#starkiller reader insert

[crescenthistory]

You Too, Silly

Pairing: Bartylus x Reader (Starkiller x Reader)

Summary: When your two best friends fall in love and make it official, you try to be happy for them despite your heartbreak. When they keep flirting with you, though, things grow complicated.

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, poly relationship obvi, miscommunication trope, pining & yearning, hurt/comfort, (some) angst with a (very) happy ending, your pov and you think your love is unrequited, it is not!, all three of you are stupid but you're in love so it's fine, kissing while crying, some slight suggestiveness but overall safe for minors, light drinking at a slytherin party

Note: this is my hard launch of romanian!barty mwah – if you don't like it sorry not sorry, this is my barty now!

Being in love with your two best friends hurts.

Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other hurts perhaps even more.

Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other, yet for some reason seem hellbent on jokingly flirting with you at any given moment could be considered a form of torture.

And for the past few weeks, Barty Crouch Junior and Regulus Black have been putting you through nothing short of torture.

As any relationship either boy has sustained throughout their lives, your friendship with them was complicated. When you and your dorm mate Dorcas first began integrating yourselves in the friend group that consisted of Barty, Regulus and the elusive Rosier twins, you had both said you might come to regret it. You remember clearly sitting up one night and talking about it – you both thought it would end in flames, yet somehow you couldn’t help but poke the bear. You would prefer to fly under the radar, avoid any more pain than you had already had to grapple with, but you also craved a sense of belonging and figured it was worth the risk.

And oh, were you rewarded. 

No friend had treasured you the way Barty does. The second he decided he “liked your vibe” as he put it when he cut you off mid-sentence during your first proper hang-out, you had a loyal guard dog who would kill for you and then demand cuddles as payment. Almost overnight, wherever you went, Barty wouldn’t be far behind, no questions asked. He was fierce in his love, uninhibited and wild. It made you feel important in a way that sizzled over your skin.

In Regulus, you found a quiet understanding no one else had been able to give you before. He was both a mirror held up to your face and a cushioned bench to share during your turmoils. It seemed like he could read your every thought, every experience, like the books you would bond over. Silences shared with Regulus often gave you more than long conversations with others ever could. While he didn’t declare your friendship in the same way Barty did, he still had this simple way of making you feel seen and known.

They quickly cemented themselves at the root of your heart. They were your best friends, and you theirs. Your boys; with their respective green and white strands in their curly hair, who were misunderstood in each their way yet were never a mystery to you.

Perhaps naively, you had always thought there was a certain tension there, that something ran deeper below the surface. Barty was physically affectionate with all his friends, but the way he reached out for you felt differently charged. The only other person he held as long as he did you, was Regulus. It felt right. Likewise, you had yet to be in a room with Regulus without feeling his eyes on you, and you often absentmindedly compared the feeling to when Barty hugs you – they were equivalents, those gazes were the former boy’s version of affection. When you played spin the bottle during an after-party in the boys’ dorm one night, Barty’s grin had widened brilliantly when it landed on you and Regulus. You had sworn you had seen a hunger in his eyes when he watched you share the brief kiss, and you could still hear the soft sigh Regulus breathed against your lips. Again, it all felt so right. 

It went unspoken, but you thought that was because it did not need to – not because it was not there.

You knew, of course, that you had been stupidly delusional when Barty hauled Regulus with him into the Great Hall a month ago, hands intertwined, and announced with his signature Cheshire cat smile that he “finally got the boy”. You saw them making out – rather publicly – at the quidditch victory party the night before, but at the time it had only made you smile. It was odd, how you hadn’t realised that kiss was proof that all this tension really was just the two of them. Not before the words left Barty’s mouth did it hit you that this was a part of them you were not involved in. That felt decidedly wrong, but you shoved it down and joined in on the wolf whistling and congratulations, pushing your plate away in the chaos, unable to take another bite.

Since then, you have just tried to be happy for them. Or at least seem it.

Tried to smile through it all as Barty made sure their honeymoon phase was as public as humanly possible, much to Regulus’ ongoing chagrin. Tried to laugh at the quips your friends made, the “get a room you two”s and the “lovebirds”s, though you were never able to dish them out yourself, instead just humming along in agreement whenever Dorcas or Evan did. Tried to stiffen your mask to the point where it could not crack underneath the pressure of emotion, perfectly polished as you originally intended for it to be. All those years ago, before they had ensured you would not need it – you gave yourself a silent thank you for your previous doomsday caution. 

You even tried not to avoid Barty and Regulus, to be normal. Why should they be punished by losing one of their best friends because they had the audacity not to fall in love with her too? While you thought yourself generally successful in not showing disdain for their new relationship, this was the one aspect you struggled the most with. Your instinct was to run away and it physically pained you not to. In the few weeks they had been together, you had not been able to stomach being alone with just the two of them and confront their relationship in such close proximity – but you knew you could not avoid them altogether. Instead, you tried to always attach yourself at Dorcas’ hip and always invite the rest of your friends if Barty and Regulus wanted to do something with you. They ask you to study out by the Black Lake? Fantastic, you, Dorcas and Pandora have an Astronomy project you need to work on anyway. They want to visit that one store in Hogsmeade with you? How convenient that Evan was discussing how he needed something from there earlier, and if he goes, then Pandora goes and if she goes Dorcas can’t be the only one left behind, can she?

To offset any accusation that you were not spending time with them alone, you still spent time with them one on one when you knew the other would be busy – just seeing Regulus or Barty was not too bad, it was seeing them as a couple, knowing it did not include you, that you could not withstand. If you were alone with one, you could just pretend nothing changed. 

You made sure you focused on these ‘rules’ in your mind, the carefully constructed plan on how to make it through the year. Somehow you did not have it in you to wish they would break up and put you out of your misery – you wanted them, not just one – so instead you set your sights on graduation day. What you would do afterwards, you did not yet know. Disappear off the face of the earth? Become an Unspeakable as an excuse not to ever see them again? Endless possibilities. You zeroed your focus on your coursework and these measures you must take to protect your heart and sanity – if you filled your mind like this, maybe you could distract yourself from the pain that leaked through your body.

Barty remaining his flirtatious self whenever he was around you and Regulus’ simmering dedication to you seemingly only building, was decidedly not helping your case.

Which is how you ended up in this admittedly awkward cat and goose chase.

“There you are!” Not only did you hear Barty’s screech the moment he laid his eyes on you – everyone else in the library did as well, going by the shushes and ugly glares you both received that Barty paid zero mind to. “Dragă, I have been going crazy without you, where have you been?”

He plopped down on the bench beside you instead of any of the readily available chairs around the table, thigh flush against yours. “Good morning, B,” you whispered, hoping to lower his volume with yours.

The ever-growing grin on his face told you he likely understood your attempt. His hair was still damp from his morning shower and hanging slightly in front of his eyes, but you could see the sparkle there you thought was reserved for you. “Good morning,” he stage-whispered dramatically, to show his abiding of library law. Then, he pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek before pulling up his books. “Tell me, why are we studying on a weekend morning?”

This was the kind of activity that caused your delusion. It was early on a Sunday, arguably too early, and you had snuck out of your dorm to the library before anyone else woke so you would not be roped into any heartbreaking hangout. Yet, upon your absence, Barty went looking for you before doing his hair or anything – and when he found you studying, as he likely assumed you would be, he just joined you. There was no reason for him to.

You had been staring at him a tad bit too incredulously for a tad bit too long, so he gave you a cheeky sideway glance while he readied his books. “Too early for you too, baby?”

You shook your head, but couldn’t stop the laugh escaping you. “Maybe I’m just shocked at seeing you voluntarily in the library. I usually have to drag you here.”

“Yeah, because usually I have you with me somewhere more fun when you try to go to the library,” he explained to you matter-of-factly. “Now that you are here from the get-go, I accept my fate that this is where we’ll be. For now.”

“Lucky me.” You poked him lightly in the side to emphasise your sarcasm before you tried to return to your books, though your attention was thoroughly divided.

“I reckon I am the lucky one who gets to spend time with the fittest babe in the castle.”

You snorted at the same time as your heart shattered further – an odd reaction none other than Barty could draw from you. Those comments are not only how you got in this whole emotional mess to begin with, but felt like genuine ice shards spearing through your flesh. You were guilt-ridden as you revelled in them, and begged the gods he would stop.

“And I reckon,” you teasingly copied, hoping to sound level-headed and not agonised, “that Regulus would not appreciate having that title taken away from him.”

“Regulus is a fit babe,” Barty said dreamily, unaffected by your correction. “But he would agree that the title belongs to you, Dragă.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Barty was incredibly particular in how he showed affection, and flirting with you explicitly was not at all out of character for him. You just, perhaps bitterly, hoped that maybe he would stop, if he was to be in a monogamous relationship with one of his two best friends.

“What’ll you be working on?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation. 

Likely entirely unaware of your attempt, Barty allowed you, delving into a longer rant about what extra assignment Professor Flitwick had assigned him because he “saw potential in you, young man”, which he of course found to be utter “trollpiss”. It was familiar, working side by side while also not studying at all, gossiping like the two best friends you are. It should be lovely, and you kicked yourself for being hung up on it just being friendly, when friendliness in itself is a gift you should be grateful for.

While you tried to allow yourself to enjoy Barty’s company and not be guilty for how hard you noticed where his body touched yours, you kept your eye on the clock. Regulus had prefect rounds on Sunday mornings, but as soon as he finished them, he would seek the two of you out. 

You had to get away from Barty before then.

“While this was lovely,” you said with a forced airy tone, “I have to get going now, B.”

“Cool, where’re we goin’?”

Your pageant winner smile wavered slightly as he immediately began to pack up his belongings, considering it a given that he would join you in your endeavours. “I don’t think so. I’m heading to meet with the Hufflepuff third years I tutor, and I believe it would be considered a crime to introduce them to you when they’ve just stopped being scared of me.”

Not technically a lie. You picked up a massive amount of extracurriculars after Regulus and Barty became official, and tutoring Hufflepuffs was part of it. Though you had no scheduled study session with them today, you knew at least two of them were still too much of a pushover to say no to you if you headed over there. Innocent casualties in your escapades. 

Barty immediately pouted. “No fun,” he whined, sitting back down before you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you flush to him so he could rest his forehead on your stomach in defeat. “Why do you have to be such a swot? I miss you.”

You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart flutter at the sentiment. You brought a shaky, selfish hand up to card lightly through his hair, separating the green from the black. “Sorry, B. Duty calls and you know how much I love to be a hero.”

“No hero would leave such a perfect victim like me destitute and alone.” He moved his chin to rest against your flesh so he could look up at you in faux misery.

“Good thing you have Regulus, then.” You feared your voice was more pointed than you wanted it to be. It did not go with the pleasant mask you tried to wear, but the mask never fit quite right around Barty.

Something odd flashed across his eyes at your words and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Whether he wanted to say something that would explain it, you would not find out, because you gave his hair one last ruffle before patting his cheek lightly and pulling away.

“I’ll see you for dinner, alright B? Don’t worry about me.” You turned around and walked away without waiting for a response.

It still came behind you, sounding too much like the ache in your own chest. “Counting down the minutes!”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You survived the rest of the Sunday with little to no incident; as in, you avoided being alone with Regulus and Barty, ensuring the friend group ate together and sat together in the common room afterwards. When Pandora retreated to head to bed, you immediately used the excuse to slither away too, lest you end up trapped with just the two of them by the fire.

Dorcas opened the door to your dorm just a few minutes after you had settled down on your bed to reread your comfort novel. You looked up with a warm, small smile to greet her, but it slipped away as you saw her eyeing you carefully. Neither of you said anything before she was sat on her own bed opposite you, studying you. There was this crackling ferocity to Dorcas’ silences that would make even the strongest man cave – and you were not feeling particularly strong lately.

“Spit it out.” It was all she said.

You sighed and put your book aside, straightening up in your previously comfortable position. “What is it, Cas?”

She gave you a stern but not unkind look. “You’re different. Why?”

“Different how?” You stalled.

She indulged you. “You’re not yourself, babe. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you act like you’re programmed and not like you’re living. I want to know what’s wrong. I want to help.”

The staggering, almost fragmented way she spoke was in part to spoon-feed you her concern so that you might actually answer her truthfully and in part how Dorcas was with emotions. She had not been raised to speak of them, but she was loyal and smart, so she knew when it was needed, even if you wished she wouldn’t.

You looked at her with heavy eyes for a moment before sighing once more and bringing your hands up to roughly rub at your face. “There is no way for you to help right now, I’m sorry. Except maybe be my shield.” The last part was added as a joke, but it fell flat.

“Shield you from what?” Protectiveness flared in her tone and you knew you had to soothe it with the truth.

“Not what,” you said softly. “Who.” You pleaded with your eyes for her to understand.

It took but a few seconds before her face scrunched up in pity – and something that would almost looked like amusement, had you thought her cruel enough to laugh at you. “Barty and Regulus.” 

It was a statement, not a question, yet you nodded in affirmation, shutting your eyes in humiliation. “It’s bad, Dorcas. It’s so bad.” A tired heave for breath. “But I will get through it. I just need a little bit of distance without any drama around it and to get my shit together.”

Dorcas looked like she was weighing up her next words carefully. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would have told you to talk with them. Alas, I know you won’t. But I hope you somehow end up having to.”

Cryptic and confusing; just how you knew her to be. 

When she realised you would not answer her first sentiments, it was her turn to sigh and give you a rueful smile. “I assume this is why I suddenly have been roped into so much lately? Marlene misses me.”

You laugh at her teasing tone, happy for her to not dig too much into your feelings. “Sorry about that, babe. Just for a little while longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she repeated with a tilted head. “If it’s any help, I get it.”

“Considering you got the girl, I don’t think you do.” There was no malice in your words, just a bit of longing. It was bittersweet to indirectly admit your loss.

“That’s not what I meant.” She waited to continue before you met her eyes once more. “I can’t say I understand your heartbreak exactly, but I share your confusion. I also thought you would be part of it.”

The look you gave her must have been nothing short of gobsmacked, yet she had the kindness to not laugh at you. It was unclear whether you were most surprised by her knowing you were in love with both of them, or her having shared the same assumptions as you once. Both floored you.

“I–” you tried, but your voice failed you. All you were able to do was whisper a small, “Thank you.”

This time, there was nothing but pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry babe. I’ll shield you to the best of my ability.”

You shared small, knowing smiles and you decided to end the conversation there, lest it get teary. Reaching over, you carefully switched off your light and placed your book on your nightstand, abandoning any attempt at being comforted for the night. When you laid your head on your pillow, there were phantom indents on either side.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The one place you had no opportunity to shield yourself from or avoid either of them was during classes.

With your timetables for the year, you and Regulus ended up sharing more than half of your classes, while Barty was in at least a third of them. When you first saw the allocations, it felt like painfully little, and the thought of scraping by so many classes without them felt like a punishment you did not deserve. Now, you almost wished it was less.

Almost was the key word though – because Regulus’ presence by your side at your shared Herbology station was somehow melting the tension that had settled in your bones and making your chest heave all at the same time.

His elbow bumped lightly into yours. “You alright?”

You looked up from the notes you were pretending to study for the depotting you two were currently attempting, giving him a brief smile. “‘Course. Ready for the next step?”

His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, flickering over your face carefully before nodding almost imperceivable. You shifted your focus towards the Venomous Tentacula on the bench before you, reaching out to carefully manoeuvre the prickly leaves away so Regulus could attend to the roots when his hand stopped yours.

“These aren’t tight enough.” His voice was but a whisper as he took off his gloves to tighten yours where the velcro was hazardously slapped on top of each other. With long, cold fingers he elegantly realigned the straps and made sure there was no gap between your skin and glove. “Don’t want my best girl getting hurt, right?” 

Regulus looked up to meet your eyes, a small smile playing over his lips. With his striking grey eyes locked on yours, you feared your emotions were too clearly pasted across your face. His loose grip remained on your bare skin, thumbs brushing carefully above your gloves.

“Right,” was all you offered him curtly, pulling your hands back to yourself. 

Together you navigated the plant meticulously from one pot to the other you had pre-prepared. Propagating, maintaining and harvesting from the plant was one of your major projects in Herbology for the term and you and Regulus had been dedicated to your so-called coparenting to begin with. Now, to have his body half pressed to yours as you covered the plant’s teeth and angled its venomous leaves away while he extracted and cleaned its roots, it was almost too much. You breathed in and instead of being overwhelmed by the smell of dirt, your nose was filled with Regulus’ shampoo and cologne. You were suddenly thankful your part of the job was rather stationary, as you feared your hands trembling.

Regulus took a laboured breath as he settled the plant properly within its new home, packing the potting mix carefully around the roots. “Right there, perfect,” he murmured, presumably to himself, yet you fought the shiver down your spine. You noticed him glancing at you in the corner of his eye with what can only be classified as a smirk growing on his lips. “Amazing work, amour.” That was unmistakably to you.

You lightly shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Are we done?”

“Unfortunately,” Regulus replied, dusting the remaining dirt off his gloves as he took a small step back from the plant – and closer to you. “Gregory has been successfully assimilated to his new environment.”

You scoffed a laugh, to which his smile grew genuine. “You’ve got a flare for the dramatics, Black.”

“Only comes with being close to one Bartiemus Junior, doesn’t it?”

His eyes were crinkling from his smile and adoration, but you took the comment for what it was – a reminder. A warning. Albeit a confusing one, giving his amorous words just a few moments ago, but one you most certainly needed. “That it does.” Your tone was drier than you intended, but you did good; the smile didn’t slip.

Regulus’ did, and he tilted his head while regarding you. “I almost slipped up a few times there, though. Was a tad distracted.” There was an undeniable cheekiness dripping from his words.

“Yeah?” was all you managed to say.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, leaning against the desk. You had time to small talk, giving as you were finished long before anyone else. “Pretty girls like you really shouldn’t be allowed in here; it’s a safety hazard.”

“You would know all about safety hazards,” you mumbled, fighting yourself from going red from the sentiment or seeing red from the audacity. 

Regulus’ laugh seemed more guarded than usual.

“Speaking of,” you said, trying to get the conversation to safer grounds, “who do you think will definitely kill their plants at last today?”

If there was one thing you and Regulus did well, it was gossip, and you managed to derail him into chattering quietly with you instead of doing some weird dance of pushing the limits and then drawing them clearly. As you spoke, you took small, careful steps away from Regulus to put some physical distance between you, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

If you had looked him in the eye even once more before your separation to go to your next periods, you would have seen that he did.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You would have thought the Quidditch game on Friday to have been a blessing.

The tension had been growing more and more between you and your best friends, and it seemed that the more you volleyed around their pretend flirting, the more fired up they got, in each their own way. It didn’t seem sustainable anymore. 

Even Dorcas had grown weary of you, though she tried to remain supportive while urging you strongly to speak with them about it.

“And say what exactly? What could I possibly say that would not make the situation ten times worse?”

Dorcas levelled you with a look that spoke volumes, but she seemed unwilling to verbalise any of it in response. Instead she just offered you a vague, “It might go better than you could imagine.”

You must admit you had grown weary of her cryptic remarks as well.

A quidditch game gave you the perfect opportunity to have a small break from them guilt-free, seeing as they were all playing for Slytherin. In turn, you believed you gave Dorcas a break from working overtime to shield you and keep any awkward situation at bay. 

With you in the stands, cheering for your little makeshift family who were all involved in the game somehow – Regulus as Captain and seeker, Barty and Evan as beaters, Dorcas as a chaser and Pandora as commentator – you thought you could finally breathe for a moment. 

Any such hopes were shattered when Barty came chasing up beside you before you could ascend the wooden stairs to find your seat.

“Dragă! Hold up!”

The pet name sent warmth up your spine, but the sigh that escaped you was not a happy one. You turned regretfully on your heel to take in Barty’s form as he jogged up to you. His quidditch gear was tight, much more than it had any business being, seeing as he could easily make them larger with a quick spell if he wanted to. 

You didn’t ask what he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind, grin permanently plastered on his face in your presence.

“Do I not get a kiss for good luck?” He threw you a cheeky wink with his comment as he came to stand in front of you, breath slightly laboured.

“Sure you can. Regulus is right over there.” You hoped your voice sounded a bit lighthearted even in your sternness of correcting his flirting. Even more, you hoped the heat in your cheeks had not turned into any noticeable redness. 

A look at Barty’s wicked smile told you it might have. “I’ve already gotten plenty from Reggie. Now I just need my girl and I’m golden.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, at least not like that. You knew he meant a kiss on the cheek, and you knew he asked to make fun – not of you, but of the concept of good luck kisses and of your closeness as friends being read as anything else. He likely didn’t even know that you had been among those reading it as something else, this was a joke the two of you were in on, as all best friends should be.

Still, you couldn’t help but wince at the sting in your heart.

“I think you’ll do just fine without it, B.” You pressed your lips together in the same way you would if you were fighting a smile and not a frown.

He tilted his head at you, a mix of black and green strands falling into his eyes. “Have I done something that would make you want me to fall to my death? Because that is what will happen without you as my good luck charm.”

You shook your head, taking miniscule steps towards the stairs; away from him. “I’ll be a shining bright good luck charm in the stands. You’ll see me after, at the party.”

“I sure will,” he replied salaciously, but you caught the flicker in his eyes. “Wear a pretty little thing for me?”

“You know I’ll wear jeans.”

“And aren’t they a pretty little thing?” His smile grew more affectionate. “And you look good in anything, Dragă.”

“Sure.” You cleared your throat, stepping more confidently away from him. “See you later, B. Play well.”

“Just for you, baby!”

It was as if he was laying it on even thicker the more you turned his compliments away. While you never got quite used to his outspoken praise, it had been years since you embraced it and stopped fighting him on it – he didn’t seem quite pleased that you suddenly had started. Then again, Barty never liked not getting his way, so it shouldn’t surprise you.

You turned and walked back up the stairs, not turning to see whether he jogged off too or remained watching you like usual; you didn’t feel like having the pieces of your heart jumped on, and both alternatives would have resulted in nothing less.

In the stands, you settled into your usual place by the railing, seated beside Lily and Marlene, who were there to cheer on Dorcas. The two girls were the only Gryffindors you tolerated, not due to any of your own sentiments, but simply as a form of hatred by-proxy from Regulus and Barty – they were also a great opportunity to slowly edge Regulus closer towards reconciling with his brother. Though you knew in your heart that was a slow-and-steady-wins-the-race type of situation.

The game flew by and while you were relatively certain you cheered in the right places and sat with baited breath at the tense moments, you felt you were never truly present. Pandora’s voice in your ears was lulling, allowing your soul to drift out of your body and float up into the skies. You wondered if maybe you should take her up on her offer of teaching you how to meditate. Maybe that is how you end your torture rather than trying to change Barty and Regulus’ ways of being, even if it sent terribly mixed signals.

You were somehow exhausted by the time the whistle blew to announce Slytherin’s victory, despite not having done anything. 

Victory was a guarantee for a rowdy party, which, if you didn’t watch yourself, was a guarantee for mistakes. You could not risk slipping up and confessing your feelings to either boy – though some part of you whispered that perhaps some liquid courage is what you needed to tell them to stop flirting with you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

If the game had gone by in a blur for you, the party was nothing less. You lost Dorcas to Marlene’s wicked laugh just a few minutes in, and had since drifted between your many groups of friends. Shots with Evan, braiding with Pandora, armwrestling with Emmeline, gossiping with Amelia and Regulus. Throughout the whole night you had managed to keep things light, floating through the crowd and keeping someone by your side at all times. It made it bearable to be near the both of them when you had others to keep up appearances for. It also was a great distraction from the joint envy that bloomed in your heart whenever Barty paraded Regulus around like he ought to.

He tried to parade you too, but you slipped out of his grasp before he ever could.

The closer the night got to being over, the more intimate the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room grew. People migrated from standing around to sitting huddled together, there were quiet conversations and card games instead of yelling and butterbeer pong. There were less of the other house colours, and more of just the familiar greens and faces.

Meaning, it was your cue to slip out and away for a minute.

You, Regulus and Barty always ran off into some corner towards the end to do a debrief of the night, perhaps a bit tipsily. If there was one thing you couldn’t take right now, it would be that.

It was easy to distract the both of them by starting a conversation with Evan and Pandora – whether torture methods has improved or worsened since the dark ages – that would have them in a chokehold. You used the opportunity to slip out through the common room door and walk down the hallway.

It was rare you were grateful for the gloomy dungeons and their cold stonewalls, but this was one such moment. You walked slowly, alone at last, taking deep breaths. Somehow the air felt fresh despite being several metres below ground; anything was better than the stuffy post-party air that clung to the common room.

You let your right hand graze the wall as you walked, texture rough and freezing beneath your fingertips, and tipped your head back with closed eyes. You knew the way like the back of your hand.

At the end of the hall was a rarely-used classroom that functioned more as a storage room these days – your favourite place of refuge. The desk in there was the perfect size to lay down on to close your eyes and relax, feet just barely hanging off the edge. Along the top of the wall was a narrow window that gave an obscured view of the Black Lake, distorted light spilling through to make the most beautiful shapes along the ceiling.

You could stay here and relax and by the time you went back, everyone would have gone off to bed already and you wouldn’t have to face anyone until the morning.

“... Amour?”

You flinched so violently you almost fell off the desk, sitting up by propping yourself onto one elbow and clutching your chest with your other arm. “Gods, Regulus, you cannot fucking sneak up on people like that!”

“Sorry, love.” He offered you a half-hearted smile from where his head popped in through the crack in the door.

Barty’s head appeared just below his, as if he had crouched down to get the comedic angle. “I’m not, what the fuck are you doing here?”

You could hear the light squaffle behind the door as Barty presumably tried to push Regulus aside so he could walk in, while Regulus tried to hold his own to walk with grace. It resulted in them more or less tumbling in, the latter boy straightening up to close the door carefully behind him.

“Whatcha mean?” you asked dumbly, deciding to remain in your half lounged position on the desk at the top of the room.

The boys exchanged a quick look that you didn’t have the time to decipher.

Barty was the one who spoke. “I mean, how come you’re hiding out here? We have very important matters to discuss, you know.”

Your lips tightened slightly. You looked between them quietly while they came up to settle in front of your desk, Regulus deciding to lean his weight against a smaller one behind him while Barty jumped onto it without hesitation, settling into some odd position.

“Needed some fresh air. Party got too hot for me.”

“So you decided to lay down in this dusty room?” Regulus asked humorously, lifting a brow at you.

At the same time Barty commented, “I cannot imagine anything being too hot for you, baby.”

You ignored them both, fighting not to meet their eyes. This was going worse than you imagined.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to run off on you.” You aimed for a light-hearted tone, if a bit tired. “Want to do the debrief in here?”

Regulus hummed questioningly, as if he wanted to probe more, but Barty clapped his hands together. “Yes. You’re simply not getting out of this love, lest my bleeding heart become public knowledge as I wail at your absence.”

“Stop it, Barty,” you whispered. He didn’t hear you, in one way or another.

“Okay, so we all agree Dorcas and Marlene are shagging?”

You sit more up at this, realising you truly would be doing the whole debrief here, and that you would thus likely be here for a while. Also well aware that you know more than both of the boys on that matter, as Dorcas' dorm mate. “Well, duh,” you offer. “But did you see anything tonight?”

You look at Barty as he speaks, but can feel Regulus’ gaze burning through the side of your head, and you wish he would stop trying to scrutinise you. You look over to meet his gaze, hoping to give him an I’m fine smile that would divert his attention. However, when his eyes meet yours you see they are sparkling with that mischief that only Regulus can pull off, the kind that is equal parts elegant and dirty. He winks at you, and you really, really wish he wouldn’t. 

You shift your gaze back to Barty, further assuring his claim. “Don’t push it with Cas, though,” you warn. “She will tell you when she feels like."

“But it is so much fun to push it though,” Barty pouted, making his eyes comically big.

“It’s even more fun to not be skinned alive by Dorcas in our sleep.”

“Fine,” he groans, throwing his head back theatrically before settling you with a gaze. “But only because you asked, beautiful.”

You hum noncommitedly, fighting any prickling tears. Don’t be such a fucking twat. Let your friends speak to you. 

“Oh,” Regulus said, as if he just remembered a piece of drama to share. “Amelia flirted with me earlier.”

“She what!?” Barty’s voice was not much unlike a banshee’s. “Have I not made it clear that your arse is off the market?”

Your heart plummeted and you had to fight not to let your shoulders grow into your ears.

“Right?” Regulus said through a laugh. “I think she was just too pissed, though. Would have flirted with anything that walked.”

“What did she say?” you asked somewhat meekly.

“Oh, something about gorgeous curls and tight shirts and whatnot.” Regulus made a waving motion with his hand, as if physically brushing it off. “You know, the usual. Called me baby.”

“Only we get to call you baby,” Barty said through a pout.

We?

“I know, amour, I told her as much.”

Barty nodded emphatically. “Good. I don’t like picking fights with birds, but I would if she can’t keep her hands off the goods.”

Regulus gave his leg a light kick with his own. “Down, boy.”

Your stomach was turning over and you desperately wanted to leave. A comment about being tired and wanting to discuss the rest over breakfast tomorrow died on your tongue when Barty turned his attention to you, pout giving way for a scrutinising look.

“What about you, Dragă? Anyone else flirt with you?”

Any turning in your stomach was replaced by an irritation seeping into your bloodstream, one that had been fighting with heartbreak and anxiety for your attention for almost a month now.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, B.” You’re not sure quite what possessed you to say it, but there was no denying your dry tone.

Barty looked equally puzzled, head actually reeling backwards ever so slightly. Still, he pushed his luck. “Am I not allowed to be concerned for my girl?”

You looked at him incredulously. “I am not your girl.” 

That was the whole point. That was the whole heartbreak. That was all you could think about. They were each other’s and you weren’t theirs and you most certainly was not their girl. 

Regulus’ stance shifted quickly, tensing in weariness. “Amour, what he meant–”

“I know what he meant.” You sighed, making no effort to hide your pain anymore. You could not take this. “I know what you both mean.”

“Baby–” Barty began, sliding off of his desk and moving towards you, but you cut him off.

“No! Stop it, Barty, please.” He looked as if you had punched him. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry. I am so, so happy for you and I’m glad you’ve found each other like that. But now that you have, I just can’t take you flirting with me or, or doing the play pretend. It’s not fun anymore.”

The room was laid in silence. 

You had been defiantly staring at the wall behind them both, but after practically being able to hear the crashing out in their minds, you slid off your own desk and made your way towards the door without sparing them a glance. “I need a moment.”

“No, no, hey, hey, hey,” Barty chanted as he ran up behind you, hand circling loosely around your wrist. Enough to ground you, but not enough to trap you should you want to wrestle free. He slowly came up around your stopped form. “Shit, Y/N, I–” This time he cut himself off, running his free hand through his hair and looking over at Regulus, whose footsteps you could hear stop right behind you. 

You stared at the door over Barty’s shoulder. This was your worst nightmare.

“Amour, we’re sorry,” Regulus whispered behind you. His hand came up to ever so slightly trace the side of your arm.

You felt ganged up on where you stood between them and you cursed your body for loving it, even as they were rejecting you more explicitly than ever. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault that you don’t– you know.”

“No, no, no,” Barty chanted yet again, hands coming up to grasp both of your cheeks and bruising away a few tears you only now realised had fallen. You would never stop revelling at how Barty’s touch could be so painfully gentle even when his voice was frantic and passionate. “That’s exactly it, Dragă, we do. We do. I do.”

You met his eyes and furrowed your brows at him. “Barty, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

He had the audacity to laugh quietly at you. “I don’t think you understand what you’re saying. In what world could I, Barty Crouch Junior, not be obsessed with you?”

“Lovely girl,” Regulus whispered as he inched forward into your field of vision, hand growing more confident in its touch on your arm. “I’m sorry, we’ve gone about this all wrong. We realised it quickly, but didn’t know how to fix it. The whole... getting together part happened naturally between Barty and I, and we figured it would with you too immediately after, but it proved, uh, more complicated.”

At last, your brain caught up with you, and your instinctive reaction was to jerk backwards out of both of their grasps, not even feeling the impact of your back hitting the desk behind you. Both boys hissed at the thump that sounded.

You finally looked at both of their eyes and found layers of insecurity and guilt there, along with… 

“Are you saying…” you started, but trailed off, unsure how to formulate the words.

“I’m obsessed with you, consumed by you, enthralled by you, whatever word you please, it’s yours. I’m yours.” Barty’s face was almost impassive despite the volumes behind his confession. More tears welled in your eyes, by confusion still more than any relief – you didn’t dare feel that yet.

“What he’s saying is that – well, that we love you.” Regulus smiled and you saw the quiver of his lips at the unfamiliar words.

You let out a half-choked sound. “I don’t understand? But then why– how come–” 

Regulus took a careful few steps towards you once more, hand held out between you in a show of safety. “Even as it happened, I remember thinking you would laugh at us for it. Really what happened a month ago was just that we didn’t really think at all.”

“Which you rightfully accuse us of a lot,” Barty added.

“Right. Barty and I were together and drunk and that tension we’ve all had, I guess it finally spilled over for us. By the time we had admitted our feelings physically, we didn’t really need words for it, which is what we both struggle with the most. And you weren’t close by to be dragged into it. When we told everyone we hoped to just… smoothly join you in. Wouldn’t be difficult right, it’s always been the three of us anyway?”

“Turns out it’s not so bloody simple,” Barty grumbled.

By this point, tears were streaming clearly down your face. Regulus reached out a hesitant thumb to wipe them away. “We were stupid, amour. And by the time we got our wits about us, we didn’t know how to reign you in, other than by… continuing being us. Us three.”

“How could I feel like it was us three when it was so clearly you two?” you all but sobbed.

Barty had grown too impatient by Regulus’ easing you in and closed the gap in two long strides, grabbing at your hand fiercely. “You couldn’t, we were just stupid wankers and absolute boys. You’re perfect, it’s not your fault you fell in love with us sods.”

You laughed a bit wetly, bringing grins out on both of their faces. “Bold claim you have there,” you said, some teasing making its way into your voice.

“But an accurate one?” Regulus’ tone was void of humour, just quiet and nervous and hopeful.

“Of course,” you breathed and Barty’s hands tightened around yours. “I always thought it was us three… when it seemed like it was just you two, I– I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

“So you ran and you hid,” Barty concluded with a nod. Upon your almost offended expression he hastily added, “as is understandable, and as asserted, we are wankers and you are perfect.”

“Stop saying that,” you whispered.

“But it’s true,” Regulus added in the same cadence. Then, a sparkle settled in his eyes as he regarded you. “Can I prove it to you?”

Your breath hitched at the implication but you nodded, ever so hopeful smile growing on your face. You dared tighten your own hold on Barty’s hands – they were delightfully warm.

Regulus’ smile matched yours and he took a final step towards you to bring the two of you together. His lips covered yours in the sweetest of kisses, slow and smooth and exactly how you had guiltily pictured. He breathed in as he kissed you and you felt the air move across your skin, tickling and tingling. When he pulled back he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek too.

“This whole thing should have never played out this way,” he started. “But this is exactly where I always wanted to end up.”

Barty bumped lightly into both of you, giving you a conspiring smile. “It’s true – he tried to brag to me that he had been picturing us three together since fifth year, which is embarrassingly late for him. I’ve pictured this since the fifth week of knowing you both.”

You huffed a laugh, feeling your entire face still burning from the confessions, neck aching from the whiplash and lips tingling from the kiss. “Then you’ve both got eons on me. I only really realised, like, last term.”

“See, that’s because you are sane,” Barty provided, circling his arms around your hips to pull both you and Regulus closer to him. “A sane beautiful girl who balances us out perfectly and who completes my heart.”

“One we will spend eons making up lost time with,” Regulus added somewhat cheekily. 

You brought your hands up to properly wipe at your face, hoping to remove redness and giddiness with the wet. “It’s barely been a month.”

“A month you spent confused and hurt, Dragă. That cannot slide. I would have hexed anyone else who did that to you.”

“No one else could have broken my heart,” you said then, intending it to be romantic.

The horrified looks on their faces said otherwise. “You were heartbroken?” Barty exclaimed in intense frustration, pulling his wand up and handing it to Regulus. “Reggie, baby, I need you to Avada me right now. Use my wand so they can’t trace you and send you to Azkaban, because you need to be her personal servant to repent for us.”

“Barty!” you laughed, quickly plucking the wand out of his hands before any shenanigans could occur. “It’s fine, really–”

“Nope, absolutely not,” he cut you off. “I must fix this. Kiss it better?”

Before you could even really respond he brought his hand up to the back of your neck, pulling your face gently albeit quickly towards his. Millimetres before his lips could crash with yours, though, he paused. Giving you the opportunity to back down. His thumb was ghosting carefully across the baby hairs at the nape of your neck.

With a delighted sigh, you leaned your chest against his and brought him the final way in for the kiss.

His lips were softer than they looked, fitting exactly within the narrative that usually followed your relationship with Barty. He quickly opened them for you, bringing your bottom lip in between yours and kissing you passionately, tongue sliding over delicate skin. One of your hands curled into his shirt by his collar, wand long since discarded on a desk, while the other found Regulus’ neck, massaging it not much unlike Barty did with yours.

Barty’s skillful lips trailed happy kisses along your jaw, turning into a smile at the breathy laugh that escaped you at his ministrations. 

Your eyes met Regulus while Barty practically attempted to bury himself beneath your skin, smiling and sighing against you – kissing it better. The former boy’s smile was at its widest and most sentimental, encircling the both of you within his arms.

“Y/N,” he said, almost seriously. “We will do right by you, as we always should have. I’ll start by asking, will you please legitimise our feelings by becoming our girlfriend?”

Before you could reply, Barty added against your neck, “And will you please take back your demand we stop flirting with you, because I don’t think I can.”

You were afraid your smile was almost dreamy – everything you believed out of reach just a few minutes ago was not quite literally cradled in your arms. “You are both so unbelievable. Yes, I’ll happily be your girlfriend and yes you may flirt with me.”

Barty popped his head back up from your neck, lips somewhat swollen despite being stretched wide. “Fucking finally.”

“You say that as if I was the one holding back,” you teased, poking him in the chest.

“And while I will lay down and take a sword to the chest for ever believing I was not mad about you,” Barty began. “I think there is also something to be said about little miss run away and completely shut away any and all feelings and compliments.”

You hummed as if in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

Regulus snorted in that way he only ever did around you two. Then, he reached out and gave you two, three kisses in a row, grinning all the while. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Too cute.”

Barty, tactile as ever, was cradling your cheek in his hand, tracing the side of your nose with his index finger. “I want the court to know that I am absolutely mad about Regulus,” he started, smiling all the while. “But it was always you too, silly.”

Emboldened, you leaned forward and gave him a sweet kiss. “Glad to know it.”

“Now let’s make sure everyone else does too, yeah?”

[colouredbyd]

oh my, love is a lie!

bartylus x fem!reader

synopsis: caught between regulus's soft looks and barty's wild affection, you finally gather the courage to confess until you see them walk in hand in hand. you toast to their happiness, blind to the way their eyes linger, and break in the street where it hits different

warnings: hints of unrequited love, pining, missed signals, miscommunication, heartbreak, longing, bittersweet endings, soft angst, moments of throwing up and getting drunk, background wolfstar and jily, sirius as a brother figure to reader

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a long while (maybe it should have stayed in there..) was very much inspired by Hits Different by Taylor Swift

masterlist

Love is a beautiful lie, and the truth is always fucking heartbreak.

It starts like every good mistake does—with a smile that tastes like trouble and hands that burn like sin. 

You’ve always felt it, though you never knew when it began, when the line between friendship and something darker was crossed.

Regulus had always been there, lingering on the periphery of your life, always just close enough that you could almost touch him, but never fully there. He never needed to speak, never needed to explain himself. 

You learned long ago that his silence was louder than anything he could say, that the way his eyes flickered when they met yours spoke volumes you couldn't translate. He had a way of holding you, not physically, but emotionally, like a tether that kept you grounded even when you didn't want to be. 

He never made promises, never whispered sweet nothings, but his gaze always lingered a moment longer, like he was waiting for you to notice, waiting for you to understand that his affection wasn't a fleeting thing. He never said it, but you saw it in the way his fingers brushed against yours just a bit too long, in the moments when his eyes softened, like he wanted to pull you into him but couldn't quite bring himself to. 

And you thought maybe it was enough, maybe you were enough for him to stay just as he was, quiet and distant, always close but never quite there.

Then there was Barty. The chaos in human form. He was fire, unrestrained and untamable. His laughter was a battle cry, sharp and wild, cutting through silence like it was made of paper. He wasn’t just there—he was everywhere, all at once, like he couldn’t stand the thought of being anything less than alive. He grabbed life with both hands, dragged you into the storm with him, never asking if you wanted to follow. You did. Of course. 

With Barty, there was no hesitation. He was the whispered dare at midnight, the stolen bottle of firewhisky, the reckless grin that made you feel invincible. His touch was hot and lingering, like the singe of a cigarette burn, and his words came out jagged, unfiltered, tearing through every expectation you thought you knew.

Barty had a way of making you feel seen, of making you feel alive. His attention was intoxicating, the way he’d throw his arm around you without hesitation, the way he’d joke, laugh, pull you closer. He was never careful, never measured. He spilled over the edges of everything, uncontained and unapologetic. With him, you didn’t have to think. You just had to be.

You didn’t even need words with him. It was all about what was unsaid, the unspoken promise that he would never let you go, even when you knew it wasn’t true. You could never tell if he was genuine, but you didn’t care. Not then. You were caught up in the excitement, in the adventure, in the feeling that for once, you were someone’s everything.

But then there was the space between them—not a wall, but a quiet understanding. They never seemed to need words when you were around, like the three of you existed in your own gentle orbit. The air shifted when you were together, not with tension, but with the weight of unspoken loyalty and love. They didn’t always share the same space in the way they did with you, but there was no sense of rivalry—just two souls who loved you deeply and, in their own way, loved each other too. It was as if they were waiting, not for a chance to outdo the other, but for a moment when everything would finally make sense

You convinced yourself you were imagining it, that your growing feelings for both of them were nothing more than your own projections. You told yourself that the way Barty made you laugh, the way Regulus looked at you with those unreadable eyes, was nothing more than friendship. That you were just special to them, that you were just a fleeting moment in their lives.

But deep down, you knew that there was something more, something neither of them had ever said, but you felt it in the way they lingered near you, in the way they both seemed to pull you closer when the world was too loud.

You thought they might feel the same way about you, but you were terrified to say it. You were terrified because you didn’t know how to ask for something that wasn’t promised. You weren’t sure if you wanted the risk of it breaking you in the end, of putting yourself out there and realizing that they didn’t feel it too.

You blink, and the memory shatters like glass against concrete. You’re in your room now, draped in soft candlelight, Marlene flitting around with a glass of champagne while Lily curls your hair with slow, delicate precision.

"So, you’re finally going to do it, huh?" Marlene smirks over her glass, eyes glimmering with something like pride. "Confessing your undying love to those two troublemakers."

Lily’s eyes catch yours in the mirror, gentle and knowing. "It’s about time," she says quietly. "They’ve been waiting for you, you know."

Marlene laughs, her voice bright and sharp. "I mean, look at me and Dorcas. I was practically pulling my hair out thinking she didn’t want me back. Turns out, the idiot was waiting for me to make the first move." She pauses, then leans back against the vanity. "Sometimes you just have to take the leap."

Lily hums in agreement. "James was the same. I think he asked me out a hundred times before I finally caved." Her smile softens, and her fingers glide through your hair with gentle precision. "You’re stronger than you think," she whispers. "And those boys are fools if they don’t see it."

There’s a lull in conversation, just the sound of the champagne bubbling and the soft crackle of the candlewick.

Marlene is perched on your bed, swirling her glass, eyes a little distant. "Dorcas says hi, by the way," she adds casually, but her voice is softer. "She said you need to stop hiding away and come out more often. I think she misses you."

You laugh, a little hollow. "I miss her too," you say honestly, and Marlene smiles like she’s won something.

"And James?" you ask Lily, because it feels right.

Lily’s eyes brighten instantly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "He’s good. Insufferable as always," she teases, but there’s warmth in her voice, the kind of warmth that speaks of late-night whispers and stolen glances. "He’s been working on his quidditch”

"That’s brilliant," you say, meaning it.

There’s something grounding about Lily and James, like no matter what chaos erupts around you, they will always be just like this—stubborn and starry-eyed, orbiting each other with a kind of inevitability.

"And Sirius?" you ask, your voice a little quieter, more careful.

Lily’s gaze softens. "Off with Remus. I think he’s teaching him how to fly again," she murmurs, fondness dripping from every syllable. "They’re probably somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, making terrible decisions and pretending they’re not."

Your heart twinges with affection, the kind that feels a little too big for your chest. Sirius has always been a constant, a force of nature who blew through your life like a storm and settled just as fiercely. Your older brother in every way that mattered, his presence a weighty comfort you’ve never taken for granted.

You think of him sometimes—how he was the first to punch the boy who called you mudblood, the first to pick you up when you fell off your broom, the first to teach you how to throw a punch and laugh when you got it right. He’s always been yours, in that strange, familial way that’s stronger than blood.

Marlene glances up from her glass, eyebrows raised. "You look like you’re ready to face the firing squad," she snorts. "It’s just Barty and Reg. They’re gonna melt like chocolate the second you open your mouth."

You scoff. "That’s the most optimistic thing I’ve heard all day."

Lily smiles, her hands gentle as she pins back the last strand of your hair. "They adore you," she whispers. "Everyone sees it but you."

You catch her gaze in the mirror, throat tightening with something you can’t quite name. "I just want to tell them," you say quietly. "I just want them to know."

Marlene clinks her glass against yours. "Then do it," she says simply, and there’s a finality to her words that makes you sit up a little straighter. "No more waiting."

Outside, the stars are blinking awake, bright and untouchable. You close your eyes, take a breath, and prepare to tell them everything.

-

The party is already alive by the time you arrive, the air thick with warmth and the lazy haze of firewhiskey and enchanted lanterns. Before you can even step fully through the door, Sirius is upon you, arms thrown wide with a grin that could split the world open.

"Look who finally decided to show up! I was starting to think you’d ditched us for a quieter life!"

Remus follows close behind, hands stuffed in his pockets but his smile just as welcoming. "Sirius was about to send a search party," he adds dryly, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sirius throws an arm around your shoulders and steers you further in, practically bouncing with every step. "I even wrote a eulogy," he grins. "It was beautiful. Very moving. I might have shed a tear."

"He cried because he spilled whiskey on his trousers," Remus supplies helpfully. "Spent half an hour blaming Kreacher for cursing his bottle."

"That bastard is out to get me, I swear," Sirius mutters, eyes alight with that familiar recklessness. "One minute I’m minding my own business, and the next—sabotage. If I disappear one day, you know who did it."

"I’m sure Kreacher is plotting your untimely demise as we speak," you say, laughing despite the tightness in your chest. It’s easier with them, the fear and nerves diluted by their relentless antics, like pouring ice into boiling water, steam rising and vanishing before it can scald.

Sirius gasps, pressing a hand to his heart. "And here I was, planning to be your loyal protector all night. I guess I’ll just have to drink myself to death instead."

Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile softens at the edges. "I’ll make sure he only gets halfway there," he assures you, voice so smooth and steady it feels like an anchor.

You laugh, the sound shaky but real. But as Sirius drags you deeper into the room, the noise and light expanding around you like a pulse, you can’t help the way your eyes flicker around the space, searching.

"They’re here, you know," Remus murmurs as if reading your mind. His voice is low, careful. "Saw them near the back, with Rosier."

Your heart clenches, stomach flipping with something sharp and unsteady. You nod, trying to smooth out the expression on your face. Sirius, thankfully oblivious, is already waving at someone across the room.

"They’re probably waiting for you," Remus continues, voice gentle. "You look great tonight. They’d be idiots not to notice."

You smile, but it feels too tight, too sharp. "Here’s hoping," you say, but your eyes are still searching, scanning the crowd, waiting for a glimpse of silver eyes and wild laughter. It’s always like this—looking for them in every crowded room, like you’ve trained your heart to skip a beat at the mere shadow of them.

Sirius is already dragging you towards the bar, tossing back shots with the kind of abandon that only he can pull off, and Remus is smiling, shaking his head like he’s seen this scene a thousand times. But you—your mind is somewhere else entirely, lingering on the edge of a confession you’ve been holding too close to your chest for far too long.

The party hums around you, bright and shimmering, gilded with magic and blurred edges. You’re caught in the current of your own thoughts, wondering if tonight is the night everything changes—or if it all shatters instead, like glass catching moonlight just before it breaks.

The moment you step away from Sirius and Remus, your feet feel like they’ve turned to lead. There’s a heaviness settling into your chest, and with each step toward the door, you feel the familiar weight of nerves building in your stomach.

You can’t think of anything else but how you’re about to pour your heart out. You’re finally going to tell Regulus, finally going to confess to Barty—let them know everything you’ve kept buried so long.

But just as you reach the door, a loud scream splits the air, shrill and raw, cutting through the hum of conversation and laughter.

You freeze.

It’s not the kind of scream that’s full of fun. It’s something else—something urgent, something that grips your heart in an instant.

And then you hear it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps pounding towards the door, quick and sharp, like a drumbeat in your chest.

Before you can make sense of anything, the door swings open, and there they are—Regulus and Barty.

And, to your complete and utter shock, they’re holding hands.

The room quiets for a split second, every conversation, every laugh, suspended in time. All eyes land on them—on the two of them standing there, locked in a quiet moment between them, the subtle connection between their fingers telling a story no one else had known.

Barty, ever the dramatic force of nature, clears his throat loudly. "Alright, everyone! Get your champagne and your tissues ready because I’m about to make your night."

He grins like the world is his for the taking, and with a flourish of their interlaced hands, he practically shouts, "We’re together! Officially! Romantically! Disgustingly!"

There’s a beat of silence before the room explodes into chaos—laughter, cheers, a few gasps of shock. James nearly drops his drink, eyes wide with disbelief, while Lily nudges him in the ribs, grinning from ear to ear. Marlene and Dorcas are already whispering furiously, glancing between you and the pair at the door with knowing eyes.

Sirius’s mouth drops open for a full five seconds before he bursts out laughing, clapping loudly. "Bloody hell, it’s about time!" he calls out, raising his glass in their direction. "Knew you two were shagging since fifth year!"

Remus smacks him on the arm, muttering something about tact, but even he’s smiling, the kind of smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

And you—you can barely breathe. The world tilts, spins, rights itself in a new and cruel arrangement where the two people you love are standing there, fingers intertwined, looking like every secret wish you’ve ever had come to life... just not with you.

They make their way around the room, greeting everyone, laughter and congratulations spilling out in waves. James and Lily are practically glowing, Marlene’s already calling for drinks, Dorcas is smirking with that sharp-edged grin of hers, and Sirius has never looked prouder, arm slung around Remus as if the world has finally made sense.

And finally, finally, they turn to you.

Regulus’s eyes soften just a fraction, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "Hey," he says quietly.

"Hey," you reply, voice barely above a whisper. You can feel every eye on you, waiting for your reaction, but your mask is already in place, perfect and unyielding.

Barty grins wide, all sharp teeth and brilliance. "Well? Aren’t you going to congratulate us, treasure?"

You swallow the shards of your heart, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t tremble. "Congrats," you manage, the word brittle on your tongue. "I’m... I’m happy for you."

"Thank you" Regulus says softly, and it almost kills you how genuine he sounds.

You nod, eyes burning, and before anyone can say anything else, you turn on your heel and slip through the crowd. You don’t look back. You can’t—not when the world has just shifted beneath your feet and you’re barely holding the pieces of your heart together, sharp edges cutting into your palms as you clutch them tight and pretend you don’t feel a thing.

You don’t remember how you got outside, only that the air is sharper here, knifing its way into your lungs like it wants to carve you out from the inside. There are people around you, laughing, shouting, wrapped up in their own worlds, but they’re nothing more than ghosts in the corners of your vision.

You think of them—of Regulus and Barty, fingers entwined like it was always meant to be that way. You think of the way Regulus would touch your wrist when he spoke to you, the way his eyes would linger just a moment too long. You think of Barty’s wild grin, the way he would throw his arm around your shoulders and call you his favorite.

You think of all the nights spent tangled up in laughter and reckless joy, hearts open and bleeding in the dark, and you can’t stop the laugh that rips from your throat—wild and broken and nothing like joy.

You stumble toward the bar at the far end of the garden, pressing your hands to the wooden edge to steady yourself. The bartender doesn’t ask questions, just hands you a glass filled to the brim, and you throw it back like it’s salvation. It burns, sharp and unrelenting, and you welcome the pain because at least it’s real.

The world is softer after that, edges blurring further, voices melding together in a gentle hum. You don’t know how long you stand there, glass after glass, filling the hollow spaces with liquor and pretending it’s enough. It isn’t. It never is.

You don’t know how long it takes before Sirius and Remus find you, but it’s long enough for the world to tip sideways when they appear, Sirius’s hands steadying you before you can stumble back against the bar.

"There you are," Sirius says, voice soft and aching. His eyes search your face, and you see it there—the pity, the sadness. You laugh, a jagged sound that tastes like regret. "Come to join the party? It’s a real fucking riot."

Remus steps forward, brows drawn tight with concern. "Maybe it’s time to get you some water," he suggests gently, reaching out to touch your arm. You pull back, shaking your head.

"Water’s not gonna fix this," you slur, voice wobbling with the weight of it all. "You know what would fix this? If love wasn’t the biggest goddamn joke in the universe. If I didn’t just watch the two people I—" You stop, choke on the words like they might kill you. "If I didn’t just watch them… holding hands. Smiling. Like I never even mattered."

Sirius’s face crumples, just a little, and you almost hate him for it. Almost. He reaches for you again, hands warm and steady. "You do matter," he says fiercely. "You always matter."

You laugh again, sharp and hollow. "Not to them," you whisper, and it’s not a sob, but it’s close.

"I was so fucking stupid. I thought… I thought there was something there. I thought when he touched my hand, it meant something. I thought when Barty smiled at me like that, it was because he wanted—" The words are unraveling now, spilling out of you like a confession.

"I thought they loved me. Isn’t that just the funniest fucking thing?"

Remus’s hand is on your back, rubbing slow circles that don’t help, not really. "It’s not funny," he says softly. "It’s not funny at all."

Sirius’s jaw clenches, his eyes burning with something dark and fierce. "You’re not stupid," he says firmly. "They love you. I know they do."

You shake your head, swallowing back the sob clawing its way up your throat. "No," you say, voice cracking. "No, they love each other. And I—I’m just the idiot who thought I could fit somewhere between them."

The silence stretches out, thin and brittle, and then Sirius pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly. You shatter there, right there in his arms, with Remus’s hand still gentle on your back, and the world blurring away in the wake of your sobs.

And even as the tears fall, even as your heart splits open wide and ragged, you think of the way they looked at each other—how happy they were. And it hurts worse because you can’t even hate them for it.

The sobs subside eventually, leaving you hollowed out and fragile in their wake. Sirius holds you until your breathing evens out, until the trembling fades from your hands. Remus lingers close by, silent and watchful, his gaze soft with sympathy that only makes the ache burrow deeper into your chest.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, the skin tender and raw. "I think I should go," you whisper, the words thick and unsteady. Sirius pulls back, his hands still steady on your shoulders.

"You sure?" he asks, voice gentle, and you nod, already stepping away. The world is too sharp around the edges, the music too loud, the lights too bright. You need space, air—anything but this suffocating blur of firewhiskey and regret.

"I’ll be fine," you say, though the words barely sound like yours. "I just… I just need to go."

Sirius looks like he wants to argue, but Remus rests a hand on his arm, shaking his head. "Let her breathe," he murmurs, and Sirius’s mouth snaps shut. His eyes are still heavy with concern, but he nods, finally stepping back.

You stumble back into the party, the warmth and noise pressing in on you from all sides. It’s almost dizzying, and you weave through the crowd, head down, eyes blurry. You find Lily by the entrance, her red hair catching the light like a beacon. She turns the moment she sees you, concern knitting her brows together.

"Hey," she says softly, reaching out to steady you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. "Just tired," you murmur, and she doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Want me to walk you back?" she asks, and you shake your head, forcing a smile.

"I’m fine, Lily," you say, patting her arm gently. "Just need to sleep this off."

She hesitates, but before she can argue, a familiar voice cuts through the haze. "Leaving so soon?"

You freeze, every muscle locking up as you turn to see them—Regulus and Barty, side by side, framed in the doorway like something out of a fever dream. Barty’s grin is wide and wicked, Regulus’s gaze sharp and piercing. They step forward in tandem, fluid and graceful, and you swallow hard, fingers curling into fists.

"We’ll walk you," Barty says easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s already moving forward, slipping past Lily with a grin that’s all teeth. Regulus follows, hands tucked into his coat pockets, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

"You don’t have to," you manage to say, the words scraping against your throat. "I’m fine on my own."

Barty scoffs, throwing an arm around your shoulders like it’s the easiest thing in the world. "Nonsense," he laughs.

"Can’t have you wandering around alone at this hour. What kind of friends would we be if we let that happen?"

Friends.

The word scrapes against something raw, and you flinch before you can stop yourself. You wrench out of his grip, taking a step back. "I said I’m fine," you repeat, voice sharper this time.

Barty blinks, surprised, and Regulus’s eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.

"You’re clearly not," Regulus says quietly, his voice steady and calm. It’s the same voice he always uses when you’re upset—soothing, patient, like he’s trying to coax the truth out of you.

But you’re done spilling truths tonight. You shake your head, fists clenched at your sides. "I don’t want you walking me," you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I don’t want anything from you."

Barty’s grin falters, his gaze flickering to Regulus, but Regulus just watches you, eyes sharp and unyielding. "What’s going on?" he asks, voice edged with something you don’t want to name.

You shake your head, turning away before you can do something stupid like cry again. "Nothing," you whisper. "Nothing at all."

The night air bites at your cheeks as you step outside, the noise of the party muffled by the heavy oak doors that creak shut behind you. The silence is staggering, too loud in its emptiness, pressing in on your ears like a heartbeat gone wrong.

You barely make it to the courtyard before you hear footsteps behind you, hurried and unsteady.

"Wait!" Barty's voice cuts through the chill, sharp and breathless. You don't turn around. Your fists are clenched so tight your nails bite into your palms, but you don't care. The pain is a welcome distraction from the roaring in your ears.

"Please, amour" Regulus adds, softer, like he's afraid you might shatter if he speaks too loudly. You pause then, because it's him, and you can't quite bring yourself to keep walking. Not yet.

You spin around, the motion sharp and unkind. "What?" you snap, voice cracking at the edges. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough?"

They both falter, just for a moment. Barty glances at Regulus, eyes wide and searching, and Regulus's face is pale under the moonlight, shadows pooling beneath his eyes.

"We just wanted to make sure you got back alright," Regulus says quietly. His hands are still tucked into his coat pockets, but his shoulders are tense, braced for impact.

You laugh, the sound brittle and broken. "Oh, now you care? That's rich."

Barty steps forward, hands outstretched. "Of course we care," he says, and for once, his voice isn’t dripping with sarcasm or wrapped in bravado. It’s just him—bare and unguarded. "You’re our—"

"Don't," you cut in, voice rising with every word. "Don’t you dare. Save it. I don’t need your pity."

Regulus flinches, but his gaze doesn’t waver. "Soleil, please, let us just sit and talk" he says softly, like he’s stepping around shards of glass.

You stumble back a step, the world tipping dangerously. The alcohol is swimming in your veins, and it’s making everything too sharp, too bright. You swipe at your eyes, chest heaving. "You want to help?" you slur, voice cracking. "Then disappear. Both of you. Just…just go."

"We’re not leaving, tres" Barty says, his voice firm, unyielding. He takes another step forward, and you stagger back, nearly tripping over your own feet. The ground feels unsteady, like the earth itself is shifting beneath you.

"I can't—" You choke on the words, the tears coming fast and hot now. You stumble to the side of the street, knees hitting the pavement hard enough to sting. Your stomach lurches, and before you can stop it, you’re retching into the bushes, the world spinning wildly out of control.

Barty is there in an instant, holding your hair back, murmuring soft, frantic words you can’t understand. Regulus kneels beside you, his hand a steady weight on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you gasp for breath.

"I’m fine," you croak out, voice shredded and raw. You’re not—you’re so far from fine it’s laughable, but the words spill out anyway.

"No, you’re not," Regulus murmurs, voice achingly gentle. His eyes are wide, brimming with something like grief, and it only makes you cry harder. "Please, love, just talk to us"

You shove him off, the motion weak and clumsy. "You don’t get it!" you cry, voice cracking open like a wound. "You don’t get it, and you never will. I thought—" Your breath hitches, and you laugh, a jagged, broken sound. "I thought there was something between us!."

Regulus's eyes glimmer under the moonlight, and he doesn’t move back, even as you glare up at him. Barty's hand is still on your back, firm and grounding, and for once, he’s silent, just watching you with eyes that burn like fire.

"There is, gosh, there is" he whispers finally, voice splintered and soft. "I swear to you, just let us talk"

But you just shake your head, stumbling back to your feet. "No," you whisper, the word cracking on your tongue. "No. Ttop it, Regulus."

You stagger back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, eyes red-rimmed and aching. "I can’t do this," you say, voice hollow and breaking. "Not right now"

They exchange a glance, unspoken words passing between them, but you’re already stumbling away, the world blurring at the edges. Your legs give out before you make it five steps, and you sink to the ground, sobs wracking your body with a violence that steals your breath. It’s ugly and raw, the kind of crying that shatters something fragile in your chest.

Barty is beside you in an instant, arms coming around you, firm and grounding. Regulus is on your other side, his hand threading through your hair, murmuring soft, desperate words. But it only makes you sob harder, the noise broken and unrestrained.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," you gasp out, voice strangled. "I thought—I thought you—" You can’t finish. You don’t need to.

Barty’s grip tightens, his forehead pressed to the side of your head. "I’m so sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. Regulus's hand rubs gentle circles on your back, his eyes squeezed shut like it physically hurts him to watch you cry.

You don’t stop. You can’t. The sobs come faster, harder, until you’re gasping for breath between them, your body trembling from the force of it.

You cry until your throat is raw, until your eyes burn, until the stars above blur and fade. And still, they don’t let go.

Not for one second.

The sobs quiet, fading into broken breaths and the hollow ache that lingers like a bruise. Barty’s hands are steady on your back, Regulus’s fingertips brush the edge of your jaw, lingering for just a moment too long before they fall away. You pull back, slow and deliberate, slipping from their warmth like waking from a dream.

Neither of them stops you. Regulus’s hand drops first, and then Barty’s, both of them watching with shadows in their eyes—heavy and unspoken. You don’t look back. You can’t.

Your footsteps are soft against the pavement, the night stretching out in front of you, long and empty. Streetlights flicker above, casting fractured light over cracked concrete and the breath of distant city sounds. Your hands shake as you press them to your sides, curling into fists to keep them from trembling.

At the end of the street, he’s waiting. Sirius leans against the lamppost, arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette dangling forgotten between his fingers. His gaze softens the moment he sees you, and he straightens, tossing the cigarette to the curb and crushing it under his heel.

He doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms like he’s been waiting for you to fall apart.

You don’t hesitate. You collapse into him, his coat smelling like smoke and winter rain, familiar and grounding. His arms come around you, strong and unyielding, one hand cradling the back of your head like he used to do when you were small and scraped your knees.

He doesn’t speak, just lets you cry—silently, violently—into the worn leather of his coat. His hand rubs slow circles along your back, his chin resting atop your head. When the shaking subsides, you pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes red-rimmed and aching.

Sirius brushes a stray tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, his expression unbearably gentle. “You’re gonna be okay, you know,” he says, voice rough but steady. “Even when it doesn’t feel like it. Especially then.”

Your breath hitches, and he gives you that crooked smile, the one that’s always held more tenderness than it has any right to. “I’ve got you. Always.”

You nod, the motion shaky, and he pulls you back in, his embrace tightening just a little bit more. His voice drops to a murmur, low and almost to himself. “I promise you’ll be okay.”

You freeze in his arms, the words sinking into the marrow of your bones, hollow and aching. But his grip does not falter, if anything, it tightens, like he is holding you together by sheer force of will.

You press your face into his shoulder, eyes slipping shut, letting the words settle, jagged and unyielding.

It hits different when it is them, like clutching at something that was never real, love slipping through your fingers like smoke, a beautiful lie unraveling in your hands.

a/n: i hate this fic, it’s all over the place but i didn't wanna leave it in my drafts nor did i have the heart to delete it. if you read it, i’m sorry. if you like it, i’m even more sorry.

[skywalkerandmarvelfan]

Everything Will Be Fine (Platonic Yandere Darth Vader with Starkiller's Twin Sister Reader)

A/N: This is a small work I thought of, but didn't want to put on my AO3 account, so I thought of putting it here. I rarely see platonic yandere Vader content, so I made some, even if it's short.

Vader placed your body into a becta tank that was in his Fortress on Mustarfar. You weren't in good condition, far from it, but he would make sure you got well.

After he made sure your vitals were stable and fixed himself up from the fight with your brother, Vader would make sure Palpatine thought you were dead. It was essential that the Emperor thought you were and continued to think so. If he suspected you were alive, he would have you killed. The Rule of Two allowed only two Siths, and not only that but you might also be viewed as a weakness of Vader’s. Vader made sure you were in this condition and if he wanted you dead you would’ve been, and Palpatine would know this as well.

There were a few times Vader thought of killing you and one time he almost did. When he found you and your brother as children, he thought of only taking Starkiller and doing away with you, but there was a chance you were stronger within the force, so you were taken as well. When it was shown Starkiller was the stronger one Vader planned on killing you, but when he was about to you gave him a fearful look as if you knew something bad was going to happen. It normally wouldn’t sway him, but the look you gave resembled the one Padmé gave on Mustafar, and when you whispered a frightened ‘master’, Vader couldn’t continue with his plan, seeing Padmé in you. 

As you grew older you showed traits of Padmé and him when he was Anakin. Vader wished you just had traits of Padmé, but that wasn't his luck. You could be reckless and at times rebellious. However, Vader quickly learned that threatening your brother got you back in line. You had a strong relationship with Starkiller and he returned that bond. The two of you were a fierce duo when you went on missions together, but it could also hurt the goal of the mission if one of you got into a life-threatening position. Neither of you wanted to lose the other so the mission was practically on hold if either of you were in such a situation.

This was why it was critical to keep you sedated until Vader was repaired and could deal with you better. Once you knew your brother was dead it would undoubtedly cause you to rebel and seek revenge against Vader and the Emperor as soon as you could. If you got too wild the Emperor would discover you and would want to kill you himself to make sure you were dead. Vader couldn't have you dead, no matter how much he would try to deny it.

He would never admit this to anyone, but you had become like a daughter to him. When Vader began seeing you as his child he didn't know, maybe it was when he saw traits of Padmé and himself in you, maybe it was the time he was about to kill you, or the time you got seriously injured. It really didn’t matter when, all that mattered now was that he does, and he refused to lose another child.

Vader wouldn’t lose you, not to death, not to the newly formed Rebellion, not to anything. You would stay by his side whether you liked it or not, and if anything threatened to take you, Vader would destroy it. He would tear the galaxy apart if he had to. Palpatine was no exception to this either, Vader would find a way to kill Palpatine in order to protect you and keep you by him. 

You were his daughter, which meant it was Vader’s duty to protect you. He failed to protect his biological child, but he would right that wrong by not failing you.

“You will be fine youngling.” Vader said, more to himself than to you, though he hoped you heard him so you would know things were fine. That it didn’t matter if your twin was dead, because you had him, and even if he was going to punish you for betraying him in order to join Starkiller in trying to free the Rebel leaders and kill him and the Emperor, everything would be fine in the end.

Everything would be fine, Vader would make sure everything would be fine, no matter what he had to do to achieve it.

[scribeofred]

Writer tag game

I wasn’t tagged, but I saw the game via @coyote-nebula and want to play anyway!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

43 works

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

148,937

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Detroit: Become Human

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

Reflection

The 43rd Hour

Holding On

these dead roses bloom once more

5. do you respond to comments?

All of the comments with substance, yes!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Brushing aside works that contain canonical character death, probably a place where the water touches the sky, even though it’s an ambiguous ending.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don’t know if there’s one with an ending that’s more definitively happy than everything else, but bombshell has a very fun, flirty ending.

8. do you get hate on fics?

No outright hate, but I have received a handful of comments that basically amounted to “what you wrote in this story isn’t to my tastes and I'm going to tell you why you should've written what I wanted to read,” which. Y’know. Dldr 🙃

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, though I’ve never publicly posted anything more explicit than a fade-to-black. Mostly I’ve written collaborative scenes with friends, either full-blown role-play style or more spur-of-the-moment snapshots than highly structured, fully fleshed out scenes. If I’m writing by myself, I tend to lean harder toward sensual and less toward outright E-rated PWP.

10. do you write crossovers?

Not in the strictest sense, although I’ve thrown ideas around with friends, absolutely. I’m more inclined to full-on AUs (e.g., the DBH characters in the Star Wars universe but not interacting with all of the canon SW characters). I tend to lose interest in projects too quickly to sustain crossovers or AUs of significant size.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Absolutely, it's actually my preferred way to write.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Starkiller/Juno was a formative one for me.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

The Skyrim rewrite. I have a solid 25,000-plus words hanging around, but they barely scratch the surface of the canon story, and I don’t play the game anymore, so. It languishes. I occasionally reread the Battle of Whiterun scene I wrote, though, because I do love it v much.

16. What are your writing strengths?

A tightly bound trinity of subtext, showing instead of telling, and descriptions. I always joke I never write text, I only write subtext. Learning how to tell sometimes instead of showing everything has been. a struggle. When I know the characters really well and can hear them clearly, my dialogue’s also excellent.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Follow-through’s the biggest one. I tend to get bored and thus uninspired fairly easily, so I usually need a strict externally imposed deadline or someone (like a coauthor) who’s otherwise waiting on my finishing a given piece for me to push through to the end. Plotting the final quarter of stories tends to give me a lot of trouble if I don’t come up with the ending right away. If I don’t know where I’m aiming, I wander aimlessly before almost inevitably moving on to another project. This is why most of my solo projects are relatively small.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Nuclear launch codes. No, seriously, it can work so, so, SO well, in VERY limited, bite-size pieces. Unless the work is intended for readers who are familiar with the languages being used, I prefer to see alternate languages used as flavor text only.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Star Wars? Self-insert territory ahoy 😂

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Am I allowed to say a WIP that most people haven’t seen? No? Probably thermal equilibria, chapter two specifically. The dialogue tickles me every time I reread it.

I tag @druidx, @wamblings, @ltcolonelcarter, @audreycritter, and anyone else who wants to play!

[droidrights]

Stay The Black- Chapter Seventeen: The Devil's Garden Part Two

"The others shield their eyes but Cal stares straight at you, eyes wide. He rises slowly to his feet and no one notices because thank the Living Force, the lift is moving, though it chugs and stalls slowly at first. Cal steps off the side, drawn to you like an insect.

You’ve become a force of nature, a great equalizer that reduces everything around you to ash. A force that is quickly spreading from one side of the massive cavern to the other, toward the elevator shaft where your friends and allies are making their escape.

Looking up at you with solemn wonder, Cal hears his own voice in his head, echoed from the past. “I want to see the fire inside you grow and consume everything. Absolutely everything. I want to get burned up in it.”

Maybe you thought he was joking. "

Image by Hertzdo

Tag List: @gabile1888 @futuredisneyartist @hibernating4ever @i-am-mystic @elwethe @howlingmadlady @cafedeagua @jokidden @tinyplantinvasion @trtc-745600 @teddiebuns @grumpy-red @tytoowl @zestymoo @moobrooboo

[starkiller-queen]

Masterlist

Tis’ small but mighty! I will continue to update as I write more. You can also find my works on AO3. Happy reading!

Little!Stephen

Time Heals All Wounds

in which Nic is a Good Doctor

It Takes a Village

Levi

Doctor Strange x Christine Palmer

I Don’t Want You to Go

Doctor Strange x Reader

Safe and Sound

Cold Cold Man

Cry to Me

Forgiveness (can you imagine?)

Doctor Strange x Peter Parker

Baby Mine (same title, different fic)

columbia

Poe Dameron x Reader

Baby Mine (same title, different fic)

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

18/50 Kisses: As Encouragement

Starkiller x reader

Word Count: 250

“It’s going to crash into us if you don’t do something about it!” someone was shouting through the comlink you could feel in your ear.

You weren’t really sure what was going on, to be honest. Earlier, you’d taken a pretty bad knock to the head, and everything had been a blur ever since. You weren’t even really sure where you were . . . or why you were there for that matter. The only things you were really sure of were that the man you loved was currently trying to keep you awake and that the world around you seemed to be completely falling apart. Even in your hazy state, you could see the fear and guilt etched across Starkiller’s face.

“Don’ worry ‘bout me,” you slurred. “You go’ this.”

Your weak pep-talk seemed to force a chuckle out of him. “It’s too big, sweetheart. I can’t move something like that.”

“It’s not the size that is important!” the voice was yelling again. “It’s one object, so move it!”

“Go on,” you managed to say a little more clearly. “Save the day, Mister.”

Before your eyes, his steeled themselves. If you were more coherent, you would be able to recognize that that was the moment he realized that if he didn’t pull this off, you would both die. You watched his jaw clench and his nostrils flare as he inhaled sharply. He lunged down to press a desperate kiss to your lips before turning to face the Destroyer.

It’s now or never.

[morgana-ren]

Unnecessary Trouble IX

Summary: Overworked and underpaid, you're the lead administrative assistant working under General Hux. Between overbearing bosses, lack of sleep, and insufferable colleagues, you're not entirely opposed to resistance attack if only to catch a break. Well, lucky you, you've been chosen to work directly with the temperamental Commander Kylo Ren while he temporarily oversees operations on StarKiller Base. His tantrums and poor disposition aren't exactly a secret, and you know it's only a matter of time before your big mouth gets you in trouble.

Pairing: Kylo Ren & Reader

Rating: Explicit/NSFW (Please see AO3 mirror for all warnings and tags)

***

Part of the human experience is becoming acutely accustomed to emotion. Happiness, sadness, anger, confusion. A parade of onslaughts that characterized your condition as human.

Years and years of growing accustomed to various feelings ranging from childishness to unreasonable hormones to stress. Growing, learning, and eventually coming to understand and then manage these things were vital to becoming a happy, successful adult.

However, nothing in the nine hells or beyond could have prepared you for the blind fury you felt in that moment. You thought ‘seeing red’ was just a saying.

It wasn’t.

You thought blind rage was a saying as well.

It also wasn’t.

You didn’t exactly remember leaving Hux’s office. You did, however, remember the bright shade of red his cheeks turned as you began incoherently mumbling, tearing at your hair, and hissing out expletives, several of which you weren’t entirely sure Hux even knew existed before your arrival.

He hadn’t reprimanded you however, and neither did he stop you. In fact, he seemed to relax his stance, allowing you to continue on your hateful tirade. Either way, you weren’t concerned with his body language, or even him at all, for that matter. You asked for permission to leave, and he immediately granted it, allowing you to clomp out of his office in a whirlwind of vitriolic anger.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking- believable. You stormed down the halls, only one destination in mind. One person, more accurately. You were going to find Ren, and you were going to tear his fucking head off. Supreme Leader’s bitch or no, he had meddled in your life one too many times.

You approached the main desk of command center B, heels clicking angrily as you stomped across the tile. That enough garnered the attention of the secretary, who peered up from his datapad pensively only to be met with your wrought iron fury. His brow creased, preparing himself for whatever hell you brought with your presence.

“I need to see Commander Ren. I need his coordinates.” You spoke, barely holding back your contempt. He moved to give a programmed response, but you spoke again, leaving no room for argument. “Now.”

He grimaced, typing in a few things on his datapad before turning back to you. “Commander Ren is busy presently. I can send a message if you have the clearance.”

You leaned onto the desk, pushing your face close to his. “You tell Commander Ren that his personal secretary wants a word. Immediately.”

The man’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Commander Ren doesn’t have a personal secretary.”

“He does now.” You hissed, lip twitching.

***

You can read the rest HERE if you like what you read

Part I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, 

[queandrue]

The Code of Ethics: Article 2

A/N: It’s finally here! This is the second update for my Kylo reader insert....a day late so we’re off to a great start guys! Anyway, as I said I will be positing updates every two to three weeks so as an apology for the late update the next one will be out on May 21st (and it includes Kylo sooooooo). This is only a teaser of the update since its a bit too long for me to upload on tumblr, please check out the whole thing here on my ao3. Thanks for reading!

-Que

Word Count: 1103

Warnings: Reader is a badass, some weird tension with stormtroopers, Hux being Hux

“Of course. If you’ll follow me please,” she beckoned you forward and the two stormtroopers made to take your suitcases.

“Oh, I can get them, thank you.” you said, and lifted them easily up the ramp. Both of the troopers stood behind you, looking a little stunned. It must have made quite a scene. The bags were heavy but your pride would not allow you to put them down until you were safely on board the craft.

There was a click from your heels as you walked across the black, metal floor. Approaching the passengers seating, you lifted your bags up onto the cargo racks. The Stormtroopers stood behind you a bit awkwardly while you shut the compartment and made your way up to the cockpit where Lieutenant Sato had gone.

She was sitting in the copilot’s seat, another Stormtrooper next to her, preparing the ship for take off.

“Ah, Doctor,” she stood upon hearing you enter the room, “feel free to make yourself comfortable. We’ll be getting up in the air as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” you said, “Do you know how long it will be before we arrive?”

She led you back into the passenger area and punched some numbers onto a keypad in the wall. A door opened in the paneling next to her.

“Oh we’ll be in hyperspace for about a day and we’ll most likely arrive on Base late tomorrow afternoon.” she said before entering through the doors, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to before we land.”

Haines and Murren, who had been loitering by the entrance to the ship, followed Lieutenant Sato. The doors slid shut and sealed, leaving you alone with the two ‘troopers.

You walked over and sat underneath the compartments holding your luggage. The leather messenger bag was still hanging across your shoulder, so you lifted it over your head to lay it on your lap. The ‘troopers marched over to stand on either side of the door to the cockpit. You studied them as they held themselves at attention.

The white, plastoid armor glinted in the fluorescent lighting. Every inch of their skin was covered, and the helmets they wore made it impossible to tell where they were looking. It was fascinating how uniform they looked, evening standing at the same height. You wished you could see their faces, or at least read their postures, but they might as well have been statues.

You leaned back, crossing your legs clad in fitted slacks, and concentrated on the atmosphere of the room. It was calm for the most part, but if you focused closely enough on the ‘troopers you could sense a mild annoyance and intrusive anxiety growing in the space around them. The one closest to you shivered slightly and inclined their helmeted head in your direction. You offered a smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe Lieutenant Sato introduced us.” you said politely and offered your name.

The ‘trooper snapped to attention, armored hand cemented in a salute, “LX-4955, ma’am.”

The distorted voice was distinctly male, a gruffness betrayed despite the modulator. He struck you as being older, maybe in his late forties. He cleared his throat and the trooper next to him stumbled a bit as he quickly came to attention himself.

“LX- 5781, ma’am.”  the second trooper called out. His voice was higher pitched but still a man’s voice. He was most likely around your age or slightly younger, and almost certainly the source of the nervous energy permeating the quiet room.

“It’s nice to meet both of you,” they remained stock still in their salutes,” really though, there’s no need for any formalities.”

“My apologies ma’am, just following protocol.” the older trooper, LX-4955, said.

“Well, we’re going to be working together for quite awhile,” you got up and sauntered over to them, “It might get a bit awkward if you’re always saluting me.”

They slowly fell back into a more relaxed position and LX-5781 took a step closer to you.

“What do you mean, ma’am?” he asked, his voice boyish and curious. LX-4955 gave him what felt like a reproachful glare.

“Well, maybe not you two specifically, but with all the Stormtroopers,” you held your hand out for him to shake, “I’m your new psychologist.”

You smiled as warmly as possible as he stared down at your hand. He looked back up at you for a few seconds and seemed to decide you were actually serious.

The plastoid that covered his hand was icey when he grasped yours. His shake was firm so you squeezed back. You felt the air around him shift to something indicative of a smile.

The atmosphere was no longer nervous but a frustrated aura still emanated from LX-4955. You turned to him next and offered your hand once again. He turned to face you and took your hand. You could feel the strength in his grip all the way up your arm, but your face remained polite and unfazed. He inclined his head in its helmet and the annoyance surrounding him faded just a bit.

“Are you two required to stand guard here?” you asked.

LX-5781 glanced quickly at his partner before speaking, “Technically, but that’s just protocol, we aren’t guarding anything.” he said. His posture had changed drastically, shoulders slumping down at a more natural level, and he was no longer uniform in height with LX-4955.

You turned and began to walk back to your seat, “Well, in that case, why don’t you come join me. I have a few questions and I’d appreciate the company.”

LX-5781 followed eagerly behind you and LX-4955 eventually left his post to join, taking a seat only after a bit of prompting. The two men sat in the row opposite you. LX-5781 slouched forward, bouncing a little in the seat next to his partner who leaned his elbows down on his knees, resting his head on his hands.

Now that you had them talking, it was slightly easier to gauge their thoughts, but the helmets still kept most things hidden.

“What kind of questions did you have, ma’am?” LX-5781 asked. His voice was expressive, so much so you could easily envision the wide smile stretching across his face. You supposed he wouldn’t be very hard to read with voice that practically shouted curiosity.

“Mostly about you, or the Stormtroopers in general, I suppose.” you said, “How about we start with those protocols you mentioned, what exactly do they entail?”

“That’s going to take quite a while, ma’am” he answered warily.

“Well, we’ve got quite a bit of time to kill, don’t we?”

[where-dreamers-go]

Upcoming Fics:

(Not in order probably...sorry brain.)

Starkiller imagine where he’s an ex-inquisitor (It’s an insert reader now, sorry @ivorydragoness44. I promise that I’ll find a stopping point eventually.)

Eragon x Reader request that I’m calling “Freeze” in my notebook.

Eragon reaction request with a handstand In my drafts. I was working on it a bit last night.)

[crescenthistory]

hiiii, i love ur writing sm especially barty

i wanted to request the prompt "when did you realise you love me/her/him?" and barty basically feels insecure something like that so he wants reassurance from reader

thank youu

thank you for being patient with this one babe, it's one of my oldest requests:,) i have hijacked it into poly!bartylus but the main focus is still on comforting barty my babyboy

Prompt: B.13 "When did you realise you love me/her/him?"

Words: 2k

Warnings: fem!reader, not proofread, established poly relationship, heavy allusion to the terrible crimes of barty crouch sr (also known as implied abuse), freeze mode, mental health struggles, hurt/comfort, reg and reader teaming up, flirting and bickering in french and romanian

Note: this is very much cradling-y and soft. i love them, your honour.

It was always either or with Barty.

It was either the wicked grins, the booming laughter, larger than life presence with a silver tongue and tactile hands – or the impassive face, stoic demeanor, quiet voice. Either the big swings or the straight spine. Mad or measured.

It was absolutely lovely to be with him on his 'either' days, but it was the 'or' days that truly solidified your love for him. Making him understand as much was part of the challenge, but never straying from one was part of what brought you together.

It didn’t hurt that you now had backup.

“Did you hear what she said, amour?” Regulus murmured into Barty’s hair. 

The three of you were huddled up in the corner of the common room sofa where your extended friend group had decided to spend their evening. Throughout the day, Barty had been growing quieter, mask around his features tightening in a way you always envisioned was physically painful. 

He sat by the armrest of the sofa with you half in his lap while Regulus was perched on that very armrest. Originally the latter boy had been immersed in his book, planning on ignoring the lively chatter and disappearing into his own world – his version of unwinding. You had been ignoring the chatter as well, except it was in favour of coaxing Barty – your Barty, the one you knew was being hidden away – out of his shell. When you realised it was particularly hardened tonight, you lightly knocked into Regulus’ knee with your ankle from where it was perched across Barty’s lap.

Luckily one glance with the boy was enough to make him catch your drift; a practiced dance you more than happily fell into.

“Hm?” Barty’s voice was distant, absentminded.

You continued stroking patterns over his heart, your finger separated from his skin only by the thin material of his shirt. Repeating movements, grounding movements. “I asked if you wanted to head back to your dorm?”

He didn’t meet your eyes, training them on the fireplace instead. “Not tired.”

“Mhm, me neither darling. Just want to be with you alone.” 

He tensed almost imperceivable beneath your hands. “Why?” he asked in a careful, measured voice.

“Miss you,” you whispered, pressing a firm but gentle kiss to his cheek. “Want to be with you. Is that okay?”

By now you knew that when Barty was disappearing into the rabbit hole that was his mind, short, affirming sentences were the way to go. Eliminate any possibility of worry before it could arise, all while giving him space to pull away should he feel too spooked.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

He made no move to get up, but that was alright by you. After carefully detangling your limbs, you reached out your hand for Barty to take. Relief washed over you when he did, immediately letting your thumb stroke over the back of his hand.

Regulus bid the others goodnight while you and Barty went ahead. You knew he would be quietly communicating to Evan that you three would need a moment alone and that you would most certainly be spending the night.

When Barty was in a crumbling state, he reverted to automatic movements, and thus his descending the stairs went quickly. You almost had to run to keep up with his long legs, but while you other days would have jokingly chastised him for it, maybe even send a stinging hex his way, you only made your best efforts to keep up with him.

Once, you could not have imagined how soft you would become around him. Perhaps undeservedly, you had not considered yourself capable of complete love, always suspecting there must be some inherent selfishness in you that would shine through and ruin whatever good you tried to claw at. Barty had been the first to prove that wrong in you; when he struggled, it was like a calm softness washed over you and there were no hesitations, no ego, just him. 

You had not had the time to close the door to the boys’ dorm before Regulus slipped through it with his own soft smile that seemed to tell the exact same story as yours.

Hand still in Barty’s, you led him to Regulus’ bed, knowing he usually felt more comfortable there. Sliding in, you made yourself comfortable and formed the perfect Barty-sized spot beside you, but not tugging him in. His autonomy was the most important in these moments.

“Do you want to lay down, B?” you asked gently.

He looked between you and Regulus, and already you could see more of himself in his eyes, though they were clouded with an anxiety no one but you two could recognise. “Don’t you want to lay down, Reg?”

“I do. After you, though.”

“It’ll be more comfortable without me. I can head to mine.” His voice was void of emotion, but his eyes betrayed him. 

Regulus met him head on. “I would not be comfortable knowing you were two metres away and not cuddling with us, love.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Why?”

You sighed, but did not let your reassuring smile drop. “If you want to lay down my love, please do. I want you here.”

Barty shifted his gaze to yours and you could visibly see his resolve crumble. He shucked off his uncomfortable trousers and slid under the covers beside you, tense body all hard edges against your own. Almost gingerly, he placed his head beside yours and you reached up to cradle it – he immediately leaned into your touch.

Regulus easily laid down beside Barty, the three of you having the method of how to comfortably fit on the dorm beds down to a T. “Mind if I hold you, Barty?”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered.

“Do you mind if I do?” Regulus’ voice was dripping in affectionate patience.

You could barely hear Barty’s no, but you both did. Regulus let his arms slide around Barty’s middle, shifting him so he laid more sideways and could be pulled closer to Regulus’ chest. In turn you nuzzled further into his front, cocooning him between you where you knew without a doubt that he would be safe and loved. All you wanted for him

“Do you still wonder why?” you asked after a minute of silence and settling into each other.

Barty actually met your eyes, though there was hesitance there. “What do you mean?”

“When Regulus said he loves you, you asked why. Now that we’re comfortable, do you still wonder?” 

Barty nodded, almost imperceivably. You tilted your head upwards to press a soft kiss to his chin as it moved.

“Then let me first ask you this,” you said with practiced ease. This strategic layering of love and affection was your favourite way to ease him back into himself, to replace the harsh voices in his head with softer ones – preferably yours and Regulus’. “When did you realise you love Regulus?”

To your glee, the corners of Barty’s lips quivered into a small smile. “First year. He tried to help me change the sheets on my bed and was blabbering on in true Regulus fashion. It should have been annoying, but he was so cute.”

You snuck another kiss to his chin. “And me?”

The smile continued to grow, though his voice remained low. “After about a month of knowing me, you claimed you knew me. I checked you on it and turned out you actually did. You listened. I didn’t think you would.”

“You didn’t have to think at all about that. It just came to you,” you observed with a mirroring smile. Regulus hooked his chin over Barty’s shoulder to watch you deconstruct it for him, placing a firm hand over Barty’s heart to help ground him as you spoke. “It’s no different for us. There is no need to think or consider or wonder; we just do. We just love you.”

Barty’s face gave nothing away just yet, but he was softening beneath your touch, tension seeping away and into the mattress with each spoken word. “I love you, Barty, because you’re Barty. On your loud days and your quiet days, in your confidence and in your insecurity.” You began tracing his face with your index finger carefully, taking his lack of flinching as a positive sign. “There is no reason for it and there are a hundred. You contain multitudes and I love each and every one.”

“And,” Regulus added in a conspiring whisper. “You happen to not look half-bad.”

At last, a small laugh escaped Barty, though it sounded painfully choked. You nuzzled into the underside of his jaw with a sigh. “I realised I love you Barty when you had just made some awful move at me – I think you asked if I got a permission slip from Dumbledore to ‘burn the school down with my hotness’. And despite it being cheesy and silly, I liked it. I laughed. Because it was you.”

“‘S not awful,” Barty murmured then, looking at you with an incoming cheeky glint in his eye. “I was just speaking the truth.”

“And see, even now when I am being so sweet, you are silly, and yet I have no complaints.”

“Because you love me?” Barty asked carefully.

“So much.”

His eyes flickered over your face, settling for a moment on your smiling lips. You took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss him firmly – grounding him with your lips, pouring your love into him through the slow, careful movement.

You leaned your forehead against his as you pulled away and felt your heart settle when he returned the touch in full, weight lax at last. Regulus’ curls teased your nose as he kissed carefully along the back of Barty’s neck.

“Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, mon chéri, tu dois le savoir.” Regulus whispered against Barty’s skin, and you saw how the latter melted into him at the words despite you having no idea what they meant – apart from the first ones. You had both heard enough je t'aime’s to sustain you for a lifetime, yet you always wanted more.

“No fair pulling out your French to make me feel loved, it’s literally a romantic language,” Barty complained half-heartedly, fooling nobody.

“What’s romantic is that you learned French for me,” Regulus mumbled against him with a knowing grin. “Another reason to love you.”

Barty scoffed. “I didn’t learn French for you, I learned it because of you. Couldn’t have you knowing a language I don’t.”

“Of course, that would just be abhorrent,” you teased, to which Barty just hummed in agreement, as if that was plain obvious.

“Multumesc, iubirile mele,” Barty whispered then.

“Had to one-up Reggie on the use of foreign languages in bed?” You lifted your eyebrow at him, but stroked along his cheekbone carefully in case it was too soon to joke.

“It’s not difficult, the sod only knows two.” Clearly not too soon to dish out jokes at least.

“Hey!” Regulus stage-whispered in faux offense, lightly nipping at the side of Barty’s neck. The squeal and subsequent giggle sealed the deal of cracking open his shell. “Here I am trying to take care of you, and what do I get for it.”

“Endless love and adoration.” Barty tipped his head back to kiss Regulus lightly on the lips, the latter humming against him. You snuck another one for yourself, feeling warmth spread to your fingertips.

“I said thank you,” Barty said then. “In romanian.”

“There is nothing to thank us for, B.” You kissed along his cheek, unable to hold back any of it now that you were sure he was conscious enough in his body to be okay with you touching him like this. Though he often reminds you he is always okay with that.

“Oh, Dragă, while I hate to tell a beautiful girl that she’s wrong; you’re absolutely wrong about that.” This time he chased your lips for a searing kiss. “There are endless things to thank you for.”

“Settle for another kiss?”

“Gladly.”

[userpoe]

hello hello!!! I was just thinking about one of your previous responses where you were talking about fic writers that can really capture Poe. wanna give us some recs? -😈

Sure thing, Nonster! Fair warning that I am a creature of habit when it comes to reading, and fanfic is honestly no different, so there’s not as many fic recs here as one might expect from me! There’s a lot of found family ones here:

@exlibrisastra has a ton of beautiful Poe and Leia fic that I really recommend, like “dancing around the point of it”, “i’ll be right here” and “dared to call you.”

@misterrimpossible also has a ton of lovely Poe fic, which I highly recommend if you’re trash for damerey like me, my personal favorites are “all the blood that i would bleed” which is a jedistormpilot fic set immediately after the HugTM in TROS, and also “even if you are the last you are not alone” which is a damerey fic set after TLJ and is so soft that I cry.

Two other of my favorites actually have the same title: we got “squad goals” by Elenothar, which is all about Poe and Black Squadron (+ Leia) with a smattering of Jedistormpilot at the end which I very much appreciate as they’re my new OT3. It really focuses on Poe’s protective streak which is my FUCKING jam I love this man. Then the other “squad goals” is by igrockspock, and is set post-TLJ. There’s a stronger focus on the whole Resistance squad, but Poe really comes to life in this fic and the writing is really vibrant and humorous. 

[kicks dirt] I feel super awkward adding this, but I’ve actually got some Poe fics on my ao3 as well. Most of them are found family-focused, but the ones I’m really proud of are “If Night Falls In Your Heart (I'd Light The Fire)” which is a missing moment between Poe and Leia before he leaves for Starkiller based on some conversations I had with a friend when we watched TFA together; “Tell Me Where It Hurts” is another missing moment from TFA, this time right before Takodana. It’s a really self-indulgent fic born out of my concern about all the injuries Poe sustained at the beginning of the film, featuring my favorite resistance medic Major Kalonia (I had to make a new relationship tag for this fic that’s how niche it is). And finally, my Damerey fic “Where All The Stars Align” where these stubborn kids realize Post-TROS that they *gasp* like each other (and their friends definitely don’t have a bet going on about it either, no sir). 

But wait! There’s more! If you’re into reader-insert fic, there’s honestly too many talented folks to count but I’m always re-reading fics from these guys (including some of my favorite fics of theirs here, but honestly they’re all too damn good): @starryeyedstories (Across the Hall is my fave, it’s a modern au and *sighs* hits me in my contemporary romance-loving heart in all the best ways), when @commandersousa isn’t killing me with Poe and Fitz parallels, she’s killing me with her fics (like her most recent one, “you never met a monster you couldn’t love” which I’m still reeling from); @brothersdrxke‘s Meteor Showers series always has me either crying over Poe and Hawke or Hawke and the Black Squadron so you know. And Hawke is the coffee-obsessed reader after my own heart. Then we got @missreyskywalker‘s fantastic “Don’t Be Afraid” which takes place over the course of the trilogy (and includes Resistance Reborn) and I definitely didn’t stay up all night binge reading it when I found it, no sir [clears throat].

This is by far not a definitive list (like I said, I am a creature of habit so I don’t really go looking for new fic as often I could) but these are the ones that bring me a lot of seratonin!

[star-killer-md]

Get to Know the Writer!

Thank you for tagging me @contesa-lui-alucard! <33

Name: Haley

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Libra

Height: 5′6″

Sexuality: I’m pansexual 

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Favorite Animal: Probably cats, but I enjoy pretty much every animal

Average Hours of Sleep: 7 1/2hours

Current Time: 8:30 pm

Blankets You Sleep With: My room is hotter than the fires of hell in the summer, so currently I sleep with just a top sheet and a very light blanket. 

Dogs or Cats: Cats

Dream Job: Something in editing or publishing. Editing is my jam y’all, if you ever want a beta, I am so down. 

When I Made My Blog: This is just a side blog and I officially started it about two months ago. My main blog I’ve had for about 5 years now is @the-rain-pours-down, so if you keep getting likes from that its meeeee. 

Followers: 57

Why I Made A Tumblr: I made this blog to share all my thirsty reader insert fanfiction 

Reason For URL: So initially this was a rp blog for one of my first star wars OCs. She was a psychologist on Starkiller and also the base for my first ever Kylo reader insert too. So her character name was Dr. Bishop hence my dr.b tags, and I just revamped it into a writing blog and never changed the url. 

People I’d Like To Get To Know: @thewilddingleberries and @lovingthedarkside

[amadwomanrambles]

Relationships in the Workplace - One

A/N:  Surprise! I found a copy of my SW fanfic I wrote on Google Doc YEARS ago when TFA came out. I only typed up the first chapter and part of the second chapter, so if I cannot find where I wrote the rest then I’m gonna have to just BS the rest but hey, that’s fine! I had first wrote it for my OC Admiral Viera Tarkin but I changed it so it could be a reader insert instead. Enjoy this crazily steamy Kylo Ren x Reader x General Hux fic!

Being an officer in the First Order means that you would interact with many other officers as well as your superiors. In this case, you are an Admiral, one of the highest ranks in the First Order; you are revered, feared, and maybe even loved. You come from a long line of officers that made their legacy in the First Order and the Empire, assisting with the creations of some of their most terrifying weapons; the Death Star. You were the one that assisted with the creation of Starkiller Base, and founded the Special Ops Squadron. So you knew the legacy you had to live up to and surpassed it moreso.

And that was what brought their interest. 

Kylo Ren. Leader of the Knights of Ren. Commander in the First Order. Formerly Ben Solo. 

He sought for you once he heard your name. He knew your family’s history; wanted to get to know you better. And he did, knowing your deepest and darkest desires and allowing you to succumb to them. It did not take long before you two became lovers. 

And then there was General Armitage Hux. 

You’ve known one another since you were children. Nigh inseparable were you two, going to the Imperial Academy whilst growing up. And your affection to one another never wavered throughout the years, creating an extremely strong relationship. Hux knew your more vulnerable side; seeing your ups and downs and recognized the true you behind the facade. That was what made him different from Kylo. 

Now how could you choose between those two? Let them fight it out? Or let them deal with it?

That’s what made it oh so difficult. 

But they loved you still, and in their own way it made you whole.

Maybe that made you selfish, but were any one of them complaining? Sure, it would make a competition between the two stubborn officers, but it made their competition for your affection all the more interesting. 

~*~~*~

The silk sheets draped across you as you lay on your stomach on your bed. The slightest movement would wake your lover, so you limit your movements to your soft breathing. You open your eyes and all you could see were shapes, and a blur of ginger hair could be seen. A smile forms, finally able to recall the events of the night before. 

I need you … 

He was in your head again. Begging. It’s not normal for Kylo Ren to beg. But this was different. He was jealous. Kylo never liked it when you spent the night with Hux, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He had to learn to be patient, and work his frustration through other channels. At least all members in the party were able to work with the current relationship with “sharing” you.

You know I can’t move right now… 

Bullshit. I would take you from that bed right now. 

And why aren't you? 

…

A pause. He was probably going to her chambers right now. But then… that would cause a commotion. And boy, did Kylo like to make a commotion when he was angry.

You hear the door to your chambers open and it causes you to quickly get out of bed and get your robe on. Hux started to stir since you left his embrace, “What the bloody hell is going on?" he grumbled. 

And there, in all his anger, was Kylo. Shirtless, sweaty; a turn on, really. You couldn't help but nibble on your lower lip as you stare at him. 

“Ahh, so it is you then,” Hux groaned, sitting up on the bed and adjusting the covers. 

“Obviously,” Kylo sneered, before bringing a hand out to face you, “Let's go, (y/n). Hux’s time with you is up. It's my turn,”

He made it sound like some goddamn playtime. You have your free will in this too, even though the two men in front of you were always head to head with each other with everything; even moreso about you. 

You know you can't deny the Knight of Ren his urges, but at the same time don't want to kick out the General like some ugly one-night-stand. You have to make your next decision carefully. 

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

10/50 Kisses: Desperately

Starkiller x reader

Word Count: 598

“You know you don’t have to do this,” you stated, leaning against the hull of the ship.

Juno was in the cockpit piloting, but in the back of your mind you were aware that she was using the monitors there to watch the little daytime drama that was unfolding in the back of the ship. Nosey woman as she was, it was nearly impossible to find a pilot as good with the same moral flexibility. It didn’t hurt that she was handy in a fight, too.

Ever since you started on this hellish little ride with the man known as Starkiller in his quest to (pretend) to be a Jedi, you couldn’t help the way you’d fallen for him. Once upon a time, you too had been trained in the Jedi ways; you’d been one of the few younglings to escape the slaughter Vader had committed in the Council Room. Helping Kota adjust to the blindness had been a stepping-stone to meeting the object of your affections, and being more Force-sensitive than most, you’d been able to sense the taint around him from the beginning. Seeing him use Dark Side powers was just confirmation of that fact. You liked to think that your acceptance of his darker tendencies had made him more fond of you, too.

“He betrayed me,” Starkiller was saying while you pondered your relationship, or lack thereof. “The Emperor needs to be stopped, and Vader needs to pay.”

“Or we can just leave them to kill themselves,” you shrugged. “Neither of us is exactly a white knight. We could just . . . disappear, and no one would ever know.” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at the look in his blue eyes when he turned to actually face you, and you actually froze when his hand came up to rest on your cheek.

“You have no idea how much I want to,” he murmured, eyes trailing over every contour of your face, “but I can’t.”

“I know . . .” The sensation of him touching you in a way that wasn’t simply friendship was unfamiliar, but you couldn’t help but lean into it. “Just . . . try not to die without taking at least one of them with you.” Neither of you were under any illusions that he would be making it out alive; there was no need to pretend.

That pulled a combination of scoff and a smile from him. “I’ll do my best.”

Juno’s voice sounded through the ship’s comm system, “Alright, I’m lowering the ramp. We’re here.”

“Good luck.” Your hand came up to rest against the back of his.

You thought you could see a spark of fear in his gaze along with something else that you couldn’t identify. Maybe it was desire? And suddenly, he leaned forward to seal your lips together. The kiss that followed was one that went completely against the tone of the conversation just prior. It was all desperate groping and teeth clicking as they bumped together since there was absolutely no finesse to the action. When he pulled away, you chased him, only for a second to steal one last peck of a kiss.

“May the Force be with you,” you murmured on the same breath as an awkward chuckle.

“Fuck the Force,” he replied, gently tapping his forehead to yours. “I love you. Take care of yourself when I’m gone.”

“Says the guy walking into a deathtrap.”

He smirked. “And you love me anyway.” And he was gone, jumping out of the ship onto the Death Star where he would surely meet his end.

He’d never hear you say, “Yeah . . . I do.”

[kylo-hux-fanpage]

General Hux Masterlist

Reader Insert #1

Imagine: Hux gets news that you have gone into labor….but…it happens during the Starkiller Base attack. (Part 1)

Imagine: Hux receives news that he isn’t too happy about

Imagine: He finds you (Part 2)

Imagine: Hux makes sure that you are comfortable while being pregnant 

He is not throwing away his shot

Feelings for the General

His Office