#that there’s nothing i wouldn’t do in your name

[darklcy]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐭.

────˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚─────

‣ vi x reader | arcane masterlist | 1.9k words | enemies to lovers, angst, not super fluffy but happy end, mentions of low self esteem

‣ you assumed she hated you, but maybe it goes deeper than that when a fight has you taking shelter in her childhood home

‣ welcome back vi lovers! the arcane s2 brainrot is here and im back from my hiatus! (i hope you enjoy i may be rough i haven't written in a while)

Vi was too reckless for her own good.

Self-sabotaging can only carry you through so much, her invisible trophy wall of each violent encounter growing by the day. It was frustrating to see her do this, and yet every time a splotch of bruises formed, or a new line of blood dirtied her cheek, the more her perseverance began to crack. 

The pressure was abundant on her shoulders, you could practically feel it yourself. Whether she pulled you in, or you jumped yourself, the burden was also yours to carry. 

Sometimes you wondered if she disliked you. A simple question of well-being, how are you, earned a chilling glare and passive aggressive comments she meticulously crafted to falter your ego. Maybe she thought you were too weak to understand her pain, or perhaps it was the way your concern pushed through whatever bite she spat at you. 

Or maybe she just didn’t like you.

A bit ironic, seeing her sustainable relationship with the Enforcer from topside, the last person you would’ve thought her to be acquaintances with. And if you observed closer, Vi seemed to carry herself differently around her, this Caitlyn from Piltover. 

Though, there was credit to give. Her marksmanship was unlike anyone you’d ever seen in the lanes. She was light on her feet and agile, shooting her targets with perfect precision. No wonder she bore a badge proudly. 

And you were anything but a fighter. Maybe that’s why Vi looks at you the way she does. She’d marked you as a liability, vulnerable to the dangers of the world. It upset you, the way her nose scrunched up with her glares and cold shoulders. 

Who was she to judge you anyway? Every time you choose violence, you come out broken and bloody, so what’s the point? Whatever. Screw her and her opinions. Who the fuck needs her anyway. 

If only you’d fucked off when she told you to. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this mess. Here. In the ruins of Vi’s childhood home, with a bloody nose and bruised cheek. With Vi. Damn your determination to prove her wrong. Damn those thugs for surrounding her completely, for not giving her a second to get back up. There was no stopping what was to come, that was clear the moment your bags were strewn hastily to the ground and shouts were thrown at her perpetrators. A sock to the face immediately took to the ground. The punk wouldn’t stop pounding hits to your face. Damn you, Vi.

Your pain wasn’t for nothing when Vi dragged herself up and freed you from his grip, knocking his ass to the concrete with a bloodied lip. Your vision was blurry as she took off running with her fingers tight around your wrist. When you stopped to breathe is when you realized your surroundings, confirmed with a stone marked with the names Power and Violet. 

The neon sign that previously towered over this ghost town had been toppled over and destroyed; half the foundations of the house torn to dust. The sight made you frown. The only remaining wall was to your left, sheltering a twin sized bed mattress with a tattered sheet on top. A groan to your side beckoned you to look over, watching as she shuffled to the mattress. In the distance, you could make out the faint echoes of yelling, the vast cliffs muffling the words together into a vague holler. 

“It’s probably best to sleep here. They’re not gonna leave anytime soon.”

Vi grumbled, not missing the hint of annoyance coming from her. She was laying on her side now, back to you and arms circling her stomach. You didn’t respond, instead trudging over to the bed and stiffly laying down beside her, back slightly grazing hers.

Neither of you spoke a word. 

It was hard to tell what she was feeling. She never was one to vocalize her thoughts, especially with you. With Caitlyn, maybe.

“...I didn’t need your help.”

Your shoulders tensed up. 

“I had control of everything. You just messed it all up.”

The fabric of the thin sheets acted as a stress reliever as you gripped tighter and tighter.

“...What the hell was I supposed to do? Seriously,”

“Not interfere? Now we’re stuck here.”

Today was not the day to be dealing with her attitude. You were sore, bloody, and in the worst mood possible to be treated like this. It didn’t help that her words stung, the bitterness stabbing into your open wounds.

“Well, maybe don’t pick fights with a group of guys who are clearly bigger and stronger than you.”

She snapped her body up and looked down on you.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You rolled over to your back, glaring up at her.

“They were clearly stronger than you! If I hadn’t shown up who knows what the fuck they would’ve done?”

“Oh yeah? And what good did you do? Take a few swings to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to be eye level.

“I mean, yeah?! If I hadn’t taken those punches, you would still be on that damn street!”

Vi mockingly put a hand over her heart. “My hero.”

“Fuck off.” You moved to shove her in the shoulder, but her hand snapped around your wrist. Her glare intensified, eyes turning sharp and nose scrunching up. All your anger drowned in a pool of nerves while her fingers tightened, the skin of your hand turning red. She leaned in uncomfortably close.

“You really wanna go there?”

Her eyes bore into yours, not faltering eye contact for even a second. 

You could feel the tension in your neck beginning to ache. You would never win against her, but the thought was intoxicating. After a few quiet seconds, you yanked your wrist back, her fingers marking red indents into your skin. 

She scoffed, nodding her head while moving away from you. “That’s what I thought.”

You wanted to beat her. You wanted to win, just once. 

“What the fuck is your problem anyway.”

Her sharp eyes flickered to yours. It intimidated you every time, like she was the big bad bully in school, teeth grazing her lips as she fought back the retaliation.

You pushed through. “...All I’ve ever done was just try to help. Yet here you are, always pissed at me for no damn reason. What have I done to make you hate me so fucking much?”

Her eyebrows pinched together for a breath of a second. “...Huh?”

You threw your arms up, shuffling forward and standing from the cushion. 

“Every single day, you treat me like I’m some helpless child, like I’m a fucking idiot who can’t do anything. I’m an adult, Vi. Just because I can’t fight doesn’t mean I can’t do anything, for fucks sake.”

She watched you pace throughout the empty house, her eyes heavy as lead. You huff.

“It’s like, every time I try to do anything, you look at me like I’m some stupid child who keeps messing up. I’m tired of it. Either tell me straight up or leave me alone.”

Your spine met stone as you slid down to the floor, her carved name above your head. 

Pulling your knees up, your chin fell to your chest, arms dangling across your kneecaps to finally give your body some rest. Didn’t feel like a victory, but the weight of her burden dissipated just by a little. You’d never snapped back before, never given yourself the strength to stand up to her. Enough was enough. You can’t live like this anymore.

Vi remained quiet, whether she was debating on arguing or not, you didn’t care. The fight of sleep was winning, and your eyelids began to slowly surrender.

“...I wasn’t going to do anything, yknow.”

They snapped back open.

“Earlier, I mean. I wasn’t actually gonna hurt you.”

You don’t move to face her. Vi continues.

“I don’t hate you, you just,” She sighs. “You do things that confuse the fuck out of me, and frankly it pisses me off.”

You scoff. “Like what?” 

“Like jumping into that fight. That was a dumbass move, and you know it.”

“Oh my god. How is that a dumbass move- I helped you out, didn’t I? Besides, I put myself there, why are you the one pissed off? I should be pissed off.”

“Yes. Yes, you should!” She stands up from the mattress to tower over you, her voice beginning to raise.

“You should be pissed off, because you got socked in the face and now, you’re stuck here. Why did you do that? That was so stupid.”

A pinch pulled your brows together. “Obviously I know what happened, I’m literally here. What point are you trying to get at?”

Vi shakes her head and runs a hand through her spiked, greasy hair. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how dense you are.”

You watch as she saunters over to the same name engraved stone to slide down the rock, her knees knocking with yours. She’s silent for a moment as you stare at her profile, the hint of a smirk coming up her lips.

“It’s stupid of you to concern yourself with me. It’s my problem, not yours.”

You still didn’t get it.

“But why does that piss you off?”

She turns towards you now.

“I know what I’m capable of. I know what I’m getting into. You don’t. You walked into a fight that wasn’t yours to begin with, and in return, you got hurt.”

“So…you’re mad that I got punched in the face?”

A groan leaves her falling chin. 

“I’m mad that you were there to begin with. I’m mad that you got hurt on my behalf, and I’m mad that you’re dragged into this mess. It’s my shit to deal with.”

She pauses to take a deep inhale. “And…I took my frustration out on you, and I’m sorry.”

The tensed muscles of anger faded from her apology, her eyes carrying a softness you’d never seen before. She was being genuine. Open. Vulnerable. 

You sighed with her. 

“Thank you.” 

The quiet that fell over you two now was pleasant. It was nice seeing Vi like this, being used to her thirst for arguing. Your head leaned back against the rock as you let your eyelids close once more. 

“How bad is it?”

Her fingers touch you softly before you peer up at her. She gazes at the blood smeared under your nose with a grimace, her pointer finger stroking the welt on your cheek. 

“It’s fine. Could be worse.”

She shakes her head. “...It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

You scoffed. “It’s completely mine. I’m the dumbass who jumped into a fight that wasn’t mine, remember?”

You smile at her despite the twang in your jaw. Her hand falls back to her side.

“My hero.”

Her lips upturned, the scar on her upper lip flashing itself at you. You don’t miss the way she falters for a moment, relishing the close proximity her face is to yours. Her fingers twitch by her thighs to touch your cheek again, but instead she smacks a hand on top of your head, gently ruffling your hair. 

She stands up to make way back to the bed. “Come to bed. You need rest, too.”

You haven’t moved just yet, the whirlwind of her processing slowly in your brain. Your skin felt hot under your cheeks, but as you shakily stood up to join her, you found the burden of her turning into something else. 

Vi was different, now. Good different. You liked this different. Laying down beside her on the mattress, you don’t turn away from her.

[funnygirlthatbelle]

Okay so I was curious how many of these would actually be good/fun names so let’s rate em.

Alpha- I do not need to explain myself, 0/10

Bravo- this doesn’t really feel like a name, but there’s nothing wrong with it either, 5/10

Charlie- that’s just a nice, solid name, 8/10

Delta- my mind either goes to math, airlines, or covid variants, but it does have a nice ring to it, 4/10

Echo- this would be a very cool name, but I can see the jokes getting old fast, 7/10

Foxtrot- does not register as a name, but calling yourself Fox would be badass, 4/10

Golf- I only just realized that this was golf and not gulf and I’ve been working at an airport for the past two years, 1/10

Hotel- that is just a noun, and the nicknames wouldn’t even be good, 3/10

India- this is a name I’ve heard around, not my favorite but not bad either, 6/10

Juliet- a trans woman naming herself Juliet feels like such a classy power move, 10/10

Kilo- too easy for people to take this as an invitation to talk about weight, 2/10

Lima- certainly not a name I’ve heard before, but follows enough of naming patterns that it’s not gonna stick out as an obviously changed name, 6/10

Mike- I mean, it’s objectively a name, but you went through all the trouble of changing your name only to land on Mike? 5/10

November- I’ve never met a November, but month names are common enough that it would read as fun and unusual but still a name, 8/10

Oscar- a classic name that’s still relatively unique, prepare for the Wilde and the Sesame Street jokes, but I love it, 8/10

Papa- please do not make your name papa, 1/10

Quebec- there’s nothing wrong with this but it doesn’t spark joy for me or feel like a name, 5/10

Romeo- a solid choice, but I can see the jokes getting old really quickly, 7/10

Sierra- hell yeah, 9/10

Tango- by no means the worst of the nouns, but still not great, 4/10

Uniform- this is probably one of the worst nouns, 2/10

Victor- a classic name that doesn’t have an obvious joke attached, 10/10

Whiskey- if you’re down to make a strong impression, you definitely will if your name is whiskey, 5/10

X-ray- please do not name yourself after a form of medical testing, 0/10

Yankee- not that bad in terms of naming conventions, but feels way too ‘murica to be a good name, 1/10

Zulu- following normal naming conventions, this would be cute, but it’s also an ethnicity so that feels like a bad idea, 1/10

That puts our average nato alphabet name at right around a 5.5/10. So yeah, definitely an option to consider if you’re looking for a new name!

if you're transgender and need name ideas, may I direct you toward the nato alphabet because like. delta? november?? echo?? romeo is like the butchest name. please consider foxtrot. being named whiskey would be cool as hell. I know multiple transmascs who were a bit too into english lit and are named victor now. I've met people named sierra who were trans in every direction. maybe don't name yourself golf

[leaawrites]

Dial Drunk

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Lando is young, drunk and in love.

Warnings: police, driving under influence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, bad dialogue (this one is old)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

He’d seen the blue and red colour in his rear view mirror long before he could even register that he was sat in his car, neither where he was driving. His head felt dull, filled with too many thoughts of things he swore to forget. Things he swore wouldn’t matter anymore because they shouldn’t. One of them being her.

She was in all of them actually, whether she played the main character or was just a side thought, but she was always there. In the back of his mind, where he still heard her voice talk to him in such a soft tone like no one would ever be able to do, she was still taking his hands and making him dance with her through his living room. Even against every complaint from his side, she wouldn’t let him sit down again. Instead they were swaying to the rock song that played next.

Now, he was looking at the officer standing next to his car, a disappointment look in both their eyes and a sense of the other in their mind. They were in the middle of nowhere. Lando on his way to her. The man on his way back to his work, probably to link out for tonight and go back home. A place where Lando should be too.

“What have we been up to tonight, sir?” He asked, looking down at the bruised knuckles that still held onto the steering wheel like he was afraid of letting go and having nothing to steady himself on.

Lando wasn’t too sure how to answer. He wasn’t too sure about what he was up to that night himself. A couple drinks in a club, which Max urged him to go to, in order to ‘free him from his bed and sulking’. After the shots, there were some girls. Interesting enough to dance with but he knew that they wouldn’t come home with him, he was sure they knew that too. They knew who he was. And then - a guy he wouldn’t call a stranger, neither a friend, simply some guy he knew - said something about her. About them.

His voice dripped with alcohol, his words intoxicated by the shots they took together. Lando shouldn’t have taken them the way he did, he knew that now, but it felt right in the moment. His fist in the other guy’s face, he just wanted him to stop talking. Unsure if he would’ve made him quiet forever, Max pulled him away quicker than Lando could think about his actions. Then he went away; out into the cold and into his car to tell her about the bad he’d done for her.

“Not a lot,” Lando answered, looking down guilty. Both of them knew that Lando wasn’t sober, they also knew that he wouldn’t get away from this unharmed.

“May you blow into this?”

He did, and when the officer raised his eyebrows at the result of the alcohol test, Lando knew he was fucked.

“Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?” The officer asked, dialling a number of his own on his phone already, not looking up at Lando once while talking to him. It was kind of rude, Lando believed, to ignore someone while you were talking to them. “Any emergency contacts?”

At no response, the man held out his hand for Lando to place his phone in it. Going to the emergency contacts himself, there was only one. Y/n. Simple. No heart behind her name anymore, no silly nickname, but her face was still beside it. Dialling the number it rang and rang. Lando could hear the endless sound from his place in the car, it dragged on for a while before, in the end, she hung up.

“Your only emergency contacts and they don’t even want to speak to you, not very helpful,” he commented, handing Lando his phone back. The screen lighting up at the interaction. Her face still smiling at him, he hadn’t had the heart to make her disappear completely from everywhere he knew her from. Some part of her was still with him and he couldn’t just throw it away.

“Can I drive you somewhere, sir?”

The outline of her building was in his sight sooner than he’d like it to be, the speech he’d rehearsed ever since they called it quits was now somewhere still in his car, left together with the jacket of his she loved to wear.

“You alright, kid?” The officer - Jeff - asked, knowing too well what he was going through. Anyone willing to look at him could see it in the once white, now red of his eye. It was visible in his pulled down lip corners and the void of nothing in his eyes. Feeling nothing was worse than feeling the pain, they concluded together in silence on their drive to the address Lando gave him.

‘I have a kid of my own, you know, son? He’s been in love with this boy for years now, too afraid of what would happen to him if he stated the truth, what the people would think of him. But, in the end, I told him, that love couldn’t be stopped, no matter what other people thought about it. Whether it was wrong or right in their eyes, it will always matter how it feels to you. If it’s hurting, change it. If it makes you happy, try everything to make it stay that way.’

“Thanks,” Lando muttered, a soft, still forced smile creeping on his lips now that he was there. The place he went to in his dreams as the dream she always believed he was. The dream boy she saw in him. Her dream boy.

“Good luck.”

The doorbell seemed too loud for the quiet night now, as he looked at it. The metal of it seeming too heavy for him to be able to push it down and make himself known. He couldn’t throw pebbles at her window, he wasn’t even too sure if he could even remember which window was hers.

But her name called out for him to say it once more, no matter the outcome. He just had to try it one more time.

Pushing the circle in the middle of the medal, next to her name, he could hear it echo in his mind. The sound too familiar now that he was stood here again. How many times had he been on the receiving end because he went to her apartment unannounced, without her there, and answering the door for postmen or neighbours? Too many too count, he concluded in the same moment as he heard her voice through the stereo.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy, like she’d only woken up from the sound.

All of a sudden, Lando felt flustered. Ashamed for thinking she’d just forgive him on the spot because he told her, that he loved her. It wasn’t as easy as that and that thought only crept up on him now: she had every right to deny him. But what then? What would he do? Where would he go? He couldn’t call Max, disturbing his night out because he wasn’t the man she wanted anymore. He had no one else here. His parents were too far away and everyone else he knew was either in Monaco or somewhere else in the world, just not London.

“Hello?” She voiced again, more rage filling her voice this time. “I swear if this is some stupid joke, just let it be-”

“It’s me.” Maybe he was the joke. Maybe he should just let it be.

The simple sound of his voice made her go quiet, but she didn’t hang up, she was still there, her breathing was heard when listened to closely enough.

“Can we talk?”

She let him in. The harsh buzz of the door taking him by surprise at first, before he quickly pushed it open and made his way into the hallway, up the stairs until he stood in front of her door. It was open, open for him to enter. Lando stayed still for a second longer than normally someone would, before he pushed it open to reveal the apartment behind the walls. It still looked the same, she had less pictures - theirs gone from their place - but other than that it was all the same as when he left.

Y/n was sat on the sofa, knees pulled up close to her chest and her eyes were fixated on the floor in front of her. The far left of the cushion still empty, waiting for him. Slowly, Lando made his way towards it, sitting down and taking off his head like it was disrespectful if he didn’t do it.

“You wanted to talk?” Her voice almost sounded sarcastic, like she couldn’t believe those words actually left his mouth. Him, the man who left without a second word beside: This is something I have to do alone; before walking out the door for what she believed to be forever now wanted to talk all of a sudden.

“I was dumb,” he started, the words coming out faster than he could process them. The alcohol taking off the nerves and adding the free mind he needed. “I wasn’t truthful and I was stupid and an complete wanker. I wanted you beside me, I also will and want and have. I want to love you and I know I screwed up but please, please give me another chance. Please, Y/n. Monaco, it’s so quiet without you. My whole life is too quiet now that you aren’t there. You and your laugh and talks about whatever it is that’s been on your mind lately. I miss it all.

“I miss you.”

She would lie if she said she didn’t feel the same, the city felt too big now that she had spent more time alone in it. But she would lie if she said that she was ready to forgive him.

“You hurt me. You really did.”

“I know.”

“You made me feel unwanted, like a burden almost.”

“You could never be a burden to me.”

“Didn’t sound like it back then.”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple and the side of her face in order to make the headache go away that she knew was coming her way.

“You can’t just expect me to forgive you.”

“I don’t,” he assured her, edging closer to her side.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to try and make you trust me again.”

“I never stopped trusting you.”

“You should’ve.”

“I know, but I didn’t.”

“Look, Lando.” She could see the feelings of hope and disappointment battling in his eyes, neither wanting to be wrong, because they both knew they were right, in certain ways. “I can’t just forgive you. You have to work that out yourself.”

“I will. I will do whatever it takes for you to trust me again, I promise. I just can’t keep on living without you.”

[leona-hawthorne]

1k celebration navigation

based on this request from @lov3notts — enjoy bb 💋 it got pretty long but… what can i say? the request was too good!

disclaimer: not all works for my 1k celebration request will be this long, this one was just special <3

18+ warnings ; angst , smut , oral (f receiving) , unprotected piv , fingering

FAULT LINE… book browsing

THEODORE NOTT. LORENZO BERKSHIRE.

You didn’t know how you got here. One moment, you’d been exchanging sharp words with Theodore Nott, and the next, your back hit the sheets of his bed, his hands grasping your hips with a quiet desperation he’d never admit aloud.

All you could focus on was the heady pull of his mouth, the damp trail of sloppy, bruising kisses he was leaving along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He’d barely given you a second to think, to breathe, before he’d dipped down, fingers splaying possessively against your skin, his face between your legs like it was the only place he wanted to be. The world shrank down to the muffled sound of your own moans, of Theo’s name falling from your lips in a mess of breaths you couldn’t seem to steady. It felt dangerous, maybe because this was already the fifth time this month.

“God, you’re loud today,” he mumbled against you, though the way he held you in place made it clear he wouldn’t have it any other way. There was an edge of something heated in his voice, a spark of unspoken emotion that made you wonder if you were losing your mind, or if he felt it too.

And yet, Theo would never admit anything. To him, this was casual, a dangerous game you both pretended to play out of boredom or maybe lust, like it was just one of those strange things that happened between people who didn’t like each other. And it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, right?

You weren’t supposed to find yourself wishing he’d keep his hands on you just a moment longer. But as he glanced up with that familiar cocky smirk and an unreadable glint in his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you asked for more.

Only, you already knew the answer—he’d laugh, probably say something mocking, and pull away.

Or worse, he wouldn’t.

"Shut up," you hissed back, your voice strained with pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging roughly. "You love it when I'm loud."

It was true, and you both knew it. Every time you did this, every filthy word and wanton moan, it only seemed to fuel his hunger. You could see it in the way he devoured you, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satiate him.

But that was impossible. This was just sex, nothing more. A way to pass the time, to blow off steam. You fucking hated each other, after all. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourselves.

When the haze faded and reality settled in, you felt that familiar pang of regret creeping in. This arrangement with Theo always left you feeling raw, shaky. And while you tried to ignore it, the constant sneaking around and the secrecy wore on you more than you’d ever let him know.

“Alright, I should go,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze as you pushed yourself up, gathering your scattered clothes from around the room.

“Leaving already?” Theo’s voice had that casual, mocking lilt, but there was something colder beneath it. He propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with a look that felt a little too intent. “Got somewhere more important to be?”

“Yes,” you replied, fastening your shirt with sharp, decisive movements. “Actually, I do.” The answer was a little too defensive, a little too true, and you knew he’d pick up on it.

Theo’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned back with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I see. Out to meet your precious Enzo, I’m guessing?”

The way he said Lorenzo’s name—Enzo, like it was laced with poison—made you bristle. You finished buttoning up your shirt, feeling your stomach twist with anger you didn’t want to admit to. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you replied, keeping your tone cool and detached. “But yes, actually. He’s my best friend, Theo. Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

Theo’s face darkened, though he hid it behind a lazy laugh. “Of course. How convenient for him. Guess he’ll never know how often you come running here before you run to him, will he?”

The accusation in his voice cut deep, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped, “Believe me, you’re the last person I’d brag about.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to hurt. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he just shrugged, the motion stiff and forced. “Right. Well, thanks for reminding me of my place.”

His voice was cold, bitter, and it stung more than you wanted to admit. Theo stood, grabbing his own clothes and starting to dress without looking at you. “Don’t let me keep you, then.”

He turned away from you, reaching for his cigarettes on the nightstand. You watched him light one up, taking a long drag before he spoke again, his voice carefully neutral. “See you around.”

The tension was thick enough to choke on, and for a moment, you thought about staying, about explaining something even you didn’t fully understand. But you forced yourself to look away, heading toward the door before he could see the uncertainty in your expression.

Out in the corridor, the cool air stung, clearing the last remnants of Theo’s touch from your skin. But you hadn’t taken more than a few steps before you froze, your heart stuttering in your chest.

Standing a few feet away, arms crossed and brows raised, was Lorenzo.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low, his usual warmth replaced with confusion. “What the hell were you doing in there?”

Panic flared in your chest as you struggled to keep your face calm, fumbling for something—anything—to explain. “Oh, um…” You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded more natural than it felt. “Just, uh, tutoring Theo.”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, unconvinced. “At eleven o’clock at night?” His tone was skeptical, and he studied your face with a concern that only deepened when he noticed you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You were tutoring the guy you say you can’t stand?”

Heat crept up your neck as you tried to keep your voice even. “It’s just… well, he needed some help with Charms,” you stammered, giving a weak shrug. “You know how he struggles with it.”

“Since when do you care about his grades?” Lorenzo pressed, eyes narrowing. “Or about anything Nott needs?”

A wave of guilt crashed over you, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze, giving him what you hoped was an exasperated eye-roll. “Lorenzo, it’s not that deep,” you lied, pushing your hands into your pockets to keep them from fidgeting. “He asked for help, and I’m just trying to be… nice.”

Lorenzo stepped closer, his brow furrowed with suspicion. "Come on, don't play dumb with me," he said softly, his tone less accusatory now, but still stern. "I'm not an idiot, Y/N. I know you too well. There's clearly something going on."

He reached out, gently grasping your chin and tilting your face up to force eye contact. "Tell me the truth," he urged, his brown eyes searching yours intensely. "Is there... something between you and him?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the question, and for a moment, you simply stared at him, mouth agape. "What? No!" you finally managed to splutter out, pulling away from his touch. "Absolutely not! I still hate him, alright? I was just doing him a favor. That's all."

But the denial rang hollow, even to your own ears.

Lorenzo held your gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, but there was a tightness around his eyes that betrayed his skepticism. "Right. Of course. I won't make you talk about it if you don't want to, Y/N," he said quietly. "But I'm not stupid, and I know you better than anyone. So if there's something going on..." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. "Just... remember who your real friends are, okay?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, tossing your hands up in exasperation. "Look, Enzo, nothing's going on with Theo, alright? It really was just tutoring." You crossed your arms tightly, your jaw set stubbornly. "Can we please just drop it and go to your dorm?”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and started walking down the corridor, your shoes snapping sharply against the stone floor. You could feel Lorenzo's eyes boring into your back, could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to puzzle out the truth.

Lorenzo watched you walk away for a long moment, conflict evident on his features. Finally, he sighed heavily and fell into step beside you, his longer strides easily matching your pace. "Fine," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "We'll drop it. For now."

The following day passed in a blur, your thoughts clouded with the tension from the night before. Lorenzo’s suspicion lingered in the back of your mind, a constant, nagging weight. You’d brushed it off as best you could, but you knew him too well to think he’d let it go for good.

The party was already in full swing by the time you and Lorenzo arrived, the Slytherin common room buzzing with energy. Music pulsed through the air, mingling with laughter and the faint scent of firewhiskey.

You and Lorenzo found yourselves in a corner of the room, tucked away from the loudest part of the crowd. He had stuck close to your side all evening, his arm brushing against yours occasionally as you moved through the crowd together. 

You were leaning in, listening intently as Lorenzo spun a tale of all the things that went wrong during his Quidditch practice the other day, when it suddenly hit you—the way his breath warmed your ear, the subtle scent of his cologne, the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours. He was so fucking close.

A shiver ran down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else—the music, the noise, the presence of others nearby.

Lorenzo smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He took a sip from his cup before he set it down on the edge of the table.

“You know, you’ve been different lately,” he said suddenly, his tone softer, quieter, cutting through the noise around you. His words made you freeze, the playful grin slipping from your face.

“What do you mean?” 

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your temple as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.  “I mean… you’ve seemed distant,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours, his voice barely above the hum of the music. “Like there’s something you’re not telling me. But I don’t care, Y/N. Whatever it is… I don’t care. I just want you to know I’m here.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the pit of your stomach, and you blinked up at him, completely caught off guard. Your brain scrambled for something to say, anything to break the tension that had suddenly thickened between you. “Uh, Lorenzo, what—”

But before you could finish, his hands cupped your face, his touch firm but gentle as he leaned in. His lips captured yours in a kiss so sudden and so passionate, it stole the breath from your lungs. His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer as his other hand slipped to your waist, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You froze for a moment, your mind racing, unable to comprehend what was happening. Lorenzo. Your best friend. Kissing you.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, and you felt yourself melting into the heat of him despite the alarm bells ringing in your head.

But the way he kissed you—the way his thumb brushed against your cheek, the heat in his touch—it was impossible to think about anything else. For a split second, you leaned into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself.

Lorenzo broke the kiss abruptly, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable. For a long, tense moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained need, "God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Tell me you don't feel this too, Y/N."

His gaze burned into yours, pleading and desperate, and you could see the fear lurking beneath the surface—that you might reject him, that he'd lose you forever. In that instant, you understood the depth of his feelings for you, the years of pent-up longing that had finally spilled over the edge. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed and utterly speechless, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and guilt and something else you didn’t dare name. 

What the hell was happening?

Lorenzo's expression faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he read your stunned silence. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, taking a step back as if physically recoiling from the rejection.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, a low, mocking voice cut through the charged silence like a blade.

“Well, Y/N,” Theo drawled, stepping between you and Lorenzo with an expression that could only be described as murderous. “You moved on pretty fucking quick, considering my head was between your legs just last night.”

The words hit like a slap, shattering the fragile bubble that had formed between you and Lorenzo.

Lorenzo stiffened beside you, his gaze snapping to Theo with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization. “What?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. Then, softer, almost to himself, “I knew it. You weren’t just tutoring him.”

“Enzo—” you started, but Theo cut you off, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he stepped closer, his sharp jawline tight with barely concealed fury.

“Tutoring?” Theo echoed mockingly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that what you told him, sweetheart? That’s cute. Really cute.”

You felt like the ground was falling away beneath you. “Theo, stop—”

“No,” Theo snapped, taking another step forward as his eyes flickered to Lorenzo. “No, I’ll tell him the truth since you seem so set on lying. I’ve been fucking her. That’s what we’ve been doing. Not tutoring. Not studying. Fucking.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he turned to you. “Is that true?” he demanded. “Is he telling the truth, Y/N?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The words lodged in your throat, choking you.

“Don’t bother answering,” Theo sneered. “She’s not going to deny it. She can’t.”

And that was it. The dam broke. Lorenzo lunged forward, grabbing Theo by the collar of his shirt and yanking him close. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that?” he snarled, his voice low and venomous.

Theo didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk widened, infuriatingly smug. “Takes one to know one,” he shot back, his tone almost taunting.

“Stop!” you yelled, stepping forward and trying to wedge yourself between them, but neither boy paid you any mind.

“You’re such a goddamn prick,” Enzo spat, stepping closer until the two boys were nearly nose to nose. “You think this is a joke? You think her feelings are something you can just fuck with?”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteous act,” Theo shot back, his voice venomous. “You’re not exactly subtle, Berkshire. You’ve been panting after her for years, but guess what? She came to me. Not you.”

“She’s not yours,” Lorenzo barked, his voice rising as his grip on Theo’s collar twisted tighter.

“And she’s not yours either,” Theo snapped back, his voice equally loud and filled with venom. “But that didn’t stop you from shoving your tongue down her throat just now, did it?”

“Nott, you should fuckin’ shut your mouth before I make you,” Lorenzo snapped, shoving Theo backward.

Theo stumbled but recovered quickly, his eyes flashing with rage as he stepped closer, his hands curling into fists. “You want to hit me? Go ahead,” he taunted, his voice deadly calm. “But it won’t change the fact that I’ve had her in ways you never will.”

“That’s enough!” you shouted, stepping between them, your hands pressed against Lorenzo’s chest to keep him from lunging at Theo again. “Both of you, stop it! You’re both being ridiculous!”

Lorenzo’s eyes softened slightly as they flickered to you, but his jaw remained clenched, his breathing heavy. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and strained, “tell me the truth. Is he lying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the weight of their gazes bore down on you.

“Y/N,” Theo said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Just tell him. Stop hiding it.”

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt around you. Everything was spiraling out of control, the tension between the three of you threatening to snap like a frayed rope.

“I…” you began, but the words stuck in your throat.

Lorenzo shook his head, his expression twisting with hurt. “I knew it,” he whispered, stepping back. “I fucking knew it.”

“Enzo, wait! I—It’s complicated," you called out, reaching for his arm as he turned to walk away, but he shrugged off your touch.

“Don't," he bit out, his voice tight with pain and anger. "Just...don't."

Lorenzo didn’t look back. His broad shoulders were tense as he stormed away, leaving you rooted to the spot. Your hand fell limply to your side, the sting of his departure cutting deeper than you expected. The noise of the party seemed muted now, distorted, like you were hearing it underwater. The laughter, the music, the chatter—it all felt too far away, irrelevant against the confusion swirling around your head.

In the span of five fucking minutes, your best friend had kissed you, confessed feelings you never saw coming, and then walked away shattered by a truth you hadn’t been ready to admit. The guilt churned in your stomach, thick and nauseating. 

You barely had time to process when Theo’s low, sarcastic voice broke the suffocating silence. “Well, that went well.”

You stood frozen, staring at the floor, your chest heaving as you struggled to process what had just happened—the way Lorenzo’s lips had felt on yours, the raw confession in his eyes, and then the brutal crash as Theo ripped it all apart.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Y/N?” Theo’s voice broke the haze again, low and gravelly, laced with something that almost sounded like regret.

Your head snapped up, and without thinking, you turned to him, your emotions boiling over. You shoved at his chest with both hands, hard enough to make him take a step back. “Why?” you hissed, your voice trembling with anger and something dangerously close to tears. “Why do you always have to ruin everything?” You shoved him again, harder this time, though it still felt useless against his solid frame. 

Theo caught your wrist as you went to push him again, his grip firm but not harsh. His gray eyes locked onto yours, glinting with something unreadable in the dim light of the room. “Ruin?” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “You think I ruined this? Don’t pin this on me, Y/N. You’re the one playing two sides.”

“I wasn’t playing anything!” you snapped, yanking your arm free and stepping back. The distance felt safer, less suffocating. “I didn’t ask for this—any of it. But you—” You pointed at him, your chest heaving as you fought to steady your voice. “You always have to push and push until everything falls apart!”

His jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes—anger, maybe, or hurt. “Falls apart?” he echoed, his voice rising. “You’re the one who came to me, sweetheart. Remember that? You’re the one who wanted this.”

“I wanted simple!” you shot back, your voice cracking under the weight of your frustration. “I wanted no strings, no feelings, no drama! And now look at us! Look at this mess!”

He scoffed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stepped closer. “Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this,” he bit out, his voice sharp. “You wanted no strings, but you kept coming back. Over and over. You wanted me, Y/N. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

You shook your head, turning on your heel and pushing your way out of the crowded party. The air in the corridor was cooler, quieter, but your thoughts were anything but calm. Theo’s footsteps followed close behind, the sound of his shoes echoing against the stone walls.

“I’m not letting you walk away like this,” he said, grabbing your arm just gently enough to stop you without forcing you.

You wrenched your arm free, spinning around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why not? That’s all we’ve ever been good at—walking away from each other.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something deeper, something raw. “That’s not true and you know it,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re just angry.”

“Of course I’m angry!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. “I just watched my best friend walk away, probably forever, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut! And for what, Theo? For what?”

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he stared at you, his usually sharp eyes clouded with something uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“You know what?” you continued, your voice trembling as tears pricked your eyes. “I’m done. I’m done with this. With you.”

His eyes widened slightly. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I’m done, Theo,” you said again. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t mean something when it clearly does. And I can’t keep lying to Lorenzo—to myself. So, congratulations, you win. You’ve ruined everything. I hope it was worth it.”

His face fell, the usual sharpness in his expression softening into something almost childlike. “Y/N,” he said, stepping closer, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do,” you insisted, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t do this anymore. You and me—it’s toxic, Theo. It’s ruining everything.”

You turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing yours. The desperation in his touch made you freeze. For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then, he spoke, his voice raw and aching. “Please.” The word came out so quiet it was almost drowned out by the distant hum of the party. “Hate me, hurt me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Just… don’t leave me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His words hung heavy in the air, raw and pleading. This wasn’t the Theo you were used to—the cocky, self-assured boy who always had a cutting remark at the ready. This was someone stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

“Theo…” you started, but your voice faltered.

“I know we said no strings,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away. “I know that. But I can’t do it. I can’t watch you walk away and choose him—not when I…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching as he fought to find the words.

You turned fully to face him, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. “Not when you what?” you whispered.

His eyes burned into yours, and for a moment, he looked like he might bolt. But then, with a shaky breath, he stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. “Not when I feel like this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

You stared at him, your mind reeling. And then he kissed you.

But it wasn’t like the other times—the hurried, rough kisses that left you breathless and wanting more. This kiss was soft, tentative, like he was afraid you might break. His lips moved against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back, hand shaking like they didn’t know what to do.

The world fell away, the distant music and voices fading until there was nothing but the warmth of him, the way his thumb brushed against your cheek, the quiet, desperate sound he made as he pulled you closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to untangle the knot of feelings in your chest. So you just stood there, letting his touch ground you, wondering how the hell you’d gotten here.

But as you stood there, pressed against Theo's warm, solid body, one thought crystallized above the rest: you needed him.

Now.

"Theo," you murmured. Your eyes locked onto his, searching, pleading. There were no words for what you felt, but you hoped he could read it in your gaze—the hunger, the need, the desperate craving for him.

Theo’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as they flicked down to your lips and back up again. He could see it—you knew he could. The unspoken need that lingered in the space between you, a silent plea written in the way your fingers trembled against his chest, in the way your breath mingled with his as you leaned closer.  

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough, uncertain. It wasn’t a question, not quite, but there was hesitation there, as though he was afraid this would break you both even further.  

You shook your head, barely, just enough to quiet whatever doubt he was wrestling with. “Please,” you whispered, the single word carrying all the weight of everything you couldn’t say. “I need you, Theo.”  

His hands slid down from your face to your waist, his fingers brushing over the curve of your hips as though committing the moment to memory. “Are you sure?” he asked.  

In answer, you tugged at his shirt, your hands fisting the fabric as you leaned up to kiss him again. This time, it wasn’t soft—it was deliberate, intentional, your lips pressing firmly against his as you tried to pour everything you felt into that single moment.  

The kiss deepened slowly, Theo’s hands tightening on your waist as he guided you backward, pressing you against the cool stone wall of the corridor. You broke the kiss, your forehead falling against his as you tried to catch your breath. “Not here,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.  

Theo nodded, his chest rising and falling with yours as he tried to calm himself. Without a word, he took your hand, his grip steady and warm as he led you through the dim corridor and up the winding staircase to your dorm.  

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window. The moment the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn’t rushed this time, wasn’t driven by the usual frenzied passion that had defined so much of your time together. It was slower, heavier, as though you were both unearthing something you hadn’t realized was buried.  

Theo turned to face you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But you stepped closer, your hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as you kissed him again, softer this time, but no less urgent.  

He kissed you back with a quiet intensity, his hands settling on your hips as he walked you backward toward the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, he paused, pulling back just enough to look at you.  

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice a rasp of barely contained emotion.  

You nodded, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him down to you on the bed. “I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady now, laced with a conviction that left no room for doubt.  

Theo followed you down, his weight pressing into you as he kissed you again, and for the first time, it wasn’t about dominance or control. It wasn’t about proving a point or drowning in the fire of your so-called hatred.  

It was about feeling—truly feeling.  

You let out a soft gasp as his hands explored your skin, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing under your flesh. Your own hands roamed over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles beneath his clothes. You wanted to peel away every layer until you were bare against him, skin to skin, hearts beating as one.

As if reading your mind, Theo reached for the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach as he lifted it over your head. You arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips as he tossed the garment aside and leaned in to nuzzle the swell of your tits, his hot breath sending tingles across your nipples.

Theo's mouth hovered over your nipple, his tongue darting out to tease the hardened peak before he closed his lips around it, suckling gently. A low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating against your skin and making your toes curl.

His hands continued their exploration, sliding down to unfasten your jeans, his fingers brushing against the heat of your core as he pushed the denim and lace down your thighs. You kicked off the pooled fabric, leaving you naked and vulnerable beneath him.

He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your collarbone, then trailed his lips down your sternum, pausing to worship each breast with the same reverence he'd shown earlier.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion.

Your breath caught in your throat at the words, at the raw sincerity in his tone. No one had ever looked at you like that before—like you were a work of art, precious and coveted.

"Theo..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please..."

He understood without further prompting, his fingers tracing a path down your stomach and dipping lower to find the slick heat of your arousal. He groaned softly at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit as his middle finger delved inside, seeking out that sweet spot that made you quiver.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as he pumped his finger slowly, deliberately, his gaze locked on yours. "Tell me how much you want it."

His other hand cupped your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hips bucked involuntarily as his finger found that perfect spot inside you, stroking along the sensitive wall in a way that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Oh god, yes," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ground against his hand.

"I want it so badly," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've never wanted anything more," you begged, your breath coming in short gasps. "I need you inside me."

With a low growl, Theo added a second finger, scissoring them inside you to loosen your tightness. He watched your face intently, drinking in every expression of pleasure, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips.

"Not yet," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "I want to make sure you're ready for me."

He curled his fingers just right, rubbing that magic spot within you, and you came undone, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of it, your inner walls clenching around his fingers.

Through it all, Theo held you close, his lips pressed to your temple, his breath hot against your skin. "That's it," he cooed, "let go for me, baby. I've got you."

Shudders wracked your body as the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, leaving you limp and spent. But Theo wasn't done with you yet. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was moving, shrugging off his shirt to reveal the toned expanse of his chest. Your gaze drifted over the defined muscles, feeling a wave of desire surge through you.

Not waiting for permission, he quickly shed his pants, kicking them aside carelessly. And then he was looming over you, his eyes blazing with hunger. “Wrap those pretty legs around me.”

Without hesitation, you complied, hooking your ankles together and lifting your hips to meet him. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasingly slow, as if savoring the moment before finally sinking home in one smooth thrust.

A guttural moan tore from his throat at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, and he stilled for a moment, reveling in the sensation. Then, with a roll of his hips, he began to move, setting a sweet pace that had your eyes rolling back.

It was a slow, unhurried rhythm, unlike all the times before. This time, it wasn’t about the heat or the hunger—it was about the connection, the way his name fell from your lips like a prayer, the way he whispered yours back like a promise.  

Time seemed to blur, the lines between where you ended and he began dissolving until there was nothing left but the two of you, tangled together in the quiet of the night as he devoured  your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue claiming you as thoroughly as his cock did your pussy.

Theo broke the kiss to gaze down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that seared right through to your soul. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with emotion. "I want to look you in the eyes when I make you cum. You know why? Because this means you’re fucking choosing me.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair as you met his stare, the connection between you electrifying. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, and you shattered, crying out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

When it was over, Theo stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. He didn’t say anything—neither of you did. Words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive in the fragile intimacy that had settled over you both.  

But as his hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin, you felt the truth of it in the way he looked at you. Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t hatred. It never had been.  

And that realization scared you more than anything.  

But a loud, abrupt knock at the door shattered the stillness.  

You shot up, your heart pounding as reality came crashing back in. “Shit,” you whispered, scrambling to pull on your clothes. Theo sat up too, his brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t move to stop you. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows, watching silently as you tugged a large sweater over your head, your hair still a mess from his hands.  

The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Y/N?” Lorenzo’s voice called through the door, muffled but unmistakable.  

Your stomach dropped.  

Theo’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he realized who it was. “You don’t have to answer,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm.  

But you did. You had to.  

Without another word, you crossed the room, your heart racing as you opened the door just enough to step out, closing it quickly behind you. Lorenzo stood there, his face a storm of emotions—regret, frustration, and something achingly close to hope.  

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before you could speak, his words tumbling over themselves in his rush to get them out. “I shouldn’t have walked away like that. I should’ve let you explain, I should’ve stayed.”  

“Enzo—” you started, but he cut you off.  

“No, let me finish,” he said, taking a step closer. “I blamed you, and I shouldn’t have. I was just... I don’t know. I was hurt, okay? And I know that’s not fair to you. You’ve always been honest with me, and I—I just...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident.  

You stood frozen, your back pressed against the door, every word he said digging deeper into your chest.  

“And I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell you how I feel. Merlin, Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself. And I know it’s a mess now, but I could’ve… should’ve told you sooner.” His voice cracked, his usual smooth confidence faltering as his eyes searched yours.

Your throat tightened as you opened your mouth to try and speak, but he kept going, his words spilling out faster now, desperate to fill the silence.

“I should be the one you’re with. I should’ve been braver, I should’ve fought for you. But I didn’t, and I—I just... I want to be with you,” he continued, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I know we’re friends, but we could be so much more, Y/N. I know we could.”  

The silence that followed felt deafening.  

It was only then that Lorenzo seemed to really see you—the disheveled sweater pulled hastily over your bare skin, your hair still tangled, your lips swollen. His eyes widened, the realization crashing over him like a wave.  

“Y/N...” he said slowly, his voice filled with dawning heartbreak. “Is someone... Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but he didn’t have to.  

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, either.  

His face crumpled, and he let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it? Theo.”  

“Enzo, I’m—”  

“No,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t say anything.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked like he might break completely. But then he straightened, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “It was never going to be me, was it?”  

“Lorenzo—” You tried to reach for him but he just flinched, shaking his head.

“Stop,” he said sharply, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. He looked away, blinking rapidly, as though trying to compose himself. “I get it now. I was always the safe option. The one who’d never hurt you. But I was never the one you wanted.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re my best friend, Enzo. I love you, I do, but…”

“Not like that,” he finished for you, his tone sharp with bitter acceptance. “You don’t love me like that.”  

You reached for him again, but he stepped back, out of reach. “Stop,” he said again, his voice soft now, almost broken. “I’ll just... I’ll see you around, Y/N.”  

The silence that followed was unbearable, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You wanted to say something, anything, to fix the fissure cracking between you, but no words came.

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he forced a bitter smile. “I hope he’s worth it,” he said quietly, turning on his heel before you could stop him.

You watched him go, your chest aching as his figure disappeared down the hall. The sting of his words lingered, cutting deeper than you’d anticipated. 

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Y/N?”

Theo’s voice, soft and uncertain, pulled you from your thoughts. He was sitting up now, the sheet draped low over his waist as he watched you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

You crossed the room, collapsing onto the bed beside him. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t be. I chose this. I chose you.”

And despite the heartbreak, the guilt, the mess of emotions swirling inside you, you knew it was true. Lorenzo had your friendship, your loyalty, your love in ways you couldn’t deny—but Theo? Theo had your heart.

And no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

(apologies to my enzo lovers <3)

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

synopsis: when your best friend Luke asks you to pose as his girlfriend during his parents' 25th wedding anniversary cruise, you reluctantly agree. After all, you're single, he's desperate, and who can say no to an all-expenses-paid getaway? But what starts as a simple favor spirals into a tangled web of awkward introductions, suspicious relatives, and one undeniable complication: your growing, utterly inappropriate crush on Luke’s father, Anakin. Surrounded by the charming and chaotic Skywalker family, you’re forced to navigate the tricky waters of pretense, loyalty, and a passion you never saw coming.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, that's it for now, I'll add more warnings when the next chapters come out.

words: 1.1k

a/n: I confess that I've had this idea marinating for a while, and now seeing the latest photos of Hayden at comic-con, he's so dad coded. So, I decided to take a chance and start a story, I don't know how many chapters there will be yet, but I'm excited to see where it will take us... Slightly inspired by Fuck your boyfriend('s dad) by forcemeanakin, I'm obsessed with her writing… Anyway, that's it, I hope you like it ;)

CHAPTER ONE: CRUISE

you were meant for me to find

it's out of my hands

there's nothing left to do but

cruise and just enjoy the ride

“Wait a second, let me get this straight…” you interrupted Luke, raising your hands to halt his rapid-fire explanation. He’d been talking non-stop for nearly five minutes, and you were still struggling to piece it all together. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at your parents’ 25th wedding anniversary? Why on earth do you even need a fake girlfriend?” You adjusted yourself on the bed, pulling a pillow against your chest for comfort, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Luke let out a long, dramatic sigh, raking a hand through his messy blond hair. “You know how my parents are… always in my business. And now with Leia bringing her boyfriend, I just don’t want to be the only one showing up alone.” He looked at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes, his voice softening. “Come on, just this once. Please? Didn’t you say you wanted to go on a cruise someday? Here’s your chance.”

You arched an amused eyebrow. “So, what—you’re trying to bribe me now?”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with a loose thread on his jacket. “Well, when you put it like that…” he muttered sheepishly. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I—I trust you, okay? You’re the only person I can count on for this.”

His desperation was hard to ignore. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll do it,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “But only because of the all-inclusive package. Don’t think this means I approve of your ridiculous plan.”

A grin split across Luke’s face as he lunged forward to hug you. “Thank you! Seriously, you’re saving my life here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, pushing him back playfully. “But if this backfires, you owe me big time.”

Luke hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, um… about that. I might have already put your name on the guest list.” 

Your eyes narrowed as you shoved his shoulder. “You what? Idiot.”

---

Now, a few days later, you found yourself standing on the pier, the midday sun beating down mercilessly. You checked your phone for the third time, scrolling through messages with a faint scowl. Still no word from Luke. If he left you waiting much longer, you were seriously going to kill him.

“Hey!” His voice cut through the buzz of the crowded dock. You turned to see him jogging toward you, a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He looked a little too cheerful for someone who had left you baking in the sun.

“You’re late,” you called, crossing your arms as he approached. 

“Fashionably,” he quipped with a smirk, completely unbothered by your glare.

“thought you’d forgotten about me,” you teased, elbowing Luke lightly in the chest as he finally reached you.

Luke shrugged, offering a sheepish grin. “Blame my parents. They were running late because my dad accidentally packed the wrong suitcase for my mom. Total chaos—everyone was scrambling to fix it.”

You chuckled, imagining the scene. Though you hadn’t met Luke’s family yet, you’d heard plenty about them over the years. His parents were something of a legend in his stories: the perfect, if sometimes chaotic, couple who’d married young and raised twins.  

Padmé Amidala, Luke’s mother, was a force of nature. A federal deputy and professor of International Relations, she somehow juggled her demanding career with being a devoted wife and mother. Strong, brilliant, and endlessly busy, yet always managing to prioritize her family.

Anakin Skywalker, Luke’s father, was no less impressive. A retired army general, he’d left his military career after the twins were born to focus on raising them. Luke often spoke of how his dad spent hours tinkering in their garage, restoring vintage cars and building gadgets—a far cry from his days in uniform.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” Luke said, snapping you out of your thoughts. He grabbed the handle of his own suitcase and motioned toward the massive cruise ship docked ahead. 

You followed, letting him lead the way. The pier was packed with elegantly dressed guests, most of whom were likely Padmé’s colleagues—senators, representatives, and a mix of politicians from all corners. The line to board snaked back farther than you could see. 

“Do we really have to wait through all this?” you asked, eyeing the crowd and clutching the handle of your wheeled suitcase. 

Luke shot you a sly grin. “We don’t wait in lines.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he veered off toward the front of the queue, guiding you toward a set of stairs reserved for VIPs. You followed, struggling a little as your suitcase bumped against the steps. 

"Luke, get your girlfriend's suitcase," a strong, masculine voice called out from behind you, deep and commanding yet tinged with warmth. "Otherwise, she'll think I didn’t teach you how to be a gentleman."

Startled, you turned toward the source of the voice just as Luke, already at the top of the stairs, groaned in exasperation. He glanced back with a tired expression but made no move to help. 

“It’s okay, really, it’s not heavy,” you mumbled shyly, gripping the handle of your suitcase a little tighter. But as your eyes met the man addressing Luke, the words caught in your throat. 

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. Gods… what a man. 

Standing before you was, without a doubt, the most stunning man you’d ever seen. Anakin Skywalker. His angular face was framed by sandy blond hair, slightly tousled with subtle waves that gave him a rugged charm. His piercing blue eyes—so vivid and expressive they seemed to pull you into a storm—were framed by faint lines that hinted at years of experience and a life well-lived. His presence was magnetic, his confident stance and the faint smirk on his lips radiating an almost effortless allure.  

“Come on, I insist,” Anakin said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. He reached out and gently took the suitcase from your hand before you could protest. His touch lingered just briefly, and the warmth of his hand sent a flicker of heat up your arm. “Not heavy, huh?” he teased with a wink, his tone laced with amusement.  

You managed a weak nod, your heart racing as you watched him carry your suitcase up the stairs with ease. Every movement was graceful, effortless, as though he hadn’t spent years off the battlefield but still carried himself like he could command a room—or a galaxy. 

Luke rolled his eyes at his father’s display, muttering under his breath. “Show off.”

Ignoring him, Anakin reached the top of the stairs and set your suitcase down carefully before glancing back at you with an easy smile. “Welcome aboard,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.  

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing. What the hell have you just gotten yourself into?

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I Would Choose You In Every Lifetime » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!40s Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend/TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky would choose a lifetime with you over anything else.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, best friends to lovers, crying, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“Why do you insist on getting into fights?” You asked, cleaning blood off of Steve’s lip with a tissue.

“He started it.” Steve says like a child.

You playfully rolled your eyes at your best friend and continued to clean the blood off of his lip and nose.

“What happened this time?” Bucky asks, walking in the alley.

“Nothing…” Steve answers, lying through his teeth.

Bucky knew he’d say that so he looked at you for the answer.

“Some guy was talking during the Army film and wouldn’t be quiet so him and Steve came back here to fight.” You tell him.

“I swear you like getting punched.” He says to Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky.

“Did you get your orders?” Steve asks Bucky.

“The 107th, Sergeant James Barnes.” He answers with a proud smile.

“Oh my god! I’m so proud of you, Bucky!” You say, hugging him tightly.

Bucky smiles and hugs you back. You kissed his cheek before pulling away from the hug.

“I get shipped out tomorrow.” He tells you two.

The smile on your face faded away. You didn’t know he’d be getting shipped out this soon.

“Tomorrow?” You asked.

“I know it’s soon, but we can still spend the rest of today together.” Bucky says, handing a newspaper to Steve.

Steve read the top headline of the newspaper.

“Stark Expo.” Steve reads aloud.

“We’re going tonight and we got dates waiting for us.” Bucky says.

“You found a man for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. Sorry. I couldn’t find anyone for you, doll.” He apologizes.

“Oh. It’s ok.” You say.

“Come on. Let’s not keep the girls waiting.” He says, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulder.

You followed behind them. Truth be told, you were hoping that Bucky would ask you to be his date to the Stark Expo. You’ve had a crush on him for a while, but you don’t think he feels the same way about you.

When you three got to the Stark Expo, Bucky walked hand and hand with his date. He didn’t pay attention to you at all. Steve’s date paid little to no attention to him. You felt left out.

You stayed till Howard Stark displayed a floating car before walking out. You sat on the stairs in front of the building. Steve noticed you weren’t with him and Bucky anymore and went to find you. He found you crying on the stairs. He sat down next to you and gave you a tissue to dry your tears.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks softly with worry in his voice.

“I’m fine, Stevie.” You sniffled, lying through your teeth.

“No you’re not. Talk to me.” He says softly.

You fiddled with the tissue for a short moment before answering him.

“I’ve had a crush on Bucky for a while now and he brought a date with him. I was hoping he’d ask me to be his date to this, but he didn’t. He’s leaving tomorrow and he won’t know I’m in love with him.” You tell Steve. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way about me.” You added.

“Tell him. I’m sure he feels the same way.” He says.

“How?” You looked at Steve. “He’s with that girl.” You say.

Steve thought about it for a moment when he thought of something.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, standing up and walking away.

Steve walked back to the building. Bucky walked out of the door at the same time Steve approached it.

“I was wondering where you were.” Bucky says. “Where were you?” He asks.

“Comforting Y/N.” Steve answers. “She’s upset.” He says.

“Why’s she upset?” He asks.

“I think you should hear it from her.” He says. “She’s sitting on the stairs.” He tells him.

Bucky nodded and made his way to you. He heard your sniffles from a couple feet away. He sat down next to you on the stairs.

“Steve told me you’re upset. What’s wrong?�� Bucky asks softly.

“What do you care? You have a girl with you tonight.” You say.

Bucky frowned. You’ve never talked to him like this. Even when you’re upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again.

“You wouldn’t care even if I told you.” You say.

“Never say that again. I care about you and you know it. Steve knows it too.” He says.

You lifted your head and looked at Bucky.

“If you cared, you wouldn’t have asked another girl to be your date to this thing.” You say.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Bucky asks.

You scoffed before answering him.

“You barely paid attention to me tonight! It’s like I’m invisible to you.” You said, raising your voice a little bit. “You’re leaving for the Army tomorrow and you can’t you see that I’m in love with you!” You blurted out.

Bucky’s eyes went wide when you confessed your love to him.

“You’re in love with me?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“What does it matter?” You asked. “It’s not like you feel the same way about me.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

“It does matter.” He said. “Cause I’m in love with you too.” He confesses.

“You don’t mean it. You’re going to meet some nurse in the Army and fall in love with her.” You say before standing up.

Bucky was quick to stand up and grabbed your arm before you could walk away from him.

“Let go of me, James.” You said, trying to tug your arm out of his firm grip.

“Don’t do this, doll. I don’t want to spend my last day with you mad at me.” Bucky says.

“You don’t love me.” You said.

Instead of saying anything, Bucky kisses you passionately, catching you off guard. You kissed him back.

“I do love you, doll. You just won’t believe it.” He says softly, putting his forehead against yours and looking in your teary eyes.

You gazed in his beautiful blue eyes and caressed his cheek. Bucky leaned into your touch.

“Go fight for our country and try not to die, Buck.” You almost whispered with tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky slowly let go of you. He watched you walk away with a couple tears escaping his eyes. You didn’t want to do this, but you had to. Your heart broke into a million pieces as you walked away. Bucky felt like someone ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it in their bare hands. You walked away knowing that you’re in love with one of your best friends and you don’t believe he’s in love with you.

70+ YEARS LATER…

Bucky can still hear the last words you said to him before he got shipped off to the Army. “Go fight for our country and try not to die.” are the only words being echoed in his mind. He felt like he failed you. He wishes that he poured his heart and soul out to you to confess his love for you, but you could only see him with girls who aren’t you. That’s something Bucky regrets… going on dates with girls who aren’t you. He should’ve asked you to be his doll forever when he had the chance.

“Bucky?” Sam says, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“You ok?” He asks. “You looked like you were in a trance.” He says.

“Yea, I’m fine.” He says.

Bucky isn’t fine and Sam knows it.

“I know me and you don’t know each other like you and Steve did, but you can talk to me about it if you want.” Sam says.

Bucky looks down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. He was quiet for a moment before saying anything.

“It’s about someone from my past… a girl.” Bucky finally spoke up.

“Was she your girlfriend or wife or something?” Sam asks curiously.

“No.” He answers. “Her name is Y/N and she was mine and Steve’s girl best friend.” He tells him. “Her and I got into a fight the night before I got shipped out to the Army.” He says.

“What was the fight about?” He asks.

“She was in love with me, but I was too stupid to pay her any attention that night and I asked another girl to be my date to Howard Stark’s Expo.” He explains. “I tried to tell her that I was in love with her, but she was too upset to believe me. Her last words to me were-” Bucky felt himself getting choked up on his words and took a deep breath before continuing his sentence. “Go fight for our country and try not to die.” He tells him, his voice cracking.

“Are you still in love with her?” Sam asks.

“I never stopped loving her.” Bucky said. “She wouldn’t believe me, even if she was alive.” He says.

“I’m sorry, man.” He says sincerely, patting his shoulder.

Bucky gave Sam a small smile before standing up and went to get some fresh air to clear his mind. He walked down the streets of New York with the light fall breeze blowing with his hands in his jacket pockets. He was walking past a coffee shop when he looked up and stopped in his tracks and seen someone- a woman from his past… you, working behind the counter at the coffee shop.

“Holy shit…” Bucky mumbles to himself.

Bucky entered the coffee shop at the same time you looked up from the cash register, making eye contact with him. He felt his heart skip a beat and your eyes went wide. Neither of you could believe what you two were seeing. Bucky stared at you like he just seen a ghost. You were staring at him with the same look on your face. You motioned one of your coworkers to the register before you walked over to Bucky. Bucky’s eyes never left you for a second. Yours didn’t leave him either. You two stared at each other in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

“Do you umm- want some coffee?” You asked, remembering that you’re at work.

“Yes, that would be nice.” Bucky answers softly. “You know what I like.” He says.

You smiled and nodded your head before going to get him a coffee. Bucky sat down at a nearby table and patiently waited for you.

“Who’s the hot guy you were talking to?” One of the baristas asks.

“One of my guy best friends.” You answered quietly.

“Is he single?” She curiously asks.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at her.

“He’s yours. Got it.” She says before going back to work.

You put the lid on the cup and walked over to the table Bucky was sitting at. You put the coffee in front of him and sat down across from him. Bucky tapped his fingers against the paper cup and you fiddled with your fingers.

“How are you?” You asked after a short moment.

Bucky stopped tapping his fingers against the cup and looked at you. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question without getting upset.

“I’m good.” Bucky finally answers. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good too.” You answered.

Bucky nodded and took a sip of his coffee. You opened your mouth to say something, but one of your coworkers told you to get back to work. You took a pen out of your pocket and grabbed a napkin, writing your phone number and address.

“Here’s my phone number and address. I get off of work at 2:30pm.” You tell him.

“Ok.” He says.

You and Bucky stood up at the same time. He watched you walk back behind the counter, going back to work. Bucky smiles before leaving.

When it came time for the end of your shift, you finally went home. When you got home, you seen Bucky sitting on the front steps of your small house. It may not be much, but you call it home.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You say, walking to your front door.

“I’ll always come if it’s you. You know that.” Bucky smiles.

There is was again… the awkward silence.

“Let’s go inside.” You say.

“That would be nice.” He says.

You unlocked the door and walked inside of your house. Bucky followed behind you, closing the door behind him. Bucky took a look around while you took your jacket off and set your things down. He smiles when he seen pictures of you and your parents hung up on the walls. His heart skipped a beat when he seen a few pictures of you, him, and Steve on the wall.

“I suppose you want answers.” You say from behind him.

“Yes I do.” He says.

You and Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch so the two of you can talk.

“Let’s start with why you never told me or even Steve that you were alive.” Bucky says, getting straight to the point.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I should’ve reached out to one of you, but I was scared to.” You say.

“What have you could possibly be scared of?” He asks.

“HYDRA finding me.” You say.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his eyes widened when you said HYDRA.

“HYDRA got their hands on you?” Bucky asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“When?” He asks.

“Shortly after you… you know.” You say, referring to when he fell off of the train in 1945.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the thought of HYDRA getting their hands on you.

“What did they do to you?” He asks.

“Experimented different kinds of Super Soldier serums on me. None of them worked, except for one. It’s the one that worked for you and Steve.” You explained. “They put me through so many experiments. It hurt so bad.” Bucky didn’t miss the way your voice cracked. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Bucky. So I finally found the best opportunity to escape and I haven’t looked back since then.” You say.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around you. You melted into his touch like you used to do.

He was ready to start questioning why you didn’t reach out to him sooner, but that’s the furthest thing on his mind.

“I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky apologizes softly.

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You didn’t know.” You say and sniffled.

“I could’ve done something. I could’ve looked for you.” He says.

“You are doing something now. You’re holding me.” You say, looking up at him.

Bucky looks down at you. He seen a sparkle in your eyes through the tears. It’s the sparkle he always seen when you guys were younger. He hasn’t seen it in years. It made him smile when he seen it.

“I meant what I said the night before I left for the Army. I am in love with you. I have been for years.” Bucky tells you.

You could tell he meant it this time. Unlike the last time he said it.

You gazed in his beautiful blue eyes, getting easily lost in them. Your eyes drifted down to his lips. His lips look soft. You wondered to yourself if they were still as soft as the night he kissed you before he left for the Army. You leaned in and so did Bucky. It felt like everything was in slow motion when your lips met his. You two felt that same spark and passion from that night years ago.

Your hands grasped onto his shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. Bucky’s right hand gently caressed your cheek. You two were lost in the kiss. There was so much passion in the kiss that it took your breaths away. You two finally pulled away, gazing in each other’s eyes breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, almost whispering. “I shouldn’t have let that night end like that. We should’ve ended that night on something good.” You murmured softly.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. As long as we’re together now, everything is going to be the way it should be.” Bucky softly says.

“I love you, Buck.” You say to him for the first time in years.

“I love you too, doll.” His thumb softly rubbed against the skin of your cheek. “I would choose you in every lifetime.” He whispers.

A smile grew on your lips. You softly and sweetly kissed him. Bucky smiles against your lips.

“I would choose you in every lifetime too.” You tell him.

“Does this mean you’re my doll now?” He asks in a whisper.

“Oh, Bucky…” You whispered, lifting a hand to caress his bearded cheek. “I’ve always been yours. Forever and always.” You tell him softly.

“Forever and always.” He whispers, kissing you once more.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hey chat...

I literally have so many scenarios in my head it's killing me

Could you do a scenario where the reader shields Isha from the blast (or whatever) which results in her on the verge of death. How will jinx deal with it? And how will she save her

(I'm trying to cope with the loss of my baby Isha 😞💔)

Sure! Here ya go but probably sucks, haven’t wrote one of these in a while! Enjoy!

Heading photos made by @diana-foggy-master !

Sacrificial

You could only process what the girl was thinking when her small feet started running past you helping Jinx off the ground.

The familiar act was so hard to miss. It was like watching Powder all over again all those years ago the night everything went wrong.

You couldn’t handle it again.

“Jinx? Jinx- I’m so sorry.” You apologized to your lover on the ground. Jinx looked at you, confused with her face having splatters of blood drops. But she was so confused. What were you sorry for?

It only clicked when she saw you running after Isha into what she knew she would never get you back from.

“No- no!” Jinx cried out, getting up with the look of horror on her face when you ran. She tried reaching for you like you did her all those years ago, only to fall short. She lost you.

She lost you before you even got to the girl.

Isha was right within your grip, tears falling from your face as you knew you wouldn’t be coming back home to your lovers and your bed.

“Isha!” You yelled, reaching for her as she kept running, shoving gemstone after gemstone into Jinx’s gun.

“(Name)! Isha! No!” Jinx cried, trying her best to get to the both of you as Isha slid to the ground, moving just like Jinx taught her to as she finally got to Vander.

Jinx was caught by Vi, crying and blubbering as her heart and chest constricted at the thought of you leaving her with her mind.

What was she gonna do? She couldn’t fix this once it was done.

Isha had barely mimicked Jinx back at her, the little finger gun motion breaking your head. Isha wasn’t dying. This wasn’t how she was gonna say goodbye.

Isha lifted the gun to Vander, and by the look on his face as he saw you nearing you could tell he had no control over this. Just like back then.

Isha had barely closed her eyes, and you saw the smile on her face. She looked almost content to die. Like it was a release. You felt bad for taking it from her.

She barely pulled the trigger when you grabbed her, pulling her to your chest and curling around her.

Isha’s eyes shot open, panicked for a split second as she tried to push you away and out of there. But you were older. Stronger. The way you wished when you were younger to be like Vi.

You barely managed a smile to Isha as you held her, and even years later she could still hear your voice and see your smile as you whispered in her ear.

“You’ll be okay. Take care of her for me, will ya?”

The gun went off.

And you were gone.

The reaction was immediate. Isha didn’t feel you anymore. She was cold, your arms around her gone as she finally opened her eyes after praying to whatever god there was that you were okay.

Nothing.

Not anything of you was left behind.

All she heard was Jinx’s wailing, and her little heart dropped to her stomach at the realization.

You were gone.

Because of her. Isha took you from Jinx.

“Isha! Why- why would you do that?!” Jinx cried, even though she knew you’d hate to hear the words coming from her mouth but she couldn’t stop herself.

She pushed Vi off of her, running to Isha out of relief and anger as she searched for you to come up with nothing.

She grabbed the girl by her shoulders, crying and blubbering as she sobbed.

“Why would you- (Name)?! (Name)!” Jinx cried, yelling it out as she searched for you.

Isha had no idea what to do with Jinx’s anger but cry with her as she felt your absence.

Jinx wasn’t able to process this, and Vi could only watch as the one thing her sister held dear to her heart from when they were kids, you, was gone. Just like that.

Jinx’s sobs turned to wails as she felt her heart being ripped from her chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to be okay. Vander was supposed to come back. They were supposed to stay and be happy. Vi could even be there.

Jinx had her family back, and now it was all gone.

Her wails kept going, she gripped onto Isha cause she would be damned if she let her out of her sight for her to be taken to.

Her head fell to Isha’s shoulder, the girl's cries mixing with her own as Isha’s little fingers gripped onto her.

Jinx and Isha crumbled together on the floor, crying and sniffling and sobbing. What happens now? What comes next?

How can anything come next…when you’re gone?

[grimmsbride]

HABITS [ curly / reader ]

when it comes to picking coworkers, curly isn’t the most dependable. but.. the same could be said about keeping his feelings in check.

tags / ex - friends with benefits to lovers(?) | bittersweet | oral sex ( fem. receiving ) | slight praise kink | porn without plot | canon-divergence | chubby coded reader | curly isn’t 100% accurate & i am sorry this is my first time writing for him | curly is lowkey a liar but it’s okay | curly is big ( based off fanart mostly but also game ) | pet names | etc. if i forgot something please alert me.

notes / it has been like.. months since i last posted on tumblr. but i am slowly getting my spark back. this has also been cross posted on archive so if you see it there do not be alarmed. my writing is rusty, so please be nice with criticisms i’m quite sensitive 😭 but please do enjoy <3

“You look like shit.” You murmured softly, eyes carrying up the man’s form. You hadn’t expected anyone to be awake at this hour, let alone outside of their quarters. But whether to your dismay or pleasure someone had joined your little excursion, that someone being your beloved Captain; Curly.

Who looked to be teetering between the land of the dead and living. Bags lined those pretty eyes, a little red— surely from strain. When was the last time he got enough sleep? Was a thought that quickly passed your mind. Regardless you decided against asking, seeing as you were positive he wouldn’t have an answer for you anyway.

The Captain— Curly, allowed the corner of his mouth to lift; a humorous sigh escaping him. “Do I? Hadn’t noticed..”

“And here I thought Mr. Handsome prided himself on his vanity and dignity.”

The man shook his head at your usual flirty remarks, glancing about your own form. He took in the makeshift wrap of blankets you held around your pajama-clad body, noticing your feet covered in slippers. Not the proper attire obviously, but reprimanding you just didn’t seem worth it at the moment.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrugged, eyes shifting away to glance at a wall. “More like didn’t want to. With so much work to be done I rarely get any time to my thoughts.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“For you.. maybe. I quite enjoy my mind.”

You smiled at the soft chuckle that escaped him, taking the moment to move just a bit closer. Again, your eyes landed upon those dreaded bags; hand rising slowly to his face. You watched as his eyes focused quite quickly, clearly puzzled by your sudden attention. Regardless he didn’t move, instead allowing your palm to press against his cheek— your thumb then moving to trace a bag.

“I’m serious though. It looks like you haven’t gotten sleep in days. Is something wrong?”

A flicker.. just a slight glint, drifted through his gaze. An emotion you couldn’t quite place but didn’t like regardless. You stood silently, watching as his hand rose before your own. Gentle fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your hand down his cheek — the abrasion of his facial hair tickling your palm — before pulling it away from him.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about [Name].”

Curly spoke, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. But you knew him. All, too, well. The man could hold water but there were times it spilled over just a little. Even if he didn’t explicitly say it, you knew his concern was something big— something that definitely affected you.

“Captain stuff, huh?” You said slowly, hand pulling away from his own in a dejected fashion. You couldn’t help but feel that way, eyes drifting away almost stubbornly.

“I thought our relationship was above such titles.”

“[Name]—“

You shook your head, Curly clamming up in response. Times like these were exactly why you regretted taking the man up on his offer. The promise of lines not being crossed was a discussion made in the same breath, yet here you were; questioning why exactly your past relations meant little to his decision to be secretive.

But it was just relations.. right? Just sex, a way to blow off steam. People that sleep together with no love shouldn’t act like this anyway.

Your eyes finally lifted from its stubborn gaze on the wall and back to the blonde before you, attempting to seem unfazed by the intense stare he was delivering you.

You forced a smile. “I’m just messing with you, Captain. Lighten up a bit.”

Curly continued to stare before coming close, a single footstep that pressed against the metal beneath the two of you. You nearly forgot how large the male was; broad and tall, staring down at you with those bag lined.. beautiful eyes. He reached over, fingers ghosting the back of your hand for a moment before grabbing it.

This caused you to shiver, eyes widening slowly as you watched the man bring it back to its previous place; right at his cheek. He used his own appendage to assure you cupped his face.

“I know you well enough to know when you’re joking or not, [Name].” Curly spoke lowly, eyes flickering between multiple spots on your face. “Right now.. I don’t want to worry you. It’s something I’ll figure out, but I will let you know soon.. I promise.”

That’s what you hated most about Curly. Even if you were clearly worried about him, he just loved to spin it so he could worry about you. All while easing such worries with the prettiest words. a master of the tongue. In more ways than one.

The flush of warmth that broached your cheeks was hard to ignore, eyes fluttering to the ground as his gaze grew intense. You allowed your thumb to trace his skin, teeth grazing the inside of your cheek. You promised yourself you wouldn’t let such thoughts or feelings resurface. Strictly professional was your own personal mantra.

Yet here you were, holding the cheek of the man you’ve been pining for— desperately wanting to touch more.

And that you did.

Against better judgement, head clear of thinking— you pressed forward, allowing your lips to brush against his own. You felt his breath stutter, body growing still at your bold action. This allowed your eyes to rise, batting thick eyelashes at the man as you spoke:

“Then.. until then, why don’t I take your mind off of it?”

You solidified your words in a single kiss, free hand clutching your blanket that threatened to slip. You felt the hand on your own slowly fall, clearly from shock. You couldn’t blame him. This was going against everything the two of you decided on. Everything the two of you have built since being onboard of this ship.

Even so, you didn’t mind destroying it— nor did your beloved captain.

Large hands slid under your blanket, finding the small of your back. With a pull you were flush against his form, the kiss deepening. Soft lips collided in a gentle battle, that slowly became fierce as time passed. Feelings buried deep began to bubble over, creating that haze that left you breathless. You could only moan as his tongue slid across your lips, effectively parting them. There, Curly took his time to claim your mouth as his once again, coating each and every inch with his saliva.

Your hand slid from his cheek to a large shoulder, gripping him so tightly as your knees began to buckle. Any longer and you were sure you would topple over right then and there.

Desperate for air Curly reluctantly pulled away, staring at that little string that connected the two of you. Heavy breaths escaped you, causing the want developing deep in his stomach to just burn even more. His eyes lifted away from you for a moment, an inner turmoil playing behind his eyes.

He was the Captain. He didn’t have time to play hooky and hook up with an old fling. Curly had duties.. responsibilities and expectations. And yet, as his flicked back to your form; so wanton and palpable— any thought of being the revered Captain of Tulpar escaped quite quickly.

Leaving behind Curly. A man who couldn’t quite help his desires. And a man who wasn’t the best at picking his coworkers.

“Come here.” Curly spoke softly, tugging you close before leaning; slipping his hands under your legs and lifting you easily.

The butterflies in your stomach tumbled and tumbled, threatening to spill from your mouth the moment he stepped towards his room. Effortlessly, as if your body meant completely nothing. Oh how you loved whenever he showed off his strength.

The door slid open routinely, revealing the simple quarters. A bed, desk, and dresser— surely filled with underwear and extra uniforms. The air was cool, perfect yet you couldn’t help but shiver the moment the man laid you across his sheets. A breath caught in your throat as he climbed over you, a hulking mass covering your line of vision only allowing you to see him.

Curly’s hands pressed against the mattress beneath you, leaning down to steal your lips once again. His light beard brushed against your skin, a feeling that caused you to chuckle, a feeling you missed.. feeling. Your hands rose, collecting his face into your palms as you deepened the kiss. Soft smacks of passion passed throughout the room as lips tangled in a secret conversation.

A hand rose from the mattress, treading down your plump form to find the edge of your shirt. His fingers, ever so gentle, slid under the fabric to spread across the span of your warm stomach. You sighed into his mouth, reeling into his touch as it grew higher and higher— soon skimming the bottom of your breasts.

“Curly..don’t tease.” You pulled back to speak, eyes focused on his features. You couldn’t help the pulse between your thighs the moment an impish smile crossed his features.

“I’m not, just.. remembering.”

With his soft murmur Curly was lifting your shirt off your body, placing it somewhere on the bed. Lowering, his breath fanned across your warm skin, gentle kisses pressing against your neck.

You hissed, eyes pinching closed, as your hands lowered to grasp his arms. Your lips parted as a large hand soon covered one of your breasts, gently squeezing whilst his thumb brushed against your hardening nipple.

As much as you wished to beg for more you knew better than to do so. Curly wasn’t a person that rushed when it came to these things. He enjoyed taking his time, building your pleasure bit by bit so when the main event happened you were completely lost in ecstasy. And as annoying as it was to admit, you couldn’t help but love his attention to detail.

The kisses lowered to the valley of your chest, tongue gliding across the hot skin, sliding to your untouched nipple. The man mumbled against your flesh, licking and sucking; delivering such sweet attention you couldn’t help the bated breaths beginning to form.

Should you be worried? The others weren’t close but weren’t far. And you highly doubt any of them would want to be waken by your less than professional “activities”.

Unfortunately, as Curly’s other hand traveled low concern for their sleep slowly drifted away.

You whimpered softly as his hand breached your pants and panties, fingers gliding across your slick slit for a moment before using two to spread you gently. Fuck.. was the simple sigh that escaped you as his middle finger easily found your swelling bud, rubbing it into slow circles.

“Fu..fuck Curly, I’m supposed to be taking your mind off work.”

Curly lifted from your breast, nipple red and slick from his constant attention. “Oh don’t worry, you are.” The man confirmed, allowing a finger to slide lower— pressing against your entrance. With ease it was slipping in, velvety walls swallowing the thick digit greedily.

“Now all I can think about is you, your body, your reactions.. how much I missed when you’d…—“ As another finger of his slid in, the Captain curled them ever so slightly, watching intently as your lips parted wider, a breathy moan escaping your throat.

“— did that.”

His lips curled, clearly delighted. Would it be cocky to admit he loved the way you didn’t change? How he still remembered every single button to press? It was if.. you were made perfectly, just for him.

That, or Curly ruined you for every other man.

The man released your breast for a moment to tug your bottoms down, allowing him to watch his fingers appear and disappear into your wet snatch. Soft plaps escaped from between your pretty thighs, arousal trickling down his appendages and surely to your taint.

His mouth couldn’t help but water, and without thinking the man was lowering closer. Curly’s lips parted above your cunt, breath fanning across the wet heat for a moment before covering your sweet little bud. His free hand quickly came to rest on your lower stomach, only to then decide to hold you down with his forearm.

There; unable to move, his lips sucked your swollen clit, beard brushing across you so deliciously.

A swear dropped from your lips, hands flying to your mouth to cover more sounds that threatened to spill. Your legs fluttered, a warmth brewing deep in your tummy— one you haven’t felt in months. Sure, when you could you rubbed one out — unfortunately without your beloved vibrator that hadn’t made it on Tulpar with you — but this was different. A feeling you couldn’t quite replicate with your own fingers or imagination.

His fingers were just so much longer, bigger; filling and stretching you perfectly. Pushing against your warm walls, curling to press against spots you couldn’t achieve. And even as your clit began to sting at the sensitivity, the pleasure was far more overwhelming.

Tears sprung at your eyes and through a glossy gaze you were taking Curly in. His own eyes were closed, heated breaths and groans fanning against your cunt as he devoured you effortlessly. Such a fucking messy eater. And you loved it.

As the pleasure brewed, forming into a band bound to snap you allowed a hand to lower to his hair, fluffy blonde locks sliding through the gaps of your fingers as you clung to him. Your legs shook, body arching off the bed as your other hand held your mouth so harshly you were sure there were scratches on your cheek.

“Fuck..!” Slammed against your palm in a muffled cry, body clenching as you came undone. You heard an all too familiar groan of pure delight as Curly gently lapped you up, withdrawing his fingers but refusing to remove his arm.

Whimpers of overstimulation did nothing to him, the man continuing to clean you up until he was satisfied. And when he finally was, he rose, the bottom half of his face coated with your mess.

Your hand lowered from your mouth, soft pants escaping. “I hate you.”

“Do you?” Curly was quick to answer, moving his arm to instead grasp your thighs. He lifted you a bit, pulling your bottom closer to him. Once you nodded the man chuckled, thumbs gliding across the marks that were painted across your hips.

“I don’t believe that. Not one bit.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but was left silently searching for snarky banter as you watched the captain’s hands move towards his slacks. There, his thumbs caught the waist band of his bottoms, tugging them down to reveal that sharp v-line and much more. Curly was a large man, everywhere. His length was thick, a round tip— bulging red with an angry vein traveling down his pale shaft.

You wondered if a pillow would be better than your hands at this point.

“Thought you were gonna say something..”

Curly teased, pulling his bottoms down the rest of the way and tossing them with your pile of clothes. He could only chuckle as you shook your head, crawling over your form to hover a breath’s away from you.

“Good.”

The man was smart to capture your lips as the moment you felt his length prod and push, you couldn’t help the little cry escaping you— perfectly muffled by his own mouth.

The stretch burned, burned so damn good you could have came again just from that. Curly was a gentleman of course, pushing in slowly, allowing you to grow accustomed to his size after so many months.

About halfway you were pulling away from his lips, head pressed against the pillow beneath you as sharp pants escaped you. Curly’s hand brushed your hip whilst the other cradled your face.

“That’s good.. breathe, you can take it all— can’t you?” His voice was sweet, soothing as his hips continued to push— plunging deep inside of you.

Your eyes were struggling to stay open, pretty groans falling from your tongue, easing into a sigh the moment you felt his hips stop; now fully seated within you. The feeling was mildly uncomfortable, even with his loving preparation, but you could make do.

You have before.

Curly leaned down, pressing his lips to your face, peppering them across his skin. Your forehead, under your eye, your nose, lips, and chin— everywhere he could reach. Attempting to soothe you even more.

Your hands rose gliding under his shirt to instead press against his broad, muscular back. Your finger tips traced little shapes across his skin, soon curling to allow your nails to scrape the moment he moved his hips.

Curly began to pull them back slowly, allowing only the tip inside before pushing forward. A single motion that caused the both of you to shudder, pleasure quickly brewing once more.

Soon enough with little restraint, Curly started a gentle pace. Back and forth, a hand on your waist whilst the other kept him upright. His length pressed into you deeply, pushing against a spongy spot that caused stars to invade your vision.

Your eyes were screwed shut, mouth lax as whimpers of passion escaped you sharply. Your nails dug and dragged into his back, an ache forming in your hips as his simple thrust became drills.

Curly couldn’t help himself at this point. He’s been holding back for far too long. Every interaction, every playful banter, every secret exchange of the eyes— played within in his mind. The man was smart enough to acknowledge how stupid he was. Playing with yours and his feelings, pretending your past didn’t matter; that coworkers were a status that you could achieve.

But no. He was fooling himself. There’s no way in hell, especially after this, was the man going to be able to go back to just being coworkers.

“Curly.. fuck, fuck— they’re gonna hear—!” You cried, legs shaky and wrapped tight around his waist. In the midst of his haze had suddenly increased his speed, ferocity; placing nearly his entire weight behind each thrust. Your eyes were rolling back at this point, nearly lost to the pleasure if it wasn’t for the sudden banging of the bed against the wall.

That fear of being discovered nearly killed your high.

Fortunately, Curly heeded your concerns, his hand lifting from the bed to instead grip the metal railing. You nearly gushed on the spot, watching his eyebrows pressed close, focusing so intently on your pleasure. His grip on your hip nearly mirrored the bed, refusing to release you. Every thrust you took, pushing you deep into the mattress as your breath threatened to leave.

“Mi..missed you.. I missed you so much.” Curly huffed, pants escaping his open mouth as his thrusts never faltered. The wet sounds of skin on skin filled the room, a steady rhythm to accompany his thrusts.

You tugged him closer by his back, shoving your face into his neck with your mouth directly against his ear. You wished to reply, expressing you felt the same exact way— even more. But of course you were left to only moan and gasp, his name coming out in struggled cries that only stirred him up even more.

Moments of your intense passion continued until your peaks grew closer, the two of you struggling even harder to keep your voices level. Maybe you two truly didn’t give a damn who heard.

“Curly!—“ His lips were colliding with yours in moments, sealing the deal as you came undone for the second time that night. You gushed around him, coating his dick with your thick essence— trickling to his sheets.

The man, releasing a final groan right into your mouth, pushing deep; releasing inside of you. Filling you to the brim.

The captain’s hips slowly settled, yet his lips continued to cover your own; moving slowly and lovingly. Curly released the bed frame to instead cup your face, cool fingers an ease to your hot skin.

Soon enough the two of you pulled away, a soft groan escaping you as the man slowly slid out of you. You tried to ignore the rather unpleasant feeling of his release slowly trickling out of you, instead focusing on the man above you— who was currently smiling.

Your swollen lips flattened into a pout, hands rising from his back to instead rising to his face.

“Don’t smile at me, Captain.”

Curly chuckled, hands sliding under you to lift whilst he sat up. Pulling you onto his lap, the man cradled your waist, thumbs brushing across your skin.

“It’s habit at this point, my love.”

You couldn’t help your own smile, arms wrapping around his neck, leaning to give him a small peck.

“Mhm..” You only hummed, eyes closing in a blissful manner as his forehead pressed against your own.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here to support. You know that, right?”

“I know, [Name]. I know.”

[aboutcustardcreams]

Time Ticking, Patience Thinning

Here’s another chapter that I hope you enjoy 🫶🏼 please lemme know if you do~ would make my day!

previous chapter

“What’s your name again-? I didn’t quite catch it the first time.” 

When the boy opened his mouth to answer Agatha’s question, your gaze instinctively shifted to him. What happened next took you by surprise. As he began to speak, a shimmering sigil materialized above his lips, silencing his voice entirely. Your brows furrowed in confusion as your gaze slowly shifted to Agatha. 

“Interesting,” that’s all she said. 

"What do you mean?” 

“Nothing to shout about,” she waved it off, giving you the hint of keeping that detail Teen a secret for now. “Anyway, I can’t promise I’ll remember your name.” 

Her words caught you off guard, and it took everything in you not to burst into a cackle. Even so, a tiny puff of air escaped your nose, almost sounding like a snort. Agatha turned to you then, her composure always impeccable, infuriatingly so. 

“We better get going now,” she brushed past you towards the front door, or rather, the spot where it used to be.

You smacked your lips at her nonchalance. If you weren’t in such a rush, you’d invade her personal space right there and now, capture her lips with yours to wipe off that knowing grin from her face. 

Instead you only said, “I drive.”

She didn’t object to that. In fact, she preferred it when you were the one behind the wheel. It gave her the liberty to let her hands wander over your skin. 

As you slid into your car, Teen's eyes sparkled with the hopeful anticipation of claiming the shotgun seat, but Agatha cut off his enthusiasm rather quickly. 

“Be a good pet and sit in the back, will you?” 

The boy shot you a sideway glance and you muttered a soft ‘sorry’ in his direction. Resigned, he slid into the backseat, clicked his seatbelt into place,and slouched in quiet defeat, arms crossed over his chest, reminding you of his young age. 

“Maybe on our way back you two can switch-”

Agatha didn’t even let you finish, “Or maybe not,” she muttered sarcastically. 

You sighed and started the car, with no clear destination in mind just yet, “very mature.”

She didn’t respond to that and simply hummed.

“So, where are we going?” Teen asked after a bunch of minutes. 

You looked at him from the rearview mirror, “for starters we do need a Coven to walk the Road.” 

He looked like a child on Christmas day, “you’re taking me to your Coven?” 

With your eyes back on the road, you hummed, “Uhm, not exactly.”

“We never had one,” Agatha clarified, “I mean, not for long anyway.” You glanced at her briefly, wondering what she might say to the boy next. For a fleeting moment, you thought she might blurt out the entire truth right then and there. But it wouldn’t be like her, so you brushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came to you. 

“They annoyed me,” she said with a dramatic tut, “so one day I woke up, feeling inspired, and turned them into dust.”

You nearly veered into the opposite lane when she said that, your knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Yes, she had killed her Coven, of that there was no dispute. But what she left unsaid were the reasons that forced her hand, reasons that probably nobody knew, that’s why people were so quick to come up with the ‘witch killer’ nickname. 

Teen looked terrified and uncertain what was to say next. And Agatha, being Agatha, looked quite pleased with it. 

"That’s not exactly how it went,” you mumbled, giving away the hint that there was more to say, without actually saying it. You stole a glance at Agatha, her smile teasing, slightly amused by the familiarity of the situation. There you were, once more, doing your best to clean up her reputation. She told you many times you didn’t have to do it, but you couldn’t help it. “What I can say is this: they’ve blown the whole ‘witch killer’ thing way out of proportion. Agatha isn’t a bad person.” 

Sure, you couldn’t deny the fact that Agatha killed witches, more than a few. But survival had a way of sharpening its edges, forcing impossible choices. She killed to save herself when no one else would. She killed to save Nicky. And later on… she killed to find a way to save you. It’s long overdue that people knew the truth, yet you knew it wasn’t your place, at least not only yours, to spill it. 

When Rio sent the Furies after you, they took possession of your mind, twisting reality until it was unrecognizable to you. Their voices inside your heart hurt in the most inexplicable way, but you resisted, you vowed to. You never fully understood how your condition affected Agatha and Nicky, because whenever you had a fleeting moment of clarity, they chose to savor the time together rather than tell you how much it hurt them to see you like that. During that time, Agatha’s killings increased but you wouldn’t know. She didn’t need to kill witches to heal Nicky, though. The moment you used your magic to bring him back to life, the curse had been lifted and with it, Nicky’s illness. But your magic had come with an unexpected price to pay. Rio had warned you, but you refused to listen. 

Noticing the way your eyes dimmed, Agatha slid her hand above your knee. She knew you too well to figure out exactly where your thoughts had gone. You were blaming yourself again. And she couldn’t let you do that. 

“Don’t listen to her, Teen. She has the tendency of picturing me softer than I really am,” despite her serious tone, the way her hand squeezed your knee, told you a whole different story. All she wanted was for you to let go of your sense of guilt. “When it comes to survival, you’ll do whatever it takes— anything. I hope it never comes that far for you.” 

Teen considered those words in silence. Your version compared to Agatha’s and it all just clicked. You were protecting her and she was protecting you. In that moment, he decided the rumors about the two of you didn’t matter, whether they were true or not. From now on, he would form his own picture of you both by living in the present and watching you do your thing. 

“I think it’s sweet that you found each other and stuck around for all these years. Centuries, I presume. In a way you form a Coven of two–” 

Your heart warmed up at Teen’s words. It was kind of cute to think of it that way. Your lips spread in a smile and so did Agatha’s, but more because she was amused by the whole thing he just said. Sure, she agreed with him- the fact that there was a bond between you two was true. An understatement, to be frank. You went through so many things together that the sole thought of parting ways for whatever reason felt now like a complete idiocy. You belonged to her like she belonged to you. 

“Teen, I’m sorry to cut your enthusiasm, but she and I are in a relationship. That hardly makes us a Coven.” 

“It makes us a family, though,” you pointed out. 

You caught something flickering in Agatha’s eyes, a shimmer of emotion, maybe even vulnerability. Had it been just the two of you, she might have let it linger, but with the boy in the car, she felt uneasy. So she averted her eyes, focusing on the passing landscape to her right. 

Noticing her hand slip away from your thigh, you pouted. Stubbornly, you reached out and placed it back where it belonged and when she turned, your lips curled up once again in a mischievous grin. Agatha snorted. That sass of yours— 

“There’s no time to be namby-pamby, my love. I need you to be focused.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled, “Fine. Wouldn’t want you to lose your only chance at surviving against the Salem Seven.”

Agatha's expression twisted into an exaggerated version of your own, mimicking your tone as she repeated the words you just said. The effect was immediate and both you and Teen burst into laughter, incredulous on your part. 

“I don’t sound like that!” 

“You do,” she insisted, lips twitching in a smirk. 

“I think she did a pretty good ‘you’”, Teen added, only fueling your mocking disbelief and Agatha’s enjoyment. 

“Whatever, I’m done with you two.” 

Your eyes squinted towards a peculiar building standing in the middle of nowhere to your left. You decided to try your luck there, took a rapid turn and parked right in front of the building, your instinct telling you there was a potential witch in there. The faded sign hanging above the door caught your eye, and you read it aloud: Madame Calderou’s Psychic Readings. 

Agatha clasped her hands together, before rubbing them as if she was plotting something mischievous, “Right. Seems like we are here.”

Teen’s interest piqued once again, “You think there’s a real witch in there?”

Before you could respond, Agatha preceded you, “we shall see if she knows the witchy handshake first.”

“Oh my God– there’s a witchy handshake?”

You let out an exasperated sigh while Agatha giggled to herself. It was so easy to play with that boy. “Teen, she is pulling your leg. There’s no such thing as a witchy handshake. Honestly that would be so demeaning.”

“Such as flying brooms or pointy hats,” she agreed with you. 

“I like flying brooms,” you retorted, as you three walked up towards the building. 

Agatha draped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a squishy, however affectionate embrace, “Course you do,” she purred, “next you’ll be telling me you want to adopt a black cat as familiar.” 

“I already have a familiar, thank you very much,” you pointed out, “a nice turtle that your bunny keeps bullying shamelessly.”

Agatha gasped dramatically, but you knew it was just an act, “he doesn’t! Take it back–” 

“He does,” you chuckled. “And no, I won’t.” 

“Uhm, we are drifting off here,” Teen interjected, with an awkward smile. He pointed at the building, making both you and Agatha shift your attention back to the reason why you were there. Gather a Coven of Witches. 

“Right,” she took a mental note to return to the subject another time. 

You nodded, stepping forward to open the door. Holding it wide, you gestured for Teen to go in first. He slipped inside without a word, rather excitedly actually, and as Agatha approached, she brushed past you, but not before her fingers slid into yours, her hand fitting perfectly in your grasp. 

A small, teasing grin tugged at your lips. “I thought we didn’t have time for sappy moments.” 

“Don’t be such a brat,” she whispered into your ear, in a cheeky tone, you didn’t miss. Couldn’t, if you tried. 

*

“You’ve been under the influence of another, haven't you? Someone you hurt,” the clairvoyant started, her voice solemn as she took in Agatha’s blue eyes. The smirk of confidence that had tugged at Agatha’s lips faded as soon as she realized that Lilia Calderou wasn’t a fraud and knew who she was. You gave Agatha’s hand a tentative squeeze, a way to let her know you were there– that everything was okay. Her fingers tightened around yours in response. 

“And she paid the price, too. They took your agency, but not hers,” she continued, her eyes landed on yours as you frowned uncomfortably. You never blamed Agatha for anything and you certainly wouldn’t start now just because a clairvoyant said so. “I feel it, your magic. It’s restless, volatile and quite dangerous. It should not exist.” 

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, “Here we go again,” you muttered, voice laced with dry sarcasm. Agatha snorted out a low chuckle in response to Lilia’s words, “You know nothing about her talent, so I’d suggest you to be quiet about it.” She never cared about what other witches thought about her, but whenever it came to you, she would completely lose her mind, if someone dared to judge who you were, basing their opinion on a prejudice as old as the world. 

“So you’re a witch?” Teen’s question came in a hopeful tone.

“Divination witch is my guess,” you replied before Lilia could. 

A mischievous grin tugged at Lilia’s lips. “If you intend to overstay your visit, I’ll have to charge you again.” 

“Oh, I think you can grant us another ten minutes of your time,” Agatha groaned, “It’s not that there’s a line in here or something.”

In response, you saw Teen bow his head to wipe the grin off his face. You, on the other hand, made no effort to hide yours. 

Annoyance was evident in her eyes, as she retorted, “whatever you want from me, I’m not interested,” Lilia stood up and without another word, she stood and disappeared behind the curtain at the back of her shop. 

You and Agatha shared a knowing glance. 

Teen appeared more disappointed than concerned, “Now what?” 

“Now we persuade her.” 

To preserve Agatha’s life, it was essential to gather some magic and you would have, no matter what. So you stood, eyes flashing with a newfound calm mingled with determination. Agatha noticed and smiled. She loved you for so many things and that behavior of yours, was just one of those characteristics that reminded her of why she chose to stick by your side so many years ago. 

She gave you a nod of her head and followed you, as you took the lead. On the other side, you found yourself in what could loosely be called an apartment. A single room stretched before you. To the left stood a corner kitchen, its countertops cluttered with mismatched utensils, jars of herbs, the faint glimmer of copper pots, and a kettle she just turned on, probably to make herself some soothing tea. 

“Join us,” Agatha insisted, as you and Teen kept looking around. “Honestly the way you live is kind of disappointing. You deserve more and better than whatever this place is…” Her gaze drifted to the far end of the room, where a mattress leaned against the wall, probably to save up space. 

You wondered if there was a toilet hidden behind it. How low could a witch go?

The clairvoyant’s gaze flickered with hesitation, her lips pressed into a thin line as Agatha’s words sinked in. The shrill whistle of the kettle cut through the silence, drawing her attention and causing both you and Agatha to roll your eyes, when she spun around. 

“Lilia–”, you couldn’t do this all day.  

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” when she turned to face you, her eyes locked onto yours, sharp and intense. You could tell she was conflicted, exasperated even. “I won’t make the same mistake and fall into Agatha’s manipulative ways. They say you endured the Furies’ wrath because you did and yet here you are, still standing by her side. I don’t understand that.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement. 

She had no idea what she was talking about– Agatha had nothing to do with the Furies. For some odd, infuriating reason, nobody knew a thing about Rio Vidal, instead: the true cause of everything. Instead, according to the stories, it had always been you and Agatha all along, so whatever bad thing came your way, Agatha bore the brunt of the blame. You were sick of that. 

Teen was in shock too, he didn’t speak, but a part of him ached to defend both you and Agatha. He’d read about the Furies, knew the torment you endured for years, but not for a second had he ever believed Agatha was responsible for it. It just didn’t sit right with him. It couldn’t be.  Not when Agatha looked at you the way she did, as if you held all the stars in the sky just for her. As if you were everything she had left.

Watching you from her peripheral vision, Agatha recognized clear signs of your struggle. Your jaw clenched tightly, your hands curled into fists at your sides, and your lips pressed into a thin line, “If you really think Agatha is somewhat responsible for what happened to me, which by the way is none of your business, maybe you lost your talent–”, your words hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere lingering in the room. 

Lilia looked somewhat self-conscious about what she said and how they affected you, yet she didn’t apologize. However, she held herself back from responding to your bitter remark about her.

Agatha’s lips stretched into a sad, tight smile the moment her fingers brushed against your forearm, and you failed to meet her eyes, “hey– don’t go there again. It’s not worth it,” she cooed, voice firm, yet veiled with the usual fondness she only reserved to you. You clenched your eyes shut for a moment, your magic sparkling at the tips of your fingers. Lilia was right about one thing: your talent could be dangerous especially when wielded by a witch emotionally distressed or simply pissed off, like you. 

“You’re right,” you sighed, “Look, we are going to walk the Road. The Witches’ Road. And we need a divination witch, but the choice is yours. You can keep living your eternal life in this kind of shack you call home or try to go back on top. Be a witch again.”

Lilia’s mouth almost dropped, then. “The Road is a death wish.” 

“I survived,” Agatha waved with a grin. 

“And yet you’ve got no power.”

“That’s why I need to walk the Road, again. To restock.” 

Lilia swallowed thickly. The offer was appealing and yet, she was uncertain. Agatha was, after all, known for having betrayed her entire Coven, at a very young age too. “How can I trust you won’t take my power at the earliest opportunity?”

Before Agatha could say anything, you stepped forward. “She won’t. I guarantee it for you.” Despite your growing distaste for Lilia at this moment, your principles held steadfast: no more witches would die because of Agatha. Or you. That was a promise you intended to keep. “You seem to know very well what Agatha’s capable of, but my question is, are you just as familiar with my talent?”

Lilia almost found it amusing that you’d question her knowledge about witches of your kind. “I do. At least to some extent,” she clarified, “I know what a necromancer witch can do. And I also know you’re not a killer,” she finished on a softer note. 

“Agatha isn’t either,” you pointed out.

“Well, isn’t your loyalty sweet–”

Your lover took a step ahead, stretched out a hand, and moved you behind her, the moment your magic intensified around you and her, “Look, you’re right, I’ve got a reputation, I can’t help with that–” she trailed off, gesturing animatedly while doing so. “I don’t have time to persuade you into believing my intentions are genuine. Time’s running out and if you’re not willing to tag along, then fine. I’ll still Walk the Witches’ Road, restore my powers, and get my life back. Just remember that the path you’re currently on leads nowhere.” 

Her words were convincing enough, but it was the small piece of paper she was holding that truly caught Lilia’s attention. You hadn’t noticed it before, nor were you sure where it had come from, but the realization struck quickly. A smirk tugged at your lips as everything suddenly fell in place.

That was an eviction notice.

“Even if I were to accept, you’d still need more witches.”

Agatha had a solution for that too. She grinned from ear to ear, “I was hoping you’d use your witchcraft to come up with a list of names. You can do that, can’t you?” 

It was a rhetorical question, she knew she could. 

Lilia’s lips stretched into a defiant smile, “give me that,” she said, snatching the piece of paper from Agatha’s hands, along with a pen that lay on the table. She didn’t even have to think about the names, they were already there, poised on the tip of her tongue or rather, the pen. 

When she handed the paper back, both you and Agatha went as pale as a sheet. It couldn’t be. At the top were your name and Agatha’s, followed by Lilia Calderou, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu Gulliver, and, finally, Rio Vidal.

[wandaslittlelove]

Deaths Hand In Mine

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader Warnings: Blood, Stabs wounds, Death (Reader)

Since this was for a piece in my creative writing class reader is given the name Blair

Her hands felt like ice on my skin as she assessed the damage done to my stomach. Trembling as her hands and clothes become soaked with the warmth of my blood. My blood ran down my stomach and pooled onto the floor underneath where I lay. Sweat was starting to build on my forehead as my skin became pale and clammy. 

“Blair Blair! Stay with me my love.” Her hands applied pressure to my wound attempting to stop the bleeding. I could hear her pleading but her voice was fuzzy as black spots began to make their way into my vision. She wasn’t just pleading to me, she was pleading to the fates. She was trying to buy me enough time so that the ambulance could get here. “You're going to be okay. Just keep your eyes open” Her tears began to fall and I could hear slight sobs making their way past her lips. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this and knowing that it was my fault. I should have locked the door like she told me. If I had just listened then he wouldn’t have broken in. I wouldn’t be lying here dying in front of her on our anniversary.

My hand reaches out shakily to comfort her but with the blood loss I'm far too weak and my vision makes it hard to see so my hand ends up dropping back to my side. A small noise of disappointment leaves my lips and I try again. Once again I don’t get very far. She lets out a small chuckle despite the situation and takes one hand off my wound to hold my hand. 

“I’ll kill them. Whoever did this to you. I’ll find them and they’ll pay.” I go to answer but my only response is a gargled noise as blood comes out and begins to run down my face. Another desperate cry leaves her lips as she begins to plead with the fates again. “Please I beg of thee. Do not take her from me. I’ll do anything!” We both know the fates hear her but they refuse to answer for her. They always have. Her pleading has always meant nothing to them. It will always mean nothing to them. She could plead all she wanted but they would never grant her anything. She was an outcast to them. 

“My love” I whisper even though it sounds more like a faint disgruntled noise. Her face shoots to me. Her eyes are red and puffy from her crying. Her hand on my wound growing a thick layer of my blood the longer she holds it there. Her efforts are useless and we both know it. There is nothing she or anyone else can do to save me. “You have to let go” She shakes her head frantically. Her hand leaving mine and joining her other on my wound.

“No, no. They’ll be here soon. You’ll live” My vision has become blurrier now and it’s getting hard to breathe with the blood filling my lungs. It was only a matter of seconds before I would pass, before I would leave her.

“You have to. It’s- It’s my time” My body grows weaker and weaker as the air around me grows colder. Her shouts for me to stay awake are just a background noise now. My time has come.

Death stood over me like a warm blanket. Welcoming me into her soothing embrace. With death's hand in mine, I was guided into the land of the dead. I did not fear the figure. Not when I had seen her so many times before in the form of my lover.

[bambi-kinos]

Thank you so much for replying to my ask! Sorry for the long reply back but I just love discussing these two.

Yes the rock and roll lifestyle and Paul’s infamous cheating before Linda has me very sceptical about him being 100% faithful to Linda too. That Jane Asher story is insane! The idea of Wings being a way to keep an eye on it is very interesting and not implausible at all. However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

But I still can’t get my head around the points I made earlier that counter this argument. Would love to hear your take on things!

EXTREMELY based ask anon, your mind is very sharp and I love it!

okayyyy there's a lot here so let's take it bit by bit

However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

If we're anywhere close to the ballpark then Linda nearly called off the wedding when Paul told her about him and John. But then after that, she would chaperone Paul when he went to see John and hang out with him like when they went to LA. It's hard to say what Linda would or wouldn't stand for IMO because she saw the real Paul, all of him, and stuck that out for over twenty years.

I don't think that Linda would be okay with Paul cheating on her necessarily but I wouldn't write off her pretending not to see when he was sneaking out under her nose. It's not the same thing as having an open relationship but she and Paul had agreed to try for Mary sometime in 1968 before she knew about him and John and witnessed the messy break up. She doesn't strike me as the vindictive type so I wonder if knowing she was pregnant and wanting her kid to know who her father was played any role in her decision. And Linda purportedly didn't like the idea of getting married again according to a quote floating around here -- Paul had to convince her it was a good idea, not the other way around. There's reason to believe that Linda may have been happy just being a common law couple or whatever the UK's equivalent is and that Paul insisted on getting married.

I'm not saying definitively one way or another, Linda is much more opaque than Paul. But I'm hesitant to say that she wouldn't tolerate cheating or she wouldn't look the other way on it, because why else did she let Paul visit John so much otherwise? She knew what was going on.

Just something to think about I guess.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

The biggest reason is that The Beatles worked very hard as a unit to cover up their infidelities. Paul was two paternity accusations lodged against him, one was the German girl and the other was Liverpool girl. Blood tests proved that both of these paternity claims were false (and Anita later admitted that she had a second boyfriend concurrent to Paul at the time, she just didn't think he was actually the dad until her son spilled the beans that Paul's paternity test proved false.) Despite these two paternity suits being lodged against Paul, he still paid the girls hush money through Brian. There's another story of a paternity claim being lodged against John that Brian paid to go away. The hookers they engaged with in the hotels were also paid for their time and to not launch any paternity suits against The Beatles. And so on.

The most encompassing answer is simply that Paul and the other Beatles paid off their babymamas AND that they have lots of legal representation on their side to make offers that can't be refused. I have long thought that the sudden muzzling of Heather Mills was the result of a super injunction, a feature of British law where a person with enough money and influence can forcibly shut someone up. A super injunction is, to put it mildly, a massive pain in the ass to obtain yet Paul is well positioned to have used one to make her shut her mouth and stop libeling him in the press. If Paul is ruthless enough to use something like that against his ex wife and mother to his child then he is absolutely willing to turn it on lays from the 1960s and 1970s. Most of the time I would bet he does not have to; we all have a price and for a sufficient amount of money, I wouldn't bother Paul with a paternity suit either.

Then there's just love and personal loyalty. The Beatles inspire incredible loyalty in their fans and their hook ups. Peggy Lipton went completely insane for Paul after meeting him only a handful of times including showing up at his hotel in a swimsuit hoping to be taken on Paul's Dirty Weekend with Linda. Now imagine that loyalty in a 19 year old girl who hooked up with Paul during 1966. Why would she say shit to anyone about having sex with Paul or getting pregnant by him? She would absolutely feel inspired to protect him. I think this would be just as true in 1976, the loyalty that the boys inspired in their fans is remarkable.

And think about it: if you had slept with one of the Beatles, would you out him to anyone? Or would you keep it a secret? Think carefully about it. By outing him, you are also outing yourself. Especially if Paul was married at the time. Do you want to admit you're complicit in Paul McCartney's adultery? That sounds like a very unpleasant prospect to me and besides, you want to keep a little piece of him to yourself.

Tour managers and hotel staff likely suspected something but it was truly a whirlwind for them too and I think a lot of them just second guess what they know. Homosexual activity was completely unthinkable and virtually unknown in the 60s and 70s. The only people who would truly know is the housekeeping staff. They would see the telltale signs of who slept where and what they were doing; those room manifests don't tell us shit because we can be sure that the boys swapped beds and rooms all the time depending on what they wanted. For John and Paul especially, I imagine there was a lot of wandering in the night and seeking each other out.

Take that story of Ringo disappearing during the 1964 tour to go on a joyride with a police man with Paul waking up and alerting Mal and Neil that he was gone. Why was Paul awake in the night? Why didn't he just go ask John and George where Ringo was first thing? Surely if your third band member goes missing your first instinct would be to ask the other two if they've seen him but instead Paul, for some reason, seems to have known immediately that Ringo was not with John and George in their hotel room and promptly tattled to the roadies. This is despite the room set up which was supposed to be Paul/Ringo and George/John. Hm!

Only housekeeping would know the truth of the situation and those men and women are dead or lost in the crowd. However even then we don't have reason to think they had proof: John and Paul being intimate would only leave behind the remains of...sex. And the truth is that The Beatles liked having sex with girls while they were in the same room together, including switching. What reason was there to think that it was just two guys boning instead of two guys and two girls?

What I'm driving at is that tour managers and hotel staff and housekeeping servicewomen had a lot of circumstantial evidence but unless they caught John and Paul in the act, then they had no reason to understand what they were seeing. Anyone who did catch them would have been paid off with the brown paper bag money Brian picked up from the bootleg merch vendors that sold fanmerch outside their concerts. And if that failed then yes legal action would have been launched through Capitol's legal arm because Capitol had plenty of superstars before The Beatles that had to be managed. They knew the drill, they weren't angels. Managing sex addicts and homosexual activity was business as usual for a suit even in 1964. They wouldn't want to scuttle that secret either because if Paul throws a fit and buys out his song catalogue then it's good night Felicia.

So in between those three things -- personal loyalty, bribes, and the threat of legal action especially since Paul has rich boy privileges -- no one is saying shit. Not any of the groupies, none of the women Paul was probably hanging out with while married, no one who ever caught him with John. It's just not worth it.

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

Hunter Davies. The phone call with Hunter Davies is very interesting because he was someone Paul knew...but otoh he's still a reporter. Paul knows that. Hearing more about the Lennon McCartney feud soon after John's death was a hot story so could Paul reasonably assume that Hunter would write up the story.

I posit that Paul, in an act of true cynicism and spite towards Yoko, deliberately leaked some of his issues with John in order to spit in Yoko's eye. Especially with that pointed line about how he knows things about John that Yoko never knew...and that he won't publish them until after she is dead. You want to talk about ouch?!

I think that Paul is being genuine when he's confused about how he could have hurt John which makes me think @menlove is right and that India may have been a nothingburger or didn't feature Paul getting cold feet about John.

There are a couple of candidates for "John said no one hurt him like Paul did." We'll probably never know what they are but these are my personal options:

John asked for a relationship with Paul in India; Paul did something John interpreted as a rejection especially in light of Paul self destructing and John going on a multi-day bender when he got home.

Paul suddenly bringing Linda into the limo during the New York City trip to promote Apple. John seems genuinely baffled and confused about this with the "and next thing I know she's married to him" line. It was completely out of left field and John was caught by surprise.

Paul getting the drop on John with regards to announcing the Beatles break up. John expressed bitterness about this (because it was a ploy to force Paul to stay with him, Paul wasn't actually supposed to follow through with it) because it humiliated him publicly.

John was still hung up on the Family Way score and was destroyed by that and by Paul going "fuck it we'll do it live" and recording so much stuff solo for the White Album.

You may have spotted a problem with this already: there are multiple instances where Paul could have profoundly hurt John that would linger in John's memory. How can you possibly choose just one?

What if it was all of these and that eventually the hurt and abandonment mounted and John couldn't take it anymore?

Ultimately though I think Paul is/was confused and angry because the narrative was all about how Paul hurt John, and nothing about how John hurt Paul, another thing Paul brought up with Hunter during the interview. If John was pissy about Paul announcing the break up first, then why was no attention paid to John announcing "I want a divorce"? Why is it so important to sweep John being a dickhead under the rug? I think that's what had Paul so confused and pissed off, to the point that he couldn't really pinpoint one single thing that could have hurt John. 'Are you serious, I hurt him when he's the one who abandoned me multiple times through out our relationship and never apologized for any of it?' That would piss me off monumentally if I were Paul, I'd deny all knowledge of hurting John too since he refused to own up to hurting Paul in the first place.

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

That's pretty much it. Keeping in mind that Yoko kept John hooked on drugs to keep him from making up with Paul as well.

I think the confusion and frustration Paul expressed/expresses is a byproduct of the fog of war. He's too close to the subject matter, he can't figure it out because he can't see the big picture.

[hannieoftheyear]

Warning Signal (jww) TEASER

Two targets you need to figure out, alongside the one person you most despise, and zero mistakes allowed.

As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.

pairing: criminal!wonwoo x criminal!reader

w.c: 915 (for the teaser), full work will be over 20k

release date: tbd

genre: exes to partners in crime to lovers, violence, angst, smut (not in the teaser)

content warnings (for the full work): vague descriptions of what their "job" actually is, criminal acts, stalking, spying, invasion of privacy, use of fake names, fake identities, stealing (both reader and wonwoo do all of the above), mentions of guns, fight scenes, blood, murder, death (not the main characters) | the story will contain flashbacks written in cursive (such as this teaser)

note: this is very different from what i've been posting so far, but i had a dream about a similar story and couldn't get it out of my mind.

on that note, i'm not sure when i'll be able to finish this bc it's taking a lot of time to make sure everything makes sense and for the relationship to be fully fleshed out. it might be done by january (that sounds so weird to say omg)

if anyone wants to be on the taglist, comment this post!

“The bit is over Wonwoo, go home.”

“Let’s just work together, one last time.” His voice reaches closer and closer from behind you until you stop walking and force yourself to face him. 

“Not only do I not need your help, I especially don’t want it.” 

“Look, I’m not asking you to forgive me, just–” He appears to have regretted what he was about to say, and you don’t wait for him to gather his thoughts. 

“Just what? Understand it? We’re way past that don’t you think?” 

“We’re good together,” your brain glitches with astonishment before he corrects himself, “We always worked better when we did these jobs together, you know that.” 

“You have some serious nerve, after last time, the least I should do it rat you out right this second.” 

“You wouldn’t do that, it’s not your style.” 

“To fuck over my partners? No, that’s yours.” 

He's trying to charm his way into your life again, like the past few months could disappear at the flash of a smile, and you'll be damned if you let him.  

“Let’s just see it as a mere trade of information, nothing more.” Neither his voice nor his expression suggests that he’s trying to deceive you, and you hate that you're even considering his offer.  

“And I wouldn’t have to see your face ever again after?” 

“That would be your loss, but sure. One last job and we’d be done.” 

“Are you being serious?” 

It’s hard to trust him. No matter how much he insists it’s his only goal. But it’s true that whatever knowledge he collected on that dude would save you a lot of time and resources, and you have to do this job well to prove yourself to your boss. 

“Dead serious. I promise.” 

A year before… 

The waitress, with purple bags under her eyes and bleach blonde hair tied up in a bun on the edge of falling undone, sighed on the way to tell the same client, for the fourth time in two hours, that it was prohibited to smoke inside the establishment. You saw that man doing countless other illegal things while sitting on that same dark booth the entire night, but the bar drew the line at smoking indoors. 

He huffed at her but ultimately put the cigarette out against the wood table. There were fewer and fewer people the more the time passed, and soon enough, it was going to be too suspicious for you to still be there. You couldn’t be the only customer left in the bar when he left, but the person he was still waiting for was the key to all this, and you couldn’t leave without that information. 

An ‘80s country song started playing on the radio, and the man started tapping his fingers against the table, following the rhythm of the classic. It was almost serene, the way he relaxed at the sound of the familiar tune, but the night started to feel more and more like a waste of time. Whatever the deal was with the person who wasn’t showing up, it was clearly not happening. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” A familiar figure sat in front of you at the secluded booth you kidnapped for the whole night. But the smile that appeared on your face at him quickly dissipated. 

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too empty.” Besides the staff, you and the old man, there were only three people inside the dusty bar at that time, all alone, too drunk and on the brink of leaving. It was almost impossible not to stand out in that crowd. 

“Don’t worry, I called in a few favors.” Just as Wonwoo finished his sentence, a group of at least ten men, talking loudly and in the mood to celebrate something, walked into the tiny bar, disrupting the serenity but providing you with much needed cover. 

“You’re so... resourceful.” Your words mixed with a giggle as the atmosphere changed from calm and musty to a playful bachelor-esque party inside the bar. “How did you know I was here?” 

“I always know where you are, baby.” A chill climbed up your spine at his teasing smile. “And also, I was waiting for a guy to show up here. He’s supposed to be meeting someone.” 

The loud laugh that escaped you almost beat the drunk shouting of the bachelors in volume. It was easy to connect the dots, and it also wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. 

“You know something I don’t?” Wonwoo’s eyes didn’t stray away from the smile on your lips. 

You just giggled as your eyes darted towards the sketchy old man, who was back to smoking, seeing that the staff’s attention was focused on the new customers. You could feel Wonwoo’s gaze stay on you for a second before following yours, and the realization hit him quickly, the years of working together serving their purpose. 

“Yours?” The amusement in his voice made you nod eagerly, sipping on the mocktail that had been sitting untouched on the table for over an hour. “It’s been a while.” 

This job, the thing that you do for a living, got lonely every now and then. Doing everything on your own, not being able to share it with the people closest to you, can take a toll on anyone, no matter how detached they're able to get. So, when you got a chance to work with the one you love, you were for sure gonna take it. 

“I know, it’s gonna be fun.”  

thank you for reading! i love this story and i cant wait to finish it so you all can finally read it!

remember! if you want to join the taglist, comment on this post ♡

[illbegottenfaith]

handwritten - theo nott x reader

yours and theo’s story as told through notes passed in class

a/n - came up with this quick idea to release some pent up creative energy while mulling over lucky pt 3. will prob make this an ongoing series for small ideas I can’t get fully fledged fics out of. easy to write, easy to read, enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a minor hinting at angst, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.5k

Monday, 10.07 am, Charms

Hey. You might want to pull your nose out of that disgusting textbook for once.

We’ve been over this. Just because you don’t understand something it doesn’t mean it’s disgusting. It’s very disrespectful.

What is disrespectful is you not paying attention to our year’s hottest new commodity - emphasis on the hot. I must say, he fills out that uniform quite nicely.

I’m sure he does.

C’mon, you’re not even a little bit curious? Just a peek?

Y/N? Hellooooooo? 

Oh my god. I know the guy.

???

What is he doing here? Last I heard he was being homeschooled.

Know him how??

We went to the same primary school. We were…friends.

Riiiight.

Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t seen him since I was ten. And he looked very, very different back then. Had a ratty sort of face. I can still kind of see it, actually.

Oh, Y/N, how could you say such awful things about his beautiful face! Oh dear, that bone structure…

Quiet, you. He’s really…grown. He’s so much taller now.

You know what you should do? You should offer to help him catch up.

On five years of school?

Oh, please, he was homeschooled. He had to have learnt some things. Who is he, anyway?

Theodore Nott.

Now that’s an Old Money name if I ever heard one.

Ivy. Be nice.

So? Is he? Old money, that is.

I…suppose so.

Are you sure you two were friends?

Yes. It’s been a while, that’s all. I just…wow. I can’t believe he’s here. Like, right there. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.

What happened?

He moved. I was starting at Hogwarts. We lost touch, it happens.

But now he’s back! Yay! Did you see those sinfully blue eyes of his?

Ivy, you have a boyfriend.

I know. Ivan agrees, by the way.

That he’s hot?

Yes.

He’s sitting on the other side of the room. When did you have time to discuss this??

Just now. Right in front of you. What did you think all that eyebrow-waggling was about?

I thought you were having a stroke. Merlin, the two of you are perfect for each other.

Don’t change the subject. He’s not gay, is he? Your friend? All the hot ones usually are.

I wouldn’t know, now, would I? I haven’t heard anything about him in years. Ivy, leave him alone. Please don’t harass the poor guy, sexually or otherwise. And quit it with the notes. He’ll notice.

How??? Has he got eyes on the back of his very nicely shaped head? He’s busy with Flitwick anyway.

Trust me, he’ll see. Nothing gets past Theodore Nott.

Monday, 2.15 pm, Potions

Well?????

Well, what?

The chat!!! Your chat!!!!!! With Mr. Theodore Nott!!!!!!!!

You have to quit it with the caffeine. You’re far too excitable after lunch.

The chat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It was fine. It was…nice.

Uh-huh.

He goes by Theo now.

Okay. I’ll pretend I care about that.

It was all very casual, very superficial. It was really just us exchanging pleasantries. Oh, right. He asked me to accompany him to Quidditch tryouts.

You??? But you hate Quidditch.

I know.

Please tell me you didn’t say that.

I didn't. I just said I didn’t know much about it.

And?

He said that didn’t matter. He just wanted me there for moral support.

Then what was with all the turning red halfway through? You looked like you were going to combust.

Was it that obvious?

Ivan had some pumpkin juice ready, just in case.

It was nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. He called me his good luck charm.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You’re going to rip a hole through the parchment.

AWWWWW

So?? Did you say yes??

I said I’d think about it.

BOOOOOOOO

Come on, Vee. He’s been flying since before he could walk. He always talked about joining the big leagues, you know. He knows everything there is to know about Quidditch, so of course he’ll make the team. And it’ll have nothing to do with me.

But he doesn’t even have any friends yet :(

That’s because he hasn’t talked to anyone yet.

Y’know, Romilda Vane wanted to know why he was talking to you of all people.

What’s that supposed to mean??

Eh, you know. You can be a little…snippy.

I am NOT snippy.

There it is. The snippiness.

Whatever. It’s all so pointless. Come Thursday evening, he’ll have joined the Quidditch team and he’ll be hanging out with, y’know, those people, and we’ll be ancient history. He’ll make plenty of friends. He just doesn’t know it yet.

Okay. If you say so. Also, at lunch, I finally tried that thing you’re always talking about, “applying myself,” and I found this article on his dad in the library. From 6 years ago.

Don’t you want to know what the article said?

You could have mentioned he was a death eater, you know.

I don’t care about that, by the way. You used to be friends and that’s good enough for me. But, Y/N, he was arrested six years ago. And you haven’t talked to Theo in six years. But there isn’t any kind of connection between those, is there?

Y/N?

Do not make me throw this at you. I know how you feel about paper cuts.

Tuesday, 3.03 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Where’s your friend?

?

You know. Who you’re always passing notes with in class?

You noticed?

Hard not to. It makes you all fidgety and annoyed.

Yeah, well, Ivy’s an annoying person.

I’ll take your word for it. What do you have after this?

Transfiguration.

Wow. That’s one of the harder ones, isn’t it?

Er, depends on who you ask, I think.

Still brilliant as ever, then.

Shut up. I’m not half the swot I was in primary school. 

I never thought you were a swot. You were just…enthusiastic.

That’s sweet of you to say, Theo.

Huh. I thought I’d always be Teddy to you.

We’re not ten anymore, Theo. I can say your name perfectly now.

That’s good. So, have you thought about it?

Thought about what?

The Quidditch tryouts. You’re the only person I know here so you have to say yes.

I don’t know. Some of the girls look pretty interested in getting to know you.

What?

Nothing. I guess I could swing by for a short while.

That’s my girl.

Thursday, 8.37 pm, Common Room

SO?????

He got in. Obviously. Was there ever any doubt?

Did he run up to you? Did he hug you? Did he pick you up and spin you around???

Witch Weekly is a bad influence on you.

Details, please.

He hugged me. Kind of. Nearly tackled me, he was so excited.

you are SO his good luck charm!!!!!!

Friday, 11.17 am, Defence Against the Dark Arts

Witch Weekly?

It’s not mine. I’m holding it for a friend.

Right.

Really, I am. Ivy’s a fiend for these but she has this Charms test coming up that she absolutely cannot fail.

I believe you. ‘Top 6 Magical Contraceptives for the Modern Witch’ doesn’t sound like your kind of reading material.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was only having a little fun.

I’m not embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?

Erm, no, but you’re very red. Do you need to see the Healer?

I’m fine. It’s just hot. And no one calls Madam Pomfrey ‘the Healer,’ by the way.

Ah. I see.

Is there a point to all this? Did you need to ask something?

Oh, right. What are you up to on Saturday night?

Saturday? Dunno…wanted to take a crack at that Transfiguration essay.

Excellent. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Oh?

It’s nothing. A couple of the guys on the team wanted to celebrate with drinks at Hogsmeade. Everyone’s bringing someone, and I thought it would be nice if you came. Being my good luck charm, and all.

Oh, Theo, you probably don’t know this since you’re new and all, but going down to Hogsmeade is only permissible on certain weekends. And only start a couple of weeks into the term, so not yet.

Did you just -? Oh my god, you did. You laughed at me. You laughed at my note. Out loud. You’re lucky you’re in Slytherin, you know. Snape usually goes absolutely ballistic if anyone interrupts his lesson.

I’m sorry, I forgot what a stickler you were. I just - I didn’t think I’d miss it.

Please, Theo, forget the drinks. I cannot in good conscience stand by and let you break so many rules. You’ve been here less than a week!

Guess you’ll have to keep an eye on me. Make sure I stay out of trouble.

Exactly.

Great. See you Saturday at 8.

[novaursa]

Flames in the West (a sad lion)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: his rock

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The once-vibrant halls of Casterly Rock seemed unusually quiet—or so Jason Lannister thought as he trudged through them, his boots echoing against the stone floors. He hadn’t seen much of his wife in recent days, and what interactions they did have were… different. She wasn’t throwing her usual sharp jabs or teasing him with that infuriating yet captivating smirk. Instead, she had become polite. Reserved, even.

And Jason hated it.

He leaned against one of the arched windows overlooking the sea, a goblet of wine in hand and a deep frown etched into his features. The waves crashed against the cliffs far below, their rhythmic pounding doing little to soothe his growing paranoia.

Martyn Lannister strolled into the chamber, his easy grin in place as always. “There you are,” he said, plopping down into a nearby chair. “I was starting to think you’d fallen into one of the mine shafts.”

Jason didn’t reply, his frown deepening as he swirled the wine in his goblet.

Martyn raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “You look positively miserable, cousin. What’s wrong? Did the kitchen run out of your favorite vintage, or did Sylveris decide to roast one of your prized banners?”

Jason sighed dramatically, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “It’s Y/N.”

Martyn’s grin widened. “Ah, the dragon. What’s she done this time? Threatened to throw you off the battlements?”

“That would be preferable,” Jason muttered, finally turning to face him. “At least then I’d know she still cared.”

Martyn blinked, then burst into laughter. “She doesn’t care because she hasn’t threatened to kill you? You’ve lost me, Jason.”

Jason groaned, setting his goblet down on the windowsill. “She doesn’t insult me anymore. No jabs, no teasing—nothing. It’s like she’s ignoring me entirely.”

Martyn’s laughter grew louder. “That’s what’s bothering you? The lack of insults?”

“Yes!” Jason snapped, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? That’s how she shows affection—or at least, that’s how it used to be. Now she’s just… distant. Civil.”

Martyn leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “So, let me get this straight: your wife isn’t yelling at you or calling you names, and you’re upset about it?”

Jason shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Martyn said, smirking. “You’re addicted to her barbs, and now that she’s treating you like an actual lord, you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Jason sighed again, pacing the room. “What if she’s found someone else?”

That caught Martyn off guard. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

Jason stopped pacing, turning to face his cousin with a look of genuine worry. “Think about it. Why else would she stop paying attention to me? What if there’s another man?”

Martyn stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter so loud it echoed off the walls. “Another man? Jason, you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Jason protested, his voice rising. “She’s barely said a word to me in days, and when she does, it’s all ‘Yes, my lord’ and ‘Of course, my lord.’ That’s not her. She’s up to something.”

Martyn wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “So let me get this straight: your wife, who’s carrying your child, is suddenly so bored with you that she’s taken a lover in the middle of your castle? Do you hear how absurd you sound?”

Jason crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “It’s not impossible.”

“Jason,” Martyn said, his tone still laced with amusement, “you’re not just a lion. You’re a delusional lion. She’s probably just tired, or distracted, or—dare I say it—growing another person inside her.”

Jason hesitated, his resolve wavering slightly. “But what if—”

Martyn cut him off, rising from his chair and clapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “If there were another man, Jason, do you really think she’d be subtle about it? She’s a Targaryen. She’d probably introduce him to you just to watch you squirm.”

Jason groaned, running both hands through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m helping more than you deserve,” Martyn quipped, shaking his head. “Listen, just talk to her. Ask her what’s on her mind. Or, better yet, stop being so insufferable and give her some space.”

Jason frowned, muttering under his breath. “Easy for you to say. You’re not married to a dragon.”

Martyn grinned. “No, but watching you flail around like this is entertainment enough.”

Jason threw him a withering look before turning back to the window, his thoughts still tangled. Martyn clapped him on the shoulder one last time before heading for the door.

“Good luck, cousin,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

Jason barely acknowledged him, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew Martyn was probably right—probably—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. And until he figured out what it was, he would remain the most miserable lion in all of Westeros.

The halls of Casterly Rock buzzed with quiet speculation as Jason Lannister, Lord of the Rock, embarked on what could only be described as an increasingly dramatic investigation. He’d spent the better part of the day questioning members of the household, demanding answers with the fervor of a knight preparing for battle.

“Have you seen anything unusual?” Jason asked a servant folding linens in the hallway. “Anything at all? A suspicious visitor? A secret meeting?”

The servant blinked at him, bewildered. “No, my lord. Only the usual.”

Jason frowned, muttering to himself as he moved on to his next suspect.

By mid-afternoon, he had interrogated a steward, a stable hand, and even the cook—each more confused than the last. His antics had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the household. By the time he cornered Martyn in the great hall, a small crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle unfold.

Martyn leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, his grin as wide as the Sunset Sea. “Still convinced your wife has a lover, Jason?”

Jason glared at him. “Something’s going on, Martyn. I can feel it.”

“Let me guess,” Martyn drawled, feigning thought. “She smiled at someone in passing, and now you’re ready to start a trial.”

Jason ignored him, pacing in front of the growing audience. “She’s distant, she’s quiet, and she hasn’t insulted me in days. There’s more to this.”

One of the younger cousins piped up, giggling. “Maybe she’s just tired, my lord.”

Jason stopped, turning to face the group. “Tired of what? Of me?”

The crowd erupted into laughter, and Martyn clapped him on the back. “If she’s tired of you, she’d let you know. Trust me.”

Jason sighed dramatically, raking a hand through his hair. “Fine. If none of you have answers, I’ll just have to ask her myself.”

Jason stormed into your chambers with all the subtlety of a lion on the hunt. You were seated by the window, staring out at the sea with a faintly pale complexion. A cup of mint tea sat untouched on the table beside you.

“Y/N,” Jason said, his voice firm. “We need to talk.”

You turned your head slowly, fixing him with a weary stare. “Jason. If this is about you imagining me plotting against you with some mysterious lover, I’ll save you the trouble. There isn’t one.”

Jason hesitated, his righteous determination faltering. “How did you—?”

“You’ve been stomping around the castle like a madman all day,” you said, cutting him off. “It wasn’t hard to guess.”

Jason frowned, stepping closer. “Then what is it? Why have you been so… different?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you must know, I’ve been battling the constant urge to vomit.”

Jason froze. “Vomit?”

“Yes, Jason,” you said dryly. “It’s a common occurrence in pregnancy. Did you not read any of those books I had sent to the library?”

Jason blinked, his mind struggling to process this new information. “You’re sick? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you replied, sipping your tea carefully. “Though at this point, I wish I could throw up on you just to prove it.”

Jason’s reaction was immediate and utterly ridiculous. He sank into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I thought you hated me.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You thought I hated you because I wasn’t insulting you every five minutes?”

Jason looked up, his expression sheepish. “Well… yes.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Then, you began to laugh—quiet at first, then louder as the absurdity of the situation sank in. “Jason,” you said between breaths, “you’re an idiot.”

The door creaked open, and Martyn poked his head in, grinning like a cat with cream. “I heard shouting. Did he finally figure it out?”

Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, Martyn. She’s not plotting against me. She’s just… nauseous.”

Martyn stepped fully into the room, his grin widening. “That explains a lot. Though I think we all enjoyed watching you spiral.”

“Get out,” Jason muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone.

Martyn chuckled, bowing mockingly before retreating. “As you wish, my lord.”

As the door closed, Jason turned back to you, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot.”

“You’re always an idiot,” you replied, though there was no bite in your words. “But you mean well.”

Jason smiled, reaching for your hand. “I’ll make it up to you. Anything you need—anything at all—you just tell me.”

You leaned back in your chair, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “Right now, I need you to stop being so dramatic. Can you manage that?”

Jason chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips. “For you, my lady, I’ll try.”

The rest of the household, of course, was thoroughly entertained when word of Jason’s misunderstanding spread. But for now, the lion and his dragon had found their peace—even if it was only temporary.

The halls of Casterly Rock were bustling with energy right the next day, not because of any pressing matters of state or impending feasts, but because Jason Lannister had declared it his personal mission to ensure his wife’s comfort during her pregnancy. Naturally, his methods were anything but subtle.

It began in the early morning, when Jason burst into your chambers with a tray in hand. The tray was precariously balanced, piled high with everything from honey-glazed bread to a steaming cup of mint tea he saw you drink yesterday. Behind him, two nervous servants trailed, carrying pitchers of juice and an assortment of dried fruits.

“Good morning, my love!” Jason announced, grinning like a man who thought he was about to win a tourney.

You looked up from your seat by the window, arching an eyebrow. “Jason. What is this?”

“Breakfast,” he said proudly, setting the tray down on the small table beside you. “I had the kitchens prepare everything you might crave. If you don’t like what’s here, I’ll have them bring more.”

You stared at the tray, then back at him. “This is enough food for an entire household.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “You’re eating for two. You need options.”

“I don’t need options,” you replied dryly. “I need you to stop hovering.”

Jason clutched his chest dramatically. “Hovering? I’m not hovering. I’m attending to your every need, as any devoted husband should.”

Martyn, who had appeared in the doorway just in time to witness the exchange, coughed into his hand to hide his laughter. “Attending or smothering? It’s a fine line, cousin.”

Jason shot him a glare. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Martyn.”

“No, but I’m giving it anyway,” Martyn said, stepping into the room. “This is delightful. Please, carry on.”

Later that afternoon, you decided to take a walk in the gardens, hoping for a moment of peace. Naturally, Jason insisted on accompanying you. He hovered like a mother hen, holding your arm as though the slightest misstep might cause catastrophe.

“Jason,” you said, exasperated, “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“I’m aware,” he replied, ignoring your tone as he guided you along the path. “But the ground is uneven, and I don’t trust these pebbles.”

You rolled your eyes. “The pebbles are fine. I’m fine. Please stop fussing.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, one of the younger Lannister cousins appeared with a mischievous grin. “My lord, I heard you’ve been quite the nursemaid lately.”

Jason straightened, his tone defensive. “I’m ensuring my wife’s comfort.”

“By hovering?” she teased, earning a snicker from Martyn, who had once again materialized to witness the scene.

Jason huffed, clearly outnumbered. “I’ll have you know, Y/N appreciates my efforts.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Do I?”

Jason blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Of course you do. Don’t you?”

Before you could answer, a gardener approached with a bouquet of golden roses freshly cut from the garden. Jason seized the opportunity to present them to you with a flourish.

“For you,” he said, his grin returning. “To brighten your day.”

You accepted the bouquet, raising an eyebrow. “They’re lovely. Did you cut them yourself?”

Jason hesitated, glancing at the gardener before replying, “I… supervised.”

The group erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t suppress a small smile.

That evening, Jason took his efforts to a new level by commissioning a troupe of performers to entertain you during supper. Among them was a juggler who insisted on incorporating live chickens into his act.

It did not go well.

As the juggler tossed the chickens into the air, one squawked loudly and escaped, flapping wildly around the hall. Guests ducked as the rogue bird swooped low, narrowly avoiding a platter of roasted venison.

Jason leapt to his feet, shouting instructions to the servants. “Catch it! Don’t let it ruin the feast!”

Martyn, sitting across from you, leaned back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. “This might be your finest idea yet, Jason.”

Jason ignored him, lunging for the chicken himself. He missed, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a tray of wine goblets. You, meanwhile, sat calmly, eating your cake and watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

When the chicken finally landed in the lap of an elderly aunt, who shrieked loud enough to rival Sylveris, Jason managed to grab it by the legs and hold it aloft like a trophy. The hall erupted into applause and laughter.

“Problem solved,” he declared, slightly out of breath as he handed the bird back to the juggler with a stern glare. “No more chickens.”

As he returned to his seat beside you, you leaned over and murmured, “Very heroic, my lord.”

Jason grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Anything for you, princess.”

By the end of the day, Jason was exhausted but triumphant. He joined you in your chambers, watching as you settled onto the cushioned chaise by the fire.

“Well?” he asked, leaning against the doorway. “Did I succeed in making you more comfortable?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Let’s see. You brought me enough breakfast for an army, made a spectacle of yourself in the gardens, and nearly lost a chicken during supper. I suppose you were… entertaining.”

Jason laughed, crossing the room to sit beside you. “Entertaining? That’s it?”

You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck, Jason.”

He wrapped an arm around you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “As long as you’re smiling, I’ll take it.”

Inside the grand chambers, the fire crackled warmly in the hearth as Jason Lannister sat at the edge of a cushioned chair, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his tongue poked out slightly—his signature thinking face.

You, reclining comfortably on the chaise with your ever-growing belly, watched him with equal parts curiosity and amusement. A plate of various fruits sat beside you, untouched, as you observed your husband’s peculiar intensity.

“Jason,” you finally said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look up, waving the quill dismissively. “Coming up with names.”

“For the child?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For our child,” Jason corrected, glancing up at you with a grin. “You know, the future lion-dragon of Casterly Rock. We can’t just call them ‘the baby.’”

You smirked, folding your hands over your belly. “And have you decided on anything?”

Jason held up the parchment triumphantly. “I’ve got a list!”

“Oh, this should be good,” you muttered, sitting up slightly. “Let’s hear it.”

Jason cleared his throat dramatically, as though preparing for a great performance. “If it’s a boy, I was thinking… Tylander.”

You blinked. “Tylander?”

“Strong, noble, and distinctly Lannister,” Jason said, clearly pleased with himself.

“Jason,” you said slowly, “that sounds like you mashed ‘Tyland’ and ‘Lannister’ together.”

Jason frowned. “Well, maybe. But it works, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you replied flatly. “Next.”

Jason sighed, glancing back at the list. “Alright. What about… Leorick?”

“Leorick?” you repeated, your tone incredulous. “It sounds like a name you’d give to a particularly pompous bard.”

Jason chuckled despite himself. “Fine. You’re a tough critic, my love. Let’s try another. If it’s a girl, I thought… Jasselle.”

You stared at him. “Jasselle.”

“Yes!” Jason said, his grin widening. “It’s elegant and unique.”

“It’s also clearly just your name with a few letters added and rearranged,” you pointed out.

Jason leaned back, his grin turning sheepish. “Well, I wanted to honor myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Jason, we’re naming a child, not commissioning a statue of you.”

“Fair enough,” Jason said, crossing out a few names. “What about something Valyrian? Like… Vezena?”

You tilted your head, considering it. “Not bad. But what does it mean?”

Jason hesitated. “Uh… probably something about fire and greatness.”

You smirked. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jason admitted, grinning. “But it sounds impressive, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Barely.”

By midday, Jason had dragged a second chair closer to yours, the parchment now covered in scribbles and crossed-out names. Several servants passed through the room, their expressions carefully neutral as they overheard snippets of the increasingly ridiculous discussion.

“What about Caster?” Jason asked, tapping his quill against his chin.

“For a boy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Or a girl,” Jason said with a shrug. “Unisex names are all the rage in Lannisport.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Caster. Of Casterly Rock.”

Jason blinked. “Oh. Right. That might be a bit… redundant.”

“A bit?” you repeated, smirking.

Jason huffed, tossing the quill onto the table. “Fine. Your turn, oh wise one.”

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “How about something simple? Like Aelora, if it’s a girl.”

Jason’s expression softened. “Aelora. That’s… beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling. “And for a boy, maybe… Daeryn.”

“Daeryn,” Jason echoed, testing the name on his tongue. “It’s strong. I like it.”

“Well, there we go,” you said, leaning back with a triumphant smile. “Problem solved.”

But Jason wasn’t done yet. “What if we combined them? Aelorick for a boy. Or… Daesselle for a girl?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Jason, stop.”

He laughed, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Fine, fine. But you have to admit, this is fun.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered, though there was a faint smile on your lips. “At this rate, the child will be born before we agree on anything.”

Jason grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Well, we’ve still got time. And until then, I’ll keep working on my list.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him return to his scribbling with boyish enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of affection. For all his dramatics, Jason’s excitement was genuine, and his love for you—and the child you carried—was as clear as the sun over Casterly Rock.

You sat by the window early in the morning, absently stroking the armrest of your chair as a servant placed a silver tray with your morning tea before you. The peace was broken when Jason burst into the room, a sealed parchment in hand and a grin plastered across his face.

“A raven!” he announced dramatically, holding the scroll aloft like a prized trophy.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your tea. “Jason, ravens come daily. Are we celebrating their flight now?”

“Not just any raven,” Jason said, striding to the table and dropping the scroll in front of you. “It’s from your father, the king.”

Your eyes flicked to the royal seal, and you picked up the parchment, breaking the wax with practiced ease. Jason leaned over your shoulder, reading the words as you did.

“An invitation,” you murmured, skimming the elegant script. “To a royal wedding. Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon.”

Jason clapped his hands together. “A royal wedding! That means feasts, dances, and—”

“Hours of tedious travel,” you interrupted, setting the letter down. “While I’m heavily pregnant, no less.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. We’ll take our time, and I’ll ensure you’re comfortable. We can’t miss this! Think of the grandeur, the spectacle—”

“The politics,” you added pointedly, arching an eyebrow.

Jason ignored you, already pacing as his mind raced with ideas. “We’ll need to start preparations immediately. The finest horses, the best wines to bring as gifts—no, the best gold. Velaryons love their ships, don’t they? I’ll have a golden trident commissioned. It’ll be perfect.”

You sighed, watching as your husband spiraled into a whirlwind of planning. “Jason, it’s a wedding, not a coronation.”

“It’s Rhaenyra’s wedding,” Jason said, spinning on his heel to face you. “Your sister. That makes it doubly important. We must arrive in style.”

The castle hummed with activity by mid-afternoon, thanks to Jason’s orders. Servants scurried about with rolls of fabric, crates of Lannister gold, and lists so long they trailed behind their carriers. Martyn, naturally, was in the thick of it, as he watched the chaos with an amused grin.

“Do you ever tire of creating a spectacle, cousin?” Martyn asked as Jason passed by, barking orders to a servant carrying a bundle of crimson cloaks.

“A spectacle?” Jason repeated, his tone affronted. “This isn’t a spectacle. This is preparation. A royal wedding requires a royal effort.”

Martyn smirked, glancing at the two knights polishing a gilded carriage nearby. “And the golden carriage?”

“For comfort,” Jason said, brushing off the sarcasm. “Y/N deserves nothing less.”

“She’ll love that,” Martyn muttered under his breath. “I’m sure she adores the idea of being paraded through the streets like a queen.”

Jason shot him a look. “She is the Lady of Casterly Rock. It’s only fitting.”

“Is that why you’ve ordered enough supplies to outfit a small army?��� Martyn asked, gesturing to the growing pile of crates.

“Provisions,” Jason said firmly. “And gifts. You wouldn’t show up to a royal wedding empty-handed, would you?”

Martyn chuckled. “I’d show up with my sanity intact, which is more than I can say for you.”

By evening, Jason gathered the household in the great hall, standing at the head of the table with his usual flair for dramatics. You sat beside him, your hand resting lightly on your belly as you watched him address the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jason began, raising a goblet. “We’ve been invited to the royal wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon. This is not merely an invitation; it is an opportunity—a chance to remind the realm of the strength and splendor of House Lannister.”

The household exchanged amused glances, accustomed to Jason’s theatrical speeches.

“We will travel with dignity,” Jason continued, his voice rising. “We will bring gifts that reflect our status. And we will leave an impression so grand that even the dragons will be jealous.”

You leaned toward Martyn, whispering, “Do you think he rehearses these speeches in the mirror?”

Martyn grinned. “Absolutely.”

Jason, oblivious to the murmured commentary, finished his toast with a flourish. “To House Lannister and our journey to the royal wedding!”

The room erupted into polite applause, and Jason sat down beside you, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you remarked, smirking.

Jason grinned, raising his goblet. “Of course I am. It’s not every day we get to show your kin how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. For all his dramatics, Jason’s excitement was infectious—and you had to admit, the journey to King’s Landing promised to be anything but dull.

[toomanyfanficsbruh]

@theroundbartable here you go! Your Sick Fic 2.0

Better Together (I wouldn't leave you even if you wanted me to)

Camelot was calm and peaceful; the air was a little cooler, the grass moved a little slower, and the sun shone just enough, so laying in the gardens was like another world. At least for Merlin, it was like an escape from the rush and hurry of the court, where he had been officiated as the Court Sorcerer, just over two years ago. And those two years felt like a century, another weight on his shoulders after one had just been lifted.

It was not easy, though Merlin had learnt this after the years by Arthur’s side; the weight of the decisions he had to make, the people he had to consider and the overshadowing look of his father. A painting of Uther had been hung in the meeting room after he passed away a year before the magic ban was lifted, but the harsh strokes depicting the judgement in his eyes, became something that watched Arthur’s decisions, as if he were still there, unsure of Arthur’s worth. The first time Merlin saw it, was when Arthur officially lifted the ban and Uther watched, waiting for the next mistake. Lord forbid Merlin was a worse person, he would have taken a dagger and ripped the painting, from corner to corner. He was better than that. Maybe. He wouldn’t have disagreed if someone had accused him of thinking it - he thought it every time he walked into the room, staring Uther down as if he would come back to life. 

Even though Merlin’s duties were extremely different to Arthur’s, there was a certain comfort in knowing that someone understood the pains of court life. Even if it was a surprise to every person who lived in Camelot, it’s not every day you find out that the King’s manservant is the greatest sorcerer ever to live, a dragonlord and would much rather you call him a warlock because he isn’t a sorcerer since he is actually magic itself. Many people fainted that day. Many more people did not believe him. But to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur did not doubt his words and instead asked what he would like done. And also asked if Merlin could do something about the horrid headache he’d been having for the past 4 weeks and as quickly as he could, after all, he was a very powerful sorcerer, and instead got a gorgeous rose placed in his palm. No, it’s not every day that things like that happened, or at least, until the ban had been lifted. Once that happened, flowers bloomed every day and Arthur’s headaches? Well, he wouldn’t tell Merlin about it, in case he worried too much. 

“Merlin! What are you doing laying in the garden, with your crown on?!” Merlin was gifted a circlet from the Druid people - two silver dragons curling around his head - it was quite comfy and nothing like the horrid thing that Arthur had to wear. If only he knew the pleasures of not wearing gold on his head during every meeting, he would definitely be a calmer and kinder person. And of course, if Arthur could remember the name of the circlet, the world would flip on its side. 

Turning onto his stomach, and holding himself up with his elbows, Merlin saw Arthur, watching him from the balcony, “Taking a well-deserved break from whatever was going on in there! And my circlet is quite comfortable on my head, thank you very much!”

If Merlin had started kicking his feet, Arthur would have combusted, right then and there, whether it be from the extreme amount of cuteness that Merlin threw into the air, the exasperation of Merlin leaving his duties or a little tinge of jealousy; Arthur would never tell. At least, he liked to assume he wouldn’t tell, something about the little smile on his face gave him away. 

“If you don’t get back into this throne room this instant, that crown won’t be on your head much longer,” crossing his arms, Arthur stares down at Merlin, cocking an eyebrow and trying his hardest to put on a serious face. It doesn’t really work. It never did when Merlin was involved.

Standing up and stretching, Merlin turns his head to the side, with a twinkle in his eye, “Oh? What will you do? Try it on, maybe? It’s so much better than the preposterous slab of gold you have.”

“I think I’ll ask Gwen to turn it into a paperweight, or maybe a pitcher to replace the one you dropped a few days ago. Much better than you wearing it on your pretty little head, that’s certain.” 

“You think my head’s pretty?”

Recollecting what he said, Arthur puts his hand to his temple and mutters something about being tired or more likely, telling Merlin to shut up.

“You really must stop muttering, I think it’s seeping into your normal voice. Nobody can understand half the things you’re saying.” Merlin appears beside Arthur quite suddenly, even though Arthur’s stopped questioning it - he still gets a bit of a shock.

“I do not mutter.” 

“Mumbling, perhaps. Kingly mumbling, if you’d prefer.” Arthur fixes his crooked circlet as Merlin watches the soft sun rays reflect on Arthur's eyes. Maybe, if he stopped time, just for a moment, he could look at them longer than what was deemed appropriate. He could. But should he, was the question. 

“I would much prefer you didn’t say I mumbled,” doing exactly that, contradicting himself, “I would also prefer you didn’t walk out in the middle of meetings.” He leaned in the smallest amount, “I believe there are some grumpy, old men in there, that are feeling a tad bit jealous.”

Arthur watched Merlin’s mouth creep into a little smile, trying not to laugh too loud, lest the said grumpy, old men heard the noise. Well, they may assume it was a noise, Arthur, on the other hand, thought of it as a stress reliever, a breath of fresh air, a little glimpse of what life without the crown was like. He had mentioned, long ago to Merlin, that he would find a farm and live off his work, had he been given a choice, and of course, Merlin would be taken along, to do the actual work. He knew that without Merlin, he might not be alive, but Arthur would never admit it especially not to Merlin. 

“Sire! They’ve left! You may come inside now!” the sound of the doors closing, and Leon’s tired voice, allowed Arthur to exhale the breath he didn’t know he was holding. A soft pat from Merlin reminded him he should walk back to the room. 

“If I had known you wanted a distraction, I would have brought you out here myself!” 

“Really, Merlin? For what reason?”

Merlin takes a moment, feigning a thought process, because when had he ever really thought about a proper explanation? “I'm sure I would have thought of something, like every other time.”

“And when has that ever worked?”

Turning around to look at each other over the chairs and table in the meeting room, a smile washed over Merlin’s face, “I believe it worked quite well when I was still your manservant. Didn't you believe my excuses?”

“No. I most definitely did not!” Arthur pauses and at an ungodly volume, sneezes.

A few knights turned around and Leon, from the hallway, nearly jumped into another knight. He shook it off and kept walking, he really did not get paid enough for whatever was going on with Arthur and Merlin nor did he care enough to want to find out. 

Merlin stifled a giggle, “I think it's time to start spring cleaning, your Highness, lord forbid you sneeze like that in front of the people. They'd assume a plague was around!”

“I'll get some people onto that immediately,” Arthur heard another giggle from Merlin beside him, “What do you want me to do about it? Get a feather duster and start dusting?”

“Only if you’ve had too much to drink,”  Merlin says under his breath, catching Arthur’s eye a moment too late. 

“What was that?”

“I said, that’s a great idea, don’t you think?”

“Well, yes I believe it’s a good idea, after all I thought of it. But I think it would be better suited for someone like yourself!”

“You want me to dust?”

Arthur scoffs, “It’s better than lounging around in the sun!”

“Now who sounds like a jealous, grumpy, old man?”

They walk together in exact movements, turning the corner without signals, the same footsteps and keeping in time. “Couldn’t you just magic it clean, or something?”

“I could, but relying on magic can be dangerous, and personally, I would much rather the castle didn’t collapse in the middle of the night.” 

“That could happen?” Arthur’s eyes widen in fear. It had been a while since he was frightened, especially with Merlin constantly by his side. 

They reach Arthur’s door when Merlin looks at Arthur with a soft smile to reassure him, “That’s exactly why I don’t use magic for everything. But no, unless the spell specifies that the castle should collapse, then we’re safe. Don’t look so scared!”

“I’m not scared! I’m just…concerned for the people… in case the castle collapses…I want to be ready for anything!” Assuming he was taking deliberate pauses, Arthur thought he sounded thoughtful and wise. Anyone who heard him assumed he was shaking at the knees. Merlin knew he was scared, but decided to let Arthur have his delirious moment of philosophical thought. 

Shaking his head, Merlin turned around to walk to his chambers, “If you say so Arthur. Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow for yet another meeting.” 

“Goodnight Merlin.” Arthur retreats into his room and falls straight onto his welcoming bed. It felt right, to go to bed in his day clothes, slightly suffocated by the amount of pillows that covered the mattress, sink into the warmth and pretend the day was not emotionally exhausting. The only thing missing was another person to hug him. 

Tempting the idea of annoying Merlin with another set of questions, Arthur exhales the deep breath he had been holding, sinking further into the layers. It was a possibility, only Arthur would have to walk to the other wing and he would need a foolproof reason to do so, at this time of night. Originally having offered the chamber next to his, Arthur’s hopes of being slick and nonchalant were truly far from it. Merlin laughed and said that he did not want to deal with Arthur’s snoring and took a room in another wing. 

To be honest, taking a room so far away was not Merlin’s plan, but being put on the spot, shocked and flustered, he didn’t know what to say and instead, in pure Merlin fashion, freaked out. And in Arthur’s defence, he truly did miss Merlin. Not his morning wake-up calls but having casual conversations and spending time with someone as a person and not a regent were Arthur’s favourite moments in his rushed life. Not that either would tell the other the truth, both simply nodded in understanding and tried to make up for whatever happened. 

Merlin would still be the first to see Arthur if he woke up on time and Arthur didn’t leave early, and Arthur would not let a day go by without talking to Merlin unless either of them had to leave on a quest. With their relative constraints, it was not so simple, but unknowingly they both worked at it because truly, one did not work without the other. 

“Good morning sire! I have your breakfast ready and when you allow me, I shall open the curtains!” A peppy voice was exactly what Arthur needed first thing in the morning, alongside a horse in his face, a burnt wooden table and a troll beside him. It was not at all what Arthur wanted, but the new boy he had put in the position could not do much else. He was a bit scared of Arthur and reverted to peppy when he was uncertain. 

And to match the graciousness of his character, his name was Pickles. Because in Camelot, he truly was in a pickle. 

“Good morning Pickles, yes draw the curtains immediately when you arrive, alright? And don’t forget to put ouACHOO!” Again, with the ungodly sneeze, Arthur shocked himself awake. A first for the king. 

“I mean, please put out the rACHOO! The ACHOO! Put out the rACHOO!” Sniffling, Arthur’s relay of sneezes would not end well for anyone in his near vicinity, they were sure to catch whatever he was throwing.

“I understand what you mean sire, do not worry. Shall I call the physician?” Pickles did not understand what Arthur meant. 

Calling Gaius would mean Merlin would find out, and if Merlin were to find out, then Arthur would not be able to do anything for a minimum of eight days. Not that he would complain, but he felt that the people of Camelot would not be entirely joyous. Finding out the King had come down with a fever would push the citizens of Camelot into their houses and keep them there until he issued a notice that everything would be fine. Perhaps it wasn't a bad idea. Eight days of no duty, no people, no questions or queries. And mainly, eight days without any meetings. Such would be the life of Prince Arthur, but unfortunately having taken the crown and responsibility, it was not the life of His Royal Highness Arthur, the Great King of Albion.

"I would rather you didn't call for him, but tell me, Pickles, did you not say you were trained in the basics of physicianing?"

No, it would not end well for Pickles, in any circumstance.

It worked for exactly 12 days and 14 hours. That's what Arthur thought.

In reality, it worked for a little under 4 days and 19 hours. Pickles had been keeping count of every hour.

Every morning, as Arthur woke up he would sneeze at a horrid volume, cough for exactly 13 minutes until he was dressed and head off to his first meeting of the day. Often rundown by a burning headache, he would retire to his room for lunches and dinners, spent with another round of sneezing and coughing. Pickles, with his minimal knowledge of fevers and aches, kept the King quiet and hidden for as long as he could. The main objective of this whole charade was to not let the Court Sorcerer know of the King's illness, lest the King was told something he did not want to hear - bedrest, for anything longer than 8 hours.

It was fine, until the early hours, when the sun had not risen and the start were still shining, on this certain day when the King started sleep-talking in his delirious mind. Well, it was more like sleep-yelling and he only ever said one thing.

"Merlin?"

Pickles rushed around the room, opening and closing windows, adding and removing pillows, wrapping and unwrapping blankets around the King.

"mERlin?"

In his best whisper, Pickles leaned down to the King's ear, "You told me not to wake him, Sire, I believe he would be asleep in his room. Shall I go g-"

"MERLIN!! Where is he?"

"My Lord! I can get him tomorrow if you'd like, but he is currently sleeping. As you should too!" Pickles understood the depth of the events.

"merlin?"

Pickles did not understand the depth of the events. Nor did he know what to do, when the great King of Albion, the most courageous man that anyone had ever heard of, started weeping. Among the plethora of pillows that surrounded his head, Arthur was crying, he was on the brink of despair and self-rot, wallowing in his sadness, since he had not seen his past servant, Court Sorcerer, friend and silent love, for the entirety of the 4 days he was sick. And in Arthur's mind, he had not seen him for 12 days, much longer than it actually was, but much more painful than anyone had known.

In a rush of emotions, Pickles ran as if his life depended on it, which, in theory, was true. If he did not get the Court Sorcerer, the King may die. If he did get the Court Sorcerer, the King could have his head on a platter. But at least Albion would have a King! So, Pickles ran, quicker than he had ever before and knocked on the Court Sorcerer's door, only to be greeted by a sleepy man in his nightrobes, shocked by the circumstances.

Before Pickles brought a chair next to the King, Merlin was seated on the bed beside him. "He needs a cold cloth and water, also we need to remove some of these pillows beside his head! Pickles, did you really think a man with a fever needs to be surrounded by heavy bedsheets?"

"Well, I…"

"No matter for that now, please, hurry!" Merlin looked down at Arthur, with a hand on his head, feeling his temperature, "It's alright Arthur, I'm here, How are you feeling?"

Pickles was sworn to secrecy after this moment, leaving all knowledge of it to the three men in this room.

Arthur, opening his bloodshot sky-blue eyes, stared at Merlin for all of two seconds and fell promptly asleep after stating that he was "better". A ridiculously large grin grew on his face as if he had begun to dream of the house and the farm and the animals he tended to with Merlin, and had just needed to confirm that Merlin would join him. Almost as if he was dangerously close to admitting that he was not falling but rather buried in his love for the Court Sorcerer, and would have announced it to the world, only after he had seen his face.

"Did I kill the King?!" Pickles had a shiver sent down his spine with goosebumps all over his arms, as he looked at Merlin.

A lovely beetroot red flushed over Merlin's face as he looked back down at the sleeping King, almost as if he understood all that Arthur wished to say, preparing for Gaius to tell him that Arthur needed to be kissed to be woken up.

Turning back to Pickles with a soft smile plastered on his tired face, "It's fine Pickles, he just needed to see me."

For once in his career as the King's servant, Pickles understood that it was not a situation for questions or queries, but rather finally time for him to go to bed.

And as he left, he would swear he didn't hear the softest, "I wouldn't leave you, even if you wanted me to" from the Court Sorcerer to his beloved King.

Once Arthur had taken his well-deserved eight rest, all was well. The people of Camelot were not at all stressed by the situation and understood that the King had his duties, leaving warm food by the citadel, and showing their love for their King.

Merlin had stayed by his side the entire time, ensuring that Arthur did not fall into a pit of self-languish or pain, reminding him that it would be the two of them, forever and always.

Had they ever spoken of that night again? Perhaps not.

But was there an understanding of what truly lay underneath the moment of shared eye contact? Perhaps.

Perhaps they had known all along, and in the end, what mattered more than that?

<3

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

I Am Your Destiny (Yandere!Rio Vidal x female!reader)

Summary: You had recently gotten engaged and you couldn’t be happier. But someone you’re close with has taken it upon herself to ensure that that will never come to pass, that you are hers and hers alone….

Prompts taken from the Yandere Writing List by @yandere-daze

67. " Nothing can separate us now."

38. "Only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours."

(CW: Kidnapping, forced kiss, potential murder implications, (kinda up to interpretation) restraint, (just on the ankle) possible drugging)

Author’s Note: I actually managed to get one of my ideas out of my head and into a story, holy shit!

Reader is, of course, 18+.

Your eyes shoot open as a soft breeze brushes against you.

“Where the hell am I?” you whisper fearfully as your eyes dart around. It looks like a clearing in the moonlight surrounded by a thick forest, but….it feels unnatural. 

The last thing you remember is preparing your wedding invitations. Your partner of seven years had proposed to you and you’d been nose-deep in preparations despite the date being far off. But there’s bigger fish to fry.

Your heart pounds, your breathing quickens; is this a kidnapping? You try to stand up, but something’s keeping you down on your knees. Looking behind you, you see a rope of green light surrounding your ankle, the other end tied to a tree. This escape clearly isn’t going to be easy.

Suddenly you hear a familiar chuckle from the forest.

“Finally, you’re awake, my love.”

Your blood freezes as a shadow slowly strides out of the forest, unveiling their identity; dressed in a black off-shoulder gown with a crown on her head, her dark hair flowing in the light breeze.

“R-Rio?!” you gasp out.

Hearing this, her smile grows.

“Ah, my little bird….how I love hearing you say my name.”

She glides closer until she’s hovering above you, like a hawk hovering over its prey. 

“What’s going on?” you choke out.

She doesn’t answer, instead slowly kneeling down in front of you. 

“What’s going on?” she repeats before shrugging. “Nothing much, just…..claiming what’s mine.”

The drop on her volume at the end sends chills through you. 

“Wh…what are you talking about?” you gasp out.

Rio coos in response. “Oh darling….don’t tell me you’re really this clueless.” Reaching out, she slowly tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “It’s so obvious; you and I are meant to be together.”

Upon hearing this, you have to do a double-take. No….there’s no way you heard that right; Rio’s your best friend, the first one you told about your partner’s proposal, the one you told all your secrets to. Of course you know she’s Death, that she’s the original Green Witch, but you never considered her as anything more than your best friend. 

“Rio, don’t talk nonsense,” you chuckle nervously, praying that this is just a joke, just a terrifying joke.

“….Who said it’s nonsense?” Her face betrays no sign of deception, that just makes you feel even more horrified. “What’s nonsense is believing that you’re not meant to be mine, by my side for all eternity.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Rio,” you pant. “Just…..cut the bullshit and let me go.”

Hearing this, her eyes harden. 

“Let you go?” Her tone drops as she leans in close, her face only a few inches from yours. “Do you think I’d be insane enough to do that? When I have what I want here and now? Don’t make me laugh. Besides I’ve waited long enough for this moment, and when things arose, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Once again, you try to stand up, but within a millisecond, you’re back on the ground. 

“Don’t even bother, it’s cosmic-grade magic,” she huffs. “I can’t have you running off; besides, you wouldn’t even know the way out.”

A lump forms in your throat as you remember just how powerful Rio actually in.

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t answer for a hot second. “Well….it’s pretty simple; I want to ensure this destiny is fulfilled, and one way to do that is soul-binding.”

“Soul….binding?” you gasp out.

“Soul-binding,” she repeats. “A ritual that connects the souls of two people to the point where the mere thought of being separate from them gives one a sense of absolute dread. It is a bond that nothing is able to sever.”

Gently she cups your cheek, brushing her thumb against it in a slow circular motion.

“Once the ritual is performed, our souls will become one. We’ll sense each other’s thoughts…feelings…desires…we’ll develop a deep desire to be with each other, a desire that will grow into a compulsion. We’ll sense each other’s wants and needs, we’ll be able to communicate telepathically, among many, many benefits; best of all…”

She slowly cups both sides of your face with one hand.

“….Our life forces will be connected,” she whispers. 

Your blood goes beyond frozen; Rio, being Death herself, cannot die. If you become connected to her…..

“Rio, you’re insane!”

She just grins and nods.

“Insanely in love, in particular.”

“This isn’t love, it’s obsession!”

Rio merely chuckles. “I see them as one and the same. Anyway, let’s not waste anymore time. Our souls will soon be one.”

You’re in the biggest panic of your life.

“Rio, you can’t do this; you know about the proposal!”

Upon hearing this, Rio gives a bitter chuckle. “Of course I know…..why do you think I’m doing this now? They don’t deserve you. They’re not your destiny; I am.”

“But…..they’re gonna wonder where I am!” you stammer.

She sighs. “Oh, my love…..you’re truly so naive. Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared for that? I’ve already taken care of the problem.”

All of your trembling that you’re trying to hide freezes at that moment. “….what did you do to them?” you gasp.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, my little bird,” she says. “Enough diversions; it’s time to bind.”

In an attempt to avoid the ritual, you turn away, but Rio grabs your head and yanks it back to face her.

“There’s no use fighting it, my love,” she purrs. “This is what’s meant to be.”

“If you do this to me, I’ll hate you forever!” you snap.

However Rio just laughs. “Oh, I beg to differ, my love. Once the ritual is complete, you’ll be so enamored that you’ll only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours. I guarantee it.

Keeping her hands on both sides of your face, she leans forward and locks her lips onto yours. You try to pull away, but Rio’s grip on you is too strong. Her lips give off the taste of mint, one that’s almost….alluring….

You begin to feel your mind fog up and your muscles begin to loosen. But you know you need to get away…..right? The mint taste and scent is beginning to overtake you; at the same time, you feel a strange sensation enter your body, which brings back your alertness slightly. You sense yourself torn between the need to break out and the desire to succumb. However the more you’re exposed to this delicate but intoxicating aroma, the more you lean towards the latter. The strange sensation strengthens, but it’s strange in a euphoric way. Even as that little voice in the back of your mind tries to bring you back, the euphoria and mint both nearly have you. The voice is slowly fading away….until all there is is the euphoria and mint.

You reach up and grab Rio’s face, burying yourself deeper into the kiss. A deep primal desire awakens in you, a desire to be closer than humanly possible; and the more you two kiss, the stronger the euphoria becomes until it’s one of the only things on your mind.

After some time, Rio slowly pulls her lips away from you before giving a chuckle. The two of you lock eyes and you feel as though everything else has faded. As far as you’re concerned, nothing exists but your beloved Rio….

“There…. Nothing can separate us now,” she whispers. 

Reaching over, she places her hand just above your chest, the touch making you feel…whole.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” she chuckles. “Our souls are now one, bound together eternally.”

You focus, and sure enough, you feel as though your souls have practically merged into one, and you love it. It just feels…..right. Seeing this, Rio releases the bind on your ankle and brings you in close. Her warmth immediately puts you at peace as your head settles on her chest. 

As you settle in, Rio whispers in your ear, her warmth breath caressing your ear. “You’re safe with me, my love. I’ll protect you, cherish you, treasure you as the precious gem you are. You will want for nothing. All you have to do is stay with me….can you do that for me?”

Without hesitating you nod, an enamored smile forming on your face, and Rio chuckles.

“That’s it. You’ll stay with me like the good girl you are. You don’t need anyone else. I am all you need…..”

As her warmth encompasses you, you feel your eyes begin to flutter shut, the echoing sounds of the waterfall, along with the rise and fall of Rio’s chest, lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Nothing can make this more perfect for you. You know you’re exactly where you need to be, where you want to be. You simply can’t imagine being anywhere else, except with your beloved Rio. And just before you drift off, you hear her whisper into your ear.

“I am your destiny….”