#dropping shiny pebbles

[birbs-nest]

I SWEAR I WILL BE FINE! (lying)

What I mean when I do not control the hyperfixation.

[birbs-nest]

DELTARUNE TOMMOROW

[ducksido]

HELLO DUCKSIDO! Hope your day has been well :) I have an idea!!!

Diasomnia boys with a weirdo reader. Weird as in staring for too long, randomly tearing up because they find the guys pretty, gifting the boys shiny things, mimicking members of Diasomnia so that they’d be more liked, etc. It’s not born out of anything bad, they genuinely just don’t know how to socialize!

Akvhsuckebwhd hope this request isn’t too specific :( You can ignore it if you want! Thanks Ducksido, bye bye!!!!

[HELLO ANON!!!!! i've had a good day :)]

🌙 MALLEUS DRACONIA

You’ve been staring at him for five minutes straight. Again. Malleus just tilts his head, waiting patiently.

“Child of man, is something on my face?” he asks calmly.

When you start tearing up and blubber, “No, it’s just—you’re so PRETTY, it’s not fair,” he’s... speechless. And then flustered.

Gifts him a shiny rock? A bead you found in a hallway? He treasures it so sincerely. He’ll even ask you to tell him where you found it, because he wants to remember that moment.

When you start mimicking his speech patterns (e.g., “Such quaint customs your kind practice,” said with complete seriousness), he just smiles so warmly. He doesn’t think you’re mocking him at all—he thinks you’re making an effort to connect.

Honestly? Malleus is delighted by your strange behavior. It reminds him of fae customs, which are often misunderstood by humans too. He finds you refreshingly genuine.

🦇 LILIA VANROUGE

He notices everything. The staring. The sudden nosebleed when he winks at you. The fact you started wearing your uniform the same way he does.

Lilia’s absolutely thrilled and a little bit evil about it.

“Fufu~ Are you trying to become a mini-me, dear? I must say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

When you give him shiny offerings (a necklace chain, a glittery pen), he jokingly bows like you’ve just pledged fealty to him.

But when you nervously confess, “I don’t know how to talk to people but I really like you guys,” he drops the teasing for a moment and gives you a small, genuine smile.

“Then just keep being yourself. You’re doing great, batling.”

⚡ SEBEK ZIGVOLT

“WHY ARE YOU STARING—!!!” Cue flustered Sebek.

At first, he thinks you’re mocking Malleus-sama, especially when you mimic his mannerisms or way of speaking. He’s ready to defend his honor.

But then you sniffle, “I just wanna fit in with you guys... you’re all so cool...”

His brain breaks. He didn’t expect this level of emotional vulnerability.

He starts loudly insisting, “YOUR DEVOTION TO THE YOUNG MASTER IS COMMENDABLE!” and tries to coach you in "proper social conduct"—but like, in Sebek language, which is... not very subtle.

Secretly very proud when you give him a shiny pin and say, “This reminded me of you! Loud and sparkly!”

💤 SILVER

You gift him a silver button and quietly say, “Because your name is Silver. I thought it’d match.”

He blinks slowly, then gives you the softest smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Doesn’t mind the staring—he actually sometimes falls asleep while you’re staring, which makes it incredibly awkward when he wakes up and you’re still sitting there like 🧍.

He can tell you’re trying your best to connect. When he sees you mimicking Lilia’s posture or Sebek’s shouting, he gently says, “You don’t have to act like us. We already like you as you are.”

Will absolutely keep any gift you give him, no matter how random (a sparkly gum wrapper, a bead bracelet, a shiny pebble). He puts them all in a little pouch and wears it when he patrols.

OVERALL DIASOMNIA REACTION:

At first: confusion. Then: quiet acceptance. Then: “Wait. We like this one. Keep them.”

Your behavior is odd to others, but to them, it’s kind of charming—like a fae creature mimicking human ways.

None of them are particularly socially normal themselves, so they totally get the whole "affection through shinies and mimicry" thing.

[birbs-nest]

op i am eating your art

Wip art for zine

Rlly hope that i can post it faster than in a year

[lxvsiick]

GONNA BE A ROCK | PARK SUNGHO X READER

PAIRING: best friends! park sungho x best friends! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Y/n breaks up with Sungho because he keeps stealing her stickers and 10 years later, he's still bitter.

GENRE: best friends, 10 year old breakup, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 1k

A/N: i wrote this while listening to GONNA BE A ROCK by BOYNEXTDOOR -- i was going to make this longer and elaborate more on the sungho being bitter part throughout their friendship but i kinda got lazy ... anyways, enjoy!

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Like a seven-year-old kid who lost their toy

I cry even in front of my parents, I know it ain't right

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the playground as Y/n and Sungho sat on the swings, lazily kicking at the dirt beneath them. They had been best friends for what felt like forever, and recently, they had decided—after some playground chatter—that they were "dating." It mostly involved sharing snacks and stickers, except for one problem: Sungho kept stealing Y/n's favorite stickers.

Y/n glanced at him with a mock-serious expression, arms crossed over her chest. “We need to talk.”

Sungho looked over, confused but still smiling. “What’s up?”

She huffed, trying to sound more grown-up than she was. “You keep taking my stickers, and I’m not okay with that.”

He blinked, his feet dragging to a stop on the dirt. “I don’t take that many.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “You took my sparkly unicorn yesterday. And the shiny dolphin the day before that!”

He shifted awkwardly on his swing, kicking at a pebble. “I was just borrowing them...”

She sighed dramatically, standing up from the swing. “Well, I’ve made up my mind. I think we should break up.”

Sungho froze, his jaw dropping in disbelief. “Break up?!”

She nodded, hands on her hips like she was making a very important decision. “Yep. I can’t be with someone who steals my stickers.”

He stood up, his heart breaking in the only way a 10-year-old’s could. “But... but I’m your boyfriend! You can’t just break up with me over stickers!”

She shrugged casually. “I just did.”

Sungho felt a wave of childish devastation wash over him. “But I was gonna give you my glow-in-the-dark dinosaur sticker tomorrow!”

She paused for a moment, clearly tempted by the offer. But she shook her head. “Nope, sorry. It’s too late. We’re not dating anymore.”

He groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “This is the worst day ever! You’re breaking up with me over stickers!”

Y/n tried to keep a straight face but ended up giggling. “You’ll be fine. We’re still best friends, just... not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He stared at her, hands on his hips now, as bitterness started to creep into his voice. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you want to trade stickers again. I’ll just say no!”

She stuck out her tongue playfully. “I don’t need your stickers anymore. I’ll just ask Seeun.”

His eyes widened. “Seeun?! She doesn’t even have cool stickers!”

Y/n shrugged, clearly having the upper hand. “We’ll see about that.”

He huffed, turning around dramatically and stomping off towards the monkey bars. “I don’t care! I don’t even want to date you anymore!”

She giggled again but called after him, “See you tomorrow?”

Sungho paused, then grumbled, “Yeah, whatever,” before running off to vent his frustration on the jungle gym. His heart might have been “broken,” but they both knew that nothing would really change—except, of course, the status of their “relationship.”

As he climbed the monkey bars, he muttered under his breath, “Stupid stickers…”

And so, they stayed best friends, but from that day on, Sungho remained just a little bit bitter about the whole breakup.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

If I could go back to the beginning, I would leave you

Even though it's impossible, I'd dump you first

The soft glow of the TV flickered in the background, but neither Y/n nor Sungho were paying attention. They were sprawled out on the couch, her legs draped over his lap as they scrolled through their phones. The familiar comfort of their shared apartment wrapped around them like a warm blanket, the quiet hum of city life outside barely noticeable.

After a long stretch of silence, Y/n let out a chuckle, her eyes lighting up as she glanced at him. “Remember when I broke up with you when we were 10?”

Sungho paused, his thumb hovering over his phone screen, and shot her a playful glare. “Oh, I remember. You dumped me over stickers.”

She grinned, shifting to sit up a little. “You kept stealing them!”

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with mock bitterness. “If I could go back, I’d break up with you first. Save myself the heartbreak.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah right. You were obsessed with me even back then.”

He dramatically sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions, his hand resting on her leg. “Well, I did go home and cry to my parents about it. You tore my heart open, and I swore I’d never like anyone else.”

Y/n giggled, nudging him with her foot. “Oh, please! I didn’t ‘tear your heart open’—I just wanted my sparkly unicorn stickers back.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide in mock outrage. “You don’t understand! It was traumatic! I was ten, in love, and you crushed me with one sentence.”

She was laughing harder now, clutching her stomach. “I’m sorry, okay? But to be fair, you were a terrible boyfriend. You stole my favorite stickers.”

“I wasn’t a terrible boyfriend,” he said, crossing his arms and looking away dramatically. “I was a great boyfriend who just had a thing for shiny stickers.”

“Well,” she teased, reaching over to pinch his arm playfully, “you’ve improved a lot since then.”

He turned back to her, a soft smile replacing his exaggerated bitterness. “Thanks. But seriously, you wrecked me. I couldn’t look at a sticker again without thinking of my first heartbreak.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “And yet here we are.”

“Yeah,” he said, his playful tone giving way to something more genuine. “Here we are.”

For a moment, they sat quietly, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence. Sungho squeezed her leg lightly and gave her a teasing smirk. “But, just so you know, I’m still a little bitter about it.”

She laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You’ll get over it eventually.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning into the kiss, “but I’m not making any promises.”

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[itneverendshere]

hey hun, idk if you taking any request but maybe you can make something about this. so you know sombr just released his song 'we never dated' and i was thinking if you can write something based on the song with rafe × reader, love you💖

a lil something i put together during my lunch break, enjoy 💘

he’s drunk again, the thinking-about-you kind.

his head tilts against the seat of the truck he hasn't driven in months, still parked in the beach house garage, waiting for something that’ll never come back.

rafe taps the red solo cup against his lip and closes his eyes.

it’s that song, the one wheezie showed him earlier, and he'd pretended to hate immediately.

"how come we never even dated but i still find myself thinking of you daily? why do you always leave me achin' when you were never mine for the takin'?"

rafe’s never wanted to punch a radio more.

it’s true, all of it. you never dated, but he loved you. that was the worst kind of heartbreak; he couldn't claim anything real, be angry or bitter or jealous. he couldn't point a finger in your direction and accuse you of breaking him because you never belonged to each other.

he never had the right.

you've always been too shiny for him. inherently good. more than a pretty face — though, yeah, you were that too and more.

rafe knew it before anyone else ever said it.

he knew you when you were still the skittish girl with lipgloss always smoothed over your mouth and that light blue cashmere sweater you wore every third thursday like clockwork.

you were sweet, but not naïve, you grew up learning how to smile through kook parents’ cocktail parties and could tell when a guy was trying to flirt or manipulate you in under three seconds.

rafe cameron wasn’t slick enough for you. he just happened to be there, at the right time, in the right places, saying the wrong things and hoping you'd want him anyway.

you did.

god, you did.

one summer, two friends who weren’t friends yet, thrown together because their parents played nice at yacht club dinners and pretended that the pogues didn’t matter as long as their kids stayed clean and polished.

you'd asked him once, on the beach at sunset, when everyone else was passed out or making out or passed out making out, why he always looked so angry.

rafe had blinked, caught off guard by your astuteness, replied with something stupid like, “m'not angry. don’t like people.”

you had smiled, close-lipped. “you seem to like me though.”

he hadn’t said anything, but you were right. he did, even when he shouldn’t have. especially when he shouldn’t have.

it got worse in senior year.

that was when he started noticing the finality of it. you were still walking around in ballet flats and sundresses and raising your hand first in ap lit — but it was all coming to an end, wasn't it? the idea of a you and him, the fantasy.

you were going places. real ones, far-far away, with brick libraries and stone archways and out-of-state dorms. you had a list, and rafe wasn’t on it.

he saw it coming the day you mentioned early decision.

“i’m thinking of brown,” you had confessed in a dreamy tone, chewing the end of your straw.

rafe had nodded, tossing a pebble across the dock water. “yeah?”

“you think I could get in?”

you could get into heaven if you asked nicely. instead, he shrugged again.

“duh.”

you laughed, that hiccup laugh that always made his stomach drop to the pits of hell, and leaned into his side for a second, enough to make him want more. that was the problem.

he always wanted more. of your voice, your time, skin against his. more jokes, more silence, more anything you’d give him. you were meant to leave and he was stuck in this fucking awful place, barely making it out of high school.

people talked about you two, always did.

assumed you were together, and he pathetically let them think what they wanted because it was easier than the truth: he was a guy in love with a girl he never kissed, too scared to try and pull you down with him.

rafe watched you date other people. preppy kooks with clean sneakers and trust funds and internships. it didn’t matter, it made sense, even when he drove past your house a little slower after those dates.

he always looked at you longer the next morning when you sat across from him in the café. sometimes, he swore you looked back.

the party your parents decided to put together that fateful night for you was too loud, or rafe simply grew to resent the sound of other people being happy.

he stood by the railing on the second-floor landing, a typical red solo cup warm in his hand, watching the celebration spiral out under the candle lights below. your backyard had been transformed, long tables dressed in linen, picture boards of you growing up, a cake with congratulations, brown university! piped in frosted gold, and people everywhere, drunk off champagne and privilege.

he hated it.

he'd been gawking at you laughing under those lights. you wore white tonight, tailored pants and some shimmery top that sparkled when you moved. your hair was half up, the way he always liked it.

you were leaving in two days. earlier than expected. the early admission program at brown, your parents were ecstatic, toasting to the future with rosé wine and proud tears.

rafe only found out three days ago, from wheezie, who overheard your mom on the phone ordering dorm essentials to be shipped ahead of time.

he didn’t possess the energy to be surprised.

that this was it, the last night. the last time he’d maybe ever see you outside of random instagram posts and christmas visits. the final hour of whatever not-thing they were.

you never promised him anything, and he had nothing to offer. only half-mumbled jokes and every piece of his heart that he tried not to hand over, one by one, every time you looked at him like he mattered.

he was drunk again.

he couldn’t say goodbye properly, or force himself to go down there and hug you like a normal person. couldn’t say, “i'm happy for you,” without gagging on the bitterness in his throat.

he did what he always did.

avoided the situation.

he was mad you were leaving, leaving earlier. you didn’t give him time to work up the courage to spit out the truth once and for all.

his legs carried him toward the kitchen, eyes on the floor, shoulders hunched.

“rafe.”

you voice was always soft with him.

you stood there in the hallway. fuck, you looked so pretty, unfairly so.

summer and home and everything he didn’t get to keep.

“i was wondering if you were gonna hide all night."

"wasn’t hiding.”

you raised a skeptical eyebrow. “right.”

rafe looked away first, he always did with you. you made him stupidly nervous, still.

"you’re mad.”

“’m not.”

“you’re mad i’m leaving.”

he scoffed. “you were always gonna leave. what’s the point in being mad about it now?”

your expression faltered, rafe hated himself for it.

“i thought… you’d at least say goodbye,” you whispered.

"didn’t think you’d notice if I didn’t.”

“rafe.”

he took a step back. he had to, orr he’d grab your hand and beg you to stay and make a fucking fool of himself.

“i can’t do this tonight,” he mumbled. “go back to your party, yeah?ivy league’s waiting.”

“wait a minute—”

“have fun up there, alright?”

perhaps, if he hadn't been too tipsy, he would've spotted the same ache in your eyes that was bleeding through his.

your jaw clenched, that twitch he caught when you were trying not to cry. shit, that was gonna fuck him up later. that look.

“you’re being such an asshole,” you bit out, quietly.

he huffed a laugh that wasn’t amused. “yeah. guess ’m just playing my part, huh?”

you blinked. “what does that even mean?”

“you—” he started, then cut himself off. shook his head. “you’re actin’ like this is some big surprise. you were always gonna choose that life. brown. new friends. better everything. that was the plan, right?”

“i never said that,” you shot back, voice trembling now.

you were all dolled up in a way he hadn’t seen before, sparkly earrings catching the kitchen light. you didn’t look like the girl he used to skip class with and lie on the pier beside.

but you were.

“you made your choice, didn’t you?” he muttered. “early program. gone before the summer’s even over.”

“i earned it, rafe. because i worked for it—”

“and what about me?” he snapped, suddenly. voice louder than either of you expected. “i bust my ass tryin’ to graduate with you. and you couldn't tell me this? i did it—for what? so you could feel sorry for me on your way out?”

that was new low. he regretted it the second he said it.

“that’s not fair."

“yeah? neither is you leavin’ me here and expectin’ me to clap for you.”

“i never asked you to wait for me,” you were pleading now, not accusing. “i never asked you to do any of that.”

“i know, god, i know,” rafe snapped. “that’s the problem. you never looked back, did you? not once.”

“that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?”

your hands curled against your outfit, wrinkling the fabric.

“i care about you."

he let out a breath through his nose, humorless.

“yeah?” he muttered. “i love you.”

real. pathetic, even. the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life.

your lips parted but he intervined before you could salvage his reputation.

“still not enough reason for you to stay, is it?”

your breath hitched, your eyes went wide. you weren’t expecting him to say it. the possibility had lived in the space between you two for so long, you thought it'd stay silent forever.

he had too. now it was out there, and you didn’t say it back.

“that’s what I thought,” he said, voice flat now.

you looked like you were about to cry. rafe looked like he already had.

“why are you doing this now?” your voice trembled with confusion. “i’m not leaving forever!"

you meant it, you thought a couple thousand miles and a new life wouldn’t erase this not-thing, wouldn’t bury him beneath everything you’d go off and become.

rafe, despite his many flaws, wasn’t stupid. hope wasn't a luxury he could afford.

he laughed, more of a breath than anything real.

“you might as well be.”

your brows pulled together. “what—”

“i never want to see you again,” he ripped the bandage off, even though it hurt more. “okay? just—just go. go to your early program, to your dorm, to your perfect fucking life with your perfect fucking people, and let me get over you in peace.”

your face twisted, the pain blooming across.

“you don’t mean that.”

“don’t i?” he snapped, stepping backward before he got close again, and broke completely. “what’s left of this, huh?”

he could only hear your shaky breath and the sound of someone laughing downstairs.

"so yeah, do me a favor — don’t text me when you miss home. don’t check in. don’t come back here thinking everything’s the same.”

you blinked, tears building in your lashes.

“rafe…”

he looked away, couldn’t watch you cry and still walk out of his life.

you can’t miss someone you never had, right? the only thing he had were his regrets.

[fawn7ng]

imagine a yandere fae.

warnings: obsession, idk if this counts as mind control but yk

➣ yandere!fae who you first notice in your garden: a short fae with eyes like glistening emeralds and a slightly crooked smile.

➣ yandere!fae who pesters you relentlessly, fluttering around your flowers, speaking in riddles, dropping strange gifts, and always asking for your name.

➣ yandere!fae who won’t stop asking for your name. his tone shifts from being playful and light to being full of pure desperation very quickly. he himself doesn’t know what caused the shift, all he knows is that he needs your name. he needs you to be tethered to him.

➣ yandere!fae who knows that knowing your true name will bind you to him, and he’s willing to wait (or manipulate you) until you finally give in.

➣ yandere!fae who watches you closely, learning all your habits, your favorite plants, what you do in your free time, learning everything but your name.

➣ yandere!fae who drops by occasionally with a gift or two. no, he didn’t know that pink laurustinus were specifically your favorite flowers!!! what are you talking about!!! no that pebble didn’t remind him of you!!! he just liked how shiny it looked and decided to give it to you!!!

➣ yandere!fae who won’t shut up about wanting your name. it’s been months! you two are practically living together! he should at least know your name! he definitely doesn’t want it for any ulterior motives!

➣ yandere!fae who’s giddy when your patience snaps one afternoon. the sun feels too hot and heavy and your mind too tired. you finally blurt out your name, hoping he’ll leave you be and just shut up.

➣ yandere!fae who hopes you don’t notice how the moment your name leaves your lips, the air shifts. his grin widens into something darker,  eyes sparkling with newfound power.

➣ yandere!fae who makes sure that from now on  you’ll always feel the invisible thread of his influence around you. your thoughts seem less your own, subtle urges always pulling you outside into your garden, toward him.

➣ yandere!fae who makes sure that when you try to resist or push him away, you‘ll find your will faltering.

➣ yandere!fae who makes it that in social situations, your confidence wavers; you’re suddenly filled with anxiety talking to people. the only one you actually feel comfortable talking to is him.

➣ yandere!fae who visits more and more often. you find yourself glad that he does. sometimes you catch yourself smiling at him when you don’t mean to, or speaking kindly when you don’t mean to.

➣ yandere!fae who watches as the line between your will and his own begin to blur in your mind, and you realize that he’s the only one you actually need.

[birbs-nest]

Honestly, this is part of my current reasoning to be alive. It is very nice to just imagine Tumblr, and the headlines. :3

don’t kill yourself because the internet is going to be really funny when Elon gets assassinated

[oddly-specific-hermit-headcanons]

Collector headcanons! I believe many of the beloved Hermits are hoarders <3

Pearl collects cool rocks, and has shelves all over her base with assorted pebbles and stones. She keeps good track of them too, always checking up on her favorite rocks to make sure they aren’t stolen.

Tango collects records. In-game ones, custom-made ones. All of them! He’s got a lot, all stuffed in a back room, the floor lined with jukeboxes so Tango can play them at ease. Grian loves trolling and playing all of them at once (which you can hear throughout the base.) It drives Tango nuts, having to take out each disk while listening to the cacophony.

False collects feathers. She has a big chest called “The Plumage Bin.” She finds feathers, dropped by hybrid Hermits or by random birds, and puts them in The Plumage Bin. She likes opening it and staring into the many colors and textures.

Joel does taxidermy! He collects the heads of mobs he’s killed. He has a designated room in his base, walls lined with heads. Hostile, neutral, and passive mobs. He doesn’t feel bad looking at them.

Bdubs collects leaves, berries, clovers, and other plants. He used to pick up these things from his forest, all the things that he didn’t build originally. (It was a pet peeve.) Eventually he started putting these nature bits into a greenhouse, and the greenhouse expanded. Then it became a fun hobby to collect spare twigs and flowers.

xB collects shiny things. Fishing weights, spare bits of foil or metal, sometimes pieces of jewelry. He finds these things while swimming in the rivers around Hermit’s bases. It’s a good collecting hobby, really. He’s helping the environment!

Might do some more. Dunno! I like these headcanons :D

I also really like this blog. Keep it up, mods!

thank you! I'm glad you like it :D

[birbs-nest]

Pinterest sticker sheet blast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whelp, I got shot by a moot. You shall receive vengeance.

[birbs-nest]

gaud, you got to include these lovely tags in the post

don't really care if the otp is romantic or platonic or erotic or whatnot. i care simply about the essentials (they are toxically codependent)

[anonymlexiuz]

╰┈➤ тємρтιηg нιм

DOTTORE X FEM READER ❗️❗️

⬆️ To listen while reading!!!

╭───────────────╮

Content Warnings

╰───────────────╯

♡ NSFW / 18+ ONLY

♡ Heavy Smut

♡ Dom/Sub Dynamics

♡ Rough sex, overstimulation

♡ Out of original oc

The lab was silent, save for the hum of machines and the distant moan of wind tearing across Snezhnaya’s frozen cliffs. Dottore stood at his workbench, bloodstained gloves discarded, long fingers smeared with ink. The moment he sensed you behind him, his head tilted slightly—just enough.

“Darling,” he said. “There you are.”

You stood there, trembling, dressed in nothing but his coat—oversized, unbuttoned, and doing nothing to hide the soft curve of your breasts or the slick shine glistening between your thighs.

He turned, blue eyes catching the faintest flicker of wetness on your inner thigh. His smirk was slow, dangerous.

“No panties,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Did you forget? Or did your dumb little cunt just want my cock that badly?”

His gloved hand came to your face, cradling your cheek with mock affection. Then, he grabbed your jaw, turning your head slightly to examine you like prey—or a puzzle he wanted to tear apart.

“On the table. Now.”

You obeyed, crawling up onto the metal slab. The cold surface made your nipples pebble, back arching just slightly as you spread your legs, your glistening pussy on full display.

He hissed through his teeth. “Fucking dripping. Look at this mess,” he muttered, running two fingers through your folds. “You’re soaking my floor, Darling. How fucking desperate can you be?”

No answer. Just a twitch of your thighs, a shaky inhale.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

And then he dropped to his knees.

His tongue hit you like fire. Wet, filthy slurps echoed in the sterile lab as he licked your cunt like a man possessed. His mouth moved messily—sucking, licking, fucking you with his tongue until your thighs trembled and your hips bucked involuntarily.

“Keep those legs open,” he snapped, smacking your thigh. “Or I’ll strap them down.”

Fingers joined his tongue—long and cruel, pumping into your sopping pussy with practiced brutality. Slick noises filled the air, each thrust sending more of your arousal dripping down his wrist.

He didn’t stop when your legs started shaking. He didn’t stop when your back arched. He just grinned, lips shiny with your slick.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.”

He stood, unfastening his belt with one hand, the other still lazily fucking you with two fingers.

“Let’s see how much more this tight little cunt can take.”

His cock slapped heavy against your inner thigh—thick, flushed, already leaking. He didn’t wait. Didn’t warn.

One hard thrust and he was buried to the hilt.

You jerked. Back arched. Eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “This pussy’s always so fucking tight. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

He set a pace that was brutal. Merciless. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the lab, your slick coating his length with each punishing thrust.

“Stupid little slut,” he snarled. “You get off on this, don’t you? Getting used like a fleshlight on my fucking workbench?”

Your moans were high-pitched, breathy, strangled.

“Gonna cum again?” he mocked, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. “Fucking do it. Cum all over my cock like the needy cumdump you are.”

You did. Hard.

And he didn’t stop.

“Too much?” he hissed, voice ragged. “Take it. Take all of it. I want your brain gone by the time I’m finished with you.”

He leaned down, fucking you deeper, each thrust dragging a new cry from your lips. “You’re mine, Darling. This pussy’s mine. This ruined body? Fucking mine.”

He came with a low groan, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you up—hot, thick spurts coating your insides while he held you down, watching your cunt twitch around him.

But he didn’t pull out.

“Mm,” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek. “Still twitching. One orgasm won’t do. Not for a mess like you.”

He rolled his hips again, still hard, cum already leaking from between your folds.

“Lie back,” he whispered, voice syrup-thick with menace. “We’re not done until I say you’re empty.”

[writingoddess1125]

Pebbling

Buggy x GN Reader

Fluff Headcanon + Small Story

Pebbling (Def) -  collecting and sharing little things with someone you are interested in so that you can build a bond.

Masterlist <<

Kofi<<

• You’ve been a part of Buggy’s crew for a while now, and while life on the ship is always chaotic, there’s a certain rhythm to the madness.

• Buggy’s loud and eccentric as ever, constantly yelling at his crew, plotting his next big scheme, or performing one of his exaggerated, over-the-top shows.

•He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be subtle—or thoughtful, really—but that’s exactly what makes the little surprises so confusing at first.

• It started out small of course-

• The first time it happens, you find a small trinket tucked away in your cabin—a shiny coin, weathered with age but clearly valuable.

• You’re puzzled, wondering where it came from. No one in Buggy’s crew seems like the type to leave anything behind unless it’s by accident, but you chalk it up to just that: an accident.

• Then another object appears some time later—this time a small, brightly colored feather.

• It’s wedged into the folds of your coat, a splash of color so out of place that you can’t help but notice it. Again, you can’t figure out where it came from, but it’s oddly nice. It makes you smile for some reason.

• Then it happens again. And again. Small things—items that seem random at first—start showing up in your space.

• A polished stone, very pretty shell, even some candy from your village of birth you thought you'd never see again!

• Each one placed somewhere you’re bound to find it: in your coat pocket, on your bunk, even tucked away in your boots once.

• At first, you think it’s just coincidence, or maybe the crew playing some kind of prank.

• But the things you find are too specific, too you.

• They’re not the usual junk that gets tossed around on the ship. These are things that hold a certain charm, things you genuinely like.

• Slowly, a pattern starts to form, though you can’t quite pin down who’s behind it.

• That was till one gift made you figure out who it was- A well loved red beanie, It would be perfect for the upcoming sailing adventure since it was oddly cold.

• Looking into the hat you see it- A long strand of blue hair that seemed to have been perfectly left behind in the fold.

• Blue Hair-

• As you began to piece together this was from Buggy you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you held the hat close.

• He would never acknowledge anything of course- You assumed his ego being too grand to do so. However your heart fluttered at the idea your Captain was going out of his way to leave these for you.

• You decide to watch how he interacts after this, just to confirm your hypothesis.

• Wearing the beanie you sit on the desk were Buggy is screaming at the crew and stomping his foot angrily at something random.

• Pulling some of the candy he left you from your coat pocket you began to eat it while chatting one of your peers, perfectly angled for the Cap to see you.

• Just to catch Buggy glancing at you and seemingly smirking to himself- His mood 'Magically' Improving at a drop of a dime.

• Bingo!

- Later that evening after dinner, You'd snuck into the Captain's Quarters looking around a bit nervously as you looked for a good spot to set the item you'd made for him, It had been a small hotdog statue that you'd made yourself with some clay- Easy to put on a desk or keep in a pocket since Buggy seemed a bit fidgety.

"Now where to put it-"

You grumble as you frantically looked around for a good spot for the gift, not wanting it to get lost in the chaos that was his quarters. He made it seem so easy to be able to hide these things in places he knew you'd find them- But this was hard!

His desk was a fucking mess! Clothes on the floor and it was impossible to know were he actually looked.

Shit, Shit, Shit!

Right as you think you found a good spot on top of some makeup tins the door to his office slams open- Were the Devil himself steps in looking just as surprised as you felt.

Deer In Headlights-

You two stare at each other for what felt like forever as he looks ready to question you for being in his personal space but your frazzled mind seemed to beat him.

"I MADE YOU A HOT DOG!" You should holding the hot dog in the palm of your hand and wanting the ground to swallow you whole-

...

A wide smile slowly started to stretch across Buggy's face as he closed in the space between the two of you and greedily took the hot dog trinket from your hands. His eyes seemed to sparkle.

"You Made This?" You nod hesitantly, a bit frazzled still before shyly smiling.

"I um, noticed all the stuff too. From You" It was now your turn to catch him off guard, He started to blush as you get flushed as well.

"Ive liked all of them" You say softly, watching a nervous smile grace his lips.

"Do- You wanna drink on desk? So I can ask how you made this?" Buggy asked, coughing a bit to himself to clearly ease his nerves and make himself seem cooler. You giggle at this and nod.

"Id like that a lot"

[birbs-nest]

So one of my mutuals has made a Siffrin voice that appears as the relative default in my head, so I just heard this is one hell of a tone.

hey google why wont my friends laugh at my jokes anymore

[twola]

i had a thought about arthur late last night and made sure to note it down, felt like sharing 🤠

arthur with a ( sort of? ) mommy kink???

he wants to suck on your nipples, slotted between your legs and whining every now and again.. your hand tangled in his hair.. just wants to be held, all while desperate and needy.

note: your writing is so.. :heart eyes emoji: i aspire to be able to write like you one day

On occasion, he surprises you. This man of yours, so rough and tumble - fearsome and intimidating. Hands so stained with blood and violence.

And yet -

And yet, in the solitude of his tent, the painstakingly built walls crumble ever so slightly. He allows you to strip him down, to dab his brow. To bathe him of the blood and muck his life forces him to wallow in. He sits upon an old stool in the center of this small makeshift abode, the pale skin of his chest and legs stark against the sun-tanned color of his arms. He sits patiently, unashamed of his nudity, as you quietly cleanse him of his sins.

His rough and fearsome hands, broken skin across the knuckles and gnarled scars, they seem so out of place in your small ones. Your fingers rub at his joints gently in the soft light of the tent, the lantern turned low in the night.

You’re pressing a damp cloth to his neck, cleansing him of the dust that clings to his skin, when he leans forward and places his forehead against your breast. You drop the cloth and immediately cradle his head against you, carding through his hair.

It is not often that he gets like this - this man of yours. Usually so stalwart and strong. So giving and self-sacrificing. But in these moments, he needs. And for all of the things he does for you, you are more than happy to oblige.

Your hands sweep down and around his broad shoulders as his arms wind around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

He pulls gently at the ties of your skirt, and the fabric gently flutters to the ground after he unties it.

Your hands move up his back and cup his jaw, tilting his head up to gaze on you, you smile at him before leaning down to place your lips upon his forehead.

“Bed, Arthur.” You whisper - you can see the exhaustion in his eyes.

He nods, and quietly stands up, towering over you once again. You shuck your shirt off, tossing it toward where your skirt fell. Clad in only your chemise, you slide to sit in the cot that the two of you share.

“C’mere.” You reach up to him and he climbs in, slotting his large body between your legs, laying his head lightly upon your breast once again as he settles in to where you recline.

It is only a few moments until his fingers paw at your chemise, pulling down the neckline to expose your breast, which he immediately takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth.

Your head drops back as he sucks, your breath speeding up and thighs tightening around his torso. It is everything for you not to moan aloud when he makes some needy sound against your skin, sucking harder at your breast.

But this isn’t about you. Damn him, always giving, giving, giving, even when he is the one that needs.

“Hey-” You pull at his hair gently, making him groan slightly as he pulls up from your nipple, spit slicked and shiny in the lantern light.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Hush,” you pull him to lay his head upon your breast again, “Let me hold you.”

And for all of his strength, brutishness and masculinity, he does let you hold him. He lets you hum a soft melody as you cradle his head, brushing locks of his messy hair behind his ear.

At some blessed point, the man falls asleep, held fast against you, for once in so very long, vulnerable in your arms.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Seven: Communing with Nature

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Six - Chapter Eight ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: another omen looms on the horizon, but James is always there to help.

Word Count: 5.5k

“Hello?” your call out into the haze made no sound, dying out just as it fell past your lips. The space around you seemed to suck it up like a black sheet in the midday sun, unwilling to allow you to be heard. “Hello?” you tried again, but to no avail. 

There was little surrounding you, all barren save for a gray fog, thick and heavy as wool. You reached for your wand, though it was not in your pocket where you usually kept it. You tried your other pocket, but it was absent from there as well. A pool of terrible dread bubbled in your stomach, so full it felt alive. It moved within you, an entity with its own desperations, independent from your own. You recalled Professor Quattlebaum’s words spoken on the first day of third year, “Many believe Divination originates in the head or heart, when truly, it lives in the stomach.”

You attempted to peer through the fog, but your vision was unable. However, creeping in the distance, some of this haze drifted, shifting in an unfelt breeze. It revealed the shadow of a human figure, standing still within the desolate land. You tried to gauge their distance, though the task seemed impossible. It was as if they were both very close, yet very far, the way one looked in a mirror. 

In vain you called out once more, “Hello!” Again, there was no noise. 

You took a slow step towards them, deliberate and calculating. You found solid ground beneath you and began to run as fast as you could, dashing towards the figure. Though, no matter how far you pressed, the figure never seemed to draw nearer. Their steps of retreat were of the same speed and length as your own, a continual dance between you. 

You came to a halt, breath faltering. The fog was cold against your skin, sticky and penetrating, yet entirely odorless. With every inhale it filled your lungs with something syrupy and choking, a lingering bitterness down your throat. With a particularly deep inhale you heard a faint noise. In a new rush of adrenaline you stood up straight, cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting. This time, the sound came roaring from your lips like the ring of a trumpet, blazing through the swirling fog. 

The figure appeared to turn as if to watch you. You felt their gaze, consuming yet not entirely unfamiliar. Your hands dropped at your sides as you took another step, then another, and a dozen more. Though, the same as before, you could not reach them. Your sight of the figure grew more and more vague, until eventually they faded from view entirely, leaving you alone in the fog. 

“No!” you called, bounding forward. With another few steps, your feet fell against an uneven surface. Looking down, you saw that you now stood a top pebbles, irregular and varying. Your gaze drifted out to where a shore lay a few meters ahead, water lapping lazily at the rocks. 

The fear returned, mounting, pounding against your ribs. You shuddered, though began to near the bank. Moving with the ebb and floating on its side was a red and purple fish. It’s dead, glassy eyes watched you from below, white and blind. You stumbled back, the call of a bird striking like lightning overhead. Your hands flew up to cover your ears to block the piercing cry. The bird called again, deafening even as it echoed. It sounded closer this time, its flight growing lower. 

You spun, head craned upwards as you searched the sky, but the fog overpowered all. A flash of black streaked the air, swooping around and past your eyes. You followed it, catching a glimpse as it dived towards the water, taking the fish in its talons before veering up and out of sight. The water rippled where it had been disturbed, soon fading out into the small waves. 

You awoke with a sudden jerk in your bed, a stream of light shining through a small gap in the curtains. For a moment, you forgot what day it was, still feeling the brush of the fog against your skin. You took a deep breath, attempting to go over the events of the previous evening: smoking in the Mirror Passage with Sirius, the others joining, laughing in the Common Room, leaving in a hurry, and having to explain it to Marlene and Dorcas. 

Your mind clung to the memories briefly, holding to them until the call of the bird no longer rang in your ears. Eventually, you stuck your hand through the curtains of your four-poster and felt around on the table for your watch. You checked the time, ten past eleven, far too late for the hour you went to bed. You had slept entirely through breakfast and would have to wait about an hour for lunch. You rubbed your face, ridding your eyes of their waking blur. 

You pushed back your curtains and got out of bed, finding Lily at her desk, hunched over her books. She looked up, giving you a small smile. 

“Morning, sleepy head,” she chuckled, sitting back in her chair. 

“Morning,” you said, trudging to the lavatory to splash some water into your face. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

“C’mon Bolt, keep it clean,” James muttered, his hands weaved in his hair as he leaned closer to the radio on the table. His leg was bouncing, eyes scrunched beneath his glasses.

Zimmerbolt comes in hot around the left side– Babbage hits the bludger towards him– Ah! O’Reilly blocks it!

“Son of a–” James nearly stands, plopping back down in his seat with a huff. Beside him, Peter was squished between him and Sirius, Dorcas in a chair across from them. A rather large group had formed, most nervously listening as the announcer continued. Sirius was the only one who looked rather unaffected, only paying half attention. 

Zimmerbolt is moving in towards the goal, a pass from Appleton, Yordy tries to check but the quaffle remains in Zimmerbolt’s possession— Goal from Zimmerbolt!

James and Peter stood to cheer along with a handful of other students. From the sofa by the fire, you looked up from your schoolwork to witness the comotion. James was grinning at Dorcas, throwing himself back down in his seat. Remus was watching from the other side of the sofa, chuckling at James’s enthusiasm. 

“Can’t beat The Bolt, Meadowes!”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Tutshill is gonna kill you this season, just watch.”

“Not when you don’t have The Bolt!” James laughed.

The snitch is spotted by Goodwyn of the Wimborne Wasps, she goes in past Appleton– Babbage and Crundlestuck make for a dopplebeater! 

James looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

Crundlestuck knocks out Babbage by mistake, he’s nearly off his broom– he recovers! Strudwick of the Tunshill Tornadoes is hot on Goodwyn’s tail, they’re neck and neck– A bludger’s heading for Goodwyn, O’Reilly blocks! Their up past the goal, Goodwyn moves in— She’s got the snitch! 

From their huddle in the corner, an eruption of cheers ensued, overpowering the groans of disappointment from the Tutshill fans. After the majority of celebratory hollers died down, you could hear James playfully taunting Dorcas.

“That's how it’s done!”

The Wimborne Wasps win with 230 points, the Tunshill Tornadoes losing with 90! Next, Wimborne advances and plays the Thundelarra Thunderers for a spot at the Quidditch World Cup! Tunshill plays Puddlemere United on the eighteenth in a match for the League Cup–

Someone switched off the radio, the group dispersing in a mix of joy and heartache. You continued with your work as James, Peter, and Sirius came over to sit by you and Lily near the fire. Dorcas lazily followed, shoulders slumped. She grumbled something about “bloody Zimmerbolt” as she picked up the Daily Prophet lying across the arm of the sofa, hiding her face as she unfolded it. Staring you on the front page was the hardened face of Harold Minchum, the Minister of Magic, speaking with his hands gripping the sides of his podium. 

Your Transfiguration book was propped up on your legs in front of you, but all you could think of was your Divination essay on your desk in your room, and what you had woken up to this morning. It had forced you to confront the fact that you desperately needed to find a way to forget about your project, something which would hopefully come about when you handed it in Monday afternoon. As you brushed your teeth a few hours earlier, you decided that the dream was not prophetic, but rather an amalgamation of stress and rumination. Nothing like this had ever happened before, so you had little reason to take any of it seriously. Right?

Standing in front of the hearth, Sirius nodded towards Dorcas’s paper. “Anything new with Min-scum?”

Lily sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t see why you hate him so much, Sirius. He’s been going after them as hard as he can–”

“Yeah, and look at all the good it’s doing. A dozen more muggles dead and two Ministry workers missing. All the dementors in the world can’t stop the ones that aren’t actually in Azkaban.”

Dorcas had lowered the paper, folding it closed on her lap. You all fell silent for a beat, the delicate nature of the situation clearly apparent. Even James did not speak, eyes downcast. 

Finally, Lily spoke, gentle as ever, “I know, but it’ll be alright. I’m sure they’re doing a lot that they can’t tell us about.” No one really believed it, especially not Sirius, but it eased him enough for the time being. He glanced sideways into the fire, still grumpy but not dangerously so. Dorcas stuck the paper under her arm and stood, wandering around the sofa and up the stairs to the dormitories. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

The sun was a quarter way to the treetops, reflecting off the half-melted snow and sending soft rays into the windows of Gryffindor Tower. The Marauders had gone off somewhere after lunch and had yet to return, perhaps Hogsmeade, though you couldn’t be sure. You had holed yourself up in your room, able to get quite a bit of work done before you couldn’t bear it any longer. Your gaze drifted to your wristwatch, the charmed face revealing the image of a blue, unclouded sky beneath the hands. Your thoughts moved to your dream, the fog, the fish, the call of the bird . You forced yourself back into the present, Sirius’s suggestion to go fishing becoming more and more appealing as time went on. Perhaps with a sprig of rosemary and a nice side of—

You pushed your papers away from you, glancing out of the window before you went to slip on your shoes and grab your coat and scarf. When you walked down to the Common Room, you did not check to see if any of your friends were present before you pushed open the portrait hole. You weren’t quite sure where you even planned on heading, mindless wandering until you left the castle through the Entrance Hall, making way to the lake. 

While the main path was cleared of snow, much still remained on the ground. You trudged forward, slinking across the lawn past the quidditch pitch. A team was practicing, though you didn’t look long enough to make out which house they belonged to. Far behind you, the Forbidden Forest bristled, frost clinging to the wiry branches.

You soon stood in front of the lake, eyeing its dark waters as a worthy adversary, lapping against the uneven shoreline. Somewhere below, the giant squid was swimming, searching for its prey. You inched up to the bank, pacing back and forth alongside it, your hands swinging at your sides. At the end of the year when you passed over it in your boat for the final time, you would make it a point to peer into its expanse, even if you were just met with the image of your own, wistful face. 

You were only alone beside the water for ten minutes when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow behind you. You turned, seeing James coming towards you, his spirited grin visible even from far away. He ran up as your eyes met, tufts of snow kicked up behind his feet. 

“What’re you doing here?” you called as he slid up beside you. He was wearing his usual brown jacket, loved so much that the sleeves were beginning to shred. When he went back home this summer, Mrs. Potter would most definitely have a fit over the fact that he continued to walk around in such an unkempt state. The thought made you smile, even if just for a moment. 

“I saw you walking down here when I was done with practice,” he answered, still smiling. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

You shrugged, turning back to gaze across the lake, the blurred reflection of the mountains dancing across the ripples. “I don’t know. Needed a break, I guess,” you paused, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to be very fun right now.”

“Don’t be,” his tone was full of kindness, something familiar and sweet. “I’m used to moods.”

“I can imagine,” you said, your lips tilted up just a fraction before falling again.

James bumped his shoulder against yours, eyes darting between the water and yourself. “Do you want me to ask what’s wrong, or should I just shut up and look pretty?

He made you smile again, bigger this time. Though, like before, it didn’t last long. You studied the snow at your feet, wishing it were spring.

“It’s Divination,” you answered, already tired of hearing yourself say it. “The same old shite. Stuff just keeps happening. I don’t think you’d understand.” You finally turned to him, met with a small, weak smile, so different than what it had been a minute prior. 

“I don’t know much about Divination, but I don’t think it’s a bunch of hogwash. I didn’t really think that before, but I definitely can’t after you were right about the storm.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose at his choice in vocabulary. “Hogwash?” 

“Like it?” he asked, eyes lit up. “I’m thinking of adding it into my regular rotation. Spice things up a little.”

“I think you should,” you chuckled. 

His expression had begun to shift to something sad, an ellipses to the start of his next sentence. The lightness that usually followed him wherever he went was dimming the longer he looked at you, the more he took in your sullen state. 

“What else happened?” he asked, waiting patiently for you to speak. 

“A single crow, as stupid as that sounds.” You couldn’t help but laugh at your own foolish worries, no matter how strongly felt they may be. “I was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and it just came right up to the railing, staring at me,” every word came out breathy, laced with the same dreary assumption. You were already too exposed for your own liking, but forever willing to bare more for James. 

He shifted on his feet, not taking his eyes from you. You were unable to tell if he was growing uncomfortable with the conversation, or if he just didn't have the slightest idea what to do or say. 

“Does it have to be bad?” he paused, voice sounding pained by his own question. “Could a crow ever be good?” 

You cleared your throat, buying time before you had to answer. “One is usually a sign of bad luck. They normally stick to a murder, so one isn’t exactly a common sight to begin with. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of one being good, or even neutral. It's the fish all over again.” 

“Maybe it’ll be like Lily said, something small,” there was a forced ease to the way he put things, and you clung to it desperately before letting it go, remembering your other omen. 

“I also had a dream last night,” you murmured, low enough you weren’t sure if he could hear. However, it seemed as though he had from his expression of deep concern. He didn’t say a word, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. At any other time, you would have been swept away by its elegance. 

Slowly, you began relaying the dream to him, clinging to a few minor details that didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. You shut your eyes as you spoke, the shadowy figure like a stain on the back of your eyelids. You could see it all clear as day; the figure, the fish, the black streak of the bird. When you finished, you opened your eyes and let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I feel like I’m going mad.”

James ran a hand through his curls, moving it to the back of his neck. As you watched his brows pinch together, his jaw tightening and releasing, you wondered why you even told him. He had his own problems, and now he was pained by another. His fingers rubbed his spine, his head still ducked forward.

“I wish–” he began, dropping his hand at his side, “I just wish I had something for you. I wish I were Lily right now, so that I could help. Godric , I want to help you.” He said your name, half broken on his lips. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

You felt your throat grow tight, a swirling mix of contradicting emotions colliding in a frenzy which ultimately led to an all-encompassing melancholy. Within the concoction was the same looming dread as this morning, the building anxiety that came with the increased weight you put into your various omens. Then was the unmistakable, blooming affection that came when he looked at you. It was the same way he would sometimes look at Remus or Sirius, the kind of expression which was painful to witness. He had never looked at you like that before, so completely full of heartache and without a way to make things better. A weaker part of you relished in the proof it gave you, proof that he cared for you more deeply than you previously believed. A larger, more logical part, was ridden with guilt over the burden you had placed upon him. He took on as many on as he could, always and without question, and you had willingly added to it. His rounded eyes were soft, impossibly so, though the beauty in his gaze was crushingly disappointing. He was showing you the same care that he had for Sirius last weekend, but it still could never fully satiate. There was guilt over that, as well: your own greed. 

Then, there was the final part, threaded between all else. He did not care for you the way you so desperately wanted him to. That was the worst of it all.  

James sighed, repeating the motion of his hand running through his hair. His curls were mused, as lovely as a painting. “And, you’re not mad. Don’t think for a single bloody second that you are, all right?”

You nodded, swallowing down as much of your trembling voice as you could. “Thank you, James.”

“Don’t say thank you. You never have to say thank you to me.” He took another breath, drawn out like the wind. 

All you could do was nod again, lacking the vocabulary to properly tell him everything you wished to say, all without revealing too much. 

He reached out his hand, taking a minute step to the side. “C’mon, let's get outta here.” You stared back at him, unable to move. “Don’t leave me hanging, love.”

You finally took his hand, ungloved and warm despite the temperature. He smiled at you with his characteristically bright grin as you began walking back towards the castle. You tried not to think about the nickname. 

“Your hands are cold,” he laughed, bringing your hand up and running his thumb along the back. After, he let it go, much too soon. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as you both passed by the pitch, now void of players. 

“Have a request?” 

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. His smile only grew wider, as blinding as the snow. 

“Excellent.” 

He led you both alongside the boathouse, crossing the main path to the castle. Just as you thought he was heading towards Hagrid’s Hut, he pulled you to the left down the hill, skirting closer to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. You grew nervous, hoping he wasn’t planning on taking you where you thought he was. 

“Where in the world are you taking me?” you asked. 

After briefly glancing over his shoulder, he turned and smiled at you, infectious enough to make you forget your fears for a second. “Would you rather have it be a surprise, or shall I tell you now?”

“Shall? You’re really stepping it up lately.”

“I try,” he said before remembering his previous question, “So, take your pick.”

“Surprise, I guess,” you answered warily. 

“Good choice.” 

Without warning, he grabbed your hand again and pulled you into the forest, forcing you to jog a ways inside before he slowed. The brush was not thick, but the trees were large and looming, their trunks massive. The light of the sun was obscured, even if most of the trees were bare. You gripped James’s hand tighter, tugging him to a stop. 

He gave you a reassuring look, pulling out his wand. “Don’t worry, this part of the forest is safe during the day.” 

Your eyes darted around the woods, which appeared largely unthreatening, though slightly imposing. You reluctantly allowed him to resume the journey, taking careful steps over the ancient, knotty roots. “I know you’re good at dueling, but I’m not sure I trust you against whatever lives here .”

He squeezed your hand, reminding you that they were still clasped together. A chill ran up your arm, though you passed it off with a feigned shiver from the cold. 

“That hurt,” he laughed. “But I’ll forgive you.”

After a few minutes, James spotted something in the distance, pulling you towards it with renewed spirit. Nestled within the woods was a small, round pond, shallow along the shore. It was frozen over, though the ice was rather translucent and thin, melting as the temperature warmed. James dropped your hand when he neared it, turning around to face you. 

“A pond?” you said, not intending to sound so disappointed. 

James scoffed, motioning towards the water.  “Are you not sufficiently surprised?”

“No, no, I am,” you laughed, wandering closer to him by the edge, kicking up a rock beneath your feet. James moved down the other side, poking the ice with the toe of his boot. 

“Do you think this ice is thick enough to walk on?” he asked.

You peered at it, quite sure that it was not. “Why don’t you try it out and we’ll see?”

“Very funny,” he said dryly, pointing his wand towards the pond. “Glacius Crassamento!”

Moving from the center of the pond, the ice gradually grew thicker, crackling as its transparency faded into a smoky opacity. You watched the pond in amazement before turning towards James with a scowl. He stood up straight and rather proud, wand slowly lowering as he turned to you. 

“Did you bring me all the way here just to show me that?” 

“Maybe,” he said, smiling mischievously. 

Your eyes danced over the newly thickened ice once more, trying to place the spell in your memory, though coming up empty. “Where did you learn that?”

“Developed it for Arithmancy last term.” He tested the ice with his foot again, deeming it thick enough to tread. He stepped onto it, taking another measly step forward so he didn’t slip. The way he moved reminded you of a newly born fawn, careful on shaky legs. His efforts in stability were somewhat in vain, as he nearly took a tumble, saving himself at the last moment. “Gonna work on making it less slippery, next.”

“James,” you said, laughing a bit as he turned around and glided a bit across, “was it hard to walk the first time you transformed?”

He shook his head, moving back towards land. “No. It feels the same as walking on two legs, for the most part.” You hummed, poking another pebble with your shoe. “Have any other stag-related questions?”

You smiled a bit at the invitation, nodding. “I do, actually. I never really asked you about it, now that I think of it.”

“Yeah, you’re always so polite.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed again, pausing to think. “All right, I have one. Have you ever eaten, you know, deer food when you’re transformed?”

“Not that I can recall,”  he answered, amused by your choice in questions. He hopped back onto the bank, this time with ample grace. 

You continued to meander around the pond, yours and James’s footsteps adding to the soft chorus of wind through the branches. 

“Oh, I have another!” you announced. “Do you think if you smelled Amortentia it would smell like acorns and berries or whatever else stags like?”

James’s eyes drifted away from yours as he thought. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure it would work on an animal to begin with.”

“But you’re not really an animal, right?” 

James moved towards you, slowly and without much haste. “Maybe we should test it.”

“That ones such a pain in the arse to brew, though. Maybe we could convince Sirius to do it for us, say it’s for a prank or something.”

“We’d have to trick him into it,” he said, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. “He has no appreciation for science.”

You echoed his laughter, kneeling down by the pond to peer into the ice. It was far too thick to see through now, though still beautiful in its own way. James continued to walk closer, stopping to pick up a stone from the ground and roll it in his palm. 

“It’s a kind thing that you all do,” you said softly, unsure if the topic was safe to bring up. 

James tossed the stone away from him, staring at where it landed somewhere on the forest floor. “He’d do it for any one of us.”

You nodded, thinking about the time only a few years ago when you barely knew them, when they had spent nearly a year trying to become animagi without anyone suspecting a thing. Then, you had believed you knew him well enough. But, when he and Lily began dating, you discovered you hadn’t known him at all, privy only to the footnotes: he was confident, perhaps overly so, he got good marks, he caused too much trouble, he was so charming it pissed you off. You were entirely unaware of how fiercely he believed in his friends, or how open his arms would be when you stepped further into his life. 

“I wish I was friends with you then,” you said, watching as he began to smile down at you. “I probably would’ve gotten in on it with you guys. ” 

“There’s no way we would’ve told a girl ,” he teased, coming to stand only a few feet away. 

You stood up, staring at the tip of his nose which had grown rosy in the cold. “No exceptions for me?”

“When I was thirteen? No. Now? Most definitely.”

He gave you that look again, although this time it was fonder, simple in its meaning. Either way, it was blinding, forcing you to tear your gaze away towards something, anything else. You stared forward towards the other side of the pond and into the tree line. You want to weep, taken up by the threat of future nostalgia. When you left Hogwarts, James would take the world in his palm and shape it into whatever he liked, no matter what was going on in it. You, however, would linger in the space between his past and present, left to sort out your own life. The thought was more terrifying than any of your omens. 

“I wish it could always be like this,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, your tears burning hot behind your eyes. You weren’t entirely sure if you meant life at Hogwarts in general or just this moment. Maybe it was a bit of both. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone low and unreadable. 

You shrugged weakly, thinking about all the little boats over the lake, their sparkling lanterns, the sound of the water as they sailed. “I don’t know, all of us together like this.” 

“It won’t be different. You and Lily will get a flat, start working, doing whatever you do out there. I’ll pass my Auror’s exam, maybe fart around for a while, same as usual,” his voice picked up near the end, an attempt at playfulness.

“It’s not gonna be the same, though. You know that.” Your eyes grew glassy, and you tried to blink it away, though it only made it worse. 

“Why not? We’ll make it the same,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. 

“I never realized how weird it’s going to be this summer until now. Every time I go home, I know I’m coming back. Now, though,” you trailed off, taking a long, shuddering breath. 

He turned away, following your line of sight into the trees. “I mean it when I say it’ll be the same. Maybe not exactly the same, but it’ll still be good. We’ll all still be together.” You met each other's eyes, James frowning when he caught sight of your tears. “I’ll come and visit you every chance I get, if you want. I don’t know what I’ll be doing, maybe I’ll crash with Sirius for a while in his flat. Although, I’m pretty sure it’s only one room. Apparently London is expensive,” he chuckled a bit, pausing to gauge your reaction.

A tear finally slipped from your eye, but you wiped it away quickly, scrubbing the sleeves of your jacket across your cheek. For the second time, there wasn’t anything you could possibly say to safely tell him how you felt, or how much you adored him. 

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile. It was all you could allow.

“What did I tell you?” You mirrored his smile, nearly giddy. “I mean it, you’re going to see so much of me, so much of everyone, that you’re going to wish we never had this conversation. You’ve opened up the floodgates.”

James placed a hand upon your shoulder, fingers flexing for a moment, rocking you back before he brought you towards his chest. You let him wrap his arms around you, cocooning you fully against the chill of the air. You held him tighter than you should, allowing yourself to fall into the moment without your usual shields, defenses lowered in a way they hadn’t been in years. After a moment of basking in the way your head fit into the curve of his neck, the wind was nearly knocked out of your lungs. The feeling of it all ran down your arms and into your fingers like an electric pulse. When the shock had worn off, the ache returned, more acute than ever before. Your greatest nightmare had been realized. You were in love with him. 

He pulled away, dropping his arms in an unintended act of mercy. He didn’t speak for a moment, perhaps seeing the far off look in your eyes. Slowly, the world came back to you, and you gazed across his face as if seeing him for the first time. 

James broke the silence first, “You know, sometimes I forget I didn’t really know you until a few years ago.” 

You shrugged. “You did know me, we just weren’t close.”

He stared at you again, really looking at you the way not many people could. “I’m happy Lily and I dated, even if it all went to shit,” he chuckled. “Who else would I get to predict the weather for me?”

You laughed, half real and half a way to soothe your open, festering wound. It must have been convincing by the way James was looking at you. 

“C’mon,” he said, motioning for you to follow him. “You’re laughing now, which means I’ve done my job. It’s getting late, anyway. Can’t miss dinner.”

You nodded, beginning to walk back the way you came. Even the forest seemed like it was born again, drab against the glow of James beside you. 

“I feel like all you do lately is comfort me,” you said, hoping your guilt would come through without you having to fully say it. 

“If I didn’t, what kind of friend would that make me? A pretty shite one, I’d say.”

There it was again. Friend.

Chapter Eight