I’ll do it for you,” Sasha bombarded you once you answered. She paused with wide eyes at the sound of Erwin’s amused chuckle. “Oh, my- is that him? Hi, Erwinie!”

“Wait, she did it?” You could hear Connie yell from somewhere offscreen. “Ha! You owe me twenty!”

You smiled apologetically at Erwin, who seemed quite amused with the situation. “Hi, Sasha,” Erwin cut in, laughing at the way she swooned after he said her name. “If we’re being technical, I was the one who did it.”

“Ha! I only owe you ten,” she exclaimed, sending Connie a face before focusing back on you and Erwin. “She invited you to movie night, right?”

“About that, why don’t you two come over to my place? I’ll even cook.”

“Careful before I steal him from you,” Sasha laughed. She was practically drooling already at the thought of free food.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s only one girl for me.” He looked down at you with a confident smile, “she’s all I want and need.”

“What about guys?”

“Ew, you two are so cute it’s gross,” Sasha talked over Connie. “Get off my phone before ya make me sick.”

“Gladly,” you mused, giggles bubbling in your chest. “See y’all later.” You hung up before they could say anything else and turned your focus to Erwin. “I feel the same way, just so you know. Think you’re it for me.”

“I sure hope so cause I don’t plan on losing you again.”

[spicywarl0ck]

WIP-Wednesday

Tons of thanks to the people who always tag me, even though I’ve got nothing to show sometimes <3 So thanks to @noire-pandora and @kittynomsdeplume for tagging me this week <3 I’m currently writing on the first Kinktober prompt I choose to do for a discord server. So take a short Blackwall/Female Cadash snippet: Warning though: Lemonish talk

‘Were you waiting for me?’ Lydia asked with a hint of amusement on her face when she rejoined him after discovering the ploy of the grand duchess.

‘Always my Lady.’ he replied in earnest, his grey eyes looking at her fondly. He always felt like a lovestruck fool whenever she approached him, a smile on her face. And, the one she was showing him now was as cheeky as it was lovely.

‘Oh, aren’t we especially charming tonight.’ she remarked gleefully, one of her hands reaching out to brush over the smooth fabric of his uniform. ‘And, looking so dashing on top of it. I wonder how many ladies approached the heroic Grey Warden tonight.’

‘None who were as beautiful as you, my Lady.’ Blackwall promised to her delight. He dared to stretch one of his hands out before he gently brushed one of her stray locks back behind her ear.

Lydia gave him a mischievous glance as she played with the buttons of his uniform almost innocently. ‘You know how to get a Lady all heated up.’ she replied with a flutter of her eyelashes. ‘It’s the cleavage, right?’ Lydia added with a playful look at him.

‘You got a pleasant view without a doubt. .’ Another chuckle escaped him before he bent down to steal a quick kiss. ‘Let’s give those Orlesian’s something to talk about then.’ he added, his lips brushing against hers while his beard tickled her skin.

She giggled, the sound like a bell in his ears as she looked up at him, turning in his arms to press her back against his front. It allowed him to get a better look at her cleavage, his hands holding her face gently still.

‘Right now?’ she asked. ‘That would be impolite towards the Empress. What kind of Inquisitor would I be to vanish between the talks?’ Lydia added almost innocently before she coaxed him to bent down lower, causing their lips to brush against each other gently.

‘But for later… I’m more than willing.’ she whispered before she pried herself away from his arms, a hint of delight in her eyes. ‘Oh, and also…’ Lydia paused for a moment, batting her thick eyelashes at him. ‘The dress is the only thing I am wearing tonight.’ she added rather sultry, her words sending a straight jolt into his cock.

And when he watched her making her way back towards the ballroom, moving her hips so promising already, he knew that it would be even harder to wait for her to return. How could a man concentrate when all he thought about was her being naked underneath the expensive dress? He imagined how her thighs rubbed against each other; the skin already damp eventually from their talk alone.

A sigh escaped him once he realised that thinking about it didn’t do much to calm himself down. Nor the erection in his trousers that he needed to hide from the other guests. It was why he kept himself mostly busy and hidden, avoiding any possible talks to people who admired him. Or, more, people who admired the person he was pretending to be.

Tagging further:

@charlatron  @elveny @scharoux @zuendwinkel @queen-kass-the-writer  @schoute @pikapeppa @jacklyn-flynn​   @wardenari​ @jentrevellan​ @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold​ @dalish-rogue​ @lavellanvibes​ @musetta3 @starsandskies @ashalle-art  @hollyand-writes @dismalzelenka  @kunstpause

[homosexual-fast-dancer]

My half of a trade for @flowerbeds-and-fairywings, hope you like it :D

First date

Wren could feel his chest tighten as he staggered his way over to the park in which he promised to meet Combeferre at. Even though they had been quite a bit more than friends for a while, this was their very first official date, no big brothers, or jokesters, just the two of them. And while it was a dream come true for him, it was also incredibly petrifying, what if he messes up? What if he makes a fool of himself and Combeferre never wants to see him again, what if- But as he finally reached where the boy was sitting, reading a book before looking up at him with a gentle smile, he could feel all those what ifs and doubts flee from his mind.

“I was wondering when you were coming. Well, I am glad you are here now.” Combeferre patted the space next to him on the blanket, quickly making Wren sit beside him. “Sorry, for the wait. Enj was holding me up.” Wren quietly chuckled, making Combeferre sigh while rolling his eyes, still holding his tender smile. As Combeferre went back to looking at his book, while the silence was originally comfortable it quickly grew awkward and so Wren had to grasp for something to talk about while unloading the basket. His eyes darted around before falling on the book Combeferre was reading, while he could clearly see what it was about he still pretended to be none the wiser.

"What is that book about?" Wren tapped one of the pages making Combeferre's eyes light up, excited to talk about one of his greatest interests with certainly his favourite person. "Ah it’s a book on flora and fauna. The ways they impact each other and how they have been commented on by mankind over time." He grinned, causing Wren to raise an eyebrow at the subject of the book. "I thought you weren't interested in those topics." Wren smiled, causing Combeferre's eyes to grow wide and his smile turn awkward. "In fairness, I'm not really… however! I know how much you enjoy these subjects and thought it would be good to study up so we can hold more conversations about them."

Wren's shoulders drooped and his face broke out into a lovesick smile, the fact that Combeferre would put so much thought and consideration into his interests made his heart melt. "That is incredibly sweet of you," Wren scooted over closer and placed his head onto Combeferre's shoulder, "And just when I thought I couldn't love you more." Combeferre smiled down at him and sighed lovestruck, "Of course, plus the book is more interesting than one would think at first." Combeferre started to rant and rave about all the different plants and point each of them out in his book, looking over to Wren every once in a while, both to examine his beauty and to see if he was still interested.

As the date went one, the sun came further down and before either of them knew it, it was already night. As Wren stood up he offered his hand to Combeferre to take and helped him up with a grin. Combeferre smiled back Wren's eye beautifully illuminated under the visage of the moon. Combeferre turned to pick up the plates and basket, to hide his deep red cheeks if nothing else.

Combeferre offered to walk Wren home to which he happily agreed and so they walked in comfortable silence under the light of the moon. Eventually they had reached his house and both took a step to stand on the doorstep before turning to each other. Combeferre kept on leaning down before hesitating out, causing Wren to roll his eyes and take the plunge himself, enrapturing Combeferre's lips into his own. The kiss felt like it lasted an entirety although it was truly only thirty seconds before they broke apart for air, but oh how Combeferre could still feel the tingles causing his face to go red a second time, even if the kiss didn't last for an entirety they certainly both would hold onto it for that long.

Fin

[lottiebagley]

Stuck in the middle- Oliver Wood

You know what she said to me? She said, "You're a player, aren't you? And I bet you got hoes" I said, "You don't know me like that I just go with the flow, oh, oh"

Oliver Wood was a confident boy. He knew he was good looking, he knew he was talented, he knew he was smart, he knew he was charming, most importantly he knew almost all the girls in school wanted him. All of this combined gave him his natural flirty manner. He was the kind of boy to send girls winks across classrooms, to tease them with a flirty smirk the first time he meets them, to never see the same girl more than a handful of times.

She seemed to be the one girl he couldn't get. She was beautiful and smart and kind and funny. She was the girl every boy fancied. She was the one girl he wanted to take home over summer break, to fall in love with, to be with.

They'd been friendly since first year, having always had mutual friends. She'd always been pretty and as an anxious 11 year old he had never had the nerve to talk to her so they'd smiled in the corridor. He made the quidditch team and with that his confidence grew, he finally had the nerve to start talking to girls in a romantic way by 3rd years but she was always just a little out of his league.

In 4th year it began. A tension over them constantly that drove their friends insane. They would flirt constantly, they would steal glances when the other wasn't looking but they never actually made a move. She always thought it was a joke, she didn't let herself think for even a second he could be serious. She didn't want to end up just another one of Oliver Wood's dates crying too their friends in the bathroom because he didn't ask them on a second date. He thought there was no chance on god's green earth she liked him back, he flirted with her constantly and yet she never took him seriously, he couldn't drop anymore hints.

"There's the most beautiful girl in the whole school," Oliver calls, watching as she enters the corridor he was standing in, his attention drawn from the twins who he had been chatting with.

"Hi boys," She grin to the three friends, "How was your summer?" She directs the question to the twins. Having already made flirty chit chat with Oliver the evening before.

"Quite alright, flew that car Ron and Harry arrived in to surrey and back," George grins excitedly

"Shit! how was it?" She asks, chatter between the three take overs and Oliver watches with a smirk and a lovestruck look in his eyes. Taking in her tight school shirt and short skirt, the way her Gryffindor tie hangs loose around her neck and her knee heigh socks make his mouth water a little. He watches the way her eyes light up with excitement, the way she tilts her head back when she laughs, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear.

"I should get going, don't wanna be late to the first class of the year," She smiles

"Of course, see you at practice later," Fred grins

"I'll walk you to class," Oliver offers, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning on. She turns to him with a small smile and almost looks like she's going to accept his offer before the smile switches to a smirk

"Shouldn't you be walking Kirsty to class? or Mille? Or Hannah? Or Ellie? Or"

"Okay, I get the point," Oliver groans

"You have plenty of girls Oli, you don't need me,"

"But your my favourite," He smirks, she smiles, an overly sweet smile

"That's a shame for you," She grins, shooting him a wink before turning and striding down the corridor.

"Hard luck mate," George chuckles, clapping his hand around a disgruntled looking Oliver's shoulder.

She said, "You can't fool me like that You're gonna leave me on read" I said, "Why don't you try me on out I know you wanna be friends"

"We're friends right?" Oliver's voice questions as he plops himself down on the loveseat she's sat in. She looks up from the book she had been reading to look at him

"What are you trying to trick me into saying?" She questions

"No tricks," He assures, raising his hands in surrender

"I would label us friendly acquaintances," She shrugs, he nods pausing for a second to think "Careful there Oliver, I can see the cogs turning in your head,"

"I think we should be friends," He announces

"And why is that?" She questions

"Well, we have been in the same friend group since we were 11-"

"It's a big friend group,"

"But it's the same one. We play quidditch on the same team and I like being around you so I think we should be friends,"

"I know you Oliver Wood. I see the way you  behave. You flirt with girls, make them feel super comfortable around you, you ask them out on a date and then you never talk to them again. So no, I don't want to be your friend just so you can start ignoring me and feel like you won," She retaliates

"Okay. I know my reputation with girls kind of makes me seem like a prick,"

"More than kind of,"

"I really do want to be friends with you though. I think we could get on great,"

"Okay fine. Friends," She agrees, he smiles brightly, a grin that makes her heart warm a little.

"Friends," He confirms

But friends turn into sleepovers And sleepovers turn into love Love turns into jealousy And now we both fucked up

In the two months that follow the two become close. They have a lot in common and it's easy to spend time together. He makes her laugh and she can't help the butterflies in her stomach when he smiles at her.

"Percy Weasley wants to kill you," She announces, bursting into his captains office, he looks up from the papers on his desk with a smile that makes her melt

"Cute PJs," He teases, she rolls her eyes, entering the room fully and closing the door behind her.

"You're lucky to get to see me in such a great outfit," She taunts, he lets his eyes fall up and down her body. Taking in her fluffy pj bottoms and large sweater, the outfit complete with a pair of koala slippers. He would swear on his own life that she looked beautiful.

"That I am," He grins, watching as she gets comfy on the sofa in the corner of the office "Why does dear old Percy want to kill me?" He asks, standing from his chair and crossing the room to sit next to her. He tries to push away the thought that anyone else interrupting him when he was trying to plan practices would infuriate him, that anybody else barging into his office without knocking would make his blood boil. Tries not to think about how every minute he spends with her makes him want her more.

"So I went into your dorm, which in itself is some weird trigger for him, obviously you weren't there but he thought you were in my dorm and so he had a fit about you being out past curfew and so I ran away cause his screeching gives me a headache,"

"Any reason you were visiting my dorm?" Oliver smirks, wiggling her eyebrows and laughing when she shoves his shoulder lightly.

"Just wanted a chat. Couldn't sleep," She answers honestly. She isn't quite sure why even a few hours without seeing him makes her miss him so much. He pauses for a second, not sure how to respond and she starts talking again, uncomfortable with the silence after admitting to that "You shouldn't stay out here so late, you need to sleep more," She instructs. He smiles at her, rolling his eyes before glancing sighing, deciding to ignore her statement.

"I'm glad it was me you wanted to see. That you couldn't sleep and I'm the one you wanted," He speaks quietly like  the words are just for her even though no one else is there. It makes her heart skip a beat and she scolds herself for being so weak around him.

"Can I tell you a secret Oli?"

"Anything angel," He grins, subconsciously they're moving closer and closer to each other, a weird need to feel the other person's body pressed to there's.

She thinks for a second that she's going to regret what she's about to say. But one look at his hair that's messy from him running his hand through it, at his tired and lazy smile, at his eyes that shine despite the dim lighting erases all the doubt in her mind.

"I always want to see you. Recently, it's like two minutes away from you is too much," She admits. Glancing at the ground to avoid seeing his reaction.

He feels his heart skip a beat, reaching his hand out to cup her jaw, moving her head gently to force her to look at him. He thinks that in that moment if he doesn't kiss her he will regret it forever and so he leans in slowly, she flutters her eyes close and he is so close he can feel her breath fan across his face

"Baby! There you are,"

They both jump apart at the sound of a new voice and the door bursting open. Oliver wants to tell Kirsty Stevenson to fuck off. She shouldn't barge into his office. More importantly she's just ruined everything. He was going to kiss her and he was almost certain she wouldn't have pushed him away.

"What do you want?" He snaps, not bothering to look at her. Instead looking at the girl in front of him and watching how she seemed to sink into herself, seemed to recoil away from him, sees the hurt flash in her eyes.

"You were supposed to be meeting me outside my common room," Kirsty chimes.

She looks like she'd put in an effort. Her hair curled and makeup done, a short skirt and a low cut top for the midnight date.

"I'll go," The girl mumbles, standing up and leaving the room before Oliver can stop her.

He's quick to rush out after her, leaving a confused Kirsty in his wake.

"Angel! Wait! Please can we talk? I don't want to argue with you!" He's calling after her as he jogs to catch up to her fast walk. Gently grabbing her hand in his.

She stops and turns to look at him but tugs her hand out of his. Oliver sighs, they were relatively touchy despite being only friends and normally she would happily let Oliver hold her hand.

"I'm sorry, I never meant for that to happen," He speaks genuinely

"It's fine Oliver," He cringes a little, she hadn't called him Oliver in weeks.  "Honestly, maybe it's a good thing. I mean we are just friends and we shouldn't have been about to kiss. I said that we were just friends for this very reason and I shouldn't have considered that changing. Don't be sorry you are totally in your right to be having dates and girls and all of that. It's fine. I'm fine. We are fine," She rants, he watches as she scrunches her face as she talks like she's trying to stop herself from crying. "Get back to Kirsty. I'll see you around," She adds.

She turns to walk away and he wants more than anything to follow but knows it's the last thing she wants.

'Cause we're stuck in the middle of lovers and friends (Lovers and friends) And we're losing every part of the benefits (Losing benefits) You hurt me more than I ever knew (Than I ever knew)

But it's shitty 'cause I'm doing the same to you

Oliver feels his blood boil. He's sat at a table in the three broomsticks with two of his close friends, Max and Harvey his eyes fixed on the girl a few tables away.

"So, you finally going to tell us why there's no date today?" Harvey questions Oliver. They were part of a large friend group, she was in it too, and they were used to Oli spending Hogsmeade trips with whatever girl he felt like.

"Just wasn't feeling it," He shrugs

"So it has nothing to do with Adrian Pucey and his date?" Max teases, eyes moving to see the girl sat under Adrian's arm, both laughing happily.

"Course not," Oliver grunts, the other two boys laughing at him.

Oliver thought what would hurt the most had already happened. Walking up to the girl as she was giggling with some of the other girls in her friend group three days, they had remained friends after the night in his office still talking everyday, he had asked what the girls were so giddy over and his heart had stopped when she announced she had a date with Adrian Pucey.

"But seriously? Pucey of all people?" He questions his friends with a dirty look in the Slytherin boys direction.

"What's wrong with Pucey? Apparently he's a gentleman and all the girls think he's fit," Max shrugs, knowing Oliver's problem with Pucey was that he was not him.

"He's an arse," Oliver argues.

If he thought hearing the boy had asked her out hurt, watching as she laughed at what he was saying and leaned into his touch felt a thousand times worse.

"Maybe you should have worked up the nerve and asked her out rather than occupying yourself with girls you don't even like that much," Harvey points out. Other than Oliver, Harvey was the guy she was closest with. Thinking of his as a brother and he always looked out for her.

"Fucking obviously I should have," Oliver groans.  He looks back to the table and the sight makes him want to die on the spot.

It hurts worse than being knocked off his broom by a bludger. Worse than hearing her all excited about a date with someone else. Worse than watching her blink back tears he caused.

She's sat three tables away, making out with Adrian Pucey.

She said, "Are we exclusive or not?" I said, "What do you wanna do? Seems like you love me a lot" She said, "Can we stop the joking And take me seriously" I said, "I'll try my very best But we'll have to wait and see"

"We need to talk," She demands, barging into the boy dorm. Oliver looks at her in surprise. His hair damp from the shower he just took and a towel hanging low on his hips. He smirks at the way she suddenly becomes distracted by his toned chest before letting out a deep breath and forcing herself to look at him in the eyes again.

He goes to reply but his cut off by Percy "You shouldn't be in here! This is the boys dormitory," The Weasley boy lectures, eyes a sharp glare in her direction

"I need to talk to Oli," She shrugs

"This is kind of a private conversation Percy. Could you leave?"  Oliver adds, the boy scoffing

"No. It's my dorm. You're not having sex in it. Again." Percy groans

"We aren't going to have sex Percy," The girl snaps

"We could if you want," Oliver smirks

"This is a serious conversation," She snaps at him before turning back to the Percy "Please leave?"

"No. I am a prefect. I'll chaperone you to make sure nothing funny happens," He announces, sitting down on his bed.

"Fine. Oliver, what the fuck are we doing?" She questions, turning back to the boy

"I don't know what you mean,"

"Don't play dumb with me. I know you threatened Adrian to stop talking to me because Marcus Flint told me. I don't even care that much because clearly it's not him I want," She rambles a little and Oliver feels his heart glowing at the insinuation it's him that she wants. "But you can't ruin all my options and then be seeing a million girls yourself,"

"I know," He admits

"So?" She questions. He sighs, he knows that she's who he wants. That no one else could ever come close to her and yet he can't bring himself to say any of this. Oliver Wood was not the boyfriend type.

"I don't know,"

"That's fine. Just think about it and let me know," She seems dejected and he feels guilty. She'd barged in expecting this to go very differently. He nods, wishing he could find his voice and tell her he didn't need to think. He knew he wanted her. And yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

She slips out of the room silently and Oliver groans, throwing his head back in frustration.

"You're stupid," Percy comments

"Yeah. I know,"

'Cause talks turn into sleepless nights And sleepless nights turn into love Love turns into impatience And now we both fucked up

He finds himself unable to sleep for what feels like the millionth night in a row but is actually only a week. Pulling his duvet off his body and heading into the common room. He's surprised to see a figure sat on the sofa, his confusion growing when he realises it's her.

"It's late," He comments. It had been a week since she asked him to work out what he wanted and they had spoken a little but no where near as much as normal and only in a group setting. It was like before and they both hated it.

"Can't sleep," She shrugs, staring into the dying fire.

"How long?" He questions, he knew she had problems falling to sleep sometimes and that they were usually a phase

"Couple of days. It's annoying. We have a match tomorrow and I just know I'll be exhausted,"

"You'll still play great. You always do," He compliments, still lingering a few feet away.

"You can sit if you want," She offers, seemingly loosing all her confidence when she quickly follows it with "You don't have too, obviously. Like if you're going out or something,"

"I'd like to," He assures, sitting down next to her on the sofa. A comfortable silence settles over them for a few minutes.

"Why're you up so late?" She questions

"I'm thinking. Can't turn my brain off,"

"Well, it isn't used to the whole thinking thing," She teases, he rolls his eyes, shoving her side lightly. His laugh dying in the air when his whole body seems to wake up at the feeling of her.

"I'm not a boyfriend kind of guy,"

"I know," She nods, letting out a sigh "I wish I could be some one who could do a casual thing cause I want you and I just-" she cuts herself off with a sigh. He nods, understanding exactly what she meant.

"I want so badly to say I'll make it work but I don't want to hurt you," He explains. She nods slowly.

"One kiss? Just to see what it could have been?" She questions, he smiles gently.

His lips feel warm against her and they fit together perfectly. His kiss feels like coming home and having her right there with him, having her lips on his makes Oliver feel whole. He knows he's being stupid, to not let himself have her but the last thing he wants is to hurt her and he doesn't trust himself to not hurt her.

He pulls her closer, without breaking their lips apart for even a second, until she's straddling his hips. His hands holding  her as close to him as humanly possible as her hand in his hair.

She pulls away breathless and Oliver doesn't ever want it to end.

"One day, I really hope I get to do that again," He admits

Got me stuck in the middle of lovers and friends And we're losing every part of the benefits You hurt me more than I ever knew But it's shitty 'cause I'm doing the same to you

She's hungover. Her head pounding and a sense of nausea settled in her stomach. They won the quidditch match and with victory comes a party and with a party comes a nasty hangover.

She rolled out of bed mid afternoon and trudged to an old classroom that is never used anymore that her friend group often hang out in. Grabbing a book to read while she's there.

Old desks had been charmed into sofa's and the group was so large they could rarely all find seats together in the common room and had students from other houses in, having a little room to themselves was just easier.

"There she is," Harvey grins, moving to make space next to him on a sofa, she gladly takes the seat, and shoots him a smile.

She joins in the discussion of the night before, allowing her best friend to force her to drink plenty of water. She certainly wasn't the worst hangover present but it would still do her a load of good.

Oliver enters the room a while later, a look she can't place on his face. His eyes scan the room before they land on her and he sighs, shooting her a sorry looking smile before settling in a seat on the other side of the room. She wonders for a second why he's chosen to sit so far away, lately they always seemed to sit together.

Her question is answered within seconds "So, how was your evening Wood?" Max teases from his arm chair

"Good," Oliver nods, trying not to draw any attention to himself, wishing the conversation would move on

"Oh come on. Where's the details? You hooked up with Riley Adams, she's fit," Max starts rambling about the Ravenclaw girl from the year above but to the girl the world seems silent.

She feels her heart break a little. She has no right to be angry. He told her he couldn't be in a relationship and she respected that.

But she wanted him. In every sense of the word. Having to hear he was sleeping around made her want to cry and his guilty eyes avoiding looking at her didn't make it better. Neither did her friends sympathetic smiles or Harvey telling Max to shut up.

The conversation is moved along quickly to something unrelated and she's standing up. Wanting to be as far away from Oliver Wood as possible, her best friend quick to follow her.

Stuck in the middle Stuck in the middle with you Stuck in the middle Stuck in the middle with you

Oliver finds himself missing her instantly.

Two weeks without speaking to her makes him feel like he's going insane.

He sees her in class. At practice. Hanging out in the same group.

So close he could make everything normal. Could talk to her. Could have her back in his life.

Every time he tries to, every time he approaches her between classes, tries to talk to her, tries to tell her that he knows he is stupid and that he wants her and nothing will ever change that and he wants to think with his heart and not his penis. That he knows he can trust himself to be a loyal and good boyfriend because fucking hell she was already his priority in life. She made his world turn and without her nothing made any sense. She walks away.

She avoids him like the plague.

Never allowing him close enough to talk to her.

He watched from afar as she seems heart broken. He watches as she seems like she hasn't slept in weeks. As she blinks back tears when a girl talks to him, not knowing he sends them all away as fast as he possibly can.

He misses her and he knows she misses him but she won't let him close enough to do anything about it.

Because fights turn into making up And making up turns into love Love turns into forever And that scares both of us

When he finally gets her alone he is absolutely adamant he is not going to let her slip through his fingers again.

"I was wrong" He states, standing in the doorway to the quidditch changing rooms with a look of determination in his eyes.

She turns around, only clad in sports shorts and a Gryffindor jumper and god he thinks she's an angel in front of him.

"I was wrong for a really long time. I was wrong to sleep with Riley when all I wanted was you. I was wrong to compare them all to you like they ever came close. I was wrong to think I'd be a shit boyfriend to you. Because I wouldn't. I would be a fucking incredible boyfriend because I would be doing it for you. I'd be the kind of guy who walks you to every class, who brings you flowers, who makes sure you're drinking enough water. I'd be the kind of guy who doesn't even think for a second about anyone else because you're it. You are all that matters to me. I'm scared to commit myself to someone because I never did but I never did because I've wanted you for so long and before now you were never an option. But you are now, at least I hope you are. And I would choose you a million times because it's everything to me. I know that I've hurt you and you've hurt me and it's been a lot but I want you and I pray that you want me back,"

"No sleeping with anyone else? No weird in between?"

"No, not for a second more,"

She walks towards him, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down to her and lips on his in an instant.

None of it mattered anymore. Because he wanted her and that's all she ever needed.

'Cause we're stuck in the middle of lovers and friends And we're losing every part of the benefits You hurt me more than I ever knew But it's shitty 'cause I'm doing the same to you

**

Masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A large box materialized in the corner of the room, decorated gaudily with purple wrapping paper, a bright red bow, and raw macaroni glued over practically every visible inch of the box. If you listened closely, you could make out the occasional giddy giggle coming from the inside of the box whenever it wiggled, demanding the attention of the beautiful birthday boy.

“Vil’s gonna love this!” Mac gushed to themself from the inside of the box, dressed up in thick clown makeup and an equally excessive clown outfit. “He’ll open the box up, and I’ll pop out to greet him and tell him that I’ll be his birthday present and his personal footstool, if he wants…”

Within the darkness of the box, they flushed a bright red, fanning their face like the lovestruck fool they were. Whenever they could make out the sound of his heels clacking on the attic floor, Mac shivered excitedly at the thought of his feet slamming down on their back and keeping their face shoved against the floor for them to drool onto.

The beautiful Queen needs a loyal court, and was there anyone better than to play the role of the court fool than the head empty pasta fanatic? Mac thought not.

*pokes Mac with a stick*

Come get your dinner.

At long last, evening had set in, and the last of Vil’s fan club had been sated and sent off for the day. The once brilliant blue sky had darkened to a deep violet--nearly black--and the stars, one by one, awoke from their daytime slumber to play amid the moonlight. Night Raven College, touched in silver, was a new world entirely.

Vil ran a hand along the nape of his neck and sighed.

“Excellent work, Roi du Poison!” Rook sang, patting his dorm leader on the back. “You’ve survived the onslaught--though you appear to be a little worse for wear from it.”

“I am not in need of your insightful commentary at this time, Rook,” Vil warned, his tone pointed.

The huntsman did not flinch--not a single beat missed. He removed his hat and held it close to his chest as he dipped into a bow. “Oui.”

A moment elapsed before Rook lifted his head, eyes creased teasingly. “... Though I would still advise you, mon roi, to retire early for the evening. All this stress may lead to a breako--”

“I am in need of some fresh air,” Vil declared sharply. “If you have need of me, I will be outside.”

“... Bien sûr.”

The birthday boy turned and swept out of the stuffy attic. Down the staircase he descended, and out into the bitter night air--or rather, he would have, were it not for ramming his foot into an oddly placed box, covered in bright purple and red, and raw macaroni pieces.

Vil hissed and drew his foot back--but to his alarm, the box began... wiggling intensely and... giggling?

“What in the name of the Great Seven is this doing here?” he wondered out loud, but no response came.

Out of curiosity, Vil cautiously prodded the box with his foot again. The touch immediately elicited another loud giggle.

Something... No, someone is in there. Vil brought a hand to his forehead, heaving another sigh (what number was it now?).

His manager had warned him about accepting suspicious packages--particularly crazed or rowdy fans would sometimes send nasty pranks or parcels with dangerous goods inside. He wasn’t about to risk his health and safety for a shady package. Vil would go fetch Rook to open it for him--

Bu then it happened.

The box flew open, and out erupted...

A clown.

Quintessential--face painted a stark white, garishly colorful lips, eyes, and cheeks, a bulbous and round nose, a fluffy rainbow wig... Even the outfit was clownish, the fabric baggy but bright, with a frilly collar, gloves, and massive shoes that squeaked with even the slightest movement.

The clown let out a whoop of excitement, leapt out of the box, and eagerly honked their nose. It squeaked loudly, like a dog’s chew toy or a kazoo.

Vil stumbled back a few steps in complete and utter astonishment. He squinted through the thick clown makeup and gaudy clothing, his mind slowly piecing together the familiar facial features.

The cheesy potato.

“Mac... Is that you?”

“Heehoo,” Mac honked their nose again. They wore the widest, goofiest grin Vil had ever witnessed, even by the standards of his most lovestruck of followers. “Happy, happy birthday, Vil!!”

He ignored the greeting and cut to a question. “... Dare I ask why it is that you are dressed in such an outlandish getup?”

“Hehehe... Actually! It’s cuz... I’m your birthday present!!” Mac declared, splaying their arms out.

“You... what?”

“I’m your birthday present!!” They repeated, practically vibrating with zeal. “Cuz every queen needs a loyal court jester...!!”

“I am in no need of such--”

“Please please please please PLEASE let me serve you!!” Mac wailed desperately, flinging themselves at Vil’s feet. “I’ll tell the dumbest jokes, and I can be your personal human footstool--you can step on me whenever you want!! I’ll make you the tastiest, cheesiest pasta, and maybe we can get closer and then move in someplace together and live a nice domestic life, and have lots of kids--I’ve already got their names picked out--and and and...”

“Stop. You’re drooling,” Vil said coldly. His cruel, frigid tone sent a shiver down Mac’s spine, filling them with a sense of ecstasy that only he could deliver.

“Heheheh...” They wiped saliva from the corner of their mouth with the back of their hand. “Sorry, I just get so excited when I talk about you.”

“I know,” Vil groaned, cradling his forehead in a hand. “... I know.”

“Are you... angry with me? I-If you are, please take out your rage by stomping all over my back and snapping me like a glowstick!! PLEASE USE ME, SCHOENHEIT!!”

“You never seem to stop spouting nonsensical logic.”

“I don’t need logic...!! Because I have something way better than logic: LOVE!!”

Vil glanced away.

A deathly silence fell over the foyer.

For one horrible, dreadful moment, Mac thought they had done something wrong. It wasn’t like Vil--confident, beautiful Vil--to be at such a loss for words. Was he so terribly cross that he couldn’t even bring himself to spit out any insults at them? Did he hate them so much that he didn’t even deem them worthy to receive his vitriol?  

“H-Hey, Vil... Did I.. Did I go too far?”

“... Pfft.”

“Huh?”

Laughing.

Vil was laughing.

Well, not a full-on deep, rumbling belly laugh. It was more like a faint chuckle, soft and delicate, like wind chimes blowing in the spring breeze.

“You never cease to amuse,” Vil remarked, his perfectly groomed brows pinching together, and his lips forming a mocking smile. “Lifting my mood after a long and arduous day certainly takes talent. Perhaps you are more suited to playing the role of court clown after all.”

“Ah, I... I am?” Mac perked up. “I am!! See, see? I can make myself ultra useful to you, Vil--so please accept me as your birthday present!!”

“Hmm. We shall see about that. For now, though...” Vil bent down to meet you at eye level and, extending a hand, he pulled you up from your miserable heap back onto two feet. “We should return to the party.”

“W-We?!” Mac’s heart fluttered.

“... Do your ears work? Yes, I said we. I won’t have you sitting here cold and alone, like some sad, limp noodle that was never properly cleaned up. You will join the birthday festivities, the same as any of my other guests. Is that clear?”

“Yessir!! Whatever you want, Vil!!”

“Good. Now let us away.”

And so, hand in hand, the queen and his clown headed off to their gala.