maraudersmyloves
Bada.my.love
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i’m a slut for the “he says something bad about someone else but you think it’s about you” trope.
soooo, do you think you could write something like that with james. and like he doesn’t know why you seem to be mad at him and why you’re kinda pulling away.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───
Pairing: James potter x reader
Warnings: cursing, some angst
Word count: 745
Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!
Disclaimer 2: A part two is planned and currently being written but I wanted to get this out quickly so I hope you understand that I broke it up into two parts
Sypnosis: You overhear the marauders talking and assume it's about you, causing you to distance yourself from a perplexed James.
"Distance". :☆｡ﾟ. ────
you jump down the stairs to the common room, following the familiar voice of your boyfriend. He's laughing with the other marauders and you are about to join them on the couches when Sirius groans in annoyance, "She's just always clinging to you, mate. It's annoying."
You freeze as you watch James' face screw up in embarrassment. He sighs and lets his head fall back while covering his eyes, "I know but I feel bad. She doesn't really have anyone else."
Your mind races trying to find excuses. Maybe he's talking about someone else. But, who? You don't know all of his Friends it could be anyone. But the description fits, doesn't it? Clingy? Desperate? He's always hugging and kissing you, no way he doesn't want you to do the same. He just feels bad.
You feel hot tears hit your cheek and quickly turn around to run back to your dorm. Before you can drone them out completely, you hear Peter pipe up. "I know, but she's started to hang out with me too. It's getting a lot and I tried to be nice but she talks so much."
Oh.
Even Peter hates you.
You didn't think Sirius liked you anyway and of course James hurt but Peter? He was so nice and accepting of your quiet nature, gardening, and playing chess with you. You misinterpreted it all wrong, once again.
All around you, students are talking and playing stupid games. Now, that it's gotten warmer every fucking student felt the need to hang out outside. But can you really judge when you're doing the same?
Yes!! Because you're not screaming and jumping around with your oh-so-great friend group. You're just sitting under a tree trying to read. The sun is glaring on the page, the wind is blowing your hair in your face and 49 different people are talking way too loud around you.
It's fucking annoying and now James is approaching too. Fucking traitor. He lets himself fall down next to you, spreading out his Limbs to take up as much space as he possibly can. He stays that way for a few seconds before he shifts to lie next to you. "hey, love." You ignore him and the way your skin tingles when he shifts closer to gain some skin contact.
He pouts when you don't answer, expecting you to be focused on the book. In reality, you haven't been able to focus and read a single word for at least ten minutes. He pokes your cheek in a way you'd usually find cute, but now it only makes your mind clouded with questions. Why is he doing this?
He sighs when you still don't give him the attention he craves, "Watcha reading," he asks stretching out the last word in a sweet song-like tone. "A book," you answer flatly before abruptly standing up.
He looks up at you with something you could only describe as puppy eyes and asks where you're going as if you hurt him deeply. "My dorm," you answer. It's short without any explanations or elaborations.
You turn around to leave, not seeing James' hurt look. He quickly jumps up again to follow you, grabbing you by the arm. "Where are you going," he questions with his eyebrows creased in worry and lips tight together.
You gently pull away your arm, not wanting to seem too angry with him. It's not his fault you're so annoying. "I just want to be alone right now," you say quietly. You can't bear to meet his dark and desperate eyes, he looks too sad. You know better that to believe it.
James takes a step back, wanting to respect your boundaries even if the lost proximity makes him want to tear off his skin. "Oh, okay."
"Sorry."
James flops down onto his bed with a groan. He bangs his head against the pillow a few times, too. For good measure. What did he do? Did he make you uncomfortable? Merlin, he hopes he didn't.
Maybe you stopped loving him and felt too bad to tell him. No, no, no. He can't think about that for long or he'll start crying. What did he do to lose you? Then again, he never deserved you in the first place. Not your kind eyes or lovely smile. You represented love, so why would you need his when you've got plenty oozing out of you at all times.
You're perfect and he lost you.
#headcanon#writing#fluff#fanfic#harry potter#marauders#marauders era#james potter x you#james potter x reader#james potter#james potter imagine#james potter fluff#james potter headcanon#james potter fanfiction#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#harry potter marauders#the marauders
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Pictures for my crush. :☆｡ﾟ. ───
Pairing: James potter x reader
Warnings: cursing (I think)
sypnosis: James shows how he managed to get you to fall in love with him
Disclaimer: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!
idea credit: @kaciebello
"mastermind". :☆｡ﾟ. ────────────────────
#headcanon#writing#fluff#fanfic#harry potter#marauders#marauders era#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter#james potter au#james potter fluff#james potter headcanon#james potter fanfiction#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#the marauders#the marauders era#hp marauders
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Hi, love your writing <3
Anyway, I saw that you wanted some James inspiration, so could you maybe write a fic where reader is studying for her exams (even though she's bored out of her mind) and James tries to cheer her up?
Really just fluff, boyfriend James cheering r up
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───
Pairing: James potter x reader
Warnings: mention of sex but no actual smut, cursing (I think)
Word count: 650
Disclaimer: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!
"Just a break. :☆｡ﾟ. ────
You look over at James' sleeping form, wishing you could be cuddled up against him instead of whacking your head on the table, hoping to get some information inside your brain.
You could swear you've tried every study method you know, but nothing makes understanding and memorizing types of gene mutations that cause specific magic reactions in plans easier or fun. Even if the person explaining the study method swears up and down, said method saved their life during exams.
Maybe it'd be easier if you cared for the topic but unfortunately, you couldn't care less. Especially when you could be cuddling with James instead of memorizing scientific names like Cuscuta oxygenium.
You feel a warm breath on your neck and almost jump, "God, James!! Don't scare me like that," you complain and slap his chest to which he only grins and mumbles a quick "sorry love" before he starts attacking your face with kisses.
It tickles and you can't help but laugh as you weakly push him away. His dramatic kissing noises cause you to snort and squirm away from his soft lips. "Stop it," you giggle. "I need to study."
"Study my dick," he laughed. His laughter only became louder when he saw your judgy expression. You watch him blankly as he holds his stomach, laughing. "Not that funny, Jamie."
He giggles and kisses your cheek "You're right, nothing funny about the way you gag on it." You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you give him a scrutinizing look.
When you just continue to give him a blank stare, James pouts playfully. "Just wanted to bring some laughter into this somber atmosphere."
You frown, "It's not somber, not my fault I actually have to study." You throw yourself back into the chair with a groan when you remember all the notes you still need to summarize and memorize. James steps to the back of your chair and leans over you to look at the notes, "It's not that bad, honey. This looks great!! Smart words and all that."
You give him an annoyed look and the way pity fills his eyes is almost laughable. He feels shitty. Here you are sitting around for days on end studying while he sleeps just to get the same grade on the exam. It's not fair. If you'd let him, he'd give you all the answers with a brain-connecting spell the marauders made. But, it makes you feel dirty, so he doesn't.
He softly kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry, baby." You know what he means. He's sorry that you have to work so hard and the soft tone in which he apologizes for something he couldn't change if he tried almost makes you cry. "Not your fault. It's just exhausting to work so hard every time. I feel like I do nothing but study and when I take a break I can't enjoy it because I don't feel productive."
James carefully, and without a word, picks you up from your chair ignoring your complaints. You want to tell him to put you down and let you study but being out of that goddamn chair, you could swear it already molded itself to the curve of your back, and in your boyfriend's arms feels so good that you can't bring yourself to do anything but melt into him. "What are we doing," you question with a jawn.
"We're getting hot cocoa and then taking a nap." Immediately you feel uncomfortable, you need that time to study. You don't have time for breaks. Apparently, James can read your mind when he lectures you, "Now, before you complain, taking care of yourself is also productive. You're not able to cram any more in that beautiful head of yours if you don't give your brain a break."
You sigh and accept defeat as James proceeds to carry you all the way to the kitchens.
#headcanon#writing#fluff#fanfic#harry potter#marauders#marauders era#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff#james potter headcanon#marauders fanfiction#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders x reader#marauders imagine
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this blog stands with palestine and if you don’t you can get the fuck out. what israel is doing is genocide and i will not tolerate anyone who supports it.
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I'm actually crying this is perfect!!
I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!
So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)
whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤
MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader
warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying
reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes
₊˚⊹♡
Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.
The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.
The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.
Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.
It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.
News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.
Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.
A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.
The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.
He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.
He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.
In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.
And the first nights after you left were the worst.
At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.
He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.
Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.
It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.
"Luke!"
Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.
He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.
"Luke!"
The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.
The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.
He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.
"Luke!? Luke!"
The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.
But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.
He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.
"Luke!"
But it was you.
Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.
Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.
He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.
Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.
"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.
"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.
Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.
Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.
And his breath hitched in his throat.
The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.
Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.
But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.
"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.
Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"
The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.
His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.
Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.
Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.
As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.
One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.
"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"
Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.
Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."
He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.
"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"
Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”
He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.
A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.
"How is she?" Luke asked.
Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"
A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.
Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"
Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.
Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"
The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.
"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.
Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."
And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.
The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.
He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.
Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.
But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.
But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.
He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.
Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.
Then he ran.
His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.
He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.
But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.
You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.
He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.
Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.
"Luke!"
The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.
"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.
But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.
He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.
The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.
The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.
The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.
He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.
"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.
He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.
But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.
Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.
He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.
"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.
His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.
"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.
You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"
He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.
"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.
"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#pjo#luke castellan fic#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan x fem!reader#this is perfect#crying screaming throwing up#matching scars<3
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hi lovely, can i please get a james x fem reader where she gets flustered very easily and james just keeps smothering her in love and attention and she doesn’t know what to do with all that affection cause he is just such an amazing boyfriend and she loves him so much and she just decides to fluster him instead and he’s all red and blushy
Thank you💗
James adores your blush
Specifically your flustered 'I just got a compliment' blush
He makes sure to see it as much as he can
"I love your hair today, darling"
"Have I told you how gorgeous you look today? But then again, you do every day, my love"
"You're so smart, angel"
He whispers into your ear while pulling you close
And obviously you love it, who doesn't like compliments??
But, you really don't know how to accept them without getting emberassed
(or even accept them at all)
Even worse is the fact that James never gets flustered
No matter what you do he's so confident that he just thanks you and compliments you back causing you to get flustered which is the exact opposite of what you wanted
Then you're just standing there, like ??
And he thinks it's sooo cute
"Aww, look at your blush!! Are you flustered, my love?"
Recently you've noticed that he brushes off compliments about his hair
"I love your hair, baby"
"Nah, it's messy today"
While it might be mean to try to embarrass your boyfriend, it's for the good cause of getting up his confidence
(even if his ego gets annoying)
So you lay it on thick
Every chance you get a compliment flies at him and he gets more and more flustered each time
He's just combing his hand through his hair and boom he gets a compliment
He's actually styling it for once (even if it doesn't do a lot) and boom
"I love your curls, Jamie. They're so pretty"
"...thanks, love"
The first time you actually stun him silent is when you're laying by the lake, basking in the hut sun
You start carding through his hair, making him melt and come a little closer
Twirling the curls around your finger
pulling gently
Making tiny braids
putting flowers in said braids
You start kissing all over his face waiting for his cocky grin to show up, instead a blush rises to his cheeks
you giggle and kiss his hot cheeks
"Aww, you blushing? hmm, baby?"
"Shut up."
"I can't when you look so gorgeous, Jamie. You look like a literal angel with your hair spread around your head. I think Summer was made purely to make you look even prettier than you already are."
"..."
He hides his face in his hands while you laugh
#headcanon#writing#fluff#fanfic#harry potter#marauders#marauders era#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter#james potter fanfiction#james potter fluff
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yall, I just LOVE exam season !! <333
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Anyone have some James thoughts? i miss writing for him
#headcanon#fluff#writing#fanfic#harry potter#marauders#marauders era#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter#james potter au#james potter fluff#james potter headcanon#james potter smut#james potter fanfiction#james
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I just watched Ready Player One with my dad who read the book and says it's way better and I think I hate it. And love it?? Idk. It's idiotic and doesn't really make sense, the friendships and the main couple aren't fleshed out at all. As a matter of fact, no one is. But it's also something my younger self would obsess over. It's great in that my kid brain is seeing the future type way yk Same vibe as Willie Wonka for some reason
Also, can we talk about how stupid the real-world shots with the headset thingy on look?? Like, I know they were really proud but it looks sooooo stupid
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Mattheo x Reader who always has animals follow her around. None of them belong to you but if he visits your dorm he'll find at least two cats lying in the sun, one owl picking at fish you provided for her (he thinks it's disgusting but that's what they like to eat so what can ya do) three dogs laying all over you and one bunny hiding in a corner somewhere
He can't decide whether he thinks it's adorable or annoying as fuck. Like, he just wants to make out and suddenly a cat is rubbing at your leg and you pet her instead of paying attention to him?? tf??
#headcanon#fluff#writing#harry potter#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo
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yall, I'm bored and trynna procrastinate so please send me some requests!!
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Mattheos arm wrapped around you, offering comfort and protection, while your head nestled against his chest. Your hair tickled his skin as a gentle breeze blew through the balcony, the warm air filling his nose with the smell of summer. Together, you watched the sun slowly drift behind the horizon, dipping beneath the clouds as you squeezed him tighter. There was nothing else but this moment, the two of you, gazing quietly at the sky, watching the last Day at Hogwarts fade away.
#headcanon#fluff#writing#fanfic#harry potter#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader
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CW: My extremely bad school Spanish (I dropped it as soon as i could)
I just realized some people don't see Mattheo Riddle as Spanish, like what??
You're telling me you looked at that Face and didn't immediately figure that he switches to Spanish when he's being romantic/sweet and when he's absolutely filled with Rage
His Spanish mom who felt so much all the time, refused to speak English with him if his Father wasn't in the room, while his Father always spoke calm and cold English with him and gave him the silent treatment when he was too annoying.
"Si no mantienes tus manos lejos de mi chica me aseguraré de que no tengas ninguna, Pendejo."
"Te quiero tanto, joder. Me casaré contigo algún día, mi amor. Ojalá pudiera casarme contigo ahora mismo y demostrarte lo profundamente que te quiero. Si alguna vez te hago daño, pégame. No, mátame."
#headcanon#fluff#writing#fanfic#harry potter#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo smut#mattheo x y/n
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Mattheo who melts the second your Hand touches his Hair. No matter the Situation, he is down bad as soon as you're Fingers card through his curls. His whole Body relaxes and he lets his head fall back, trusting you to make him land safely.
#headcanon#fluff#writing#fanfic#harry potter#mattheo x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader
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Guys, here is a tip for you!! Don't imagine Mattheo realizing he will never be wanted for more than his Family Name or Body!!
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Mattheo sees reader (prefer fem!reader) with her little brother and cousins in first year and he thinks it's adorable? I have soooo many little cousins who would be in first year at Hogwarts, and I think it would be so cute.
CW: Cussing, Chaotic Family, A lot of Names Mattheo can't keep track of, Mention of Pregnancy
You're panicking before the sorting ceremony and Mattheo doesn't really get why
You mentioned your Brother and Cousins being sorted but he did not realize how many cousins you had
He was expecting two maybe three
Not nine plus your little Brother !!
You're sitting next to him, excitedly guessing who will be in what House, rattling off Names he forgets the second they leave your mouth
You don't guess Slytherin a single Time and he gets a bit offended
Do you not think Slytherins good enough ??
He tries his best to seem interested when they're yapping on and on about something he could not care less about
Except when they get excited about Quidditch
All of a sudden he's all ears, basically jumping out of his seat to show them the Pitch
You two show them everything and Mattheo thinks it's so adorable
The way you're making sure no one runs off or hurts themself
"Diego, get the fuck down there!!"
"Mom, says you shouldn't say that"
"You're twelve and old enough to hear it, calm down. Or are you still a little baby?"
Being so sweet while also somehow bickering with all of them
He doesn't think he's ever been more in love with you than now
As soon as you two are out of School he's marrying you and getting you Pregnant
#headcanon#fluff#writing#fanfic#harry potter#slytherin boys react#slytherin#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#theodore nott#lorenzo berkshire#mattheo riddle#theo nott#mattheo x reader#mattheo x you#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader
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Please bother me with any and everything
bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
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