#and yes that is me admitting to using google translate

[sweetapplecurry]

I’m literally gonna cry if Frenchman-Emmet isn’t real.

Bonus:

[symbieote]

Decided to gird my loins and struggle through a couple of sentences of this gintama fic doujinshi with a notebook beside me to write down unfamiliar japanese words that I had to look up. I made half a page of notes for the opening paragraph that is three short sentences establishing that the sky looks like it's going to rain. It also took me like half an hour. Girl this zine is 53 pages of A5 text I'm going to die of old age before I finish it. I bought three fic doujinshi of similar novelette size. I'm so stupid. I immediately went to read a manga doujinshi to make myself feel better because, you know, pictures and fewer words, but I then realised that the fic's premise had an iron grip on my heart and my balls and I couldn't give up on it

[winter-soldier-buck]

heart by heart ♡ b.b

pt. 1... sort of. this is the official pt. 1. you can read the intro to this series here :).

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x singlemom!fem!reader

warning: different parts of bucky's mcu timeline, google-translated words that aren't english, use of y/n, yearning

word count: 3.4k

author's note: ahhhhh y'all made me so emo with how much you loved the intro i posted for this fic that i couldn't not get to writing the official first part. again, please let me know what you think! also, side note, i didn't realize my option to send asks was turned off, but it's on now! <3

series masterlist

Bucharest, Romania - Late 2015

“Salut,” you greeted the street vendor with a smile as you skimmed over the fresh produce they were selling. After a week of living in Bucharest, you were finally stocking up on some much-needed groceries after spending a lot more money on takeout than you’d like to admit. However, part of why you delayed shopping was that speaking Romanian was not your forte. “Douǎ, uh, uhhhh…”

The woman at the stand raised her eyebrow at you in curiosity, but also amusement at how you were struggling.

You didn’t even notice how entertained she was as you held up two fingers to indicate that was the quantity you wanted to get.

“Douǎ,” you repeated as you stared at the produce again, trying to remember the correct word for what you wanted to purchase. Unfortunately, you were hopeless in the matter.“Um, tomatoes? Please. Oh! I mean, v�� rog.”

The woman blinked at you with an unreadable expression.

“Castravete?” She asked and pointed to the cucumbers that lay next to the tomatoes.

“No! Uh, nu. Îmi pare rǎu.”

You didn’t really know what you were apologizing for, but it felt like the right thing to do. It wasn’t the woman’s fault you weren’t fluent in a different language.

Frustrated with yourself, you huffed and then pointed towards the tomatoes.

“Ceapă?” The woman asked as she pointed to the onions on the other side of the tomatoes.

“No. Well, actually, yes, I need that too, but-.”

You knew that you were rambling in English and that the poor woman probably didn’t understand a thing you were saying, making you feel even more stupid. However, before you could make a bigger fool of yourself, a voice spoke up from behind you.

“Două roșii, Nadia,” a man said, making you turn around to look at him. He was dressed casually in a grey zip-up sweater and jeans paired with a black ball cap that did nothing to hide his longish brown hair. That and the stubble of his growing beard really added to the whole rugged aura he exuded. “Fii amabil.”

“Americani,” the woman tsked, snapping your attention back to her as she gathered two tomatoes and an onion to put in a paper bag.

You blinked in confusion.

“Wait,” you started, then glanced between the man and the woman. “You two know each other?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Nadia’s favourite customer,” the man said, then smiled as he moved his captivating blue-eyed gaze back to you. You would’ve been lying if you tried convincing yourself that you didn’t think he was attractive. “I’ve come to her stand enough times to know she understands English just fine and is giving you a hard time because you’re not from here. Right, Nadia?”

“It is fun,” Nadia replied with a shrug, her accent thick. “American, yes?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as she handed you the bag of produce.

“Him too. He pay.”

“Oh, no, I can pay.”

You went to reach for your wallet, but the man was already handing her a bunch of coins.

“Thank you, Nadia, have a nice day,” he said charmingly, then looked back at you. “Hey, I’m Bucky.”

He extended his right hand for you to shake, but you just glanced down at it, wondering why he was wearing leather gloves on both hands, then back to him before raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky?” You asked skeptically.

“Yup.”

You held his gaze for a moment, then cracked a smile as you shook his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Bucky replied, returning the smile. He observed you for another moment as you dropped each other’s hands, but before he could say anything else, another patron excused themselves around him to go up to Nadia. “Maybe we should get out of the way.”

“Good idea,” you agreed, stepping aside and muttering a quick thank you to Nadia before you and Bucky started walking away together. “Uh, thank you for that, by the way. I can pay you back for the groceries.”

“Don’t worry about it. I overheard you struggling to communicate, and I’ve seen Nadia mess with quite a few tourists for entertainment. Thought I’d step in.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

Silence fell between the two of you as you continued walking, but luckily, Bucky didn’t let it become awkward.

“So, what brings you to Bucharest?” He asked, glancing at you curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t know yet,” you told him honestly, feeling comfortable enough to do so. “Life after university wasn’t what I wanted it to be. I worked a corporate office job that I hated and had nothing to do with what I studied. I was miserable. So, I worked my ass off for a couple of years while living in my aunt’s basement so I could save up enough money to take a year off and travel. I landed in Zürich four months ago and have been all over the continent since. Sometimes I’m in cities for days. In other places, I’m there for weeks. I found a place to stay here in Bucharest for a month with the option to extend longer. Figured it would be a good central point for me to have while I looked into visiting more Eastern European countries.”

Bucky nodded in understanding.

“Fair enough. What did you study?”

“Architecture. Exploring Europe has been great for reigniting that passion.”

“Europe would definitely be good for that,” he agreed.

“What about you?” You asked. “What brought you here?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away, and when you looked up at him again, he seemed to be deeply considering his next words.

“I also needed a break from home,” he explained. “Gotta figure out a few things for myself, and this seemed like a good place to do it.”

You hummed in agreement.

“It’s refreshing being somewhere no one knows your name. Or face.”

“Precisely.”

The two of you were approaching a busy road, and you soon realized that you’d probably have to go your separate ways so you could return to the apartment you were staying in.

“Well, Bucky, I’m glad I learned your name,” you started as you slowed your walking. “As amazing as these last few months travelling have been, it’s been lonely, and you seem like a good person to know. Thank you again for today.”

“Of course,” Bucky responded while the two of you came to a stop at a crosswalk. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, too. But I should get going. This produce isn’t going to make itself into a meal.”

Bucky chuckled.

“No, I guess it won’t. Bye, Y/N. Get home safe.”

“I will. Thanks, Bucky.”

With that, you smiled and turned to walk away. However, you only made it a few steps before Bucky spoke up again.

“Y/N, wait,” he called after you, making you turn to face him again and look at him questioningly. “You’re right, it can get lonely here alone. And, uh, well, if you ever want some company… I’ll be around.”

You didn’t respond right away, but couldn’t help the amused smirk tugging at your lips as he awkwardly glanced at the ground, seemingly regretting not letting you just walk away.

“Was that your attempt at asking me out?” You teased.

Bucky laughed too.

“It sounded better in my head, to be honest. But, yeah, I guess it was.”

You couldn’t stop smiling, but with the look on Bucky’s face, he seemed a little anxious about what you were going to say. Did he really think you were going to turn him down?

“I like that idea. Meet me back here tonight at eight?”

“It’s a date,” Bucky said, grinning again.

“Not a date,” you corrected, still chuckling. “We’re acquaintances.”

“Oh, for sure. Practically strangers.”

“Well, yes. I did just meet you at a street market in Romania, after all. If my father heard this was how I was making friends in Europe, he’d have an aneurysm.”

Bucky wholeheartedly laughed at that.

“Rightfully so,” he stated. “But I’m glad I get to be an exception. I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

~*~

New York City, USA - Late 2027

You were late.

Not overly late, you’d only left your apartment 10 minutes later than you intended to. But, given the situation you were getting yourself into, tardiness only added to your anxiety about it all.

You impatiently waited for a gap in traffic to cross the street at an intersection, growing more irritated at the characteristically excessive NYC traffic. After about seven more cars passed by, you were fed up with waiting and stepped off the curb to rush across during a risky gap between vehicles.

“Sorry,” you yelled as an approaching taxi laid on the horn, but you weren’t really sorry. No, you had bigger things to worry about than aggressive drivers.

The coffee shop you were headed for came into view, and you were hit with an intense wave of deja vu. It’d been over three years since you last stepped foot in the place, and the man responsible for you not wanting to return there was inside waiting for you.

Your mind screamed at you to turn around and go home, that this meeting wasn’t worth it. Yet, your feet kept moving you forward, and soon enough, you were walking through the door.

The coffee shop was exactly the way you remembered it. Everything from the rush hour lineup, the sound of beans being ground into a fine coffee and the smell of the shop’s signature pastries all felt so familiar, almost like you were never away for as long as you were.

Out of habit, your gaze moved to the table tucked in the back left corner furthest away from the counter. Your table. The only one that wasn’t constantly interrupted by someone walking by and allowed enough solace from the hectic environment to have a proper conversation with another person.

At that table sat Bucky Barnes with his eyes already locked on you.

“Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath, regretting every decision you ever made that led you to this point. Still, you swallowed your pride and made way toward the Winter Soldier.

Once Bucky realized you were approaching, he stood to greet you, but not without almost knocking the table over in the process.

“Shit,” he grumbled, but played it off coolly as he steadied the table with his hands, which was when you notice the metal one being covered by a glove. “Y/N, hi.”

“Hi,” you responded awkwardly, feeling way more anxious all of a sudden. “Um, I’ll just go order my coffee, then I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, I, uh, I ordered it already. Iced coffee, right? Even though it’s cold out.”

Your stare fell to the table where two coffees indeed sat, one cold, one hot, and you wondered how you missed that when Bucky almost knocked them onto the ground.

“Yeah, thank you.”

The two of you sat down across from each other in silence, each taking a sip of your drinks. You didn’t know what to say, so you glanced around the coffee shop again, but felt Bucky’s gaze on you the entire time. Once you looked back at him, he spoke again.

“How’ve you been?” He asked.

“Fine,” you replied, then took another sip of your iced coffee before exhaling. “Listen, Bucky, I really can’t do the whole small talk thing. Not with you. Why am I here? How did you and what made you want to find me?”

Bucky held your gaze for a moment, then took a nervous breath.

“It’s a long story.”

“Good thing I have time.”

“Right,” Bucky started. “I just don’t know where to begin. Well, getting your number was harder than I anticipated, actually. I had to use one of my connections for that.”

“I see,” you hummed in understanding. “Had to be a good one because I made sure it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to find me. Was it one of your congress connections that you were able to pull some strings to get my info, or Sam?”

“… Sam.”

“Of course.”

Bucky nodded.

“As for why I called you, that’s a bit more complex. I, uh, well, I’m kind of part of a new team of sorts.”

“I saw that,” you told him. “With Nat’s sister… and John Walker of all fucking people. Anyways, I hear they’re calling you guys the New Avengers.”

“Yeah, and Sam is pissed,” he stated. “I was lucky he gave me your number. However, I do owe him one now.”

“Which he’ll never let you forget.”

“Ever. But that’s beside the point. There was a reason I called you.”

You looked at him expectantly, but he was silent for a moment.

“Tell me, Buck. Please.”

Bucky sighed deeply, but seemed ready to lay everything out.

“How the New Avengers formed was because of an event,” he explained. “Bob, who is part of our group, uh, well, he kind of engulfed all of Manhattan in a massive darkness—the Void. During it, people’s souls were consumed by an emptiness that made them relive the worst aspects of their past. I went into the Void to try to figure out how to get rid of it.”

“I was in it too,” you whispered.

“You were?” Bucky asked, shock evident on his features as you nodded. “I didn’t think you were still here. Well, until Sam told me you were.”

“I never left New York. I’ve been living here since we last saw each other, apart from being away for a few months three years ago, and was in Manhattan when that… darkness took over.”

“So you know what it was like.”

“I do,” you explained, shaking your head. “It wasn’t fun. But, I am sorry you had to relive your darkest parts, too, Bucky. I know how hard you’ve worked to move on from that.”

“What do you mean? I have a great past,” he teased, making you smile. There was the Bucky you knew so well.

“In what world, Barnes?”

“Not this one.”

Both of you laughed, then fell into a comfortable silence. It was natural, which made you feel a lot of things.

“You were part of what I saw in the Void, Y/N,” Bucky continued. “Part of what really got to me.”

“Bucky-.”

“I mean it. Seeing you and not being able to do anything, I had nightmares about it for days. I’m really sorry, I don’t have it in me to expand on what I saw right this moment, but I hated it. And I haven’t stopped thinking about you since. I just- I needed to hear your voice. The last thing I was expecting from that phone call was to learn that-.”

“That I have a daughter,” you finished for him, taking a second to use your sweater sleeve to wipe away the tears that welled in your eyes during his spiel.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, nodding.

You exhaled again.

“I guess I owe you some explanation on that.”

“I can’t beat around the bush on this, Y/N, I gotta know. Is she mine?”

Taking a deep breath and trying to blink back the tears that were already spilling, you nodded.

“Of course she is, Bucky,” you stated, voice cracking in a sob.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky said quietly, not being able to hide his surprise, but also, genuine relief.

You shook your head again, still trying to stop the tears.

“I haven’t been with anyone else. I’ve tried because I was so, so angry at you. But, I didn’t even attempt talking to another man romantically until almost a year after I gave birth. It was always you, Bucky. It was never a wonder who her father was.”

Bucky stared at you like you were the only person in the world as he hung onto every word you said.

“Wow, I-,” he started, but cut himself off. “You were pregnant when I left.”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I found out I was expecting about three weeks after you left. I was terrified, but you saw to it that I wouldn’t be able to find you, either. I wanted to tell you, but the only information I managed to scrounge up was that you were missing therapy sessions while off in the Czech Republic doing god knows what. Then I was mad and didn’t want you to know. I didn’t think it was fair that you got to remove yourself completely from my life, when I stayed haunted by you leaving what we had. It was impossible to move on because everything came back to you.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry you’ve gone through this alone. If I had known I would’ve-.”

“You would’ve what, Bucky? Stayed?”

He took a minute to respond, taken aback by your harsh tone, then looked downwards, as if he was ashamed to meet your gaze.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, making you scoff. “Y/N, leaving and staying away wasn’t easy for me to do.”

“Really?” You challenged. “Because you did a damn good job at it.”

“Because my fear of something bad happening to you was and still is very real. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if someone hurt you again as a way to get to me.”

That shut you up real quick.

“Even now,” Bucky continued. “Meeting here, I’m looking at everyone in this place, paranoid, because I will always have a target on my back no matter what, and that extends to you. The thought of you being used as collateral scares the shit out of me. But I can’t stay away from you, Y/N. Especially now with-.”

“The fact that we have a daughter,” you whispered.

“Exactly. The safest thing for you and her would be for me to stay away, I know that, and me being part of the New Avengers puts you both at even more risk, but she’s my daughter. I gotta know her.”

Seeing Bucky get so emotional as he spoke made you emotional too, and by then, you knew there was no point in trying to hide it as another sob left your mouth.

“You will,” you promised. “She deserves to know her dad. I may still be pissed at you and hesitant to let you back into my life in any extent, but she’s your daughter too. And she’s fucking amazing. I would never intentionally keep her away from you now that you know and want to be part of her life. I’m not evil. But, Bucky, you have to be in or out. You can’t just disappear on her like you did me. I refuse to put her through waiting and wondering if you were ever going to come back.”

Silence fell between the two of you again, but you knew that it was in mutual understanding and agreement.

“Y/N,” Bucky said after a few moments had passed. “I am undoubtedly and wholeheartedly in.”

“Good. You’d be really missing out if you weren’t.”

“I already hate that I’ve missed so much, but I can’t wait to meet her. However, I do think we need to take this slowly.”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “She and I both have to be ready for that meeting to happen, which won’t be today.”

“For sure,” Bucky replied. “Hopefully soon, though.”

“It’ll probably be sooner than I’m ready for, but for her, I’m willing to make it work. That being said, I should get going so I can go home to her.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for talking with me, Y/N.”

Both you and Bucky stood up from the table and had an awkward moment of almost going in for a hug, but ultimately didn’t. After muttering quick goodbyes and discussing how you’d be in touch, you slung your bag over your shoulder before heading on your way.

However, you only made it a few steps before Bucky called after you.

“Y/N, before you go,” he said as you turned to face him again. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Go for it,” you responded, having no idea what he could be about to ask.

“What’s her name?”

Bucky was smiling as he asked, and despite you still feeling a type of way about his sudden reemergence in your life, you smiled too.

“Penelope Rebecca Barnes.”

taglist (thank you so much angels for your comments): @avengersfan25, @wonwoosthetic, @xprloki, @ordelixx, @cherrypieyourface, @xhazzz, @avafaustus, @lovely-seb <3

[wlwsoccerfics]

A Queer RomCom?(OnaBatlleXParedesReader)

A/N: Happy Birthday Ona!🎉 (Yes i am a bit late but i was busy so...) It's very short but cute i think. So enjoy.

Warning: a little bit suggestive , Diabetes Type one mentioned , Google translate used , allergies mentioned

summary: a talk with Pina leads to a little Flashback to some of your Most interesting moments in your relationship with Ona.

"No, hablo en serio, tu historia y la de Onas parece sacada de una comedia romántica queer." Pina stated. ( no i am serious, yours and Onas story is totally straight out of a queer RomCom. )

"¡Entonces no tan recto, quieres decir!" You replied which made your best friend laugh. ( so not so straight you mean! )

"Bueno, pero de verdad, ¡vería la película de su relación si existiera!" Pina told you. Smiling softly. ( good one. but for real, I would watch the movie of your relationship if there was one! )

"¿Por qué? ¿Porque fuimos lo suficientemente estúpidos como para no darnos cuenta de que nos gustábamos por un tiempo?" Your girlfriend asked and walked over to you. Kissing your lips softly. You kissed back smiling. ( why? cause we were stupid enough not to notice that we liked each other for a while?! )

"Eso es una gran parte de ello. ¡Sí!" Pina admitted. ( that's a big part of it. yes! )

" ¡Éste es un punto válido!" You let them know. ( that's a valid point! )

"¡Una de mis partes favoritas es cómo se enteró Irene!" Your best friend stated. You flipped her off playfully. Blushing a bit, so did Ona. ( one of my favorite parts is of how Irene found out! )

"¡Fue terrible! Traumático para todos." You told her. ( it was terrible! traumatizing for everyone. )

"No pude hacer contacto visual con ella durante un mes entero." Ona said, thinking back to the time and shook her head violently. ( i couldn't make eye contact with her for a whole month. )

Irene was your older sister. She was 5 years older then you. When you and Ona first started dating you two kept it a Secret. One day you forgot the time and didn't Show up to a lunch Date with her. She became quite worried when she wasn't able to reach you. Not by calling you and Not by texting you. Because you and Ona were in dream Land. What your sister thought was that you were passed out in your living room cause of your Diabetes so she used her House Key, she had for emergencies and caught you with Ona in the shower, showing eachother how in Love you were with one another. It was embarrassing for all three of you. But when you told Pina about it, cause she was your best friend, she almost fell over laughing. And somehow the entire Team ended Up finding out about this. So to say the next few days were filled with teasing from your teammates was an Understatement.

Pina had to leave but you and Ona were still talking about some RomCom worthy Moments in your relationship, while being all cuddled up on the couch together.

"¿Recuerdas cuando me resbalé y caí, pero me atrapaste y me besaste después? Sentí que todo sucedió en cámara lenta." You wanted to know from Ona. She nodded her head and smiled softly. ( remember when I slipped and fell but you catched me? and kissed me afterwards? felt like it all happened in slowmotion. )

"¡Tenía miedo de dejarte caer! ¡Eso estuvo en mi mente todo el tiempo!" You told Ona and chuckled softly. ( i was scared of dropping you! that was on my mind the entire time! ) .

"¡El beso seguro no me hizo saber que estabas nerviosa en absoluto!" She said and grinned at you. You laughed softly. ( the kiss sure didn't let me know you were nervous at all! )

"Cariño, ¿recuerdas aquella vez que nos enteramos de mi alergia al kiwi?" You also replied. ( babe, do remember that time we found out about my kiwi allergy? )

"¡Cómo pude olvidarlo! ¡Tenía tanto miedo de perderte!" Ona admitted. It sure was Scary. ( how could i forget! i was so scared of losing you! )

You two shared a fruit Salad that had quite the few Kiwis in it. And you suddenly started to feel weird. Your throat was scratching and then you couldn't breathe. Good thing you were near a Hospital, cause Ona picked you up and carried you there as fast as possible. She saved your Life.

"Yo también tenía miedo, ¡pero tú fuiste mi pequeño héroe y me salvaste!" You whispered out. Kissing her cheek softly. ( i was scared as well. but you were my little hero and saved me! )

"Hero? Like Spider-Man?" She asked.

"your Level of hotness is more like Black Widow but sure. Whatever you want, beautiful." You replied and cuddled up closer to her.

There were so many Moments in your relationship and in the timeline of how you have gotten together that really could easily have been written for a queer RomCom. Some of them were sweet, some of them were funny, Others were even sad. But you got your Happy ending together and would soon get married. So Life was great!

[foolexby]

Silence vow.

Notes: Rivals James Potter x Female Reader. Sassy Hufflepuff reader. Cliché I don't care. Not use of Y/N. English is not my first language. Use of Google translate. I hate people who don't know how to express their feelings (me). Slightly angst.

WC: 11.0k

Navigation | Serie Masterlist | Part I

James usually didn’t think too much after a match.

Winning or losing was just part of the game, and there was always another one ahead—another practice, another chance to shine. But this time, something felt different.

Since your fall, his mind kept returning to the moment he had to swerve away from the Snitch to catch you instead. The way his fingers had closed around your waist, the weight of your body swaying in the air, the fear that—for a fraction of a second—had frozen his blood. He’d never felt anything like it in the middle of a match.

He had won, yes. Gryffindor had celebrated. But he hadn’t, not really.

He spent more time than usual in the tower, sitting by the window, staring out at the pitch as if expecting to see you appear. Sometimes you did, sneaking out at night, thinking no one noticed. But James did. He knew you went out to train alone. He knew something inside you hadn’t healed with the bruises. And although he’d wanted to approach more than once, something held him back.

It wasn’t fear. It was respect. And guilt.

He kept replaying that argument in the air, the words laced with anger. “Fine. You win. Your team wins. Another victory for Gryffindor.” That line stuck with him like a curse. It hadn’t been the voice of someone who’d lost a match. It was the voice of someone who had been robbed of the chance to finish it. And he had been the one to take it from you.

The arrogance he used to wear like a protective cloak no longer served him. Every time he climbed on his broom during practice, something inside him tensed. Not because he doubted his skills, but because he finally understood that flying wasn’t just about winning. That there was more at stake when you shared the sky with someone like you.

And yet, he didn’t know how to reach it.

He didn’t know whether to apologize or simply stay away. But what he did know was that when your next match came—against Slytherin—he would be there. Not as a rival, not as a detached spectator. But as someone who, though he’d never admit it aloud, wanted to see you just fly again.

It had been a few weeks since that fall during the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor match, but the memory still clung to you like a stubborn shadow refusing to fade. Some nights, when the castle slept and the world seemed to pause for a moment, you snuck down to the Quidditch pitch. There was no light, save for the soft glow of the moon filtering through the stands, but you didn’t care. Flying in the dark, training alone, feeling the cold wind against your face… it had all become a refuge. An obsession.

You spent hours sweeping across the pitch, mentally replaying every move of the match, every mistake, every second that could’ve changed the outcome. You repeated maneuvers until exhaustion, forced yourself to dodge imaginary players, to react faster, to anticipate the impossible. The fall hadn’t just been physical. It had struck your pride. The idea that you were ready to lead.

You analyzed every play, every flight, every decision with near-maniacal precision. You became your own harshest critic, and each night in the air turned into a desperate search for control. It couldn’t happen again. Not against Slytherin. You couldn’t afford another mistake.

But it wasn’t just the match that had been left unfinished. It was something else. Something deeper, more intimate, that still weighed in your chest with a force you could no longer ignore. It wasn’t just the fall, nor the lingering pain in your ribs. It was that exact moment when you’d felt his arms around you, holding you mid-air like you were the most fragile thing in the world. That shared look frozen in time, heavy with tension, with unspoken words.

Since then, you’ve avoided thinking about him. You’d repeated in your head, like a protective spell, that it meant nothing. That was just a moment. That he would’ve done the same for anyone else.

And now, standing in the middle of the empty pitch, with the dark sky mirroring the confusion inside you, and the wind whistling through the goal hoops like a distant lament, it was much harder to keep pretending. The echo of that instant—his ragged breath, the warmth of his body next to yours, the slight tremble in his hand as he held on—came back with unbearable clarity.

It wasn’t just the match that had been left unfinished.

It was you. It was him. It was both of you.

That night, the sky was clear, studded with stars like distant embers.

The air was cold, but not enough to stop you from following your usual routine. After hours of solitary training, your muscles were tired and your hands numb, but your mind remained alert, insistent, as if it still wasn’t enough.

You had lost track of time between your secret practices, mental corrections, and the constant anxiety about the upcoming match. The night air felt less biting from the Astronomy Tower, where you usually end up after flying. It was your way of returning to the ground without really touching it. From up there, the pitch looked smaller, more manageable. As if your mistakes could also be seen from a safe distance.

You sat on the edge of the stone ledge, legs dangling into the void, broom resting against the wall. The wind played with loose strands of your hair, and the sky, clear and open, let the constellations shine as if they, too, were silently watching you. The silence felt different this time. It wasn’t the usual kind.

You felt it before you heard it. That unmistakable kind of energy he always carried with him, even when he tried not to make a sound. And though you didn’t turn around, you knew it was him.

“Come to rub your victory in my face?” you asked coldly, still not looking at him, eyes fixed on the horizon.

James didn’t answer right away. He knew you’d noticed him, and still he stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he didn’t know what to say. As if he hadn’t expected to find you there—and yet, at the same time, had somehow planned for it.

“No,” he said finally, his voice lower, calmer than usual—almost like he was afraid of breaking something. “That’s not why I came.”

You stayed silent. It was his turn. Let him speak.

“I’ve seen you training at night,” he went on, approaching slowly. “A few times. I didn’t say anything… I didn’t want to interrupt. But tonight… I don’t know. I guess I got tired of just watch from afar.”

“From afar?” you echoed, sarcasm lacing your voice. “How noble of you, Potter.”

James shook his head, a barely contained smile curving his lips. He let out a soft huff, like even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. His eyes, always so alive, sparkled with that familiar glint, the one that came right before he said something infuriating. “Nah,” he said with mock nonchalance, shrugging. “Just came to bother you for a bit.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, not even bothering to look at him. Even if you didn’t show it, part of you felt that familiar tingle—that mix of irritation and something else. The idiot really knew how to get under your skin.

James chuckled softly, the sound fading into the cold wind sweeping across the tower. He stepped a bit closer, close enough to feel present, but still respectful of your space. “Although, to be fair, you’re always mad at me anyway,” he added with a crooked smile, “so it’s not like this makes much of a difference.”

“Hmm,” you murmured, still not looking at him, as if the stars were safer than his eyes.

He noticed that tiny shift in your tone, that barely perceptible change. And it only made his smile widen, like he’d just scored a point in some invisible duel. “You always seem in a bad mood when I’m around,” he said softly now, almost gently, like someone testing dangerous ground.

You crossed your arms, tense, though your tone was more biting than firm. “Because you’re annoying. And unbearable.”

James let out a real laugh, shaking his head slightly, as if your insult was some kind of backhanded compliment. “And you’re stubborn and reckless,” he shot back, glancing sideways at you, one eyebrow raised.

You turned just enough to throw him a sharp look. “And you’re spoiled and impossible.”

“And you’re uptight and a perfectionist,” he replied without much thought, still playful, but there was something in his eyes—something more.

“And you’re selfish, insufferable, and arrogant,” you fired back without hesitation, your pride giving your words perfect aim.

James paused for a second, like your words had hit deeper than he wanted to admit. But then he huffed, not quite offended, and tilted his head with that infuriatingly arrogant expression of his. “And you’re a pain in my ass,” he said with a lopsided smirk, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“How clever, Potter,” you replied coldly, sarcasm like venom in every syllable—even if, deep down, something inside you clenched without warning.

James rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade. On the contrary, it softened a bit, losing some of its usual smugness. His voice lowered slightly, like he was speaking only to the night—or to the part of you still deciding whether to listen. “I have my moments… surprisingly.”

And in that moment, the silence grew heavier. It wasn’t just the usual game, the sharp-tongued sparring, the sarcastic armor you both wore. It was something else. Something that lingered in the cold air of the tower, in the whisper of the wind, in the subtle heat of a presence that refused to leave.

Your hands were cold, but the warmth radiating from him—even without touching—was unmistakable. And you hated yourself a little for noticing it.

“Surprisingly,” you echoed, one eyebrow raised, tone mocking.

James laughed briefly at your sarcasm, clearly enjoying this far more than he should’ve. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he replied with a playful grin. “Sometimes I can be clever.”

“Oh, really?” you retorted, tilting your head with fake interest, like you weren’t quite convinced.

James chuckled, clearly amused by your sharp replies. There was something about this dynamic that kept him hooked—like he couldn’t help coming back for more. “Very funny.”

“What do you want, anyway?” you asked, more serious now, your tone sharp and unbothered. Your eyes stayed on the sky, but your posture had turned rigid—alert.

He shrugged, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there. But the truth ran deeper, even if he wasn’t ready to say it aloud.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. After all… you fell off your broom last match.”

“I don’t need you checking on me,” you shot back, the words out before you could stop them—harsher than intended, though you didn’t take them back.

James rolled his eyes, still wearing that maddening smile. He knew you well enough to hear the armor in your voice. “Someone’s got to. With the way you fly, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet.”

You turned to him, frowning like he’d insulted you, though deep down, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. “I wasn’t being reckless. I just lost balance.��

He huffed, crossing his arms with a look that hovered between disbelief and amusement. His eyes narrowed, catching yours with a teasing spark. “You lost balance because you were flying too fast chasing the Snitch. That’s reckless.”

“Trying to win, they call it,” you muttered, a hint of wounded pride slipping through despite your best efforts.

James rolled his eyes again, this time with a mix of frustration and fondness. You always had that effect on him. No matter how impossible you were, some part of him admired your fire—even when it drove him mad. “There’s a difference between trying to win and throwing yourself off a broomstick,” he said, voice low but firm, like he needed the words to hit their mark.

You met his gaze, unflinching, your eyes still on the horizon. “I was trying to win.”

James sighed—a sound closer to a growl—as he watched you. There was something about the way you held yourself, so certain, so immovable, that only made his frustration grow.

“No. You weren’t just trying to win,” he said, his voice deepening as he looked at you, eyes scanning every inch like he was trying to decode you. “You were being reckless. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, and all you cared about was catching that bloody Snitch.”

You finally glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at your lips, like his concern was some sort of twisted joke. But under the surface, the tension was undeniable. “So what? Why do you care? You won, didn’t you? End of story.”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that escaped before he could stop it. The frustration was bubbling to the surface now, whether he liked it or not.

“I don’t care about the win. I care that you were so reckless. You could’ve died; do you get that?” His voice cracked—just barely—as a flicker of something raw passed through his eyes.

“That’s not your problem.” You didn’t even look at him, like you could dismiss his concern with a single breath.

James shook his head, more to himself than to you. He knew nothing he said would change your mind, but he had to try anyway. “Of course it’s my problem,” he muttered, voice lower now, edged with something heavier. “Because it seems like you don’t give a damn about your own safety. Someone has to. And it’s gonna be me”

He looked up at you fully then, face tight, jaw clenched, like he was holding back words that might only make things worse. “You were so focused on the game, you didn’t even realize you were risking your life,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re so obsessed with winning, you can’t even see how dangerous you’ve become.”

There was a line between you, invisible but palpable—one neither of you dared cross. And still, he kept talking. But now there was something more behind his words.

“I should’ve let you fall. But I didn’t,” he said, the words rougher than he intended. Still, his voice didn’t shake. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself just because you don’t know when to stop.”

You looked at him, defiant as ever. “And what exactly is the point of this lecture?” Your voice was cool, unreadable.

James clenched his jaw, the ache of trying to reach you sitting heavy in his chest. “The point is for you to see what you’re doing. To stop being so damn reckless and stubborn. To stop acting like your life doesn’t matter.”

You frowned, visibly irritated, but you didn’t turn away. The tension between you was tangible now, a slow-burning fuse. “So, what do you want from me?” you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion.

He let out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair like that might somehow ease the knot in his chest. “I want you to stop throwing yourself into danger like it’s worth nothing,” he said, almost a whisper, soaked in desperation. His eyes locked on yours, hoping—begging—you’d finally hear him.

You held his gaze for a long moment. “You’re exaggerating,” you said flatly, that faint smirk returning with a hint of mockery.

James rolled his eyes hard, his whole face tensing in frustration. “I’m not exaggerating. You were reckless. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you shot back, indifference curling in your tone like a shield.

He sighed again, slower this time, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not the point,” he said, more calmly now, though the edge hadn’t left his voice. “The point is that you could have. You were so focused on winning, you didn’t even realize how close you were to—” He cut himself off, closing his eyes for a moment. The thought was too much. “You were this close to ending up dead.”

“I wouldn’t have died,” you said with a shrug. “Just… severely injured.”

James scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “And you think that’s better? You didn’t stop for one second to think about the consequences?”

“I did think about it,” you replied simply, your tone unchanged.

He stared at you, stunned. “So you knew? You knew it was dangerous and kept going?” He shook his head again, voice rising slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

His voice was thick with disbelief and something else—disappointment. “You could’ve died. And you didn’t care. You just kept flying like nothing else mattered. Like you don’t even matter.”

“James…” Your voice softened at last.

“What?” he snapped, still tense—too tense to notice that, for the first time, you’d called him by his first name.

“I’m fine. I’m alive.” Calmly. Quietly. Your eyes gentler now.

He stared at you for a beat, silence stretching between you. The anger still burned beneath his skin, but now something else flickered behind his eyes—relief. And frustration.

“You’re fine,” he echoed, almost bitter. “That’s all you’ve got to say? You could’ve broken your neck, and all you say is ‘I’m fine’?”

“Yes… because none of that happened. I am fine…” you paused. “Thanks to you.” That last part came out in a whisper, barely audible, like it physically hurt to say it.

James frowned, tilting his head slightly. He caught the murmur, but not clearly enough to understand it. His expression was still serious, but his tone now carried a hint of curiosity he couldn’t quite hide. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I just said I’m fine,” you insisted, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

James was now visibly exasperated. “Yeah, I heard that,” he said impatiently. “I want to know what you said after that. I didn’t catch it.”

“I didn’t say anything after that,” you replied quickly, lowering your gaze just a little.

He rolled his eyes again, clearly not buying it. “Don’t lie to me,” eyeing you intently. “I heard you say something. I just didn’t catch it. So say it.”

“You’re delusional,” you muttered, folding your arms, clearly uncomfortable.

James scoffed and shook his head, his patience running thin, though his tone stayed insistent. “No, I’m not. I heard you. I just didn’t understand. What was it?”

You sighed, eyes dropping for just a second, and mumbled, “That I’m fine… thanks to you.”

For a moment, James looked surprised. His expression softened instantly, the irritation fading, though a trace of skepticism still lingered in his eyes. His voice dropped, calmer now. “Are you… thanking me?”

“Kinda,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes.

A playful smile crept onto James’s lips, and the usual mischievous glint returned to his eyes. He spoke in a teasing tone, but it was warm, not mocking. “‘Kinda’? That’s all I get?”

“Fine. Thanks for catching me. Happy now?”

He let out a light laugh, and his smile turned into that classic, arrogant half-smirk he was known for. He shook his head, clearly amused. “Aww, was that so hard to say?”

“It really was,” you admitted with a resigned little shrug.

James kept smiling, smug but gentle, his voice still playful. “Well then… you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He laughed again, clearly delighted by your reaction. “You love saying that, don’t you?”

“Because it’s exactly what you are.” You sighed, glancing away for a second. You couldn’t believe you’d just thanked him. James Potter. You swallowed and forced yourself to keep it together.

“Well… I’ve to go,” you broke the second of silence, tossing your hair back with a casual gesture, though if your heart was beating faster than you’d like to admit.

He gave you that arrogant grin he always seemed to have ready, like he knew exactly how much he got under your skin. “Running away? What a surprise.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, a crooked smile on your lips. “See you later, loser,” while turning around before he could answer.

You heard him scoff behind you and couldn’t help but smile a little more. “See you, reckless little headache,” he called after you, in that teasing tone you knew far too well.

You didn’t answer. You just lifted one hand in a lazy wave, not looking back, as you walked off toward the stairs.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

It had only been a couple of days since your last conversation with James. Not a long time, really. Just a few days, a handful of shared classes, some fleeting encounters in the hallways. But it was enough for everything to feel different. Undeniably different. As if something invisible and heavy had settled between the two of you, altering the air you shared without either of you being able to name it. A subtle presence, almost imperceptible, yet impossible to ignore.

The atmosphere between you had changed. Not explosively, not with grand gestures, but with a quiet kind of transformation—like the air growing heavier before a storm. There were no shouts, no arguments, none of those sharp jabs you used to trade as if they were part of a daily ritual. You simply… didn’t speak.

And that, more than any past argument, made everything seem stranger. It wasn’t a truce, nor a peace hard-won. It was a kind of carefully maintained void, as if both of you had silently concluded that it was better to stay quiet than risk saying something you couldn’t take back.

There were no provocations, no sarcasm disguised as humor. None of those intense looks full of irritation or underlying tension that had once been inevitable whenever you shared a room. What had once been a constant battle of wit and willpower, an all-out war of words and gestures, had completely vanished.

In its place, a carefully measured distance had been born. A kind of silent pact to keep out of each other’s way, as if any wrong move might break the fragile balance that had formed between you. And the worst part was that no one needed to ask what had happened. Everyone noticed. Everyone felt it. But no one dared to mention it.

Because the silence between you and James wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t the kind of silence born of forgetfulness or disinterest. It was something deeper, something heavier. A silence that, on its own, spoke louder than any previous fight.

And his friends noticed immediately. No one had to say anything; there was no need to ask. It was evident in the small gestures, in the subtle absences that suddenly weighed more than any spoken word. They noticed how, when he passed you in the halls, he no longer opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark or furrowed his brow like he was gearing up for another verbal skirmish. He simply looked at you—if he looked at all—and dropped his gaze slightly, his shoulders losing that usual tension, as if he had suddenly decided not to fight.

Your friends noticed the change in you, too. How your eyes no longer searched for him in a crowd to challenge him from afar. How your firm stride and determined expression no longer came with that spark of provocation you used to reserve just for him. No more cutting words, no more sharp remarks delivered with surgical precision, knowing exactly how to strike a nerve.

None of that was there anymore.

Now, when you saw him, you simply walked past. Not a glance, not a reaction. As if he weren’t there. As if he were just another figure in the crowd, as irrelevant as any stranger in Hogwarts robes. And he, who had always been ready to take the blow and strike back with equal force, now seemed to avoid it at all costs.

Silence.

Complete and absolute.

A silence that didn’t scream revenge or hold onto resentment; a silence that, somehow, hurt more than any past fight. Because this silence wasn’t empty. It was full of everything you hadn’t dared to say.

And that was what stood out the most.

Not the silence itself, but its strangeness. Its abnormality. Because it wasn’t what people were used to. It wasn’t what they expected to see when the two of you were in the same space. It wasn’t the usual anymore. It wasn’t what had, over time, become almost a constant within the castle—like the bustle in the corridors or the constant hum in the Common Room.

People had grown used to that near-electric tension that sparked whenever you crossed paths. To the back-and-forth of sharp remarks that always hovered between genuine irritation and poorly disguised amusement. To the sparks that flew when you exchanged words, glances, or simply shared presence. It was a game—dangerous, yes, but also fascinating—that seemed to feed itself, grow by inertia. A constant tug-of-war, a dance of egos that kept everyone watching, expectant, as if witnessing something greater than a simple school rivalry.

They were used to seeing you like that: on the edge of confrontation, as if every conversation were a chess match where neither of you wanted to concede. As if provoking each other were an essential part of your routine. As if neither of you could resist the other’s presence—the temptation to seek them out, just to test them, to get a reaction, to see how far the other’s patience could stretch.

But now… nothing.

Not a word in passing. Not a whispered, mocking comment. Not even a fleeting glance—one of those that lasted barely a second but left a mark. The air between you, once full of tension and fire, now seemed empty. Cold. As if something had been extinguished without warning.

It was as if, without speaking, without needing to make it explicit, you had reached a silent agreement: to disappear from each other’s lives. To erase one another from your orbit. To pretend that the need to clash, to seek each other out with eyes or words, had never existed.

Or maybe… you were just avoiding the inevitable.

Because if one looked closely—and some did, though they would never admit it aloud—they would start to notice certain things. Small details. Tiny gestures that, on their own, might not say much, but together began to form a pattern impossible to ignore.

Like how James, for instance, sometimes lingered a few seconds longer than necessary staring at the entrance of the Great Hall, his expression distant, as if expecting someone to appear amidst the morning crowd of robes and laughter. And when he didn’t see you—when the moment passed and you didn’t arrive—he’d lower his gaze with a swiftness that almost looked like disappointment. Almost.

There was also the fact that he no longer made snide remarks whenever someone mentioned the Hufflepuff team aloud, nor did he try to throw in a veiled jab disguised as a joke. He would just change the subject or go quiet, as if the words were stuck somewhere in his throat.

And you weren’t completely absent from it either. Because sometimes, when you were flying over the Quidditch pitch during team practice, your eyes would wander toward the empty stands. Not really looking for anyone in particular—or so it seemed—but there was always a pause, a slight slowing of your flight, as if you were hoping to find a familiar figure, a face in the crowd... and when you didn’t, you simply sped up again, pretending nothing had happened.

And there was more.

In the few classes you shared, you would always sit on the opposite side of the room if he was already there. Not as a conscious decision to avoid him, but more like an automatic reflex, one you’d learned the hard way.

Sometimes James would slightly turn in the corridors when he heard your voice. A subtle movement, barely noticeable—but it was there.

There was also that moment in the library when you both happened to be there, and neither of you would lift your eyes, but both knew the other was present. That the other had arrived. That the other was sitting just a few tables away—or walking past. And then your whole body would suddenly become hyper-aware: of how loud you were turning the pages, of every movement, every breath.

Sirius was the first to break the heavy silence in the Gryffindor common room. The sound of his History of Magic book slamming onto the table echoed through the space. “When was the last time he threw daggers at the Hufflepuff girl?” he asked, amusement in his voice, though a flicker of unease showed in his eyes.

Remus, buried in a scroll full of Potions notes, looked up and let out a soft sigh. Peter, sitting next to him, tried to hide a grin, but a small chuckle escaped him. “Exactly six days ago,” Remus replied calmly, as if he had the date stored in memory, showing no discomfort at the question.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’re counting the days?” he teased, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his head on his arm atop the table.

“No. But James has been unbearably quiet every time she enters the Great Hall—or whenever she’s nearby. And that, believe me, is more unsettling than when they fight,” Remus added, his voice calm but his eyes thoughtful. His tone was so serious that Sirius didn’t know what to say for a moment.

James, who was a few feet away, pretending to read an article on Quidditch strategies, said nothing. But the subtle shift in his posture, the way he turned the page without even looking at it, made it clear he wasn’t paying attention to a single word. The book stayed open, but his mind was far away.

Sirius glanced at James for a second, unable to resist a mischievous smile. “Wow. What happened to the James Potter who used to dive into fights as easily as he throws a Bludger?” he remarked, throwing a smirk at Remus. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. The atmosphere in the room had felt more tense ever since that Hufflepuff girl crossed paths with his best friend.

Peter, who had been chewing on his quill, stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s worse,” he muttered thoughtfully. “At least before it was entertaining. Now... it feels like they genuinely hate each other.”

Remus frowned, as if weighing every word he’d just heard. “They don’t hate each other,” he said, in a quiet, slightly somber tone. “If they did, it would be easier. The fights, the grudges... everything would be clear. But that’s not what’s happening.”

Sirius looked at him intently, his grin fading. The atmosphere had grown far heavier than he’d anticipated. James was still in his own world, reading without reading, detached from the conversation—but something in him had shifted ever since that argument on the Astronomy Tower.

“What makes you so sure they don’t hate each other?” Sirius asked, his tone less playful now. He really didn’t get it. To him, relationships were simple: either there was friendship, or there was conflict. But this... this didn’t fit.

Remus sighed, glancing at James for a second before returning his gaze to Sirius. “Because James wouldn’t be this quiet if he actually hated her. If he did, there’d be some kind of reaction—something tangible. But he’s just... empty. Like he doesn’t know how to deal with what he’s feeling. And to me, that’s a lot more complicated than any screaming match. The lack of answers is what makes it all so confusing.”

The common room, usually buzzing with noise, felt quieter than usual. Even the other students scattered around the tables seemed unusually subdued, as if the conversation among the four Gryffindors was the only one that mattered.

Peter looked at Remus, trying to grasp the weight of what he’d just said. “So... what do we do with that?” he asked, voice a bit shaky, clearly unsure of what that kind of unresolved tension even meant. For Peter, problems were solved with a few jokes and a good distraction. But this felt deeper. Way deeper.

“Nothing,” Remus replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “There’s nothing we can do. All we can do is wait and watch how James deals with it.”

Sirius finally found something to say, but his tone was different from usual. “I guess... it’ll be interesting to see how this ends,” he said, the usual spark gone from his eyes. “Though honestly, this is starting to scare me a little.”

Remus nodded slowly; his thoughtful gaze fixed on James. What had started as a small friction now felt like a silent war. And deep down, they all knew someone would have to give in. But no one knew who it would be.

James slowly turned the page of whatever he was pretending to read, but his eyes never really landed on the words. Everyone knew the answers were inside him, but he didn’t seem willing to share them.

Meanwhile, in the Hufflepuff common room, the conversation between Nora, Owen, and you were taking an unexpected turn. Nora, as always, couldn’t stay quiet when something didn’t make sense to her—and this time was no exception.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re never going to say anything? Ever again?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief as she chewed a piece of Honeydukes chocolate.

You glanced briefly at the parchment you were writing on, pretending you hadn’t heard her, but you knew it was useless. Nora wasn’t going to drop it���especially not when she saw your face so serious, so distant. Of all moments, this one was the most tense.

“Say what?” you replied, not lifting your gaze, like the words were just noise—just another distraction.

Nora let the chocolate drop into her hand and crossed her arms, watching you with a mix of frustration and concern. “I don’t know. ‘Potter, you’re unbearable’? ‘Stop hogging the pitch when it’s not your turn’? ‘I’d mess up your face if it wasn’t already so wrecked’? Something like that. Anything. For Merlin’s sake, this has gone on too long!”

The mention of James made a knot tighten in your throat, and without meaning to, you let out a dry, humorless laugh. It was all you could manage—laughing so you wouldn’t break. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. You’d just learned to deal with it in your own way—in silence, alone.

“It’s not worth it,” you repeated, like a mantra. The words came out mechanically, as if you’d said them so many times they’d lost their meaning. But deep down, you knew they weren’t entirely true. You knew it wasn’t that easy to let go of what had happened between you and James. That tension now filled every space between you two, and ignoring it wasn’t going to make it disappear.

Owen, who had been sitting quietly by the window, staring outside, finally spoke. His tone was gentler, but no less concerned. “Do you really think that’s going to make it go away?” he asked, not judging—just trying to understand. He knew you didn’t like talking about it, but he also knew the words were there, hovering, waiting.

You sighed and looked at your friends, finally letting go of a bit of the pressure that had been weighing you down. You knew Nora wouldn’t let it drop, and Owen was also quietly waiting for a more honest answer. Even though they both tried to show you support, the truth was that no one could fully understand what was going on in your head.

“No. It’s not going to go away,” you said softly, almost in a whisper, while staring at the quill in your hands. The parchment no longer seemed important—just a background to thoughts you couldn’t focus on. All your mind circled back to was James.

Nora frowned; concern etched on her face. “Then what are you going to do? Because you can’t keep going like this. We’re all noticing it—and so is he.” Her voice was blunt, no sugarcoating. That was sometimes the best way she helped you: with honest. She wasn’t afraid to say what others wouldn’t.

You stopped writing, finally. You couldn’t avoid it anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending nothing was wrong. But what you felt now was more complicated than a simple fight or cold indifference.

“I don’t know,” you admitted at last, looking at Nora, then at Owen. The vulnerability in your voice was something you rarely let show, and you knew your friends felt it, even if they didn’t say anything. You were caught between what you wanted to do and what you felt you should do. Silence settled between the three of you like a heavy blanket, only broken by the soft crunch of Nora’s chocolate.

Owen looked at you with understanding but said nothing. He knew sometimes words weren’t enough for something this tangled. Meanwhile, Nora let herself fall back onto the sofa with a sigh.

“Just... don’t leave everything in limbo,” she said at last. The suggestion was simple but carried a lot of weight.

The sound of the conversation faded as the Hufflepuff common room returned to its usual calm, but in your mind, everything still revolved around the same thing.

A Tuesday afternoon. The Quidditch pitch almost empty. The Gryffindor team had just finished their practice, and the Marauders were heading back to the castle, James and Sirius with their brooms slung over their shoulders, boots caked in mud. The sky was starting to darken, stained with violet clouds, and the air carried that unmistakable smell of damp autumn.

James walked in silence, eyes on the ground, spinning his wand between his fingers absently. Not a joke, not a sarcastic remark about how the Ravenclaw’s new Seeker was so bad.

“So what, we’re not having any more fun messing with the Hufflepuff captain?” Sirius blurted, his usual smirk in place, one eyebrow raised.

Remus shot him a warning look, but it was too late.

James paused for a second. Just a second. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched—just slightly, just enough for all three of them to notice. Then he kept walking, as if he hadn’t heard.

“It was a joke, mate. Relax,” Sirius added, raising his hands. “Though, I’ll admit, the fights with her were the highlight of every Tuesday. A classic. Like Thursday pudding.”

“There’s nothing to fight about,” James muttered without turning around.

“Nothing?” asked Remus, walking beside him, his voice low. He was more perceptive than the other two combined, and he knew James well enough to recognize when something was off. “When was the last time you two exchanged sharp insults?”

“Couple of days ago,” Peter chimed in from behind, in a neutral tone like he was reporting the weather.

“Thanks, Pettigrew, we didn’t need the exact track,” James grumbled without stopping.

There was a pause, as if the three of them were mentally calculating how far they could push before James snapped.

“So what happened?” Sirius asked, cocking his head with genuine curiosity now. “Did she finally bore you? Beat you in a fight and crushed your ego? Or are you just swallowing your feelings like an idiot?”

James came to an abrupt stop. The wind tousled his hair, and for a moment, the pitch fell completely silent. “I’m not bottling anything up,” he said quietly, but firmly.

“Of course you are, mate,” said Remus, with that rare kind of patience he only used when he truly cared. “You’re bottling everything up. And you’re not even pretending you’re not anymore.”

James pressed his lips together. He closed his eyes for a second, as if he needed to gather strength just to speak. “It’s not worth dragging this on,” he said at last, and there was a strange bitterness in his voice—something that didn’t usually belong there. “That’s it. It’s over. It was fun while it lasted, but... no more.”

“You really believe that?” Sirius asked, more serious now.

James looked at him, and for a moment, there was nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. Not physical tiredness—something heavier. Emotional fatigue, like he’d been fighting a battle he didn’t even remember starting.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “All I know is that talking to her is... complicated. Everything with her is complicated. And if I don’t talk, if I don’t look at her, if I don’t say anything... then at least I’m not making things worse.”

“Or maybe you’re just avoiding the inevitable,” Remus murmured.

James didn’t answer. He simply started walking again, a little faster this time.

Peter exchanged a glance with Sirius, who shrugged. Then they picked up their pace to catch up.

“What if it’s not the trouble that bothers you?” Sirius said quietly, just beside him. “What if it’s that you don’t know what to do with how she makes you feel?”

James stopped again. This time, he said nothing. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it. He just looked down at the ground, at the dry leaves crunching beneath his boots, and stood there for a moment, like the answer might be hidden in the mud or in the wind beginning to pick up.

Then, without another word, he murmured, “Let’s head back to the castle.”

And the three followed him, saying nothing more—because they knew that in that silence, there was more truth than in any half-spoken confession.

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James was standing in the middle of a fifth-floor corridor, like so many times before, with his usual three companions. They were leaning against the stone wall, taking up far more space than necessary, talking far too loudly for a time between classes. Sirius was gesturing wildly as he recounted some absurd story that had Peter laughing uncontrollably, while Remus tried—without much conviction—to get them to lower their voices. The laughter of the four echoed through the corridor like a familiar soundtrack, a regular occurrence for anyone passing by. It was the same old scene—messy, loud, as if the whole world revolved around them.

And then, without warning, you turned the corner.

You were walking fast, determined, clutching your books tightly to your chest. Your robes were a bit disheveled, and your face held a look of focused determination, as if your mind was already in the classroom ahead. You weren’t expecting to run into a group blocking the hallway. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to be standing right there.

The collision was inevitable. Literally.

You both staggered a step back from the impact. One of your books slipped from your grasp and hit the stone floor with a sharp thud that seemed unnaturally loud amidst the suddenly fading laughter. The Marauders’ chatter died off as if someone had hit a switch. For a split second, time froze.

You looked at him first, your eyes finding his like it was instinct. There was something defiant in your gaze—something that had been simmering for weeks and now, finally, found a crack to slip through.

“You do know corridors are for walking, not chatting, don’t you, Potter?”

You didn’t say it with anger. It came out in that perfect blend of annoyance and dry sarcasm you used to reserve just for him. Like the weeks of silence vanished in that instant, bringing everything back to familiar, if uncomfortable, territory.

James didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “And you do know you’re supposed to look where you’re going.”

The tension that followed was almost tangible. No one said a word. Sirius froze mid-laugh, mouth still open. Peter’s eyes went wide, like he was witnessing the return of an anticipated storm. Even Remus, usually so composed, frowned slightly—watching.

“Throwing yourself at me to get my attention? You could’ve chosen something less dramatic,” James added, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Peter laughed like it was the best joke he’d heard all week. Sirius let out a theatrical “Oof!” clearly delighted. Remus let his head fall back against the wall, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Not again…”

You didn’t even blink. “And you always block hallways like they’re an extension of your common room” you said, crouching down calmly to retrieve your books, never breaking eye contact. Your voice was steady, but sharp as a freshly-honed blade.

James opened his mouth, like he was considering a clever comeback, but no words came. For once, he hadn’t expected that answer. Sirius watched with a mocking glint in his eye, but also curiosity. Peter rocked on his heels, unsure whether to laugh again or stay quiet. Remus remained silent, though now he was watching you closely—measuring, calculating.

“You know,” you continued, rising to your feet, gripping your books tightly to your chest, “not all of us have time to loiter around making noise and taking up space like the rest of the school doesn’t exist. Some of us have more important things to do.”

The tension became almost unbearable. James’s grin faltered slightly, and while he still looked composed, something in his stance shifted. A slight tightening of his jaw, a flash of something else in his eyes—something rarely seen.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, voice lower. “Right in the middle of our noise.”

“Lucky you, Potter,” you shot back just as quietly, your voice intimate but unmistakably clear. “You bump into someone and already have a snappy comeback prepared.”

James tilted his head just slightly, with that familiar smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes—but the spark behind it was unmistakable.

“Lucky you,” he murmured back. “Found yourself an excuse to talk to me.”

It was just a moment. But it was enough.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t respond immediately. Part of you wanted to keep going—to throw another sharp line, to cut through that arrogant armor he wore like an invisibility cloak. But another part—smaller, more annoying—wondered if that was exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you simply stepped to the side, still looking him in the eye. “Lucky for me, I don’t plan on staying.”

And without waiting for a response, you kept walking down the corridor, forcing them to move out of the way as you passed. The silence that lingered behind you stretched a little longer than usual.

That brief encounter, that minimal exchange, held more weight than any of the shouting matches from weeks before. It was a crack in the wall you had both so carefully built. Not a truce. Not a reconciliation. But a break in the silence.

James watched you until you disappeared at the end of the corridor. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stood there with an unreadable expression—though Remus didn’t miss it.

As soon as you turned the corner and vanished into the crowd of students passing through the halls, the group remained quiet for a few seconds. It wasn’t awkward silence—but it was heavy, expectant.

Sirius was the first to speak, using that tone he always saved for when something amused him far more than it should.

“Well, well, well…” he said with theatrical slowness, folding his arms. “Are we back in the game, Prongs?”

James didn’t answer right away. He kept staring at the spot where you had just disappeared, as if the corridor still held some echo of your voice. There was no smile on his face, none of that cocky expression he usually wore when he came out on top of a verbal exchange. What he had now was something more restrained, more serious. As if, deep down, he was regretting something he’d said—or maybe something he hadn’t.

Remus watched him with the quiet patience that was so typical of him. He didn’t mock, didn’t exaggerate. He simply observed, like someone reading between the lines of a scroll that had been handled too many times.

“So the vow of silence lasted sixteen days?” he asked—not mockingly, more like stating a fact.

“There was no vow of silence,” James replied curtly, still not looking away from where she’d vanished. “And this was… nothing. A collision. Literally.”

Peter, who had remained quiet until that point, let out a sound somewhere between a nervous laugh and genuine concern. He glanced sideways, as if checking whether someone else might’ve overheard the exchange.

“Do you think she’s mad?” he asked softly, like saying it too loud might summon the answer.

“Her?” Sirius replied, a wide grin now spreading across his face. “If that was anger, I call it progress. She used to act like he didn’t even exist. Now at least she ran over him.”

He paused, clearly enjoying his own phrasing.

“Metaphorically. And physically.”

Remus let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“It was strange,” he said at last. “Not enough for them to start fighting again, but just enough to know this whole ignoring-each-other thing… it’s not going to last much longer. Whatever that between them is, it’s unresolved.”

James finally turned on his heel to face them. His dark eyes glinted with something that wasn’t anger but wasn’t clarity either.

“There’s nothing between us,” he said sharply, like he needed to say it more to himself than to the others.

Silence fell again among the Marauders, but this time it was heavy with meaning. Sirius just smirked, that half-smile he always wore when he knew he was right and didn’t need to prove it anymore. He clapped his best friend on the shoulder and lowered his voice.

“Of course not. Absolutely nothing. That’s why you look like you just swallowed a Bludger every time you see her.”

James didn’t respond. He just looked down and shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, as if trying to contain something threatening to rise to the surface. He tried to pick up the conversation they’d been having before the collision, but the thread was lost. And they all knew it: something had changed.

You were walking fast through the corridors, as if moving quickly could somehow put distance between you and what had just happened. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brow furrowed, your thoughts a hopeless tangle. With each step, the scrolls you’d scooped up after the collision trembled in your hand, like they still remembered the impact.

Charms class was on the third floor, but in that moment, it could’ve been on Mars—you would’ve kept walking just as distracted. Your mind kept replaying what had just occurred.

You’d spent weeks building a wall of indifference. You’d convinced yourself it was better not to speak, not to look at him, not to give him any space in your day. That if you ignored him consistently enough, he’d stop mattering. But it had only taken a second—an accident, a brush of contact, one miscalculated corner—for all that self-control to collapse like a house of cards.

"Throwing yourself at me to get my attention? You could’ve picked something less dramatic."

You repeated it in your head, hearing his stupid voice, with that damned confidence that never wavered. The line was trivial, almost a joke. But the way he said it… wasn’t. There was something else. Something you weren’t sure if it bothered you or confused you.

You entered the classroom with firm steps, though the tremble in your fingers hadn’t entirely gone away. You sat in your usual seat, opened your Charms book, and pretended to pay attention—even though you knew you hadn’t heard a single word the professor had said in the first few minutes.

Part of you was frustrated that you’d spoken to him at all. Another part—though you didn’t want to admit it—felt alive. As if that brief exchange had reignited something you thought long buried.

You didn’t know what it was. But you knew one thing for sure:

You weren’t going to be able to ignore it much longer.

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That Saturday, your friends—and a couple of your Quidditch teammates—had dragged you to the stands of the stadium, forcing you to watch the third match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. You’d tried to resist, of course. You had a pile of homework waiting, a training session to plan, and, honestly, zero desire to spend the morning watching James Potter strut around on his broom in front of half the school.

But Owen had insisted, using logic you couldn’t entirely refute: “We have to study the Ravenclaws,” he said with a serious tone, as if it were a matter of life and death. “They’re slippery, unpredictable… no one really knows how they play.”

And he wasn’t wrong. The ravens were rarely seen training. Their schedules were so erratic that more than one person had questioned whether they trained at all. They entered the pitch before dawn and left just before classes started, like ghosts. There was no chance of spying on them—not even with the help of an invisibility cloak. So there you were. Against your will, seated in one of the middle rows, a yellow-and-black scarf knotted around your neck, arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed as you waited for the match to begin. The air was cold and smelled of damp grass, polished broomsticks, and collective excitement. Around you, students from every house filled the stands with enthusiasm.

You crossed your arms tighter, uncomfortable, and let out a sigh that didn’t go unnoticed by Owen, who was beside you eating an apple with a smug look on his face.

“Oh, come on, captain,” he said with a teasing grin. “A bit of team spirit. This is field intel, not torture.”

“It’s Saturday morning. It’s freezing. I haven’t had breakfast. And I’ve been forced to sit next to a couple who hasn’t stopped kissing since we got here,” you replied, turning your head with a resigned expression toward the pair beside you.

“But you always say Quidditch is won with strategy. And what better strategy than observing your enemies?” Nora chimed in from the other side, bundled up to her nose in her scarf, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Observing the enemy, yes. Freezing to watch Gryffindor was not part of the plan.”

And, as if the universe had been listening just to mess with you, that was precisely the moment the teams took to the field.

The roar was immediate. A mix of cheers, shouts, and applause filled the stadium as the scarlet and blue robes soared over the pitch in formation. The sound of broomsticks slicing through the air made you look up almost by reflex.

And there he was.

James Potter led the Gryffindor formation with that same charming arrogance that followed him through the corridors. It was obvious the pitch was his natural element. He didn’t just fly—he owned the sky like it belonged to him. He gave commands with confident gestures, and his teammates responded with perfect precision. The game hadn’t even started, and it already looked like he had it all under control.

The crowd's excitement grew by the minute, and all you could think about was how many more useful things you could be doing right now.

Or at least, that’s what you forced yourself to think… because, even if you wouldn’t admit it—not even under Veritaserum—part of you knew your discomfort wasn’t just about the weather or your to-do list.

The real reason was at the center of the pitch, adjusting his gloves with arrogant ease and that carefree smile that seemed permanently etched onto his face since birth. Sitting on his broom like it was a natural extension of his body, chatting animatedly with his teammates, laughing with Sirius Black, bumping fists with another chaser. He looked perfectly at home.

And you couldn’t help the way something—annoying, uncontrollable, unnecessary—stirred inside you when you saw him.

“Careful not to stare too long. Might strain your neck,” Owen muttered beside you, still watching the pitch.

You shot him a sharp look, but he only grinned, clearly entertained, as he settled further into his seat.

“I’m watching the Ravenclaws,” you said stiffly. “As you should be doing.”

“Sure, sure,” Nora nodded from your other side. “And I swallowed a Snitch this morning.”

You rolled your eyes. The sound of Gryffindor’s drums started to rumble, announcing the teams’ final formation. You tightened your scarf, took a deep breath, and forced yourself to focus.

You had a mission.

Study the Ravenclaws.

Only the Ravenclaws.

The whistle blew—sharp and clear, slicing through the cold air like a dagger. The match exploded into motion: Bludgers shot off, the Quaffle was tossed into the sky, and the players scattered like a controlled storm, each with a clear purpose.

Your eyes didn’t take long to find him. Not the Quaffle, not the Beaters, not even the fastest Chasers on either side. Your attention was focused on the highest point of the sky, where James Potter had already risen above the chaos, scanning every inch of the field.

Seekers played a different game. While the rest fought for points, they hunted the final prize. And he did it with a level of focus that stood in stark contrast to his usual attitude on the ground. No jokes. No smug smiles. Just a sharp gaze and precise movements, almost feline, like he could feel the Snitch in his bones.

“You see that?” Nora whispered beside you, leaning slightly forward to keep him in view. “He hasn’t moved from that quadrant in over a minute.”

You nodded, narrowing your eyes. “He’s casting a net. Closing in on zones to narrow the search.”

“Like you,” Owen added, crossing his arms with one eyebrow raised.

You didn’t answer. But yes, in a way, it surprised you. James moved with calculation. He flew in wide circles, crossed the field diagonally, and paused briefly at strategic points. And when one of the Ravenclaw Beaters sent a Bludger his way, he didn’t just dodge it easily—he used the momentum to gain height and shift his angle, not wasting a single second.

For several minutes, the match turned into a chaotic and vibrant choreography, but you weren’t seeing it all anymore. You were only watching him.

Until, suddenly, he stopped mid-air.

The Snitch.

You saw it too: a golden flicker hovering a few meters above the west hoop. Almost no one else noticed. But he did. He turned his broom sharply, body nearly parallel to the handle, and dove. The speed of his descent made the crowd erupt in cheers. The Ravenclaw Seeker reacted a second too late—and that second was all James needed.

He caught it with a flawless maneuver, closing his fist around the Snitch as if it had always been part of the plan.

Owen stared, mouth agape. “Merlin! Even I wouldn’t have reacted that fast.”

“That's because you usually react after the matches even start,” Nora teased, elbowing him.

But you said nothing. You kept watching James as he descended slowly, the Snitch still in his hand and a satisfied smile painted on his face.

The stadium exploded with deafening cheers, but you couldn’t look away. Something about the way he’d caught the Snitch left you speechless. He’d been so precise, so exact, that you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of admiration and frustration.

The rest of the Gryffindor players gathered around him, applauding and celebrating, but James barely paused. He’d caught the Snitch as effortlessly as someone might catch a falling feather.

That’s when you realized your breathing had quickened. It wasn’t just the game that kept you glued to the stands.

It was him.

And you couldn’t deny that the uncomfortable feeling inside you was becoming harder to ignore.

You were walking down the stadium steps, heading back to the castle, with Nora and Owen chatting about their weekend plans. Nora suggested a trip to Hogsmeade that afternoon, while Owen groaned about all the homework he had and how it killed his mood for any outing. Between laughs and jokes about whether magic could do his assignments for him, you tried to relax, to forget for a moment about the match and everything that had happened on the field.

The crowd was starting to disperse, the buzz slowly fading, and the crisp afternoon air hit your face as you reached the bottom of the stairs. But just as you were about to take the next step into the courtyard, a familiar voice stopped you cold.

“Did you enjoy the show?” The voice was soft, but laced with challenge, and it made you freeze. It was him.

James Potter walked toward you, his robes billowing behind him and the golden Snitch still in his hand, as if there were nothing more important in that moment than making sure you knew he’d won. The smirk on his face was as arrogant as ever, but there was something else—an unmistakable gleam in his eyes that suggested that, for some reason, he wanted your attention.

Owen stopped when he saw the two of you falling behind, and Nora gave you a knowing look before walking a few steps ahead.

You didn’t look at James right away, focusing instead on the path ahead, but you knew you couldn’t ignore him for long. Finally, you turned to him with an expression that teetered somewhere between indifference and defiance—though he, of all people, likely knew that you hadn’t yet managed to erase the image of him catching the Snitch with near-perfect precision.

“The show?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, fully aware of what he wanted to hear. The sarcasm was inevitable. “Sure. Pretty impressive. I didn’t think you could catch anything other than your own ego.”

James’s smile widened, but this time there was something more genuine in his eyes, like he was actually enjoying the challenge.

“Hey, not every day a bloke pulls off his very own ‘great feat.’ I thought you’d appreciate it,” he said, spinning the Snitch between his fingers like it meant nothing at all.

He was clearly teasing, but there was something in his posture—a subtle provocation. Like he was testing you. Like it was a game.

“Appreciate it?” you repeated with a small smirk. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of worship Seekers. Or oversized egos.”

James stepped a little closer, that smug smile still playing on his lips, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—like he enjoyed this back-and-forth, this push and pull only the two of you seemed to know how to play.

“I wasn’t expecting applause,” he said. “But if you ever decide to give me a chance to show you what else I can do…” He shrugged, almost like he was joking, though there was an edge of sincerity beneath it. “Might be worth considering.”

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the tension rise between you again, unsure what to do with it. It was a provocation, no doubt—but there was something in his tone, in the way he stood there, that made you wonder if he meant something more.

“In your dreams, Potter,” you replied, not breaking eye contact, refusing to be pulled into his game—even if a small spark of curiosity had already been lit.

Apparently satisfied with your answer, James grinned again—that same maddening, challenging grin.

“See you around, Captain,” he said as he turned to leave, walking toward the locker rooms with that infuriating ease of his, still toying with the Snitch like he hadn’t just won a critical match. Like the win didn’t weigh on him at all.

You stood there for a few seconds, watching him disappear into the crowd of students. Something inside you—a small flicker you couldn’t name, irritation or curiosity—was still burning. Because James Potter wasn’t just a boy who sought attention. He was a boy who knew how to get it. And now, for some reason you didn’t want to examine too closely, he had yours.

“You okay?” Nora asked, reappearing at your side again—though she’d clearly been watching from closer than you realized.

“Yeah. Perfectly fine,” you replied, not entirely convincing, quickly regaining your composure as you walked with her and Owen, who had also lingered nearby, watching like a silent spectator to a play that was just beginning.

“Did he say something interesting?” Nora pressed, using that tone she always used when pretending to sound innocent—and failing miserably.

“Nothing worth to repeat,” you replied, though the echo of his words still bounced around your mind.

“You looked at him like it was,” Owen said with a shrug.

You shot him a glare, and he just raised his hands in surrender—though he couldn’t hide the amused smile tugging at his lips.

“What you saw was sheer amazement at the height of human arrogance. Rarely do you get to witness something so... refined.” You said it with as much seriousness as you could muster.

Nora snorted. Owen let out a loud laugh.

“Sure, sure. Refined. Like Ravenclaw’s plays, right?”

You didn’t answer. Because the truth was, yes. You were studying him. Maybe not with strategic intentions. Maybe not for training purposes. But you were watching him. Noticing how he moved on the field, how he spoke, how he looked your way even when it seemed like he wasn’t.

And that… wasn’t part of the plan.

You quickened your pace, letting the castle’s familiar buzz wrap around you. It was still early. Hogsmeade awaited. The weekend was just beginning.

Part three.

Tags (I hope you enjoy this part<3): @whoismonse @collectionof-cells

[spencerlicious]

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

[sgiandubh]

Bravery

This ask was so brave, we (the poster and I) both agreed to offer her protection. So, as promised, her identity is hidden, although probably known to CaitrionaTony & her clone, Caittony.

The X screenshot is authentic, though:

The ask, for those who use Google Translate:

'Hello. I'm the anonymous person who selected some of the many conversations I had with Caittony on X. She can't deny that she's the same CaiTony from Insta, as she herself pointed me to her account there.'

And here is CaitrionaTony admitting she is Caittony, translated by me:

'Do you know the Caittony account on Instagram?

Go there and you'll get many legit information.

You can be sure. S was not at the funeral. I watched it live on Facebook. It wasn't him.

And yes, Tony stayed with their son in his arms all the time, at the rear pew. And yes, it was her brother, Francis.

You can believe me or not.'

In her own words, y'all.

Thank you for your honesty, integrity and bravery, my dear.

I believe this is very clear, now. Loud and clear.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

was I TA for saying I hate Spanish, a gendered language?

so the other day I (25NB, white) was on Twitter, where I'm v active as well as my two best friends who we'll call Tess (25F, black) and Laura (24F, Mexican). we've been friends since we were kids and tbh I rlly appreciate them both.

Laura has offered to help us learn Spanish on a few occasions. I said yes ofc! Tess repeatedly said no bc she considered thats cultural appropriation and she thinks Laura should protect her culture. Tess also berated me because "white people aren't allowed to speak Spanish", but eventually she changed her mind and apologized after Laura said that she loves it when people show interest in her own culture and language, that white Spanish-speakers exist and that a healthy cultural exchange can help people of different cultures understand one another better.

so Tess and I started to learn Spanish with Laura's help as well as Google translator. and that day I searched for "non-binary" and it gave me two translations "no binario" and "no binaria". in other words, in masculine and feminine. I felt invalidated and angry so I tweeted "I hate Spanish so much". Laura was upset by this and replied saying she knows it can be a frustrating language to learn to non-natives but that I shouldn't insult her language. I tried to play it off saying that I don't hate Spanish language, I meant to say I hate the Spanish, the people of Spain. for being colonizers and all that.

this only made Laura angrier because apparently, more than 90% of Mexicans have Spanish blood since the colonizers chose to stay in Mexico. Laura was clearly hurt, she said that she won't hate a part of herself, that she won't hate Spanish people who are alive today, and that one of her online friends is Spanish (Tess and I are her best friends but Laura also has a group of online friends from different Spanish-speaking countries. I know she has a Puerto Rican friend and a Venezuelan one but I didn't know they had a Spanish friend in the group). I apologized and I genuinely meant it. I also admitted I was talking about the language and not the people.

Tess is clearly against me and supports Laura bc she said something like "I guess you can never fully trust white people" and Laura replied "no, white people aren't the problem, white Americans certainly are". I've apologized and I will do so again if I have to. I literally reacted the way I did because I felt invalidated, I don't hate Spanish or Spanish-speakers. I'm scared of losing my two closest friends, I apologized but other than that idk what to do.

was I justified in feeling invalidated? should I have joked about Spanish being a gendered language instead of saying I hate it? and most importantly, AITA?

[wearebarca]

6. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 4,3k

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy

“ You are telling me that tomorrow, Alexia Putellas is taking you on a date.” Lia Walti is a very calm and down to earth person, which is why Rosalie valued the woman’s advice and opinion. It had been a while since she had called her friend, the last time was her first week in Barcelona, but after her afternoon at the beach, Rosalie needed some of that calmness and a fresh set of eyes on the situation.

“ I mean, is it really a date? I basically forced her to spend the day with me. Besides, she could’ve just said that to confirm the time and not the fact that it’s a date. English is tricky as hell, you know.” Behind the Swiss, Rosalie could hear a loud laugh followed by a few sentences that made the player laugh. “ Is that Leah grumbling in the background?”

“ Yes, wait, she’s coming.” Shuffling could be heard as Leah Williamson appeared in the camera frame, next to Lia.

“ I said that of course, Alexia Putellas, twice Ballon d’Or winner, international football star, doesn’t know proper English. Of course Frenchy, that makes perfect sense.” Leah said, with a serious expression that soon faded once she saw her friend’s pout.

“ I didn’t ask for your opinion, Grumpy.”

“ It’s my pleasure to provide my valuable insight nonetheless.”

“ I just don’t know how to treat tomorrow, you know.” The two Arsenal players could see how this was affecting their friend, but they both knew that the French-Canadian was simply scared after what had happened in England. All she needed was that little push to dare let herself be comfortable with another again.

“Listen Liebling, tomorrow is nothing more than two people spending a day off together. Nothing more, nothing less. You simply enjoy the time you spend with her and the rest just comes naturally.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right.” Leah said, earning a small slap from the swiss. Rosalie took a deep breath. Her friends were right, this was no different from the supper they shared in Sevilla, but still, she could not help her anxiousness at the thought of spending the whole day with the captain.

“ Do you know what time she’s going to pick you up? Or are you meeting her somewhere?” Lia asked.

Rosalie froze. She had not realized that she had not discussed this with Alexia, nor did she get the blonde’s phone number before leaving the beach. “I don’t know, I didn’t take her phone number.” She all but whispered. A thud was heard in her phone speaker. She looked up only to see Leah’s head had made contact with their table. Lia was laughing.

“Can’t you just DM her?”

“What if she doesn’t answer her DM’s? She probably gets a hundred a day and doesn’t check them anymore. I don’t know, how am I…”

“Ok take a breath Frenchy, Grandma Bronze probably has her number.” Leah said, interrupting her friend that was clearly spiraling. Rosalie hadn’t thought about that. Otherwise, Ingrid probably had it too.

“Right, I should text her to see.”

“You do that Frenchy.” Leah said. “And don’t forget to tell us about your date, we’re invested now.”

“By the way, can you remind us of your marathon’s date so we can book our plane tickets.” Lia asked excitedly.

“ It’s the week after national camp.” The Canadian said checking her calendar where the dates were highlighted.

“ Are you still our photographer for camp and the Euros?” Leah asked.

“ I just confirmed it with the Lionesses management, yes! I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ve missed you.” Rosalie said excitedly.

“Are you flying with the Barcelona girls or leaving early to prepare?”

“ I’m flying with them, the marathon is three days after so I should be fine.”

“ We’ll meet you in Barcelona the day before the race. You should send us your address so we can book the closest hotel to your place.” Rosalie was about to answer when her phone started to vibrate. Upon a closer look, she realized that it wasn’t a number she recognized. She picked up the phone from the counter and opened her texts.

“ Hola Rosalia, Lucia gave me your number I hope it is ok:)”

Rosalie was silent, eyes fixed on her phone, offering the two Arsenal girls a perfect view of her wide eyes and forehead. There is only one person who called her Rosalia“ She texted you, didn't she?” Leah said matter of factly.

“ Mhm”

“ Answer her Frenchy, for fuck’s sake.” Leah said, exasperated by her friend’s behavior.

“ We’re gonna leave you to it Rosie.” Lia said, trying to calm down Leah who, even if she tried to deny it, was very much invested in the situation.

“ Merci les filles, I appreciate it a lot. Can’t wait to see you.”

“Go get her Frenchy.” Rosalie rolled her eyes then ended the call. And focused on the Spanish captain’s message.

“ Of course it’s ok :) I was wondering how you wanted things to work for tomorrow.”

“ I thought I could come pick you up around 10 if that’s ok with you, we could go get coffee and go to the market from there.”

“ Sounds good to me! I will send you my address.”

“ perfecto. See you tomorrow Rosalia.”

For the rest of the night, Rosalie spent her time deep cleaning her apartment. She wanted everything to be perfect for when Alexia would come. She picked her outfit, which consisted of flowy linen pants with a white tank top and a light sweater. After showering and making sure once again that her apartment looked presentable, she hopped in bed.

Unfortunately for the photographer, sleep did not come easy. An hour later, she was still tossing and turning, too apprehensive of tomorrow’s day to relax. After another half hour, she gave up and migrated to the couch with her laptop. If she was going to stay awake, she might as well make use of this time to get some work done.

A knock on the door woke the photographer up. It took a moment for Rosalie to realize that she actually never made it to her bed last night, and she had fallen asleep with her laptop opened by her side. Panic flooded her body as she jumped off the couch and ran to her bedroom to throw on the outfit she had chosen last night. Another knock followed by a small bark was heard and Rosalie all but ran to the door to unlock. She opened the door and bolted back in her room. “ I’m so sorry! I’m almost ready! Come in, make yourself home!”

She put her hair in a loose braid and grabbed the first cap she found in her closet and placed it on her head. Once satisfied with her appearance, she made her way to the living room, only to be met by a small excited ball of fluff. Alexia was still standing in the doorway, silently looking around the space. Rosalie picked up the small dog and made her way towards the footballer. “Allo! I’m sorry I seemed to have overslept.” she said with an apologetic smile.

Alexia broke out from her spell and smiled at the photographer. “Another late night working I see.” She said motioning towards the sofa where her computer and her pile of blankets from the night still laid.

“ Yeah, I couldn't sleep unfortunately.” A small smirk appeared on the captain’s features, but whatever she had been thinking about was eclipsed by Nala who had decided to give the smaller woman a deep face clean.

“Nala no!” Alexia said, reaching out to grab the little beast in order to make her stop her intensive licking.

“ Oh, it’s ok Ale I don’t mind.” She said, petting the small dog in her arms.

“ I hope you don’t mind me bringing her. We usually spend this type of day together, and she was very happy to know that we wouldn’t be alone today.”

“ I’m honoured to be allowed to spend the day with you guys.” She said laughing. “ I’m ready to head out if you are!”

They went down the stairs, Nala still in the photographer’s arms. Alexia’s car was parked right in front of her building. The footballer went ahead of her only to stop and open the door for the photographer. “ Merci! This is a nice car.”

“Si, we have a deal with the brand. It is fun to drive, more fun than your little car for sure.” She said with a teasing smile. Rosalie Let out a sound of indignation.

“Do not laugh at my car! It does the job very well!”

“ It’s so small, very cute.” Rosalie rolled her eyes which made Alexia laugh as she started the car and drove away. The drive was short and filled with laughter and fun banter, mainly about the photographer’s car.

“ I am only saying that you can’t carry a lot of stuff in this little car. It’s probably very uncomfortable.”

“It’s very spacious I’ll have you know!”

“It’s good for you I guess. Nina pequeña.”

“Hey! I’m average size!” The brunette said laughing as she turned around to look out the window. The streets looked familiar to the French-Canadian who realized that she had run here just before leaving for Sevilla.

“ I think I’ve run around here before.”

“This is my favorite part of the city. Only locals come here. The beach is nice and the little market is right next to it. It’s very calm.” She parked the car in a small street and got out to go around and opened the door for the photographer.as she stepped out of the car, she took a moment to really take in the blond. She was wearing a pair of light blue jeans, a loose shirt she had left halfway unbuttoned so her bralette showed. Her trusty white nike hat completed the look. She was gorgeous and Rosalie’s nervousness spiked a little at the sight.

Rosalie handed the blond Nala’s leash and they started walking towards the small shops that were lining up the street. It was a lot more lively then the last time she came here. Families were walking around and people were sitting outside the restaurants. The photographer turned to look at the footballer. Alexia smiled at her and beckoned her towards a small, rustic looking coffee shop.

“This is our first stop.” She opened the door and Rosalie was instantly met with the smell of freshly brewed espresso and baked pastries. A loud gasp was heard in the small shop which made the brunette jump a little. A small woman, who looked around her mothers age was currently making her way from behind the counter towards the duo.

“Alexia mija donde has estado! ¡Hace mucho que no te vemos!”

“Lo siento señora García, no he tenido mucho tiempo últimamente. » Alexia said, stepping forward, letting the tiny woman hug her fiercely. Rosalie stayed behind with a smile on her face as she witnessed the interaction. The woman and Alexia were chatting rapidly in Spanish, making it hard for the photographer to understand anything. She zoned out for a moment, taking in the space. This cafe reminded her of the one near the training center but, this one felt even more homy and intimate. The walls were full of art work which upon a closer look at the identification tag, were all made by local artists and available for purchase. The wall closest to the register was a floor to ceiling library with a multitude of books and board games available for the customers. A small children sized table in the far corner of the room was filled with coloring books and various types of crayons. The art work displayed around the area was very obviously made by children, and Rosalie laughed a little when she realized that they too, were available for purchase.

Strong hands grabbed her waist and turned her around.The photographer came face to face with the small older woman. Her smile was warm and her arms were already opened, ready to engulf the photographer in a bone crushing hug.

“¿Es esta la razón por la que has estado tan ocupada, querida?”

“No señora, ella es la razón por la que finalmente me tomo un día libre.” Alexia said with a fond smile. At her words, señora Perez grabbed Rosalie’s shoulders.

“gracias, ella necesita relajarse más” She told the photographer, who stayed silent, not being able to make the translation in her head due to the rapidity of their speech.

“Inglés, señora, Rosalia is still learning Spanish”

“Yes I am sorry. You take good care of Alexia. Gracias.” Rosalie smiled at that. Meanwhile, Alexia was watching the two interact. Señora Perez had dragged the Canadian towards a wall filled with pictures, no doubt to share the shop’s history with the brunette. This place was her pride and joy, she poured everything into making this place feel like home for her customers, which is why this was one of Alexia’s favourite places in all of Barcelona.

She made her way to the counter to order their drinks. Alexia had never brought anyone here, not even her sister. This was her little oasis in a city where everyone knew her name. Here, she was treated like a normal person, like a daughter even, not like the captain of FC Barcelona.

Her cups were placed in front of her by none other than Señor Perez. “ She must be important if you brought her here.” He said, leaning on the counter, watching his wife proudly showing the pictures she took of the world cup.

“Si, I feel good with her.”

“You keep this. It is rare.” Señor Perez was a man of very few words, which reminded Alexia of her own father. The man’s advice was all the more important to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by Rosalie’s return by her side.

“You really flew them to the world cup?” The brunette asked something close to admiration in her eyes. Alexia smiled at the fond memory.

“Yes I did, along with my mother and sister.” She said smiling. “They are big football fans. They deserved it, they helped me alot during my recovery.”

“Rosalia said she will come work in photos here sometime. She will get me match pictures for my wall.” The older woman said with a radiant smile, arm still hooked with the photographer’s.

“If you don’t mind me coming, that is.” The brunette said with a shy smile.

“Of course she does not mind. You come here like home. You show me ingles y me Spanish.” Señora Perez said in a tone that did not allow discussion. Alexia laughed at the woman and grabbed hers and Rosalie’s coffee.

“ Gracias María.” She said she let the smaller woman hug her. She turned to hug the photographer and whispered something in her ear that made the brunette blush furiously.

“You come back now, with pictures for my wall.” She said waving at the pair. Alexia held the door open for the French-Canadian. As soon as they stepped outside, Nala took off on the sidewalk seemingly knowing exactly what their next stop would be. They walked in the small street, side by side, sipping on their coffees while observing scenery around them.

“ How did you find this place?” The brunette finally asked.

“ When I ruptured my ACL, I got in a dark space. Even after I got the green light to walk again without the crutches, I did not want to leave home. My family started to get worried. They almost forced me to get out, go on walks. My sister told me that it was the perfect moment to really explore Barcelona, see beyond the training center and stadium.” The blond said, looking at her feet with a sad expression.

“I stumbled on this place during one of those walks. When I came in the shop was full of families and everyone seemed so friendly and happy that I decided to stay for a moment. I was scared I would get recognized but no one came to my table. I came back the week after, and the week after that as well. The third week, while I was ordering my coffee, Maria came around and asked her husband if “Senora Putellas wanted something to eat with her coffee.” That’s when I realized that they knew who I was, but simply did not treat me any different.” She said, smiling at the brunette.

“ At that moment, I truly needed that. I was still feeling like I was letting people down, or that I would never come back from this injury. It became part of my routine. Several times a week, I would go there to deal with my emails or simply to spend some time away from the football world. They always welcomed me with open arms. I invited them to my first game back. Antonio and Maria are both big Barça supporters, so I got them season tickets and to really thank them for everything they did, I paid for their trip for the World Cup.”

“ They seem like such warm, genuine people.”

“ They really are.” The blond chuckled. “ Maria seems to like you a lot. You’re gonna have to come back, otherwise she will not stop pestering me to bring you back.” The brunette laughed at that.

“ I promised her some pictures afterall.” the brunette said, already excited to see the nice couple again. The pair turned the corner and headed down a street that Rosalie recognized as the one leading to the beach. She could see that Nala was getting excited and pulling more intensely on the leash. “ You said that you found this place on one of your walks? You must live close then.”

“ Si, a few streets from her in fact. I’ll show you one day.” Alexia said, with a playful smile, which made the brunette blush slightly. They reached the beach soon after. There weren't many people around, only the odd couple walking with their dog or a few families having a picnic. Alexia pulled out a small ball out of her bag and took off Nala’s leash who barked happily at the sight of the small football her mom was holding.

Rosalie thought she would melt on the spot. The captain threw the ball and the small dog instantly took off. Rosalie sat in the sand with her coffee, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelted of the sea and something sweet, like strawberries and coconut. The photographer opened her eyes and was met with shiny hazel ones.

“Your eyes are really beautiful.” Rosalie didn’t know what came over her. It was as if she could not control the words that came out of her mouth. The blond blushed furiously at the compliment. The photographer was about to apologise in fear of having been too forward but, she was interrupted by something resembling a little rat running towards them with the small football in its mouth.

“Nala! Seriously!” Alexia said, pulling out a small towel from her bag. “ She does this every time I’m distracted.” She said attempting to dry the small dog who was too excited to stay put.

“ Might as well let her play now that she’s already wet.” The photographer said laughing as she took the ball and threw it in the direction of the waves.

They stayed well after Nala exhausted herself running after her toy. She was now laying at Alexia’s feet, happily receiving pets from her mom.

“The only thing I miss about Canada is the nature really. Endless green forests with so many lakes.” Rosalie said with a nostalgic smile. “ It’s so beautiful, even during winter.”

“ I heard it gets very cold.” Alexia said with a grimace.

“ oh oui, where I’m from it gets as low as minus 30 degrees or more.”

“ I don’t like the cold.” Alexoa said, shivering just at the thought of such frigid conditions.

“ I bet you’d like skiing. You feel so free going down the mountain, like nothing can stop you.”

“ sounds dangerous to me. Although the after-ski sounds great.”

“ Yes! With hot chocolate and cheese-fondues and all the good stuff.” At the mention of food, a loud rumbling was heard coming from the photographer’s stomach. Alexia stood up and clipped Nala’s leash on her collar.

“ Let’s go to the market. We can find you something to eat there.” She said, holding out her hand for the photographer to grab.

The market was just a bit farther on the boardwalk, and was buzzing with merchants selling different types of products. It went from food like fresh vegetables to the latest catch of the day, as well as different artisanal items like handmade jewelry or little souvenir shops. Rosalie stopped in front of a display showing some bracelets harbouring the colours of their club. She decided she would get one and give it to Alexia at the end of the day. Unbeknownst to her, a few stands away, Alexia was currently picking out a similar gift, along with something that would calm the photographer’s hunger.

They arrived at Alexia’s car an hour later with bags filled with everything they needed to make Alexia’s paella. Rosalie was surprised to see that the footballer did not ask for her address or any directions to get back to her apartment.

Rosalie felt nervous at the thought of Alexia coming into her home. She’d always been skittish about inviting people in her space. It was her sanctuary and she had just started feeling home here, but seeing Alexia in her living room eyes scanning over the variety of cameras and pictures on display with Nala already making herself at home on her couch, Rosalie decided rather quickly that she did not mind having those two around.

“This is you and your uncle right?” Rosalie did not need to see on which picture Alexia had stopped. It surely was the one where she was on her uncle’s back after an important college football game. This was merely weeks before he had passed and it was one of the most precious memories she’d made. Sensing she had touched a sensitive subject, Alexia moved away from the picture and joined the French-Canadian in the kitchen area.

“ Now, I have heard that you are terrible at cooking, so you will do as I say, si?” Her tone was firm, yet playful as she was already taking control of the space. Rosalie felt a chill run down her spine at the blond’s words, but quickly shook it off. Or she thought so, because as soon as she turned around, the brunette felt hands at her waist, guiding them towards the cutting board and knife Alexia had set up for her.

“ Would you mind cutting these for me?” She asked, with her hands still lingering on the brunette’s hips. She was so close Rosalie could feel her breath tickling the hair at the base of her neck. She closed her eyes for a second, attempting to slow her breathing which had quickened at the captain’s touch.

“ Mhm,” Was all that she was able to answer.

“ Bueno, you can start with the onions and peppers.” she said, finally letting go of the photographer. During the whole preparation, Alexia made it incredibly hard for Rosalie to focus on not cutting off any of her digits. Everytime she would move around in the kitchen she would make sure to brush against the brunette or hold her by the waist when passing behind her. It was almost as if the Catalan woman was doing it on purpose. If only the Canadian would have turned around, she would have her suspicions confirmed by the smirk adorning the captain’s face every time she would notice the photographer’s breath hitch or the goosebumps that would form whenever she would utter more instructions close to her ear.

Rosalie was sure it was due to divine intervention if she was able to be of any use in the preparation of this meal. Her apartment was filled with the delicious smell of freshly made paella and Alexia looked satisfied with what they had cooked together. “ I think this is the closest it’s ever been to my mother’s” She said with a proud smile. “ All I needed was the right partner.”

The brunette smiled as she took out plates and made her way towards the living room when she had set up the coffee table. “ So what do you usually do while eating? Watch a movie, listen to music?”

“ I normally watch old games of our next opponents to study their plays better.” Alexia answered, bringing the dish to the table.

“ Even on your days off?” The blond gave an embarrassed smile as she pulled out her phone.

“ You did say you wanted to see what I do on my days off.” She said laughing. She pulled up on her phone the most recent Madrid CFF match she could find and casted it on Rosalie’s tv. They both ate while watching, occasionally discussing plays and weaknesses they could eventually use in the upcoming game. As the evening went on, both women slowly gravitated towards the center of the sof. Alexia ended up with her arm on the back of the couch, with the photographer practically nestled in the crook of her arm. It had been a long time since the captain had felt this relaxed in the presence of another person. She could feel the exhaustion slowly gaining on her, making her limbs and her eyelids heavy. The photographer shifted slightly, giving the perfect opportunity for the blond to finally warp her arm around the smaller woman’s frame.

“ Are you comfortable?” Alexia asked, turning her head slightly to watch the brunette melt in her arms.

“ Oui,” The answer came as a whisper. Alexia could see that the photographer was too, fighting against sleep. Still, she simply could not bring herself to leave, not when she felt this relaxed and at ease. She told herself that she would leave at the end of the game, so she could enjoy this peaceful moment a little while longer. Only her body had other plans, because just a few minutes later the footballer finally succumbed to the heavy pull of sleep

[honeydippedfiction]

Heartbeats in Santo Domingo {LN4 & OP81}

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Summary: It’s summer break from F1! In a heartfelt reunion, Y/N welcomes her boyfriends, Oscar and Lando, to the vibrant culture of her Dominican Republic hometown, sharing the warmth of family and tradition. As they navigate the challenges of love amidst external judgments, Y/N finds strength in her roots and the unwavering support of her family, solidifying their bond and embracing her identity with pride.

WC: 4k words

Warnings: mentions of hate on social media and mentions of racism and hate towards cultural identity and relationship status.

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Click here to join any of my taglists

A/N: (Please forgive me if any of the translations are wrong, I tried my best to remember from memory and we all know how Google is so I refrained from using)

There’s something about the Dominican Republic that’s hard to explain unless you’re from here. The air feels different the moment you step off the plane—thick with humidity, but in a way that makes me feel alive, not suffocated. The sounds of bachata, merengue, and dembow fill every corner, whether it’s from someone’s house, a passing car, or the man on the street with a speaker in his hand. It’s loud and vibrant, but it’s my chaos. 

As I stood on the tarmac with Oscar on one side and Lando on the other, I couldn’t help but smile. This is home. For once, I could be unapologetically me, not the subject of endless online commentary about my skin color, my hair, or my accent. Just me. 

“Bienvenidos a mi tierra, chicos,” I said, giving them both a grin as I inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical heat. I caught Oscar’s eyes, his calm and steady gaze making my heart flutter like it always did. {"Welcome to my land, guys."}

Lando was already fanning himself dramatically. “This heat is no joke, Y/N!” he said, wiping his brow. 

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You’re British. Of course, you’re struggling.” I reached out and playfully poked his side. “Wait till we get deeper into the city. This is nothing.” 

Oscar smirked, his arm comfortably around my waist. “I’ll admit, it’s hotter than I expected. But I like it. Feels… lively.” 

I nodded. “Santo Domingo isn’t like anywhere you’ve been before. Trust me, you’ll see.” I couldn’t wait to show them everything—the real Dominican Republic, not the resorts or the beaches tourists flock to, but the pulse of the city, the people, the food, the culture. 

The drive from the airport to my family’s house felt like stepping into another world. Lando and Oscar watched everything from the car windows, their eyes wide as we passed the crowded streets, the colorful houses, and the vendors yelling out offers for fresh mangos and empanadas. I saw the excitement in their eyes, especially Lando’s, who’d been asking me about Dominican culture since the day we met. 

We finally arrived at my family’s place—a small, cozy home in a lively barrio. The streets were alive with laughter and music, kids playing in the roads, and neighbors leaning out of their windows to see what the commotion was. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was wrapped up in a flurry of hugs and kisses from my cousins and aunts. 

“Ay, Dios mío, muchacha, ¡pero qué bonita estás!” my mom practically shouted as she squeezed me tight. She pulled back and looked at Oscar and Lando, her eyes sparkling with recognition. “Y estos son los novios, ¿no? ¡Los de los carros rápidos!” She laughed, giving them both a once-over like any Dominican mom would. {"Oh my god, girl, how beautiful you are!" "And these are the boyfriends, right? The ones with the fast cars?"}

Oscar, who was still working on his Spanish, gave a polite nod and a smile, but it was Lando who surprised me. 

“Sí, señora,” Lando said, grinning as he reached out to shake her hand. “Pero Y/N es la verdadera estrella.”  {"Yes, ma'am." "But Y/N is the real star."}

My mom threw her head back and laughed. “Este sabe hablar,” she said, obviously impressed. “Muy bien, mi hijo.”  {"This one knows how to talk." "Very good, my son."}

I couldn’t help but beam. My mom already loved them both, but it was little moments like this—where Lando could adapt to the language and the culture—that made my heart swell. This wasn’t just some vacation for them. They were making the effort to understand where I came from. 

We moved inside, where the smells of sancocho and tostones greeted us. My abuela, who had been cooking all morning, smiled brightly when she saw me and insisted I come straight to the kitchen to eat. 

“¡Coman, coman!” she said, placing a mountain of food in front of Oscar and Lando, who both looked a little overwhelmed by how much was on their plates. {"Eat, eat!"}

Oscar raised an eyebrow at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said your family loves to feed people.” 

“Don’t even try to stop her,” I said with a laugh. “Just eat as much as you can and smile. That’s how you win her over.” 

Lando, already digging into his plate, nodded enthusiastically. “I think I’m in love with your abuela’s cooking. This is amazing!” 

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and stories, my cousins teasing each other, my aunts gossiping, and my mom making sure everyone had enough to eat. Watching Oscar and Lando navigate the chaos of my family with ease made me feel… proud. They were in a world so different from their own, yet here they were, embracing every moment of it. 

I glanced at Oscar, who was leaning back in his chair, quietly observing everything with a small smile on his face. He wasn’t as loud or outgoing as Lando, but I knew he was taking it all in. His calm energy was always a grounding force for me, and seeing him here, in the middle of my world, made me realize just how much he belonged in it. 

Lando, on the other hand, was in full-on charm mode. He was talking to my cousins, making them laugh, and even trying out more Spanish phrases—much to the delight of my mom, who kept calling him “el inglés simpático.” I had no doubt she’d be talking about him for weeks after we left. {"the charming Englishman."}

But even in all the joy, I couldn’t fully shake the thoughts of the outside world. I knew what people said about me. The comments on social media were brutal sometimes—calling me too dark to be with them, too Black, too Dominican. They questioned why two white guys, famous Formula 1 drivers, would ever be with a girl like me. 

But I never let that hate sit with me for long. 

I posted pictures proudly, whether it was me with Oscar at a McLaren event or Lando and I on vacation. Of course the fans would create rumors that I was cheating on Oscar with Lando, that we seemed a little too close but little did they actually know. And every time someone tried to knock me down, I clapped back—sometimes with humor, sometimes with facts. I once told a troll, “Well, I must be doing something right if I’ve got them both.” That shut them up quickly. 

But here, surrounded by my family, the hate felt so far away. I wasn’t just Oscar’s girlfriend or Lando’s girlfriend. I was Y/N, daughter of the Dominican Republic, proud of where I came from and who I was. 

Later that night, after dinner, we took a walk along the Malecón, the ocean breeze cooling us down from the heat of the day. I was sandwiched between Oscar and Lando, their presence comforting. Lando slipped his hand into mine, and Oscar wrapped an arm around my waist. It was subtle—we weren’t making any grand statements, but it was enough for me. 

“Do you ever think about when we’ll make this official?” Lando asked, his voice low but serious. 

I sighed, looking out at the ocean. “Yeah, I do. But I also think about what comes with it. People are going to have a lot to say. And not all of it’s going to be nice.” 

Oscar kissed the top of my head. “We’ll deal with it when we’re ready. No rush.” 

I nodded, grateful for their understanding. “We’ve got time. And right now, this… this is perfect.” 

Lando grinned, squeezing my hand. “Perfect? I think you just love showing off your country.” 

“Maybe,” I teased. “But you can’t tell me you don’t love it here.” 

Oscar smirked. “We do. And we love you. That’s all that matters.” 

As we continued to walk, I couldn’t help but smile. This was my world, and they were part of it now—my home, my family, my heart. 

“Mi casa, mi gente,” I whispered, feeling content. “Welcome to my world.” {"My home, My people."}

The moonlit stroll along the Malecón felt like a dream, the salty breeze from the Caribbean gently rustling my curls. The city was alive, as always, even this late. The sounds of bachata echoed in the distance, the soft murmur of the ocean waves providing a soothing soundtrack. I felt a sense of peace wash over me—something that wasn’t always easy to find in the chaos of my life. But here, with Oscar and Lando by my side, I was grounded. Whole. 

“Y/N, you look like you’re thinking a million things at once,” Lando teased, nudging me with his shoulder. He always had a way of reading my mind without me saying a word. 

I chuckled softly, looking up at him. “I guess I am. It’s just… bringing you both here, showing you my world, my family—it’s more than I ever imagined. It feels… right. But it’s also scary, you know?” 

Oscar’s grip around my waist tightened a little, his silent reassurance. He wasn’t the type to need many words, but when he spoke, I always knew it came from the heart. “You don’t have to be scared. This is us, Y/N. No matter where we are.” 

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. He was right, of course. The three of us had built something solid, something real. But that didn’t change the fact that I was scared—not of us, but of what the world would think when they found out. People already had opinions about me, about how I looked next to Oscar. They had even more opinions about Lando, though no one knew just how deep our connection really ran. The idea of the world knowing the truth about us was terrifying. 

“I know,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I’m not scared of us, just… how people will react. You know how they are, especially when it comes to me. They don’t get why you’re with me, and it’s gonna be a lot worse when they find out the truth.” 

Lando’s face softened, his usual playful grin replaced with something more serious. “Y/N, we’ve dealt with this before. Yeah, people say dumb stuff online, but you’ve always handled it like a badass. When we go public, nothing’s going to change that. And besides, we’re in this together. We’ve got each other’s backs.” 

I smiled at him, appreciating his optimism. Lando was always the one to lift my spirits, his natural charm and carefree attitude infectious. But still, the reality of it all weighed heavily on me. 

Oscar spoke up, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We don’t have to rush into anything. If you’re not ready, we wait. No one can force us to do anything before we’re ready.” 

“Yeah,” I murmured, leaning into his warmth. “But sometimes, I feel like I’m holding you guys back, you know? Like, if it wasn’t for me, you could go public and not have to deal with all the… complications.” 

Lando stopped walking and turned to face me, his green eyes flashing with a mix of determination and affection. “Stop that. You’re not holding anyone back. This isn’t just about you—this is about us. We’re a team, remember? None of us are doing anything we’re not comfortable with. And I don’t care what people think. Let them talk. I’ve got you, and I’ve got Oscar. That’s all I need.” 

Before I could respond, Lando closed the distance between us, his hand cupping my cheek gently. His lips met mine in a kiss that was soft yet full of conviction, like he was trying to tell me through every touch just how much he meant those words. My breath hitched for a moment, the weight of everything falling away as I melted into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his reassurance. 

When we finally broke apart, I was greeted by Oscar’s soft smile. He gently rubbed my back, his presence steady and grounding. “Lando’s right,” he said quietly, his deep eyes locking with mine. “We’ll figure this out together. But for now, we’re in Santo Domingo, with your family. Let’s just enjoy being here, with no pressure.” 

I looked between the two of them, my heart swelling with gratitude and love. How did I get so lucky? These two incredible men were willing to stand by me, to love me without hesitation, no matter what the world had to say about it. I wasn’t sure what I had done to deserve them, but I wasn’t going to question it. They were mine, and I was theirs. 

“Okay,” I said finally, a small smile creeping onto my face. “You’re right. Let’s just enjoy this. We’ll deal with everything else later.” 

Oscar leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than usual. “That’s our girl.” 

The next few days were pure bliss. I took Oscar and Lando around Santo Domingo, showing them my favorite spots—the old colonial buildings in the Zona Colonial, the vibrant markets where we haggled for fresh fruit and handmade crafts, and the little hidden beaches outside the city where we could just relax without being recognized. It was a side of the Dominican Republic that tourists rarely saw, and I could tell they were loving it. 

One afternoon, we stopped at a local colmado, a small convenience store, for some cold drinks. As we stood outside sipping on our presidente beers, a couple of kids zoomed past us on bikes, laughing and shouting in Spanish. The older one, maybe ten years old, skidded to a stop when he saw Oscar and Lando. 

“¡Oye! ¡Esos son los pilotos de McLaren!” he shouted, his eyes wide with excitement. “¡Lando! ¡Oscar!” {"Hey! Those are the McLaren Drivers!"}

I couldn’t help but laugh as the kids ran up to them, their energy infectious. Lando, always the crowd pleaser, crouched down to their level and started chatting with them in his broken Spanish, while Oscar gave them his usual calm, kind smiles. Watching them with these kids, blending so easily into my world, made my heart soar. 

One of the boys turned to me, his eyes scanning me with curiosity. “¿Tú eres la novia de Oscar?” {"Are you Oscar's girlfriend?"}

I grinned, ruffling his hair. “Sí, pero también la de Lando,” I teased. {"Yes, but also Lando's."}

He looked confused for a second before giggling and running back to his bike. As they rode off, I turned to find both Oscar and Lando looking at me with playful smirks. 

“Really?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow. “You just casually dropped that like it was no big deal?” 

I shrugged, sipping my drink. “What? It’s not like they’re going to post it on Twitter.” 

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Y/N.” 

But I wasn’t worried. For once, I didn’t care who knew. Here, in Santo Domingo, I was in my element. The judgments of the outside world didn’t reach this far, and if they did, I was ready for them. Because no matter what anyone said, I knew what we had was real. I loved Oscar, and I loved Lando, and they loved me back. That was all that mattered. 

Our last night in Santo Domingo was one I’d never forget. My family threw us a massive fiesta de despedida, a farewell party that felt like a celebration of everything—love, family, and the beautiful chaos that is life in the Dominican Republic. {farewell party}

The backyard was lit with strings of colorful lights, and the scent of grilled meat filled the air. My cousins played dominoes at one table, my aunts danced to bachata, and my mom was busy making sure everyone had enough food and drinks. 

Lando and Oscar stood near the speakers, trying to imitate the moves my cousins were showing them, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Lando was surprisingly good, his hips moving in time to the music, while Oscar—bless his heart—was a little stiff, but trying his best. 

I watched them, my heart full, and realized that this was it. This was everything I had ever wanted. A world where my love for them and their love for me could coexist with the culture that had shaped me. 

As the night wore on, we found ourselves on the dance floor, the three of us swaying to the music. Oscar’s hands rested on my waist, and Lando held my hand, spinning me around playfully. I could feel the eyes of my family on us, but there was no judgment, no questions—just acceptance. 

As the party roared on around me, I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me away from the dance floor. I turned to see my mom, her face lit up with that warm smile she always wore when she had something important to say. Beside her was my tía Carmen, my aunt who’d practically helped raise me. She and my mom shared a look, the kind that only years of sisterhood could communicate. 

“Ven, ven, mi niña,” my mom said, motioning for me to follow them into the quieter corner of the backyard, away from the noise and chaos of the fiesta. I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the dance floor. Lando was laughing as one of my cousins taught him a more complicated bachata step, while Oscar, ever the observant one, was attempting to mirror the moves with a more subtle rhythm. I smiled to myself, loving how effortlessly they fit into this world that was so far from their own. {"Come, come, my girl."}

Once we were away from the music, my mom and tía Carmen stood in front of me, their faces soft with affection, but there was something else—something deeper, like they’d been waiting for this moment. 

“Querida,” my mom began, her voice low but full of emotion. “We wanted to talk to you, just the three of us. It’s about… those muchachos. Oscar and Lando.” She smiled, her eyes glimmering with pride. “We can see how much they mean to you.”  {"Dear." "boys."}

I blinked, taken aback. I knew they liked the boys, but something in her tone made my heart skip a beat. I looked between her and tía Carmen, who nodded knowingly. 

“Mi amor, I’ve never seen you like this,” my tía said, her voice full of warmth. “I see how you look at them. And more importantly, I see how they look at you. Those boys are absolutely in love with you. You can’t hide that from us.” She chuckled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. {"My love."}

I felt a lump in my throat. This wasn’t a conversation I was expecting. I’d been so focused on introducing Oscar and Lando to my world, hoping my family would accept them, but now it was as if they were the ones giving me permission to accept this love fully. 

“Mija,” my mom continued, stepping closer, her hand now gently cupping my cheek. “I know people are going to have things to say. I know what’s out there—the hate, the comments. But you’ve always been so strong, and I see that strength even more now. The way those boys love you… I can tell it’s different. I see it in their eyes when they look at you, like they’d move heaven and earth to make you happy.” {"My daughter."}

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, the emotions bubbling to the surface. “Mami… I—” My voice caught in my throat, and I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s just, I never thought I’d find something like this. And with both of them… it’s been a lot to take in, you know? But it’s real. It’s so real, and I love them. I love them so much.” 

Tía Carmen smiled softly, brushing a tear from my cheek before it could fall. “And they love you. You can see it in everything they do. The way Lando tries so hard to fit in, to speak Spanish even when it’s a mess.” We both laughed lightly at that, knowing she wasn’t wrong. “And the way Oscar is always watching you, like you’re the center of his world. They’ve come into this family like they’ve always belonged here.” 

My mom nodded in agreement. “You deserve this love, mi niña. You deserve to be happy. And we can see how much you love them too. Your father and I talk about it all the time. It’s like you’ve come alive since they entered your life.” {"my girl."}

That hit me deep. My family knew me better than anyone, and to hear them say they could see how much these boys meant to me… it was overwhelming in the best way. The acceptance I didn’t even realize I was yearning for washed over me like a wave. 

Tears spilled over now, and I laughed through the emotion, wiping them away quickly. “You really think it’s okay? I mean… it’s not exactly normal, and people are going to have opinions.” 

My mom pulled me into a tight hug, holding me like she did when I was a little girl. “Ay, mi amor, people will always have opinions, especially when they don’t understand. But love isn’t something that fits into a box. It’s not about what’s normal for other people. It’s about what’s right for you. And you’ve found something beautiful with Oscar and Lando. No one can take that from you.” 

Tía Carmen chimed in, her voice soft but sure. “They’ve made you happy, Y/N, and that’s all that matters. We see it. And we’re proud of you, proud that you’ve found something so rare. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

I pulled back from my mom’s embrace and looked between the two of them, my heart full. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.” 

They smiled at me, the warmth in their eyes reassuring me more than words ever could. In that moment, I felt lighter—like a weight I hadn’t fully acknowledged was lifting from my chest. Knowing my family really understood and supported what I had with Oscar and Lando meant everything. 

“Now,” my mom said, wiping her own eyes quickly, her tone shifting to something more playful, “you’d better get back to those boys before they think we’ve kidnapped you.” 

Tía Carmen laughed. “Sí, and before your cousins teach Lando some moves that he won’t recover from.” 

I chuckled through the remaining tears, feeling a new sense of clarity and peace. “Okay, okay, I’m going,” I said, smiling as I turned to walk back toward the music. 

As I approached the dance floor, I saw Lando twirling one of my cousins with a dramatic flair, while Oscar was still trying his best to master the rhythm. They both spotted me at the same time, and the looks of relief and love on their faces made my heart swell all over again. 

“Hey, where’d you sneak off to?” Lando asked, his smile wide as he pulled me into his arms. 

I grinned, leaning into him as Oscar came up behind me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Just a little chat with my mom and tía. They wanted to make sure you two are treating me right.” 

Oscar chuckled, his eyes warm as he looked down at me. “I hope we passed the test.” 

I glanced up at him, then at Lando, my heart full to bursting. “You passed with flying colors.” 

By the time the party ended, and we found ourselves alone in my room, exhausted but happy, I realized something important. No matter what happened when we went back to the public eye, no matter how people reacted when we eventually went public, we’d be okay. 

Because this—this love, this connection—was real. And no one could take that away from us. 

“Te quiero,” I whispered to both of them as I curled up between them on the bed, feeling their warmth surround me. {“I love you.”}

“We love you too,” Oscar murmured, kissing the top of my head. 

Lando squeezed my hand. “Always, Y/N.” 

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. 

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

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F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg

[sturniluvr]

Meet the brother

Jude Bellingham x Leclerc!reader

Charles Leclerc x sister!reader

Lando Norris x platonic!reader (not much)

word count: 1.9k

warnings: slight language, possibly wrongly translated French (I used google translate😭)

requested?: yes/no (here)

summary: McLaren reserve driver Y/N Leclerc, younger sister of the Leclerc brothers, gets her first chance to drive in F1 at the Imola GP and her brother finds out about her secret boyfriend, Real Madrid footballer, Jude Bellingham.

A/N: Hope you like this anon <3

❗️semi proof read❗️

Y/N Leclerc, the youngest Leclerc and current McLaren reserve driver for Oscar Piastri, was about to have her first race in an F1 car. Oscar was out with appendicitis (Carlos who?👀) so she had been brought in, much to some toxic male f1 fans disappointment due to ‘women not belonging in f1’. She stood in her driver room, her bottom half clad in the papaya coloured race suit and top half covered by her fireproofs, nerves taking over her body, despite having won the f2 championship last season and being comforted by her older - and favourite, not that she’d ever admit it - brother the night before.

*flashback*

Y/N was in Charles’ hotel room in Italy, pacing back and forth having just got off the phone with her boss, Zak. He told her that Oscar was unable to race and that she’d have to race in his place.

“Charles, what if I completely fuck it up?!” She shouted, her hands gripped her hair practically ripping it out.

“Y/N, you won’t fuck it up it’ll all be fine okay?” Charles said as he took a seat at the end of the bed, next to his girlfriend Alex, looking over at his distressed sister.

“je suis tellement nerveux (im so nervous)” She muttered, wishing her boyfriend of 3 months, footballer, Jude Bellingham, was here to hug and comfort her.

“tu es un pilote extraordinaire, tout ira bien, chérie (you’re an amazing driver, you’ll be fine sweetheart)” Alex said to the younger girl, Alex made her way over to her sister in law and gave her a quick hug and little Leo made his way over the girls, the mini dachshund wanting attention. Alex picked him up and held him in her arms.

“Y/N will be alright won’t she baby?” Alex whispered in a baby voice at the puppy, him responding in a soft bark and what looked like a little smile on his face as he looked at his human auntie.

“Thank you buddy” Y/N replied, chuckling a little bit at the puppy.

Charles made his way over to his girlfriend and little sister. He took his sister in his arms and rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

“Y/N je te promets que tout ira bien, je serai sur la piste avec toi et dans le paddock toute la journée si tu as besoin de moi Y/N/N, tu es champion de F2 pour une raison (Y/N i promise you will be fine, ill be on the track with you and in the paddock all day if you need me Y/N/N, you’re f2 champion for a reason)” Charles whispered to the Y/H/C girl and she nodded in her brothers arms.

She thanked the couple for calming her down slightly and left their hotel room and made her way to her own room and got ready for bed.

*end of flashback*

She’s brought out of her own world by the sound of a knock on her driver room door. She opens the door to find Lando who she’s known for a couple years and he’s been super supportive towards her, he’s almost like another brother to her.

“Hey kiddo, you alright?” He asked the younger woman as he walks into the driver room and sat down on the sofa.

“Hey Lando, yeah just a bit nervous that’s all” she replied to the curly haired driver “would be easier if Jude was here aswel” she added on. Lando nodded in understanding, he was one of the few people who knew about her and Jude and Y/N made Lando promise not to tell any of her brothers until she knew how to tell them.

“Why don’t you just try and give him a quick ring or something before we go on the track, we’ve still got at least an hour” Lando suggested, pointing to her phone that laid on the sofa next to him.

“Yeah I’ll give him a call, see if he answers” Y/N responds. Lando gave the younger woman a quick hug before he made his way out of her driver room to do his own thing before the race.

Y/N picked her phone up and unlocked it. She pressed on the contact for her loving boyfriend and pressed the FaceTime button, praying he’d answer. Much to the drivers dismay, he didn’t pick up, but he almost immediately sent her a message as to why he couldn’t pick up.

she put her phone back on the sofa and finished getting ready for the race.

Little did she know, Jude wasn’t actually at training, he was currently flying from Madrid to Italy to surprise her. He had planned it with lando last minute and he couldn’t wait to see his girl.

*time skip to the race*

Y/N was currently p6 just behind lando with a few laps to go, Max Verstappen in the lead as per usual and Charles was just behind checo in p4.

While Y/N was on the track, Jude was currently stood in the McLaren garage watching the race, his brown eyes focused on her car. The drivers had just finished the final lap and he was beaming with pride and happiness for his girl, he never had a single doubt about her.

“Y/N congratulations on your first f1 race! That’s p6, p6!” Y/N heard her race engineer, Lauren, speak through her ear piece, Y/N let out a little cheer and replied “thank you, we did great” to which Lauren agreed and Y/N drove her car over to parc fermé (a/n: I think that’s how it happens I’m not 100% sure😅) and she got out the car and made her way over Lando who had just got out of his car he gave her a quick well done hug.

“You did great kid” he complimented the woman next to him.

“You did great too lan” she replied as she reciprocated the hug.

The pair made their way over to the garage where they were met with words of congratulations and pats on the back. Andrea made his way over to the drivers with a pleased look on his face. He spoke with Lando first and after they finished talking, Lando leaves the conversation and makes his way to his driver room to freshen up. Andrea turned his focus onto the female in front of him.

“Well done Y/N you had an amazing race you should be proud of yourself, we all are, me and Zak especially” the older man praised with a smile on his face that the young driver copied.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to race for McLaren and I’m proud of myself too” she replied, smiling at Andrea.

“Good you should be. Now, go to your driver room, there may or may not be something waiting for you” Andrea spoke cryptically. She nodded slightly, a bit confused and she made her way to her driver room.

She opened the door and the sight before her made her smile grow even bigger. Her boyfriend stood there with a giant smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers for her. She immediately ran to him and threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Jude! What are you doing here? You said you had training” Y/N asked the footballer, her words muffled in his neck.

“I never had training today silly, I was allowed to have it off so I could come see you. You did amazing baby I’m so proud of you!” He grinned down at his girlfriend. She took the flowers from him and thanked him by pressing a loving kiss to his lips which he reciprocated.

They got interrupted by a knock on her door and the sound of her brothers voice.

“Y/N are you in here? Lando told me you would be” Charles said as he opened the door, only to be met with the sight of his little sister with a man he didn’t recognise and his sister placing a bouquet of flowers on the sofa.

“Y/N qui est-ce? (Y/N who is this?)” Charles asked, confusion evident on the Monegasques face.

“avant de répondre, s'il te plaît, ne le dis pas à Arthur ou Lorenzo et reste calme (before I answer, please do not tell Arthur or Lorenzo and stay calm)” the girl replied. Charles hesitantly nodded before signalling for her to carry on talking.

“Charles, this is Jude, my boyfriend, Jude this is one of my older brothers, Charles” Y/N introduced them to one another.

“You have more older brothers?!” Jude asked, freaked out, Y/N let out a little laugh at her boyfriend.

“Jude, they’re fine, they’re all bark no bite, especially Charles here. He’s a big softie” she teased, looking at her older brother, who was currently staring at Jude suspiciously.

“What are your intentions with Y/N here?” Charles asked as he loosely wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, she rolled her eyes slightly at his protective nature.

“Charles, I promise I have every good intention, I would never hurt her, I flew out from Madrid just to watch her first f1 race. I love her.” Jude replied to Charles. Charles stared at him suspiciously, then took his arm from around Y/N’s shoulder, and smiled at Jude as he held his hand out to him, which Jude shook as he smiled back at Charles, feeling relief take over his body. The boys let the handshake go as Charles spoke

“Welcome to the family buddy, just know Arthur and Lorenzo will try and interrogate you, dont let them scare you they’re all bark and no bite like she said” Charles stated with a little chuckle “we’re just protective of Y/N, even more so since our father passed.” Charles added on.

“That’s understandable, I’d be protective too if I had a little sister.” Jude replied.

“Do you have any siblings?” Charles asked the taller man. Y/N stood looking amused at the height difference between her boyfriend and brother as the boys conversed.

“One younger brother that’s it” Jude replied to Charles. Suddenly, Charles’ eyes filled with mischief as he whispered to jude, but still loud enough for Y/N to still hear what he’s saying.

“When Y/N was younger, she came running to me crying because she crus-“ he got cut off by his sister’s hand slapping over his mouth to stop him from finishing the embarrassing story.

“Don’t even think about telling him that story Charles” she warned Charles, half joking half serious, it was a pretty embarrassing moment of her life from when she was 5 years old and cried over accidentally crushing a snail. The boys just laughed at her flushed cheeks.

“I’m going to have a quick shower, you two can wait in here if you want. No more story telling Leclerc!” Y/N pointed at her brother, the trio laughing, knowing that as soon as she was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear them, he will finish the story he was telling Jude before she stopped him.

“We’ll wait here babe, Get to know eachother” Jude replied to his girlfriend, she nodded and made her way into the small bathroom in her driver room and she closed the door behind her and smiled as she heard two of her favourite men getting along and laughing together. She turned on the shower and got herself ready to hop in the shower before going back to the hotel for the night.

[gotham-daydreams]

Hello, I really don't know if you are still alive or not with your series or with your account in general but I hope you are well and I must admit that I am absorbing everything you publish because your writing is very good and I am absolutely fascinated with it in "Not [ ]", I didn't really realize the impact it had on me when I read the part where Dick and "we" "confront" each other in some way, even though I felt great anger and pain at the unfairness and It was so blatant about the way Dick tried to justify himself (especially the part where he says we could have tried "another way") but it just gave me the vibe of just wanting to end it all with a big hug and that's it but re-reading it recently really now YES it makes me completely angry and not just sad for that fool 😡, I fell in love with absolutely everything, Bruce's part, the way Albert practically manipulated everything, it's just great and maybe I can relate quite with the reader not so much in the musical sense, more artistic but it's still great, I wonder if something would change if the reader turned out to be trans (because I'm a trans boy lol) and it just completely changed his appearance or what he now has a scar or mark on his face (because guess again, I have it too 😭) from an accident or something and he just looks VERY different after leaving his shitty family even so I'm glad the reader is neutral on regarding gender and everything...it's just perfect, I'm really sorry if all this is too long! I really don't usually comment but I think you deserve a message like this and once again, I hope you are doing well!

Note: I really hope you don't mind that it's so long and I'm sorry if something seems strange, English is not my first language and I'm using Google's shitty translator 😭

I don't mind the length at all!! And thanks so much for sharing your thoughts! I'm glad it impacted you so much, and that you enjoyed the chapter as much as you did!

Honestly, I don't see much changing if the reader was trans aside from the family getting hit with a lot more guilt because, well, not only did you feel as if you couldn't come out to them (and maybe in that instance you could've tried), but didn't. No matter how it goes, they lost and missed out such another big part of what makes you, you - and that crushes them. The changes to your appearance and whole identity would be so glaringly obviously by the time they find you, and I know Dick would genuinely get so much more emotional.

The argument before hand would also be worse, as if your ftm then yeah, Dick would probably end up going as he is better with his words generally and also because of the reasons stated in the chapter - which is really just pure coincidence. Though, if reader was mtf then Stephanie would most likely end up going (I love Cass, but I sort of explained what she'd do in another post of she went instead, so...). Non binary? Then they'd just take that gamble again, and it'd play out like the chapter just with some changes and such again.

Nevertheless, seeing your appearance changed so much would and is definitely bound to make someone cry because it's a physical and very real evidence of how much they have missed. Not to mention all the struggle they weren't there for, none of the help or reassurance they were able to give you, and so on.

Any obvious scars would have the same affect in terms of guilt, but honestly, besides Bruce, most of them are honestly more pissed. Barbara and Stephanie are acceptions to this as of Chapter 2 and them not really seeing the reader in Chapter 3, but that still leaves well over half of the family angry.

Honestly, it would maybe even make Dick more indirectly insensitive as he would ask questions about it - and depending on what is said and when.... well, there may be less people in Gotham afterwards. As long as it's from someone else, the fact if its an accident or not won't stop the most impulsive members of the family - and a good bit of them are. Though if you did it yourself on accident or something... the start of Chapter 4 would be worse, and the treatment in Chapter 5 for sure.

Regardless, thanks for sending in an ask, and I hope you're doing good as well! No need to worry about the English or anything, I understood what you meant just fine - but if there is something I misunderstood, then please let me know!

[futurewdclandonorris]

The Restroom | Pierre Gasly¹⁰

Part 1 of Rooms Anthology Series

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you." "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

In honor of my Pierre phase making a potential comeback, enjoy this piece I wrote in January last year (omg that was like more than a year ago tfff) French is google translated

The air was filled with the tinkling of crystal glasses and the soft murmur of conversation as you took your seat at the formal dinner event you were attending. You glanced around the room, admiring elegant decor and the impeccably dressed guests. You looked down and saw that your assigned seat was next to Pierre Gasly's.

Pierre and you had crossed paths a few times before at various Formula One events and every time it ended in the same way. You, in his bed. So you kind of formed a friends with benefits type of relationship. And you knew that this dinner was only going to get more interesting now that you were sitting beside him.

As you settled into your seat, Pierre turned to you with a warm smile, his piercing blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

"So lovely to see you here tonight," he said, his French accent adding a touch of sophistication to his words. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning this evening."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment, grateful for the low lighting hiding your reaction. "Thank you, Pierre. It seems the universe just can't keep us apart." you replied, trying to match his charm.

Pierre chuckled softly at your response, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ah yes, it seems fate is determined to keep us in each other's orbits," he mused, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. "Tell me, cherie, have you been enjoying the evening so far?"

You couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetic presence, the familiar dance of flirtation between you both reigniting effortlessly. With a playful smile, you replied, "Well, the company has certainly improved since I sat down."

As the first course was served, Pierre and you engaged in polite small talk, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your respective professions. But as the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more restless, not being able to resist a strong pull towards him. And you wanted to see just how far you could push him.

"I must admit, I've been counting down the days until I could see you again," you began to subtly touch his arm as you spoke, leaning in close to him and letting your breath brush against his ear. You could feel the tension building between you, and you knew that Pierre was starting to feel it too. But he remained the perfect gentleman, maintaining his composure and not giving in to your advances.

"Well, I can't say I wasn't looking forward to tonight as well," he replied with a grin. "But I must warn you, cherie, that playing with fire can get you burned," Pierre's warning came out in a low voice, laced with a hint of danger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by the challenge he presented, the thrill of the forbidden dancing between you like a flame begging to be ignited. You couldn't resist the challenge in his eyes as you leaned in even closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping you.

"I've never been one to shy away from a little heat," you murmured, your lips grazing his earlobe before pulling back slightly, a daring smile playing on your lips.

Pierre's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your bold words and actions, sending one last warning. But you were determined to crack him. You continued to flirt shamelessly, running your hand up and down his thigh under the table, planting soft kisses on his neck whenever you could. And slowly, but surely, the playful facade he'd been trying to maintain all night started to slip away.

"God, I wish we were at home so I could do some terrible things to you," he finally answered to all your provocations, his voice a whisper.

You smirked, satisfied, and whispered back, "What is stopping you from doing them now?"

You heard him suck in his breath, your words obviously hitting a nerve. You looked down and you had what to see.

"Are those pants too tight for you? Maybe you should consider a size up for next time." you put a hand over your mouth to try and suppress a chuckle.

"For god's sake, stop talking," he hissed, running his sweaty palms over his thighs.

"Or what? Wait, don't tell... Are you going to... punish me?" once again, you put a hand over your mouth and turned your head away.

He gritted your name and shifted in his seat, his leg bouncing up and hitting the table, making the silverware clatter. That finally drew attention to you.

"Is everything alright over there?" one of the attendees asked.

"Oh, yes! Perfectly fine!" you were quick to answer while Pierre was grumbling beside you. "I could have a bit more wine, please." you raised your half empty glass and gave them your most charming smile.

"Of course, ma'am," a waiter immediately reacted, refilling your glass with a knowing smile. As the attention shifted back to the rest of the table, you turned your focus back to Pierre, who was shooting you a death glare.

"I can't believe you," he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration palpable. But beneath the anger in his eyes, there was a spark of something else.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing his ear as you whispered, "You love it when I push your buttons, Pierre. Admit it."

His jaw clenched, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"But oh well, since I am such a brat, I'll put myself in a time out and punish me myself," you exaggerated your sigh and took your purse. "I'll be in the restroom if you need me." you said, hoping he'll catch on the implication of your words.

Once in the ladies' room, you found yourself in front of a mirror, touching up on your makeup. Just when you were finishing your lipstick, you heard the door open and close behind you. Then you heard some rattling, presuming that the person who walked in blocked the entrance and you smirked to yourself. They approached you, wrapping their hands from behind and breathing in your scent.

"Took you long enough," you remarked, zipping up your handbang.

"Do you know how hard it was to get out of there without looking suspicious?" Pierre murmured between your neck and shoulder.

"Must be tough," you commented.

In response, he turned you around and kissed you hard on the lips. He pressed himself against you to the point where he had to lift you up and put you on the counter. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer and he gripped your knees and pulled you into him.

Time seemed to stand still as he kissed you, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, their motions in rhythm with each other's breaths. You moaned softly, savouring his dominance. He knew exactly what you wanted, and how to give it to you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, feeling every muscle in his body tighten against yours.

"You ruined my lipstick," you said in between kisses.

"And you ruined my night," he replied back.

You smiled. "I thought I was making it."

He harshly pulled you down, spun you around and grabbed a handful of your hair so hard that you had to tilt your head back in reaction. You gasped out of thrill.

"You will, if you behave yourself." he gritted in your ear. "Starting now." he bent you forward, lifting your dress and caressing your bum. He wasn't doing much, but still you panted out of pleasure.

"And be quiet." he leaned to whisper, pressing himself against you, you could already feel he grew to his full potential. That made you roll your eyes back and arch your back a little.

You heard him grunt when your ass moved, but didn't let that distract him from his mission. He crouched down and spread your legs to his liking and ran his palms up and down the back of your thighs, stopping right under your ass, holding on the skin tightly.

"Damp. Pathetic." he spat, regarding your thong.

"And you're hard, how pathetic is that?" you dared to talk back.

That rewarded you with a hard slap on your ass cheek. You winced, but it was only turning you on more. Your skin burned with satisfaction and you felt he hit you so hard he left an imprint. But your body was begging for more. He rose up and pulled at your hair again.

"What did I say? Be. Quiet." he reminded. "Now, speak when spoken to, understand?" you laughed and moved your hips against him instead. He didn't seem to notice, or mind at the moment, but yanked your head back lightly. "I said, do you understand me?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," you bit your lip.

"Bonne fille," he let go of your hair, looking down as if only now taking notice of you grinding on him and smirked. "Look at you. Can't even punish you, you're enjoying this." he steadied your movements with one hand and gripped your ass with the other. He was down on his knees again, this time pulling your panties down as well and spread your thighs open.

"Shit, your thighs are wet as well." he murmured and kissed their inner side, making his way up.

You held your breath not to make a sound. Just when he was reaching the point of your desire, he stopped and you breathed again. He then lightly ran his fingers over your center, your right leg twitched.

"Easy, baby," he chuckled. Yeah, easy for him to say. He's not the one getting teased the hell out of. His fingers pressed harder into you and your mouth hung open. You closed your eyes, trying not to think too much about it or you would scream.

"So already ready for me," he mused, slipping one finger inside. "You don't even need preparation." he fingered you with ease and you were helplessly trying to hold onto something, but there was nothing on the marble counter. You couldn't really control your body at that point and started moving on his finger on your own, but he didn't seem to like that.

"Don't move." he said once.

You couldn't stop, your body not your own. The pleasure was overwhelming and you felt the need to move, to find relief. He pushed his finger deep and curled it inside of you.

"Don't move or I'll stop." he repeated more sternly and grabbed your hips to steady them. He waited for you to calm down before rewarding you with another "good girl" and continuing to finger fuck you.

"Pierre..." you breathed, not caring if that's going to get you in trouble. Even better if so. "More," you demanded.

"More? Baby, I'm already two fingers deep in you. So needy." he shook his head and chuckled.

"What? Two?! When did the second—Oh my god." you didn't have time to gather your thoughts as you felt the third finger stretching you out and laid your head on the cool marble. You would've been a whining mess by now if you had been enabled, but for some reason you decided to obey his "be quiet" rule.

"Put your leg up for me, darling." but he already did it on his own and gave himself more access. Good, because you don't think you had any power to move. He used his other hand to draw circles on your clit. Jesus Christ. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you closed your eyes, panting.

"Are you close, baby?" he asked.

"Mhmm..." you whined.

"No, you're not." he pulled his fingers out and you saw him sucking on them in the reflection, moaning in satisfaction. That motherfucker. You watched him undo his belt and pants with just one hand with just one hand, the scene so hot it was enough to push you over the edge alone. But he did it so slowly, giving your high enough time to come down.

His cock sprung out of his boxers and god, was that a sight. He took it and brought it to your pussy, teasing you with his tip, dragging between your lips and over your clit. You straightened just enough to hold onto the edge of the counter while your head still hung low. He then teased you by putting his head in and out. You were growing more impatient and breathing became heavier and more audible. That seemed to amuse him.

"Is this what you want?" he removed all of your hair to your other shoulder and whispered in your ear while pressing his tip inside you once again.

"Yes," you muttered and he smirked.

"Beg."

Jesus. He removed himself.

"Please, Pierre..." you pleaded.

"Please what?" he grasped your hair and made you look at him.

"Please, fuck me." you could barely make him out from the haze over your eyes.

His smirk widened and he forced your head against the mirror before pushing his whole length inside you. You closed your yes and opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His strokes were deep and slow in the beginning, but he slowly picked up the pace and was pounding into you soon enough that your head hitting the mirror from the force. He fucked you so good you could cry. You did cry.

He tugged on your hair once again. "Look at yourself. I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you. Look what a slut you are. How gorgeous you are under me."

And you did. You really were. Your red lipstick was all over your chin, your eye makeup smudged, mascara running down your cheeks and hair all tangled. And he was breathtaking hammering into you. Your eyes met in the reflection and he smiled. You couldn't keep it in any longer and you softly moaned his name. He immediately stopped.

"What was that?" he asked. Fuck. You stayed quiet. "What the fuck did I say?"

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." you panted, just wanting him to get on moving again.

He lowered your leg and put your legs together, starting to thrust again. God, it felt so good. So good that your body got out of your own control again. You started shaking and trembling all over. You were biting into your lower lip so hard you could taste your own blood in your mouth. If it wasn't for that counter and him supporting you, you'd be down on the floor. That's when you let out a very loud moan against your will. Your hands immediately went over your mouth, but it was already too late. He pulled his cock out.

"Oh, please, put it back in..." you whimpered.

He grabbed you. "How many times have I had to scold you tonight, hm?" you stayed silent. "Answer me!" he shook you.

"Many," you breathed, leaning against him.

"That's right, many. And if you keep disobeying me like this, not only will I not put it back in, I will not make you cum either. Do you hear me?" he hissed.

"Yes, sir." you replied.

He took you by your jaw, turned your head to face him and kissed you. "Je t'adore tellement."

You couldn't answer him, but you nodded your head and kissed him back. He slipped it back in and your hand went over your mouth to suppress any sounds. He chuckled.

"I'll do it for you, love." he pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own. You rolled your eyes back and just let go while he hammered into you.

"Shit, you're getting tighter," he hissed. "Open your mouth for me." you obeyed and sucked on his fingers, soaking them with your saliva. He removed them and circled his arm around your legs to your clit to add extra pleasure to your reaching orgasm.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he encouraged.

"I... I can't..." you gasped.

"Yes, you can, baby. Come on, do it."

"A little more..." you cried. "Please."

He grunted, but rocked his hips a little harder and fastened his movements on your sensitive bud.

"Come on now, baby. Cum on my cock." he gritted.

And so you did. You were finally able to let go with a suppressed cry. But then he leaned forward and said, "I want to hear you when you cum."

And with his permission, you let out a long needed moan while he still moved in and out of you.

"Atta girl." he kissed your naked shoulder. "Come here now, princess, get on your knees."

He pulled out of you and you kneeled. He towered over you with his cock in your face, jerking himself off slowly.

"Can you do it?" he asked.

You nodded and wrapped your hand around him. You gave him a few pumps before leaning forward and kissing the tip. You felt him shiver and whisper "oh my god" under his breath. You kissed his whole length and slid your tongue over it too. You sucked on the head, circling your head around it before taking the rest of it in. The tears stung at the back of your eyes when you went to take him whole.

"Jesus, baby." he breathed.

You let go and took much needed breath, but still kept close. He caressed your face, pushing your hair back.

"Look how gorgeous you are sucking on my cock. Your lips so plump and makeup all over your face. You look so pretty when I ruin you." he praised, the whole time you were looking at him with your big eyes.

You opened your mouth to take him again, slowly a first, bobbing your head back and forth, relaxing your throat to open enough for him. He kept on going how amazing you were doing, how good you were for him when you grabbed onto his thighs for support and pushed your head all the way down, digging your nails into his skin.

"Oh, shit, baby..." his voice was shaky. "I'm going to cum in your mouth." he stated.

You backed away a little and nodded. He started grunting, hissing and panting more often, indicating he was getting closer and closer. You began working him a little faster, helping him reach his sweet release. And soon enough, hot liquid oozed on your tongue while he gasped. You looked up at him and swallowed.

"Show me your tongue." he touched a side of your face and you stuck your tongue out, making him smile. "Good girl." he bent down and kissed you.

You stood up and fixed your dress, looking for your panties. You spotted them near the sink and reached to grab them, but Pierre was faster.

"Hey, give them back."

"Oh yeah, these are mine now." he said and put them in his pocket.

"Pierre, give me back my panties!"

"Nope." he already made his way towards the door.

"Come on, I can't just go back there without my underwear in this dress." you reasoned, your voice laced with frustration and annoyance.

"Hm, maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to fuck me in the restroom." he closed the door, leaving you alone with your mess.

[wlwsoccerfics]

A North London Love Story: practice makes perfect (RenéeSlegersXSlegersReaderXAlessiaRusso)

A/N: there will be at least two more parts of this.

Warnings: Talks about injuries, Google translate used

Summary: you are Renées daughter and Play for Arsenal as well. You are married to Alessia.

You arrived at Training thirty Minutes earlier. Simply because you enjoyed taking your sweet time in the locker room. Alessia was grabbing Coffee with Kyra before practice which was why you didn't Drive together. Plus you might have to check in with the phyiso cause your knee was giving you a bit of a tough time. It was nothing serious but it was causing you some discomfort.

So after getting dressed for practice you walked to the Physio room. Running into your room on the way.

"y/n, why are you limping?" She asked you.

"good morning to you too, Mama! Its nothing. Just some discomfort in my knee!" You told her.

"are you sure it's nothing to worry about ?" Your Mama asked.

"are you asking as my Mom or my Coach?" You wanted to know.

"both, to be honest." She admitted.

"i am on my way to the Physiotherapist. You can come with me If you want so you can hear it for yourself." You offered. Smiling softly.

"Sounds like a plan." Your Mama answered. You walked together to the physio room.

The Physio therapist that was in Charge today was quite young. You knew that his name was Zane and he was 22 years old. He seemed nervous around you. Your Mom found it quite funny cause it was obvious he had a crush on you.

"w-what brings you here today?" Zane asked.

"my knee, i have some discomfort." You explained. Showing him the exact Location where it Hurts.

"okay, let me check." He did some exercises with you and asked you some questions. "It's nothing serious! I will tape your knee every day before practice and before a game and you are all good to Go!" Zane told you.

"that's good News!" Your Mama said. Kyra and Alessia walked in.

"Babe are you alright?" Alessia asked you and walked over quickly. You kissed her softly. She kissed back.

"don't worry i am fine. My knee is Just causing me discomfort." You explained.

"she heard from the Front desk that you are here and got super worried." Kyra stated.

"thankfully everything is just fine. She gets her knee taped every day before practice or a Game and that's it."your Mama said softly.

"that's good to hear. I was worried." Alessia answered.

"good thing there is nothing to worry about." You replied and stood up after Zane was done with taping your knee.

"okay, time to get onto the pitch. We have alot of work to do. The Game against Manchester United is coming up in Just 4 days." Your Mom answered. Suddenly in Coach Mode.

"yes Coach!" You replied and walked out of the room with Kyra and Alessia, after thanking Zane for his help.

On the pitch you partnered up with your best friend Mariona. The two of you played together at Barcelona as well. You currently were warming up together.

"¿Cómo está tu rodilla?" Mariona wanted to know. ( how is your knee? )

"Está bien, no duele. Simplemente no se siente al 100%." You let her know. ( it's okay. it doesn't hurt. just doesn't feel 100%.)

"¿Prometes no excederte? Sé lo terco que eres." She stated. You chuckled softly. ( promise not to overdo it? I know how stubborn you are. )

"Tú lo llamas terquedad. Yo lo llamo ambición." You just replied. Smirking softly. She laughed at that a bit and shook her head. ( you call it stubborn. i call it ambitious. )

A few minutes later you started doing drills. You were dribbling through some cones, working on your speed. Not that it was a problem, but you always knew you could try to push yourself a little more.

After that you played some 3vs3 games. You played in a Team with Leah & Emily, while Alessia played with Caitlin & Chloe.

Your team ended up winning. After that you practiced some Penalty Kicks. Everyone got three tries and you put all three of them into the back of the net.

It was time for Lunch now so you walked into the Break room with everyone. You held Alessias hand gently. Smiling softly at your wife.

"so when are we getting a Slegers-Russo Baby?" Katie asked. You look at her.

"wouldn't you like to know?!" You asked and chuckled softly.

"you are one of the First ones to find Out!" Alessia stated.

"the First ones will be our parents of course!" You said.

"better be!" Your Mom answered, walking past you with Kim and Leah. You had to laugh at her comment.

"when are we getting a McFoord Baby?" Alessia now asked.

"Not that soon!" Caitlin told your wife.

"but also not that late." Katie said softly.

You all grabbed some plates and put some food of your choice on it before sitting down. You & Alessia sat at a table with Mariona, Lia, Vic, Kyra , Steph & Beth.

"¿Quieres tomar un café después del entrenamiento? Tengo algo que decirte." Mariona stated. ( want to grab coffee after practice? i have something to tell you. )

"Si segura." You replied, having a feeling of what this was about. Your wife was talking to the other Girls about planning a Girls night out. You and Mariona for sure would be dragged into this as well. ( yes sure. )

"english please, not everyone speaks multiple Langauges." Beth stated with a soft chuckle.

"Misschien is het tijd om een nieuwe taal te leren, Beth." You told her and Vic laughed at that. ( maybe it's time to learn a new language, Beth. )

"Dat was hilarisch." Vic stated. ( That was hilarious. )

"Bedankt." You replied. ( Thank you. )

"funny. I understood everything you said in dutch!" Beth let you know.

"and one day you gonna be able to speak it fluently." You told her.

"practice makes perfect!" Alessia said. You nodded your head in agreement.

"my wife is right." You let everyone know.

"Happy wife, Happy Life. Right?" Kyra stated.

"you got that right, Kyra!" You told her.

"Amen to that!" Katie said, walking past your table while holding Hands with Caitlin.

"at least you know your place, Babe!"Caitlin playfully told Katie.

After Lunch you went back on the pitch, it was time to Work on free kicks. After around 15 minutes you realized the discomfort was turning into pain. It wasn't too bad but still didn't feel right. You decided to ignore it. But of course your Mom noticed.

"y/n, Je hebt pijn. Ga maar naar de fysio!" You heard her say. Which got the attention from the rest of the Team. Especially from your wife. Who looked really concerned. ( Y/n, you are in pain. off to the physio you go! )

"Kan ik na de training niet gaan?" You asked. It kind of teleported you right back to your Teenage Girls. Which have gone by fast actually. You just turned 27. But this felt like a conversation you had with your Mom at the age of 16. ( Can't i go after practice? )

"Nee, wij willen niets riskeren." Your Mom stated. You sighed again but made your way back to the phyiso room. ( No, we don't want to risk anything. )

"y/n, why are you back?" Zane asked. He then noticed that you were limping. "Why are you limping?"

"i slipped a bit and now it hurts. Only a little though!" You admitted.

"let's check it out then." He let you know and you laid down. Examing it. Coming to the conclusion that nothing is broken but you need crutches and your knee will be bandaged up for two weeks ro make sure you rest it up enough. You would totally miss the game against Manchester United. But maybe you would be back on the pitch for the Champions League Final.

You made your was back to the field and your wife tan over right away.

"Babe...what's wrong?" Alessia asked. Your Mom walked over.

"excellent question." She stated.

"it's not as bad as it looks." You just said.

[bitemevanitas]

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 <3

Fandom: Vanitas No Carte

Pairing: Jeanne x Vanitas (VaniJeanne)

Type: Oneshot (short, and kind of a shit post)

Contents: Vanitas being flustered by the smallest things, and Jeanne being (un)intentionally seductive <3

TW: possibly bad grammar (i used grammarly but still), had to use google translate for french words, I ALWAYS PUT OOC 'CAUSE I'M SCARED I'M MISCHARACTERIZING EVERYONE, written on a 20 minute time limit

CW: 2.1K

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The streets of Montmartre were drowsy in the late afternoon light, awash in a pale gold that painted soft halos atop the shoulders of passersby.

Nearby, two children ran with wooden hoops, hawkers called out with dwindling enthusiasm, and Vanitas stormed out of a pâtisserie like a man utterly betrayed by God.

Jeanne trailed behind him, confused, a paper-wrapped box of confections under her arm.

“Vanitas?”

The man wheeled around so abruptly a startled pigeon leapt into the air. “You—!” He stopped, fingers splayed theatrically across his forehead. “Oh! So, you don’t even realize what you’ve done!”

Jeanne blinked at him. “I asked if you wanted a second éclair.”

“Not that,” he snapped, stabbing a finger at the sky like it had personally offended him. “Before that. When you leaned close and whispered—No, No! I can’t even repeat it. I shall perish of the memory.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “I said your cravat was crooked.”

“And you said it like—...like that!”

There was a beat of silence. A flower vendor called out across the boulevard.

Jeanne stepped closer. Her voice remained low, careful. “Like what?”

Vanitas took a step back, clutching his coat at the collar. “With your voice all hushed and breathy like... like some temptress!”

“It was sweet,” Jeanne admitted. “When you blushed.”

Vanitas made a strangled sound.

“Lady Dominique said that if I wanted to be more... charming,” Jeanne continued slowly, unsure, “I should put out more, so I did!”

“You were trying to flirt with me?!”

Jeanne tilted her head. “Yes.”

A silence fell again, this one heavier.

“Then why,” Vanitas demanded, pacing in a tight, frantic circle, “did you do it in public, in broad daylight??”

“You once said the essence of romance was spontaneity,” she said.

Vanitas stopped dead. “I also once said the essence of seduction was restraint. Clearly, neither of us knows what we’re talking about.”

Jeanne tilted her head in the other direction. “So... you didn’t dislike it?”

“Dislike?” His voice cracked. He jabbed a finger toward her. “You—you caught me completely unaware! I dropped my fork. I nearly choked on a strawberry. Do you know how many people stared at me?”

“I thought you were only coughing.”

“No, I was short about to die an awful death!”

Jeanne stepped forward, still holding the confections, the box now slightly crumpled in her grip. “I apologize,” she said. “If I misused Lady Dominique’s advice...”

He stared at her in disbelief. Her voice was even, but her ears were flushed red. Her lashes dipped low, and her fingers, those fingers that could shatter bone with ease, clutched the box with almost too much care.

“You didn’t misuse it,” Vanitas muttered between gritted teeth. “You just—”

She looked up, hopeful.

“—caught me off-guard,” he finished, sullen and awkward.

There was a long pause.

“I could... try again?” she offered, a touch uncertain now.

“Oh no,” he said quickly, waving both hands in front of himself. “No no, no. I—...You’ll kill me.”

She blinked.

“That’s not an invitation!” he added hastily. “Do not take that as encouragement!”

Jeanne said nothing. Her eyes held a small glint, something cool and quiet, but amused. She reached up anyway, slow and deliberate, and adjusted the ribbon at his throat. Her fingertips brushed against his collarbone.

Vanitas’s breath caught like clockwork.

“Jeanne,” he hissed. “You're a cruel, cruel woman.”

She straightened. “Better?”

He covered his face with one hand, the picture of elegant despair. “I must lie down.”

“I can lay you down.”

He peeked through his fingers. “Not like that!”

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[fictoculus]

౨ৎ their voicelines for you; part 4...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

part I┊part II┊part III┊part IIIII

featuring... cyno, kazuha, kaeya, beidou, klee (platonic)

A/N... i cannot write poetry to save my life, so kazuha's haiku came from google... unfortunately, i'm unable to find out who actually wrote it, please let me know if you have any idea!

✧ cyno.

"... so, as i was saying, i do believe it is quite necessary for your companion here to under-go judgement, traveller. you see-" "general mahamatra! there's someone here to see you" "alright, just give me one moment to finish talk-" "[name]'s here" "well, i believe i must take my leave, it was nice talking with you, traveller, paimon. remind me to tell you my joke next time, i'm sure you don't want to miss it"

("paimon's struggling to tell if cyno was actually joking or not... we don't really have to come back next time... do we?")

✧ kazuha.

"ah, traveller, good timing. i was wondering... would you perhaps be able to listen to this haiku i wrote for [name]? yes, for [name], would that hinder your skills of perception? good, then i shall read it out for you: 'i want to feel it, the breathtaking certainty, that comes with our love.' you think they'll like it? i'm glad. well, then, traveller, it was nice seeing you, i must go find [name] and share my haiku..."

✧ kaeya.

"archons, the things i do for them... *he grumbles, forcing himself inside the angel's share* diluc... look, i want to be here just as much as you want me to be here, i just want to know if you've seen- [name]! you've been here this whole time?! archons, i've been looking everywhere for you! you're drinking with traveller, but not me? unbelievable! ... yes, yes, of course i love you i- oh, shut up diluc!"

✧ beidou.

"[name]? yeah, of course i know 'em! we go out for drinks time to time, they sometimes even come onboard the crux with me 'n the crew! uhuh, i've gotta admit, they do have some tricks up their sleeve... i mean, of course they do! how do you think they won me over otherwise, hm? *she laughs heartily* i guess you're right, they are pretty good lookin' aren't they..."

✧ klee.

"hey, hey! traveller! paimon! have you seen [name]? we're playing hide 'n seek but i can't find them anywhereee... no, it's not cheating! i- i just need a hint, that's all! oh, you're right- we should be quiet so that they don't hear us... wait, is that them over there? quick, let's go! *proceeds to yell* WE'RE COMING FOR YOU [NAME]!!!"

part I┊part II┊part III┊part IIIII

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own