#so far I am stumped

[wall-e-gorl]

I had the idea last night to make a real dumb magic system and im figuring it out now and it's not that bad actually

[azrielsdove]

Ive been loving all the fics youve been posting. I had this lil idea that hopefully sparks joy for you if ur requests are open. Its an azriel x reader. Where reader is very cold hearted and kinda mean almost bitchy like nesta. Hates to be touched eapecially on her back. Azriel hates her cuz she so unpleastant and so incredibly difficult. The bond snaps for azriel and hes so so confused because he for sure thought elain was for him. Reader always looks at azriels hands almost disgusted but the truth is that she had her wings cut off and the stumps burned down to her flesh, so her entire back is scarred like azriels hands. Her face isnt of disgust but since he hides his hands she assumes he'd be disgusted in her. Azriel softens up to her when he finds out she has a soft spot for children, maybe she teaches orphaned children in the city. Idk i just like the idea of a cold hearted reader thats just as scarred as azzy but actually has a soft heart for kids. Or maybe shes always longed for a family of her own but cant get passed her own insecurities. You can change whatever you'd like to fit your writing style. ❤️

Thank you love!!!! I am OBSESSED with this idea and took off with it. I decided to turn it into a mini series, when I started writing the Readers POV it was getting wayyyy long. I hope I have done your idea justice, here is part 1 <3

Cold Hearts: Azriel x Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Pt. 2 Here

***

Azriel couldn’t stand her. She was nothing but cold and hateful to everyone, especially to him. When she had first come to stay with Rhysand in Velaris, he had tried to be kind to her. Rhys hadn’t told anyone why he brought her, and she certainly never opened up about it.

The first day he met her, she was sitting silently in the small library in the House of Wind. Azriel had smiled at her and given a “Good morning.” She had turned sharply to look at him, her gaze focusing on the hand he waved with. He watched the look of disgust come over her face before she turned back to staring into the fire.

Azriel had been a little taken aback. Sure, he struggled with the way his hands looked, and was no stranger to the dirty looks. The look on her face had been nastier than he had ever seen. She looked at his hands like they caused her pain. He left the library after that, not sure what to think.

Many years had gone by since that first meeting, and Azriel preferred to stay far away from her. No one else wears very fond of her either. He still didn’t know why Rhys had brought her here, nor why he allowed her to stay. She spent most of her days locked in her room or sitting in the library. She occasionally came to meals with the family, rarely speaking. And when she did speak? It was always some cold remark, as if she wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else.

So why did she stay?

Azriel pondered that question far too often. When Rhys became trapped Under the Mountain, he had included that everyone should be prepared for war in his last message. Azriel took it upon himself to train her. He had shown up to her room early in the morning, expecting a fight. To his shock, she willingly came.

She took to training quicker than Azriel had thought. She proved to have some skill under that cold shell she showed everybody, even if it took some coaxing for it to come out. He was impressed. Azriel even started enjoying teaching her, until the day she lashed out at him and declared she never wanted to see him again.

He didn’t know what he had done wrong.

He was trying to teach her a slightly difficult new maneuver. She was struggling to angle her body the correct way, unable to understand how Azriel did it. He had reached out to help her, placing a hand on her lower back and shoulder to move her body into place. She shot out of his grasp like he had stabbed her, whipping around to face him.

“What do you think you are doing?” She had seethed, eyes on fire. Azriel had held his hands up in surrender, confused.

“I was just trying to help-“ He had begun, being cut off by her.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me.” She had glared at his hands, a stare he didn’t miss.

“I don’t understand why you must be so insufferable all of the time!” Azriel had snapped, fed up with the constant negativity and judgement that came from her.

“Maybe don’t be a nasty pig and grab up on any female you see!” She had shouted, turning to leave the ring. “Stay away from me. I don’t wish to see you anymore.”

And that was that.

Cassian had taken over her training from then on out. Azriel was fine with it. She clearly had some sort of issue with him, and it seemed to stem from his hands. His ugly, scarred hands. Were they really so grotesque she couldn’t even stand him touching her?

***

When Rhysand had returned from Under the Mountain, things got better and worse. At first, she had been kinder. Azriel had noticed how she rushed to Rhys before anyone else, how carefully she wrapped him in her arms. The two of them had disappeared after that, not seen until the next day. Azriel couldn’t figure out why the two of them had such a bond, why Rhysand cared for her so much. He had just come back and announced that the human girl - Feyre - was his mate, so it couldn’t be a romantic attraction.

Or could it?

Azriel shook his head, demanding those thoughts the leave his mind. Ignoring the spark of jealousy that ran through him. He didn’t know why he cared so much about her.

***

Elain. There was no doubt in Azriels mind that Elain was his. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, naturally Azriel would have Elain. It didn’t matter that the cauldron had mated her with Lucien. Three sisters, three brothers. Anyone could read what that meant.

Azriel tried not to notice the way she had slunk into the shadows lately. When Feyre first came to the Night Court, the two had struck up a friendship. Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes and ears when he saw how fun and sweet she was with Feyre. It further confirmed his belief that she was so disgusted in his scars that she couldn’t stand to be near him. She had even started to being nicer to Cassian, her training with him going much better than yours with Azriels had.

Once the bond snapped with Feyre and Rhysand, she had taken a small step back from the both of them. When it snapped with Cassian and Nesta, she had backed away from Cass as well. She barely even had a witty retort anymore, choosing to stay quiet most of the time.

Azriel felt like no one else had noticed the change in her. However, he had to admit, so much change had happened in such a short time that he couldn’t blame them for not realizing.

Why did he realize?

Even as she created small friendships with the others, she ignored Azriel. She only looked at him to stare at his hands. He had taken to wearing his gloves around her at all times, but she just stared as if she could see through the fabric. He had spent decades trying to be nice to her, for nothing. She rarely spoke to him, mostly just gave that look to his hands.

She was always going to be cruel to him.

***

Azriel was trying desperately to find a Solecist gift for Elain. He knew he had a reputation for gifts, and he wanted to make sure what he got Elain was perfect. As perfect as she is.

And he had no idea what that would be.

He was wandering the paths of Velaris aimlessly, peering into the stores as he passed, trying to see anything that seemed like Elain. He was getting worried that he would never find anything, turning away from yet another shop.

He stopped when he saw her.

She was inside a little building, large windows open for anyone to see in. He watched as she stood at the front of the room, facing a small group of…children? He angled his body a little to see clearly into the room, listening to her voice come through the window. Her tone was kinder than he had ever heard it. Azriel watched with wide eyes as she demonstrated a defense move-a move he had taught her.

And now she was teaching it to children.

He watched for the rest of the class, amazed at how well the kids grasped onto the concepts she was teaching. He felt his heart skip when her laughter floated out the windows, a bright smile on her face as she looked at one of the students. He had never seen her like this before.

When the class ended he watched as one of the smaller children ran up to her and threw their arms around her legs. Azriel expected her to jump back at the touch, instead watching her bend down and wrap her arms around them. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe any of this. He turned and headed back to the House, the gift for Elain long forgotten.

***

He wanted to approach her. He wanted to ask about the children he saw her teaching. He had a sudden desire to know more about her, to see who she may be under that cold exterior.

Azriel should have known she wouldn’t let him.

It was a few days after he had spotted her in town, and he had finally found her alone in the little library. He cleared his throat as he approached her, hoping to get her attention. Of course, she ignored him. He shouldn’t have been hurt by it, but he had been so hopeful after seeing her with the children.

Azriel called her name.

Her head slowly turned to him, eyes blazing. “Yes?” She asked coolly. Azriel have a small smile, refusing to lose his nerve now.

“I saw you, in town? With the children? I-“ He started, cut off by her suddenly standing.

“Spying on me, are you?” She asked, anger all over her face.

“No! No! I was shopping, for Elain, and I happened to walk by!” Azriel was gesturing wildly, not wanting you to think he was following you. “I saw you and then I saw the children and I was interested. You were, nice to them.” He cursed the words as they came out of his mouth, sounding just as sorry as one could imagine.

She scoffed. “Why would I not be? They’re kids.” Her words were sharp and Azriel felt embarrassment creep up his neck.

“Well, you’re not really nice to anyone.” He bit out, temper rising as she laughed.

“You don’t know anything about me.” She said, looking at him curiously.

“Oh? Is that so?” Azriel felt the words coming out before he could stop them, all the things he had wanted to say for years. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone get close to you. I tried to be your friend in the beginning, just for you to be cold and nasty. You are always cold and nasty. I’ve noticed you slowly losing the friends you have made, slinking off into the shadows. Do you ever stop to think that maybe it’s because you’re a cold-hearted bitch?”

She looked like he had slapped her.

“W-what?” She stumbled out, eyes wide.

Now it was Azriels turn to scoff. “Don’t pretend to be innocent now. You rarely speak to anyone except for Rhys, and when you do it’s usually to tell them to leave you alone! Even when I was trying to train you, you lashed out at me for just trying to help. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. Do they really upset you so much that you have to act like i’m the worst thing you’ve ever encountered? That you have to look at me like that and flinch when I touch you? I tried to be nice to you, just for you to react like that.” He was breathing heavy, all the hurt coming to the surface.

He watched her eyes flash and then suddenly, she was yelling at him. “How dare you? You have no idea what you are talking about. Are you so self centered that you truly believe everything I do is about you? Do you ever stop for one second to think that maybe, just maybe, I have my own shit to deal with?” Her cheeks were colored red, her hands clenching into fists.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “We all have our own shit going on. It doesn’t mean we take all of our miserable feelings out on everyone else!”

“I don’t! I just don’t have any interest in getting close with you. Not everyone has to want to lick the ground you walk on, Shadowsinger.” She spat out the last word like it was dirt in her mouth.

“Why not? What have I ever done that makes you hate me so? What has any of us done? The only one of us you would talk to for years was Rhysand. Did you love him? Are you bitter now that he has a mate and no one will ever be interested in you?” Azriel knew that was a low blow, but his anger overrode him common sense.

“What are you talking about? The relationship between me and Rhysand is none of your business. For a spymaster, you’re truly horrible at reading a situation.” She was angry, angrier than she had been in decades.

Azriel didn’t care. “No one here likes you. They’ve all moved on from their short friendships with you. Even your precious Rhys has found someone else to occupy his time with. Why do you stay here? You have no one.” He felt the pain in his chest at the expression on her face.

She blinked quickly, fighting tears. “You are the cruel one, Azriel.” She turned and ran from the room, leaving him in the aftermath of their fight.

It was the first time she had said his name.

He felt it snap in his chest, the tug to follow you. He could barely react, the shock of it keeping him rooted to the spot. No, he thought. No. Not her. It wasn’t supposed to be her.

The mating bond didn’t care for his concerns.

***

Please let me know how you feel!! Honestly Pt. 2 should be out tonight or tomorrow, i’m pretty far into it. I’m thinking this will be a 3-4 part mini series!!!

[galacticgraffiti]

✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns. Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV

⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆

Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────

Oh, to be Alone with You

Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.

Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.

Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well-  rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.

At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.

Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by  too many walls and a too-small bed frame.

Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.

He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-

No.

Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.

No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:

More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.

Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.

He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:

He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.

And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.

All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.

The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.

Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.

A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.

He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.

Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.

Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.

Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.

The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.

If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.

Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…

She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.

“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”

“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.

She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.

Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.

He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.

Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.

“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.

“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”

“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”

Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.

A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.

Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.

“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”

Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.

She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.

“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”

She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”

Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.

“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”

The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.

“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”

With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.

“Halsin, I-”

His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.

I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -

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[virginsexgod69]

REQUEST ‼️‼️‼️

I’ve always wanted to read one where the reader is one of Hershel’s daughters (set in season 2). When Daryl and the group show up the reader won’t stop teasing Daryl and eventually he can’t take it anymore. Please make my dreams come true 😭😭🤘. (p.s virgin reader would be +50 points ;)

❝ V-Card ❞

pairing (S2) Daryl Dixon x virgin!fem!Reader

cw loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, lowkey inexperienced daryl, but also not really?, teasing, some pining, daryl kinda being a boob man, reader being a little pervy at times

note i am so sorry i kept you waiting 32 days for this request @mygrandmaschinacabinet, i really hope you like this and thank you for your patience and kind comment on my other post!

p.s. just bc reader is hershel's daughter does not imply anything ab her appearence

~5.k words

 Living on a farm that was fairly far from society, it was a given that you wouldn't see good looking guys too often. But being a good looking girl, the guys you didn't want were always the ones after you, and you'd always have to turn them down. When she gets older, she's gonna have to fight off boys with a stick, was something your grandma would often tease your father, Hershel, about. You laughed it off, not paying any mind to it, but boy did she end up being right. You spent a good portion of your high school years rejecting your suitors, none of which were good enough for you, and none of which you really wanted. But when you finally laid eyes on the most beautiful man you've ever seen, he happened to be one who seemed to pay you no attention. 

 Odd circumstances brought the beautiful man, whom you quickly learned was named Daryl Dixon, to your farm. Otis shot a kid, Hershel took him in to care for, and his dad's group eventually made a home on your father's land. You couldn’t help but ogle at him from your bedroom window whenever you got the chance. The way his biceps flexed whenever he worked with his arms had your virgin pussy aching to be filled by him. He was a man who you’d let do things to you that you’d let no other man before even think he had a chance of doing. 

“Not this again,” Maggie complained upon entering your room. You were perched at your window -like you have been since the group first arrived- watching Daryl skin some squirrels. No one could look as good as he did while doing such a grisly task. 

“Can you blame me? Jus’ look at him,” you replied dreamily. 

“No thanks.” 

“Whatever. You have your eye candy, I have mine.” 

“Eye candy? What’re you talkin’ about?” She asked defensively. 

“Glenn. I’ve seen the way you look at him, like he’s a piece of meat,” you teased. 

“Whatever! Do you need anythin’? I’m goin’ out on a run.” 

“With Glenn?” 

 She let out an annoyed huff and exited the room, not awaiting your response. But you didn’t need anything anyway. You went back to watching Daryl. The sweltering Georgia heat caused sweat to drench his sleeveless shirt and drip from his short, dark hair. He looked like he walked out of one of your many wet dreams. Just then, an idea popped into your head. You hurried down to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, cooling it with the scoops of ice you added. Surely this kind deed would put you on his radar. 

“Hey, Daryl,” you cheerily greeted as you approached the rugged man. He sat on a stump, now gutting the squirrels he already skinned. He grunted in response, not looking up from his work. Your smile dropped, not that it mattered, considering he wasn’t even looking at you. 

“Brought you some water. It’s pretty hot out here and I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ dehydrated,” you said as you held out the cold glass, now dripping with condensation. “Thanks.” He grabbed the glass, his fingers slightly brushing yours, sending a tingling through your spine. He threw his head back, downing the water. A small stream of water dripped down his chin, then his neck, sliding down his shirt no longer in your vision. You squeezed your thighs together. Every little thing he did drove you crazy. You felt like a victorian man who’d just seen a peek of a woman’s ankle whenever you were around Daryl. 

“You uh… Ya need somethin’?” He asked when he noticed you haven’t left yet. You froze. You didn’t need anything, but you didn’t want to leave either. 

“Jus’ came to check on ya, I guess,” you muttered. 

“ ‘M fine?” He tossed the squirrel’s guts into a bucket. 

“Well, alright. My work here is done!” You cringed as the words left your mouth. You grabbed the emptied glass and walked back into the house, chastising yourself the entire way. You wanted nothing more than to have him look at you the way other guys do, but he barely give you the time of day. 

 The glimmer of sunbeams on your face woke you up the next morning. You glanced at the analog clock on your nightstand that read 11:36. You hopped out of bed and eagerly hurried to your window, hoping Daryl would be back from hunting or looking for that little girl or whatever else it was he did when he wasn’t in his usual spot. He was sat on that stump again, but this time he was cleaning his crossbow with that red rag he kept on him. You couldn’t take it anymore, you had  to do something. He couldn’t keep getting away with being so hot and so uninterested in you. 

 You readied yourself in the bathroom, making sure every hair was in place and every tooth was brushed. You debated putting on makeup. You had some leftover from before, but never had a reason to use it, not until now. You layered on some mascara until your lashes looked twice as long and twice as full and coated your lips with some tinted gloss. You stared into your closet debating on what you thought Daryl’d like better. Your tightest, shortest shorts and a nearly see-through tank top. 

“What’re doin’ all dolled up like that?” Your younger sister, Beth asked upon entering the kitchen. 

“Makin’ lunch for D-,” you stopped yourself, not wanting another sister catching onto your thing for Daryl, “for the group out there.” 

“Daddy doesn’t want us wastin’ all our stuff on them,” she protested. You rolled your eyes at her. She could be such a goody-two-shoes sometimes. “What he don’ know won’ hurt him.” You cut a piece of the sandwich you made and handed it to Beth. 

“Eat this and keep quiet.”  

You assembled the sandwich and a glass of lemonade on a tray and carried it over to his lone camp. He didn’t look at you until you were standing before him holding the tray of food. His eyes slowly made their way up to yours, lingering on your bare legs and exposed cleavage on their way up. You couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged the corners of your mouth at this small victory. He quickly averted his gaze and set his crossbow down. 

“Wha’s all this?” He asked, nodding his head toward the tray in your arms. 

“Made ya lunch. Figured you’d be hungry after all that huntin’ and searchin’ you been doin’,” you answered as you set down the tray. 

“Uh, thanks?” He seemed confused, but grateful nonetheless. “Of course,” you replied with a bright smile before sauntering off, swaying your hips more than usual. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you until the door closed behind you. 

 In the days that passed, you upped the ante on your teasing. Daryl noticed. At noon almost everyday, you’d bring him lunch in risqué little outfits. Not quite skimpy, but just enough to tease him. And tease him they did. He already was too nervous to look at you, afraid he might scare you off with his gruff nature and lack of experience with women. He’d choose, instead, to catch glimpses of you when you weren’t watching. Like when you’d leave after bringing him something, or when you’d be around doing farm-work or interacting with the other members of his group. But when you started wearing those revealing outfits, it became harder for him to keep from looking at you. But when he made eye contact with you, he became so nervous and shy that he had to look away. You were the sun. He could feel your warmth, even when he couldn’t see you. You were so bright and beautiful that he felt pulled to look at you, but whenever he did, it couldn’t be for long because he’d forcibly look away, your bright smile burning his sensitive retinas. 

 Speaking of the sun, there you were. “Daryl!” You called as you ran to him. The actual sun glowed behind you, making you look even more like an angel. He was atop one of your horses ready to leave the farm to look for Sophia. He was shocked to see you since you usually weren’t up until noon. He’d know since that’s around the time he sees you watching him through your window. 

“Yeah?” He grunted. 

“Ya goin’ out to look for that little girl?” Once you were out of the sunlight, he could actually get a good look at you.  Something in him stirred when he saw you in the little dress you had on. It was a cream color with ruffles at the bottom and it gave him a good view of your breasts from his position on the horse. He quickly tore his eyes away and looked at the view ahead of him, which was nowhere near as beautiful as you. 

“I figure you’ll be gone for a bit, so I brought you a little bite to eat,” you said holding up a few muffins you made the other night wrapped in cheesecloth. 

“T-thanks,” he stuttered. Despite how frequent it was, he was always taken aback by the kindness you show him. He’s never been treated the way you treat him before and it caught him off guard. 

“Be back by dinner, okay?” It wasn’t a command, more of a hopeful question, but made his heart flutter. 

“I’ll try.” He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. You stood there fiddling with your dress about to say something but deciding against it each time. 

“Wha’ is it?” 

“B-be safe out there!” You blurted before scampering off. He found it odd how you could be so bold with your teasing, yet shy when it came to actually talking to him. 

  Your words echoed in his head as he searched for any sign of Carol’s lost daughter. Your request of be back by dinner, okay? motivated him to get back to the farm, despite his injuries from the horse tossing him down a cliff making it difficult for him to move. But what really stuck with him was your horrified scream when you saw Andrea shoot him. That scream haunted his dreams while he was unconscious. The terror of it being the last thing he’d hear from you was his real nightmare. So when he heard your soft “Hey,” he felt relief wash over him, despite the pain everywhere else. He blinked his dry eyes open only for the first thing for him to see being your tits. You had on a loose t-shirt with no bra underneath. He didn’t know if this was a part of your teasing or a pure mistake, but either way, his cock stirred at the sight. You leaned down further to look into his eyes. 

“How ya feelin’?” You ask, placing the back of your hand to his forehead. He tried to croak out a response, but his throat was too dry. You quickly grabbed the glass of water at his bedside and helped him drink it. 

“Better?” 

“ ‘M fine,” he said. You gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him, but were humoring him anyway. “You were injured pretty badly, Daryl,” you said as you gently stroked his hair. He caught himself before he could fully melt into your touch. In fact, he moved away from it. 

“I know, ‘m fine,” he snapped before trying to roll over, away from you. He didn’t like you seeing him like this. So weak and frail, having to depend on those around him. He didn’t see the hurt expression that took over your pretty face. But, to his luck, you didn’t let him push you away. Instead, you toed off your shoes and got into the bed beside him, facing him. He hoped to the high heavens that you couldn’t see the redness that blossomed on his face when you flashed your bright smile at him. 

“I’ll keep ya company,” you promised. 

“Don’ need no company, said ‘m fine.” He didn’t know why he was so adamant about pushing you away. The minute he realized you were in here, he brightened up. He didn’t want his sunshine to leave, but he couldn’t help the storm that was brewing inside him. 

“Well, if you really want me to leave, I’ll go.” You were almost out of the bed before his clammy hand grabbed your wrist. 

“Nah, you can stay,” he said, prompting the return of that bright smile. 

 When you woke up, the sun was setting and Daryl’s arm was around your waist, holding you close. Your heart swelled, this was all you ever wanted, to be in Daryl’s arms. Okay, well you wanted more than just his arm around you, but small victories! You gently moved his arm off you so you could get up and get some dinner from him and yourself. 

“What were you doin’ in there?” Your father asked as soon as you stepped out of the room. He stood outside, about to come in, holding a tray of food for the bowman. 

“Nothin’, Daddy, I was jus’ checkin up on our patient!” It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. 

“Since earlier this afternoon?” He pressed. 

“Lost track of time,” you explained. 

“Now, honey, I know you’re just lookin’ out for him, but-“ 

“I know, I know, you don’t really trust them, but I’m just lovin’ thy neighbor, so to speak.” You bargained. 

That response seemed to satisfy him for now. He handed you the tray of food to give you Daryl. 

“Daryl, dinner,” you called softly upon reentering the room. He groaned, but woke up anyway. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain. You set the tray down and quickly ran to his side to help him out. You adjusted his pillows and helped him to a sitting position. 

“Wha’s fer dinner?” He asked, glancing at the bowl of soup on the tray beside him on the bed. You hummed in thought before dipping your finger into the bowl and sucking it clean, making sure your lips were pouty as you did so, hoping to tease Daryl. 

“Tomato.” He hummed noncommittally before reaching for the spoon. You swatted his hand away. “Nuh uh, you’re still healing, let me feed you.” 

“I can feed myself,” he protested. You furrowed your brows and pouted at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth slightly, waiting for a bite. You smiled, scooping up some soup and spooning it into his mouth, making sure to lean forward as to give him a front row seat to the view down your shirt. You saw him avoid looking the first few times, but soon he was unable to resist taking a peek, and soon his peeking became staring (however, he pretended not to be whenever you looked back up at him). 

“Enjoy the soup?” You asked once the bowl was mostly empty. 

“S’alright,” he said as he nibbled on a cracker. You grabbed the bowl and drank the rest of the soup directly from it. 

“Goddammit!” You cursed when a glob of soup fell onto your white t-shirt. But maybe it was a blessing in disguise, a chance to drive Daryl crazy. You grabbed a random t-shirt from one of the drawers and set it down before taking off the one you had, tossing it aside. You put the new one on as if you didn't just give him a strip show. His face was beet red and he hurried to adjust the blankets on his lap. 

"Daryl, you okay? You look a little hot?" 

"S'just w-warm in here." 

"Let me jus' check your temperature." Instead of pressing the back of your hand to his forehead like before, you placed a gentle kiss to it. 

"Feels a little warm." You stayed close to his face. If he moved, even a centimeter, his lips would touch yours, which is what you were hoping for. You glanced down at his lips, then up at his blue eyes, waiting for him to lean in. Despite all this teasing, you kinda wished he'd make a move, too. When he didn't, you pulled away, kissing him on the cheek instead. 

"Get well soon, okay?" you said before taking the tray and leaving. 

Daryl had been mentally punching himself since that night. He was an idiot for not kissing you when he had the chance. You were right there and so obviously waiting for him to do something, anything. But he couldn't. It'd been so long since he'd done anything with a woman, and even then, he didn't think he was any good. He was almost embarrassed about how inexperienced he was at his age. And someone as beautiful as you obviously would have some experience, so why waste time on him. He didn't want to be the cloud that dulled your shine. 

 He was now well enough to be released from Hershel’s care, but not well enough to resume about his usual ways. He’d normally disobey orders to take it easy, but when you made him promise to rest, he couldn’t break it. Subconsciously, he glanced over to your window. It wasn’t something he did often, considering you were usually the one watching him, but you were weighing heavily on his mind. He saw you up in your room, assuming you’d just woken up since it was almost noon. You were at your window, rummaging through your dresser -he knew where it was when he caught a glimpse of your room when he was inside the house. You held up a few shirts, probably deciding on which to wear, before pulling your pajama shirt off over your head. This was now the second, no, third time he’s gotten a perfect view of your tits. God they would feel so good in his hands, better yet, they’d look so good  bouncing in unison with his thrusts as he fucked you into your mattress. Your teasing and mischievous ways only fueled his fantasies, causing his pants to tighten uncomfortably. The little wave you gave him from your window pulled him out of his own head. You, still topless, blew him a kiss before stepping out of frame. 

 His heart rate increased expeditiously as he nearly came in his pants. He couldn’t handle your teasing anymore, it was driving him crazy. He wanted you, not just the fantasies in his head and the company of his hand. He wanted to feel your walls squeeze his cock, hear your little moans as he pleasured you until your mind went numb, become one with you as you came in unison. He hurried into his tent and zipped it all the way up before collapsing onto his sleeping bag and hurrying to undo his pants. He liberated his aching cock from its confines and spat on his hand. He rubbed himself up and down, from base to tip, imagining it was your pretty mouth swallowing him whole. He ignored the sound of distant footsteps approaching his tent and instead chased his climax, which was coming embarrassingly fast. 

“Daryl?” Your distant voice called, but all he heard in his mind was you moaning his name as your nails scratched down his back. 

“You in here?” You asked. Daryl came in his hand, taking extra care to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from his mouth. Reality set in when he saw your shadow standing outside his tent. He quickly wiped his hand off on the closest piece of fabric and shoved himself back in his pants. 

“Need somethin’? He asked. He willed you not to notice his flushed, sweaty face. 

“Watcha doin’ in there?” You asked, trying to peek into his tent. He moved to block your vision. He didn’t need you finding any trace of his earlier activity. Although, the little dress you had on had him ready to continue said activities.

“Nothin’.” 

“Anyway, I came to check on you, make sure you’re takin’ it easy.” 

“I am, was jus’ takin’ a nap,” he lied. 

“Then why are you so red? And sweaty? Are you comin’ down with somethin’?!” You were starting to sound worried, making Daryl feel guilty. You reached up to feel his forehead and check for a fever, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch. If he felt your skin on his, in any capacity, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back anymore. 

“Daryl, don’t be so stubborn!” You stepped closer only for him to step back again. 

“Ain’ got no fever, girl! S’just hot out here!” He insisted. 

“Don’ know that for sure. If it is one, it could mean one of your wounds is infected.” 

“S’not a fever, ‘m sweaty from workin’ out.” You looked at him with an eyebrow skeptically raised and a hand on your hip. So much for takin’ a nap, you thought. Your eyes traveled down his body before meeting his again, this time with look more mischievous than usual in your eyes. 

“Your fly’s down.” He quickly zipped it up, cursing himself for the dumb mistake. 

“Anythin’ to do with your ‘work out’?” 

“Dunno what yer gettin’ at.” His heart was beating faster in his chest, this time because of anxiety. You were onto him and he was about to get caught, humiliated under your scrutinizing gaze.

“Flushed, sweaty face.” You took a step closer and he took one back. “Dilated pupils.” Another step forward and another one back. “Unzipped fly.” He stepped back, not looking where he was going and stumbled onto the grassy ground. You sat down next to him. “Took forever to open your tent.” Your face split into a grin like the Cheshire Cat.   “I’d say you were in there masturbatin’.” He stumbled over his words, looking for what to say in denial of your observation accusation. You pressed your pointer finger to his lips. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” You leaned over him and slid your hand down his chest. “I touch myself, too.” His sparkling blue eyes went wide. “Usually thinkin’ ‘bout you when I do it.” You could feel his breathing change as you slid your hand further down his toned stomach. “Were you thinkin’ ‘bout me?” His face was beet read and breathing shallow. You had him and he was more than ready, willing, and able to give in. He nodded his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“Well, next time I’m on your mind,” you leaned down, lips ghosting his parted ones, “don’t just settle for your hand.” His lips finally met yours in a heated kiss. The built up tension from his days of pining and yours of teasing finally being released in that kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, slipping your tongue inside and drinking in all his pleasured groans. 

“Wanna go back to my room?” You asked after pulling away. 

“Nah, too far. Let’s go inside my tent.” You happily agreed and hurried inside, zipping it up behind Daryl. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, passionately exploring it with his tongue. He kissed his way down to your neck, roughly sucking marks. 

“Oh, Daryl!” You shouted when he reached a certain spot on your neck, just beneath your ear. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. Nervously, Daryl’s hand experimented with touching your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips. They were comfortable there and not daring enough to try anything else. He wanted to impress you, but at the same time he didn’t want you to notice that he had no clue what he was doing or what to do next, using the pirated porn and one night stands of his past as reference. Your hands grabbed his and placed them on your tits. 

“Touch me, Daryl!” You whined. His hands groped and kneaded at the soft mounds of flesh hidden behind the thin fabric of your dress. He pulled down the front of your dress, freeing your tits then recapturing one by putting it in his mouth. His large hand toyed with the right while his mouth suckled the other. Your little wanton whimpers egged him on, giving him the confidence to try more. Your squirmed beneath him, squeezing your thighs together. His cock was also painfully hard, once again, and yearning to feel your warm walls around him. He pulled away and undid his pants before pulling out his cock, stroking it a few times. He looked up at you, but you looked less excited. Your eyes wouldn’t meet his and your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding yourself from him. 

“Wha’s the matter, Sunshine?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue naturally. He was more than excited to sleep with you, but his worry regarding your sudden change outweighed that. 

“N-nothin’. Jus’ put it in,” you said hoarsely. 

“Nah, we ain’ doin’ nothin’ unless ya tell me wha’s wrong.” It sounded harsh, but it came from a place of genuine concern. 

You sat up, readjusting your dress as you did so. “I-it’s jus’,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your dress, something Daryl noticed you did a lot around him. “C-can we go slow? I haven’t done any of this stuff before,” you admitted. 

“You a virgin?” He asked, astonished. You glumly nodded your head as if you were accepting defeat. In a twisted way, that relieved him a bit. Maybe since you’ve never had sex, you wouldn’t notice his own lack of experience.  He put himself in his boxers before patting the spot in front of him. You crawled over to him and sat between his legs, your back against his chest. His lips found that spot on your neck again and began sucking there as his hand slid underneath your panties. He rubbed your clit in tight circles, causing your thighs to clamp shut over his hand. 

“Jus’ relax,” he coaxed. You relaxed the best you could, but the pleasure kept you from staying still. 

“F-faster,” you whimpered. He obeyed your command, rubbing you at a quicker pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you moaned in his ear. His other hand slipped beneath your panties and gathered your arousal on his finger, before he slowly slid it inside you, giving you time to adjust. He pumped it in and out of you as he continued to rub your clit. Your back arched off him as you moaned his name. He easily slipped in a second finger with how wet you were. Your velvety walls were so soft around his thick digits. He couldn’t wait to feel them with his cock. He moved his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting you in a spot that had you babbling nonsense. You squeezed his fingers with your soaking cunt as your first orgasm overtook your body. 

“Daryl, I’m ready. Need ta feel ya inside me,” you slurred. He helped you lay down on your back and slid your panties off before pulling his painfully hard cock out again. Your legs rested over his thighs as he coated his member in your juices before lining it up with your entrance. He slid in as slowly as he could, making sure this would be as painless as it could be for you. You were so soft, slippery, and smooth around him, the best pussy he’s ever had. Once he was all the way in, he stopped to give you time to adjust. He leaned down and connected your lips in another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled held him close. 

“You can move now.” His hands gripped your hips as he started slowly thrusting in and out of you, not wanting to give you too much too soon. His pleasured grunts mingled with your moans as he slid in and out of you. 

“More, need more!” You whined. He adjusted your position, placing your legs over his broad shoulders. The new position allowed him to fill you even better. As he pounded in and out of you, the erotic sounds of damp skin slapping damp skin filled the tent, harmonizing with his and your sounds of pleasure. He lifted your dress over your head, getting rid of the barrier between you and him, and tossed it aside. His own fantasies came true as he watched your tits bounce in unison with his thrusts. He took them in his hands again, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb, bringing you closer to your climax. 

“Daryl I think I’ma-” Your sentence trailed off into a moan as you came around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm as his own approached. He pulled out of you just as he was about to finish and came all over your tits and stomach, like a firehose. You let out a satisfied hum, barely able to keep your eyes open. He grabbed one of his discarded shirts and cleaned you off before laying beside you in the sleeping bag. You rolled over to face him and hugged him close in your arms. 

“You were the best first I coulda asked for,” you confessed. Your words soothed his worries that he didn’t perform well enough while also making his heart flutter.

“Guess all yer teasin’ paid off.” You giggled against his chest. 

 He pulled you closer to him and pulled you in for another kiss, a sweeter, gentler one this time. You dozed off in his comforting arms, wishing you’d never have to leave. 

i proofread it, yaaay! anyway, thanks for reading! <3

i wrote this instead of doing my homework, mwahahahah >=]

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[wileys-russo]

i need a pool day blurb with jenni after that bikini picture pretty pls bsf 💘 tysm

this is for @sunnyaelia who is constantlyy feeding my jenni obsession pool day II j.hermoso

finishing the final chapter of your book you near moaned with happiness, feeling as though you'd just scaled a mountain as immense gratification flooded your sun soaked bones.

with a content sigh you snapped it shut, patting the cover fondly and carefully tossing it onto the table a few feet away.

you'd been tackling said book for a far too long, and always having been an avid reader ever since childhood it had bugged you to no end that these days it took you months to finish a few chapters when you used to fly through a few books each week.

but life commitments seemed to stump that nowadays, though on vacation for the week it was the ideal opportunity to rectify that and only just two days in it made you feel immense relief that you'd conquered that.

you'd had your doubts of course, and they came in the form of the tall, tattooed clown you had the pleasure of calling your wife.

jenni was your favourite distraction but she was constantly just that, a distraction.

any sliver of free time you had away from family or work was consumed by her need for your every ounce of attention, and whatever you didn't give her she would simply take one way or another.

but your athlete superstar world cup winning striker was not as easily relaxed as you, and despite being on vacation together insisted on continuing her at times robotic rituals of exercise.

not that you could really complain given as much as you adored jenni as a person and a partner; her body, stamina and rippling physique was an immense benefit to all the perks that came with being mrs hermoso.

so your wife was off on her morning run, kissing you goodbye far too early for you to do much more than hum and roll onto your side as she chuckled and gently closed the bedroom door behind her with a click.

you'd arisen a couple hours later surprised that she still hadn't returned, but with the peace and quiet of her absence came the opportunity to finally finish your book and work on your tan, so here you were.

and it would seem right in the nick of time as you heard footsteps pad their way through the villa before her slides slapped against the concrete of the courtyard and suddenly your warmth dissapeared.

"you're blocking my sun hermoso." you warned with a small smile, eyes still closed but protected by a pair of sunglasses which were promptly snatched from your face.

"i am your sun, hermoso. just lighting up your days with my good looks and my muscles and my endearing personality." jenni quipped back with a grin as she settled her glasses on your nose and you cracked one eye up to stare up at her blankly.

you'd be lying if you said they didn't dip a little lower for a moment taking in her sweaty, toned and tanned half naked body before you which wasn't missed by your wife whose grin only grew at the sight.

"enjoying the view esposa? front row seats to la feria de armas." the gun show, the footballer smirked and flexed her arms obnoxiously with a few mock grunts as you rolled your eyes.

"can i get a refund?" you asked blankly, own smile curling upward as jenni's dropped and you closed your eyes again, kicking her gently and making a shooing motion with your hands.

"get out of my sun and take a shower, i can't tan in the shade amor." you chuckled and exhaled happily as she stepped aside and your face was once again bathed in the warm cancun sun.

"oh a shower? good idea, gracias bebé." her slightly chapped but still soft lips pressed sweetly against yours as she ducked down and slipped your stolen sunglasses back on your face before you smacked her ass with one hand as she passed, sending her a cheeky grin.

"niña traviesa." your wife clicked her tongue disapprovingly though you could see the corners of her mouth tug upward in amusement as she stripped off the singlet leaving her only in shorts and a sports bra, her well defined tattooed back disappearing into the villa.

you assumed that meant your peace and quiet resumed, how wrong you were.

"oh dios mio jennifer!" you groaned in annoyance as suddenly footsteps smacked against concrete and there was a brief pause of silence before a body met water with a loud splash and droplets rained down on you one after the other.

"sí precioso?" the girl popped up at the edge of the pool, tattooed arms crossed and her chin resting on them with a wicked grin as you glared down at her and wiped yourself off with a towel.

"idiota." you grumbled, tossing the now damp towel down on the ground and lying back down with a huff. "you suggested a shower no? i just wanted to share mi amor." again droplets rained down as her hand smacked at the water sending a small tidal wave across your legs.

knowing she was just egging on for a reaction you refused to give her one, only standing to turn your lounger around to face away from her before flopping back down on your stomach now which made her laugh, your wife pushing off the side of the pool and floating around humming something to herself as you settled yourself again.

but of course that too didn't last long.

"cari?" the striker called out, still floating on her back with her eyes closed, having changed into a brightly colored bikini which left very little to the eye or the imagination

you hummed in response, the noise muffled as you were still laying stomach down on the lounger a few feet away. "if you are in a competition with yourself, do you come first or last?" your wife asked as you only sighed, all too used to the strangely wonderful but weird way her brain worked.

"neither, no opponents means no winner or loser." you answered without moving a muscle, the older girl making a noise of surprise at your answer, quiet falling again as she took a moment to reflect on it.

"cari?" again you hummed in response, readying yourself for whatever was to come next. "can you daydream at night?"

"no mi amor, thats just thinking." you chuckled slightly at that one, jenni making another pleasantly surprised noise as again a beat of peace passed.

"cari?" a hum again. "if you clean a vacuum, do you become a vacuum cleaner?" you could hear the obvious grin in her tone at that as you snickered quietly. "no you'd actually become useful." you quipped as your wife scoffed in offence and kicked water at you, the few icy droplets which hit your back making you wince slightly.

"cari?" another hum. "if you drop soap on the floor, is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"

"why?" you finally pulled your head up, sitting up at peering at her over the top of the lounger as she continued to float around the pool. "why not?" she rebutted, ducking under the water and doing a backflip beneath the surface as you rolled your eyes.

"show off." you shot at her, sunglasses slipping just down your nose as you watched jenni pull herself slowly out of the pool, sitting on the edge of with her legs still dangling in the water, wringing out her hair and stretching as she scraped it up into a bun atop her head.

your gaze found home on the way her soft tanned skin tensed and flexed with each movement, water drops cascading down her like she was stuck in a rain storm as she exhaled deeply and rolled her neck.

catching your eye she winked as you shook your head and laid back down as she stood and made her way over, disregarding the unoccupied lounger to your right and instead sitting on the edge of yours.

"so, is the floor clean or soap dirty mi todo?" you flinched ever so slightly as a cold finger traced down your spin, a smile forming on your lips which faced away from your wife who was writing out i love you on your back.

"both, the floor becomes clean where the soap hits it but the soap becomes dirty as it touches the floor." you answered simply as she hummed, seemingly satisfied with that answer. "smart and beautiful." the girl complimented, twisting around and trailing kisses down your shoulder blame as you sighed happily.

"i knew you married me for my mind." you teased. "no, for this." jenni grinned, one hand cupping a handful of flesh on your ass and squeezing before patting it affectionately as you reached out and pinched her thigh making her chuckle.

"again, idiota." you shook your head resisting the urge to smile, knocking her with your knee a little as you wriggled and flipped onto your back again, sighing as your glasses were once more snatched off your face.

"there is another chair there." you reminded as your wife scooched you across with her hands and laid down beside you, both of you near hanging off either side of the small lounger as her wet torso pressed against yours, though as the sun rose higher in the sky and the temperature soared upward the slight reprise now wasn't unwelcome.

"very observant mi vida, bien!" jenni grinned as your eyes opened and winced slightly from the sunlight hitting them, your wife quickly sliding your glasses back over them with a kiss pressed to your cheek.

"jenni i am going to fall off!" you laid in silence pressed against one another for a few minutes before she grew restless, sitting up and moving about nearly shoving you off.

but as you opened your eyes to tell her off further your words died in your throat, mouth running dry as the footballer tossing her soaking wet bikini top over her shoulder and smirked at the way your eyes clearly fixed to her now naked chest though disguised behind the glasses.

her breasts sat to attention, perfectly round and staring you right in the face as your wifes look of utter delight and amusement only grew.

"oh you wanted more space bebita? of course." you barely had time to process her words before her leg was swinging over your hips and she settled herself on top of you, shaking her head as her chest bounced and droplets rained down on you ironically only causing your mouth to dry up further.

but as you reached out eager to touch them her hands caught yours, interlocking her slender fingers with yours and pinning them down to the lounger as she leaned down, the feeling of her wet naked chest pressing against yours nearly having you moan.

"can't have you moving around too much ángel, you might fall off." her pearly white teeth bore down at you in a wolfish grin, sloped nose tucking into the crook of your neck as your eyes fluttered close at the special attention she gave the taunt skin there.

you felt her grin widen as your hips bucked ever so slightly up against hers as she suddenly bit down on the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw, sucking on the tanned flesh until it had turned dark red and sent your head spinning.

"mi niña bonita." jenni purred, kissing softly over the mark and trailing her lips across your jaw before finally pressing them against yours, a slight grind of her hips down into yours causing your breath to hitch with a gasp and her tongue to slip past your defenses, easily taking control of the kiss.

you barely had time to enjoy it before suddenly she was using her strength to easily pull you up and swap your positions, sliding beneath you as you now sat on top of her catching your breath momentarily.

unrestrained now you wasted no time gliding your hands across the firm ridges of her abs, bending down to press feather light kisses across her collarbone, tongue darting out to flick across the H tattoo on her sternum as she exhaled and tangled a hand in your hair, tugging your head up and into her neck.

"niña buena." the striker sighed as your hands finally found her chest and squeezing right as your lips sucked your own mark into her neck, normally not something your wife so easily allowed but too distracted by your hands kneading away at her chest to stop you.

but right as sudden as everything had started, in true hermoso fashion it was just as quick to stop, your hands grabbing onto her shoulders with a cry of surprise as suddenly she stood and hauled you up with her, legs wrapped around your waist.

"jenni no no no por favor amor i washed my hair last night!" you begged and tried to get down as you quickly realised what was happening.

but all you got in reply was a grin as you held your breath and your wife launched the two of you off the edge, icy water engulfing your body as her long tattooed legs hit the bottom and pushed off, the pair of you resurfacing as you coughed and spluttered slightly in shock.

"you looked hot cari, just wanted to cool you down." the brunette teased still holding tightly onto you as you smacked her forehead with a huff.

"estúpido idiota!" you hit her shoulder as she only laughed, pushing over to a more shallow spot where she could stand a little taller, hands squeezing at your ass in a silent attempt at an apology.

"pero tu estúpido idiota." jenni cooed with a smile that was softer, kissing your lips slowly and sweetly as your anger melted away, really unable to stay mad at the endearingly dopey grin on her face as she pushed a wet strand of hair out of your face with a lovesick glint in her eyes.

"well lo siento mucho but you are stuck with me forever and ever and ever now mrs hermoso."

[cxseysims]

reception 📞

enjoy some more pics of the office build i am currently working on 🤍 i am debating on a third floor but kind of stumped on what to put. for now, enjoy the first floor! so far i have the reception area pictured here, cafe, outdoor dining, cubicles, main office and board meeting room. what would you add to the third floor?

some amazing cc creators featured in this build! thank u guys for making builds like this possible <3

[myfeetrcolddd]

...why am I here?

Too hot, is what is going through her mind as she tries to rid herself of her unusually warm and heavy blanket. Not only was she too warm, but her head hurt, aching with the memories of the night before, the party, the alcohol.

Groaning, she turned over, trying to stay asleep and simultaneously get that damned blanket off her. It doesn't work, so with a huff she opens her eyes and glares at the ceiling. Only to be filled with horror.

She recognized that ceiling, but it wasn't the one from her room in Ravenclaw tower, no it was one from the dungeons of Slytherin. A ceiling she only knew because of a damned project.

With her mouth agape and her eyes wide she turned her head and saw that there was no blanket on her, only a very underdressed Theodore Nott who had his head in the crook of her neck, his lips pressed to her skin, his arm around her, and his leg between hers and only in a pair of black boxers.

"Oh my gods." She whispered in horror, then took note of her own attire, which was a large tee shirt thrown over her underthings.

Not only was he hardly dressed but he still looked amazing. It was rather infuriating, she imagined she looked like death itself. He always looked rather perfect, even when he was just off the quidditch pitch or walked into class late and had clearly just woken up.

Wrapping her hands around his muscled arm she tried to pry him off her. After a few futile attempts Theo lets out a low growl-like noise that has her freezing all movements. Wrapping his arms tighter around her he pulls her so that he's completely on top of her, covering her completely.

As she tries to wiggle out of his grip it only tightens, "Stop moving." He mumbles, nuzzling into her neck.

"Nott." She warns, "Let go of me."

"I'm trying to sleep." He says, not moving an inch.

"I couldn't care less, Theodore." She grits, trying to ignore how much she likes the feeling of his body against hers, the warmth of it. "Get off of me."

"Mmmh, no thanks." He hums and she huffs, so she grabs him by his hair and drags his face from her neck, she glares at him. "Morning, love." He grins lazily at her.

"How many times will I have to tell you to stop calling me that?"

"Innumerable amount of times."

Her glare hardens, "Get off me." His grin falls and he sighs before flipping them over and holding her to his chest.

"I'm not on you." She let's out a frustrated noise, "Why can't you just enjoy this?" He says into her hair.

"Because I don't remember coming to sleep in your bed," Actually, she was planning to go and crash in Blaise's bed, so she tells him such.

A low noise rumbles from Theos chest, a noise of disagreement. Still, she continues, "So why am I here? And how come you're not in anything, and who the bloody hell changed me?"

"You're here because I'll be damned if I let you sleep in someone else's bed." He grumbles, "As for who changed you, that was all you, you ripped off your dress before the door even closed and I had to give you my own shirt before I saw anything you wouldn't want me to see."

Blushing from embarrassment she forced herself to frown, "And what of you, hmm? What happened to your clothes?"

"I run hot in my sleep." He shrugs.

"Don't I know it." She says with an eye roll. But then she remember the situation she's in and tries to push herself off from the Slytherin. He lets her up, though only enough for her to straddle him, and she feels that thing she's been trying to ignore all morning.

When she tries to get farther than that his hands tighten around her waist and he holds her down.

Staring up at her Theodores eyes are dark and filled with an emotion she was trying not to notice. "You are beautiful, you know that?" He mutters.

This stumps her. Normally Theo would just tease her and make fun of her, never had he ever said anything like that to her. As far as she was aware Theodore Nott didn't know the concept of a compliment.

"I-I- shut up!" She stumbles over her words, flustered by him.

"Afraid I don't know what that means." He says smoothly.

"I'm serious, Nott, let me go." She says, hoping she sounds stern and serious, and not as flustered as she feels, "You can't keep me in bed all day."

"I very much can," He muses, "And I can think of a few things we can do."

So could she, many things she would only dream about, dreams she hated having but kept having them anyway. It was a blessing that Theo had a dorm all to himself, she didn't know what she would do if there were other people in this room. Probably die of embarresment.

Theos hands were large on her waist, his thumbs stroking at her sides, slowly dissolving her resolve.

"Are you thinking about them too?" He smirks and she turns a deep red.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Why not!" She asks, exasperated.

"Because I rather like having you in my arms, in my bed." He muses, "With me."

"Well, I don't like it!" She protests and Theo raises a brow.

"Is that so?" He asks, his tone making her stomach flutter, "Then how come you haven't tried to get out of my grip?" Her attention moves to the fact that he's no longer gripping her waist. She wondered when he had let go of her, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she could practically feel him throb beneath her.

"You're ridiculous." She grumbles and goes to get off him once more, his eye seems to twitch at her movement and in one swift move grabs her wrists and flips them over. Her back lands on the bed with a soft thump, her hair spreading around her like a halo as he holds her hands down, pinning them to the sides of her head.

"And you're no fun." There's a tilt to his lips as he speaks and low smooth tone. "Couldn't you just enjoy this morning like a normal person?"

"Can't you let me leave like a normal person?" She huffs and he smirks, moving his hands to lock fingers with her.

"Ouch, don't you know me, princess? I'm not normal."

"You're right, you're more crazy than anything." She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Mnh, even so early in the morning you're feisty." He grins and lowers himself down, releasing her hands in favor of wrapping them around her waist. "You're lucky I like it." He mumbles, burying his face into her neck. Her scent mixing with his.

"More like unlucky." She grumbles and can't help the yawn that leaves her lips. Without thinking she drapes her arms over his back, one of them landing in his soft hair, earning a hum from him. "Ten more minutes; and don't think this conversation is over." The words aren't as harsh as she'd like them to be, instead they're soft and tired.

Theo chuckles against her neck and she can feel the soft whisper of a kiss he places to it.

[lonely-cowboy]

breaking point

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: to prove which of you is the better detective, you and connor like to play a little game. this time around, connor is more determined than ever to reach your breaking point.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing but wildly ooc connor, it’s just them yapping away and being arrogant lil assholes

author's note: do i like this? not at all. am i gonna blame it on the fact it's 1am? sure. i just wanted to write smth ok, leave me alone

masterlist ⟡ requests

The best days at the precinct were the ones with no work. No crime scenes to investigate, no files to sort, no nothing. But they weren’t your favorite because you hated your job and the workload (quite the opposite, actually). No, they were your favorite because you could have some alone time with Connor, playing the little game you always did. 

As head forensic psychologist, you were primarily tasked with interviewing suspects and analyzing their reactions. Your job got a lot harder when Connor joined the department, making your job look so much easier than it actually was.

Rather than view him as your rival, you viewed Connor as a challenge. You wanted to prove (to yourself more than anyone else) that you were just as good at your job as any android. Besides, you respected Connor’s interrogation process far too much to hate him. Or rather, you liked watching him during his interrogation process. Really, you just liked watching him in general.

When there was no work and the precinct was nearly empty, you and Connor were allowed to take over the interrogation room. You would sit across from each other, doing everything you could to make the other break in a mock interrogation.

It was there that you found yourself, hands neatly clasped atop the table and brow raised in arrogant curiosity. Connor stood opposite you with his palms pressed against the table, scrutinizing you with narrowed eyes. His eyes scanned over you as he tilted his head in that annoyingly endearing way before pulling back and rubbing his hands together in thought.

“Do you believe Lieutenant Anderson is a good mentor?” Connor asked.

The two of you always asked each other meaningless questions, doing your best to refrain from answering or to successfully lie to the other. At this question, you remained silent for a moment longer than you should have. 

“Yes,” you replied simply, offering a nonchalant shrug in an attempt to throw Connor off.

“You’re lying,” he accused immediately.

“I would never,” you retorted. “I’m offended you would think so.”

Connor ceased his questioning to eye you suspiciously. His eyes trailed over your body for any indication of discomfort or nervousness. You hoped he wouldn’t find any.

“The brevity of your response and lack of natural movement suggest you’re lying,” Connor said as he studied you again. “You believe you’d be a better mentor than Lieutenant Anderson, don’t you?”

“In some aspects, yes,” you answered truthfully. After all, to lie properly was to occasionally tell the truth.

Connor nodded along with your response, noting the way you remained unaffected despite being caught in a lie. He would need to do something more to break you, something that would make you sweat.

Your gaze followed Connor as he started to pace the length of the room. Your attention was drawn to his LED as it flashed quickly between colors. Blue. Yellow. Red. Red? Yellow.

The occasional bright red made your brows furrow. Was he really that stumped? He couldn’t think of a single way to break you? You doubted it. Something else must have been on his mind, your thoughts racing at what could have him so conflicted.

“Connor,” you whispered hesitantly.

The sound of his name seemed to snap him back to attention. Connor immediately stopped pacing and fixed you with a steady gaze as if he had come to a decision. With careful steps, Connor rounded the table to stand beside you. He leaned against the table and looked down at you with his arms crossed confidently.

“You’re hard to break, aren’t you?” he murmured.

The crease between your brows deepened as your confusion grew. You were puzzled by Connor’s sudden proximity and the low tone of his voice.

“Well, I… I guess it’s part of the job,” you said softly.

Connor nodded and agreed simply, “Truth.”

Another beat of silence passed as Connor did nothing but watch you. His eyes flitted about your figure, though it seemed as though he wasn’t analyzing you this time around. It was like he was looking at you just to look at you.

“Do you find enjoyment in our little game? In successfully lying to me?” Connor inquired.

You were hesitant to answer, your confusion outweighing any thought. When you did speak, your voice cracked slightly when you answered, “Yes.”

“Do you find enjoyment in other ways from our game?” he continued.

“No.”

“Lie.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Connor. You wanted to tear your gaze away from his desperately, but there was something so appealing about the hardness of his typically gentle eyes. 

When you didn’t answer, Connor raised his brows and leaned forward expectantly. The intensity of his gaze made you suddenly nervous, your heart racing as you moved to fidget with your hands.

“I need a truthful answer, Detective,” Connor stated firmly.

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying. He just wanted you to say it. There was no point in denying anything now.

“Yes.”

Connor hummed and finally pulled his gaze away from you, allowing you to sigh in relief. There was something in his eyes that made you… inexplicably anxious. 

“Can you elaborate?” Connor prodded after a moment.

“I can,” you replied quietly. “But I don’t want to.”

At your refusal, Connor’s attention snapped back to you, the crinkle in his brow suggesting his mild surprise.

“Why is that, Detective?” he urged. When he got no response, only your steady gaze locked with his, he continued. “Are you worried it may incriminate you?”

“No,” you replied calmly. 

Admittedly, you were very proud of yourself for keeping such an unperturbed composure. Your face remained tranquil and your voice confident. But your external composure meant nothing, not when it was Connor interrogating you. He could detect your pounding heart and uneven breaths with ease. You bet he could even sense the claminess of your palms.

“Lie.”

You weren’t entirely sure why you even attempted to lie anymore. Connor was a walking polygraph, he could see through any of your lies no matter how believable they were.

But being as stubborn as you were, you refused to admit that Connor was right. Instead, you sucked in a slow breath and pressed your lips in a thin line, eyes locked on Connor the entire time. Your stubbornness made him frown, though you knew it was a quality he had always admired.

“Fine. If you won’t tell me yourself then I’ll just have to guess,” Connor shrugged with mock defeat. He pretended to think for a moment, lips pursed in a way that made your eyes dart to his mouth. “Is it because you find superiority in besting me?”

Connor started tame. Anyone would feel superior after besting an android, he was well aware of that. And you knew he was aware. What was he trying to get at?

“Yes, partially,” you said, cursing yourself for admitting that it was only part of the reason you found your mock interrogations so enjoyable.

Connor seemed unphased by your answer as if he already knew there was more to your enjoyment. He sat in quiet deliberation again, though he had already settled on his next question. 

“Is it because you’re attracted to me?” Connor questioned innocently.

Connor was smart, you knew this. You knew this and still thought that maybe– just maybe— he wouldn’t be able to guess correctly.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing away from Connor, knowing that it only made you look more suspicious. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. 

“Detective?” Connor pressed as he waited patiently for an answer.

You startled at the light touch of his hand on your chin as he slowly turned you back to him. He kept a gentle but firm grip on your chin, looking down at you questioningly. The feeling of his skin against yours didn’t help at all. It only worked to accelerate your heartbeat, which Connor immediately took note of.

“Your heart rate has increased by 32%, Detective,” Connor observed. “An increased and irregular heart rate is typically a sign of nervousness. Are you nervous?”

“You know the answer,” you mumbled.

“You’re right, I do,” he confessed easily. “But I want to hear it from you; are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was correct in assuming you’re attracted to me?”

You inhaled slowly, working up the nerve to answer. But there was no point, you both knew your answer. He knew. You knew. It felt like everyone in the precinct– everyone in the world– knew.

“Yes…”

The corner of Connor’s lips quirked into a satisfied smirk having successfully broken his most stubborn participant. He slowly pulled his hand away from your chin, resting it flat against the tabletop. His arrogance sparked something inside you, compelling you to act unnaturally bold.

“Fine, you win,” you grunted, rising from your seat. “Congratulations.”

Without much thought, you reached for Connor’s tie and yanked him into you, smashing your lips against his. Your hand was tight around his tie, your nerves seeping into your grip. You pulled away sharply, only allowing him a quick kiss before your nerves could fully return. You released his tie and gently pushed his chest to put some distance between the two of you. 

“There’s your prize,” you hissed, though you both knew there was nothing menacing behind your tone.

It was Connor’s turn to feel flustered, finally. His cheeks were coated with a faint blush, his eyes wide and utterly perplexed. His lips were still parted slightly like he was savoring the feeling of your lips against his. Unease boiled in your chest the longer Connor did nothing.

But the look in his eyes settled any feelings of insecurity. He looked entirely infatuated with you. And when he spoke again, that infatuation only made itself clearer. 

“If that’s my prize, I’ll have to win more often.”

[someonexsomeone]

Suneater

Title: Suneater

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 8.4k (...oh)

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin Pureblood np!reader

Summary: Sirius has another best friend, and James just can't figure out what to do about it.

Warnings: angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of traditional values and arranged marriages

Authors Note: so uh...i did not expect this to be this long, and also not at all what I thought this would be. originally inspired by Leanna Firestone's song Suneater, this was supposed to be a happier fic, but i couldn't stop thinking about the line "But I am just the one who swallowed the moon // The only light that I have's just a reflection of you" so the original fic was a black cat x golden retriever and then somehow...this? please let me know what you think!

if you or anyone you know needs help, please call 988 (USA) or contact your local hotline. You are loved, you are needed.

Companion piece: Stardrinker

James was completely stumped. As a distinctly Light family, the Potters didn’t have much reason to attend Dark Pureblood gatherings, let alone interact with them beyond the odd time here and there, but he knows of your family, in the same way he knew of the Black’s - speculation, word of mouth, gossip. Neither he nor his family have any personal memories of you, and it seemed like no one else he knew was friends with you. You were a complete mystery to everyone…but his best friend.

When they first started Hogwarts, Sirius made it clear his stance on Slytherin families - keep as far away from them as possible, prank from a distance, target the ones he knew had evil in their hearts. James was more than pleased to go along with this. After all, a whole pool of targets just for the taking, and he didn’t have to feel guilty at all? It seemed so easy. 

Sirius was ruthless with his attacks, cackling with glee as he sent stinging hexes in their direction or watching with mirth as they got caught in a trap. But when James launched a dungbomb in your direction, singeing your hair into an uneven mess, Sirius dropped everything to rush over, apology already tumbling out of his mouth despite the fury on your face. He even escorted you to the Matron, and looked incredibly guilty as the two of you walked back into the Great Hall sporting a new hairdo and fear on your faces. You returned to not speaking to each other, just as you always had, but Sirius seemed to glance over at the Slytherin table a little more frequently. Since then, none of the Marauders dared to prank near you, but with the rest of the house being easy pickings, James didn’t spare you another thought.

Then, summer before Fifth year happened. It was going to be their year, full of new pranks, new status, and, even better, a new plan to help Moony with his…time of the month. Sirius, as usual, spent the beginning of summer at the Pottery, spending hours at a time trying to find their animagus form, and, eventually, trying to change species. His parents were good at giving them space to play to their heart's content, and it warmed James’s heart to see them dote on Sirius just as much as they did as him. Especially as June faded into July, and Sirius’ dread to return home increased with every passing day.

Halfway through their break, at the height of the Dark Wanker Gatherings, the very color name Sirius gave the period of summer when the Dark Pureblood’s season of parties came to a head (as the heir to the Noble House of Black, Sirius was expected to attend the biggest ones, meaning James hardly got to see him until the start of the school year), Sirius all but disappeared. The house was far too quiet without him, and his letters were sparse of details, worrying James despite the countless summers they had gone through this previously. Despite Peter and Remus’s best attempts, James just wasn’t the same without his best friend around. Their friendly games of Quidditch lacked the usual competitiveness, their conversations quickly devolved into pooling the little information Sirius gave each of them, and there were only so many Sugar Quills one could eat before their stomach turned in on itself in worry. It was why James was always the first to arrive at the Platform at the start of the year, determined to figure out what happened to his best friend, even though Sirius always managed to change the subject without giving any answers. 

So, color him surprised when, instead of rushing onto the train and locating his friends like usual, Sirius lingered after saying goodbye to his parents, the very people he never wanted to be near. When you and your family stepped through, Sirius’s eyes lit up. He made a beeline to you as soon as you finished your goodbye’s, pulling you to a secluded corner, only barely visible from where James was practically hanging out of the compartment window to see. The two of you whispered to one another before you hugged, then parted ways.

And ever since then, Sirius was always looking out for you. Instead of the tense silence you usually kept, James watched as your face lit up (no smile, that was far too obvious, but your eyes seemed to sparkle whenever they landed on him), stepping away from your usual posse of stuck up Purebloods to speak to Sirius. They seemed just as flabbergasted, until it started to happen so frequently they did nothing but offer a silent sneer, knowing better than to wait for you to finish your conversation. But James remained, always standing just close enough to catch snippets, but never the whole story. Instead of sulking in his room or yelling at whoever dared to disturb him on bad days, Sirius disappeared completely, only to be spotted with you within the hour, a more relaxed look on his face. He never missed a full moon, at least he kept that promise to his friends, but you were always one of the first visitors they had in the morning, leaving a get well soon treat for Sirius to eat as soon as he woke up. 

All this to say, it wasn’t as if you and Sirius were attached at the hip, but it was hard not to notice the seemingly new affection you had for one another, and the change of priority, leaving James to seek you out in order to find his friend on more than one occasion.

Neither Remus nor Peter knew anything about what caused this shift in your friendship, but all it took was a little comment from Peter (“Maybe…maybe they’re together together.” followed by a scandalized look from Remus), to send them into a spiral. 

“Sirius? Keeping a secret from us? Especially one as big as a…No! No way!” James refuted, pout evident on his face.

Because there was absolutely no way Sirius was going to keep something like this to himself. James was the first to know about Sirius’ first kiss, his first make out, his first shag! He was there when Sirius confessed to his first girlfriend, then his first boyfriend, then his first…partner? James forgot the name but either way! He was there! And now…what? Sirius was too ashamed to admit he was dating a Slytherin? Surely he knew there was no way. And, if he was dating, then there was no way he would pick a Slytherin unless they had something really special about them.

Despite Remus and Peter’s fervent arguments against it, James swore himself to a new goal - Mission Impossible: Figure Out Why Sirius Thinks a Slytherin Is Better Choice Than Literally Anyone Else in the School; I Mean Come On There Are Three Other Houses-- (“That’s far too long a name anyway!” Remus shouted indignantly).

He was already spending time lingering when you and Sirius chatted in the halls, so he tried to join in, actually listen instead of grumbling to himself about how long it was taking. You gave him an incredulous look the first time he did it, scampering away much too quickly for Sirius’s liking, if his saddened face was anything to go by. His second and third attempts were met with the same response, so James dropped his attempt, too soft to continue if Sirius was gonna keep giving him that kicked puppy look.

Then, he tried to join you and Sirius for your study sessions, figuring, what could go wrong? The library was a quiet place, and there wasn’t an easy escape if he positioned himself correctly, and you were very dedicated to keeping Sirius’s grades up (from what he’d been told anyway, this was, after all, the first time he ever willingly wanted to spend time with you). Sirius was hesitant to allow him to come when he asked, so he decided to drop by unannounced instead. Sirius’s welcoming smile was more than enough to override your glare, though it was clear this interruption was less than welcome, as no more work got done, and the boys were kicked out almost immediately. You were clear in your instruction to Sirius, whispered quietly but not quiet enough, that James was not welcome if he was going to be so noisy.

So, sneaking had become his last resort. It was hard, what with his friend group practically spending every minute together, but despite Remus’s warning, James scurried off whenever Sirius did. It took several weeks, and several pathetic attempts before James was finally able to catch you and Sirius alone. He didn’t think he was above snooping, especially with all the attempts recently, but there was a tiny bit of guilt that underlined his successful movements as he snuck down the hall, hidden from yours and Sirius’ watchful eyes, all thanks to his Invisibility Cloak. Sirius had that look about him, whipping his head back and forth, something he always did with James when he set up a prank without anyone noticing. 

Something big was happening, and it had to be discussed without any prying eyes.

“Sirius, it’s alright,” you spoke lowly, so much so that James had to get a little too close for comfort to hear you. Sirius’ head perked up at the somewhat loud swish of the cloak, but when he didn’t see anything, he turned back to you, pushing you into an alcove of the hallway.

“Alright?! Are you mad?” Though he still had a grip on your arm, James could tell it was gentle, so lightly that you easily could have pulled away at any time. And, to his surprise, you didn’t, instead laying your hand on his with a gentleness he’d never seen from you before.

“This was something we always knew was going to happen,” you squeezed his hand, face stoney, “it was only a matter of time--”

“They’re selling you off like cattle! They don’t care about your life!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” To this, your face darkened.

“I am not like you, Sirius.” This was the Slytherin attitude James was used to. Poisonous words spouting from your mouth, eyes narrowed to a glare. You didn’t have to push Sirius’s hand away, your now icy stare was enough to have him pull away first. “You and your precious friends can galavant around and do whatever you please, no matter the consequences, but the moment I show weakness, or displeasure towards my family, I will have no one. My friends--”

“Are no real friends if all it takes is standing up for yourself to have them disappear!”

“They know better than anyone that we don’t have any other choice--”

“So, what? You’ll marry the old coot and be the perfect little house--”

“And what would you suggest I do?” Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times, fury on his face, unwilling to admit that maybe you were right. In a house where betraying those thought to be your friends is commonplace, what option did you have? If James was right in following along, though it was incredibly hard with how quickly the two of you whispered, if you rejected this marriage arrangement, your parents would undoubtedly kick you out. With the friends he’s seen you with, there was no chance any of them would reach out in good will, especially since you’d have lost all the power via your family name. 

There had never been a Slytherin in his life that he felt empathy towards, but this…this was something even he could not see a way out of.

“Surely leaving your family to be free is better than being locked in a gilded cage,” Sirius finally settled on.

“Freedom always comes with a cost, and this one is far too great.” Sirius’s eyes lowered to a glare.

“So that’s it.” 

Oh no. James could feel the anger radiating from his friend, the same anger that has landed him more than a few detentions over the years. This was the anger that led to the initial discovery of Moony’s condition, the screaming match that had Sirius follow Remus into the woods. This was the anger that almost broke their friendship in third year, and the anger that nearly got him expelled for attacking another student. 

This was the anger that made Sirius reckless. 

“You give everything up and stay that obedient Pureblood you’ve always been, and be miserable forever. Well, I can’t watch you do that. I can’t watch you stoop so low, so pathetic,” --James nearly reached out, desperate to stop Sirius from saying anything more to destroy what you two had-- “and try to kill yourself again.” 

Too late. The most emotion he had ever seen from you flicker across your face, hurt turned to anger turned to resentment in one fluid motion. Sirius, as angry as he was, seemed to notice as well, snapping his mouth shut as soon as the words left his mouth. Almost as if an invisible wall appeared between you, you both stepped back, as far as the small alcove allowed.

“Yes, you’re right. How pathetic of me.” You bowed lowly, despite Sirius’s efforts to stop you. “I’ll take my leave then, so your virtue won’t be sullied by the likes of me. Regards to the most Noble and Ancient House of Black.”

James turned on his heel, too embarrassed in his attempts to snoop to watch any further. Sirius chased you down in the opposite direction, calling your name until his echoes finally stopped. When James returned, it only took a look to stop any questions from his other dormmates. Sirius’s late return, the lethal combination of sadness and anger that had him lashing out at anything he could see, was answer enough.

James tried to keep the facade of innocence for the rest of the term, thanking Merlin that it was just a short month away. It was far easier than he hoped, with everyone immersed with their OWLs, but it didn’t do much to stop the guilt of having witnessed such a private and personal conversation. Sirius continued to look for you whenever he could, desperate to catch your eye, but you were just as stubborn as his friend was it seemed; even though James caught you several times watching Sirius when no one else was looking. 

Sirius spent the beginning of summer with him as normal, riding on their brooms and keeping their minds as far away from the drama waiting back at Hogwarts. James tried a couple times to ask about you, but Sirius would clam up immediately, snapping at him or immediately changing the subject. By the time the Dark Wanker Gatherings started up again, Sirius seemed to have calmed down some, resigning his anger into a facade of apathy, the kind James seriously disliked. He only hoped your absence wouldn’t make his disappearing act worse.

Then, in the middle of summer, you appeared. 

Or rather, you and Sirius appeared, Flooing into his home in the middle of dinner, fancy clothing covered in blood. Your face was panicked, strained against the weight of his friend, who seemed too out of it to stand properly. His Mother screamed at the intrusion, and both James and his father rushed over to take the weight off of you. It seemed all Pureblood customs flew out the window with the desperate need to help Sirius, as you immediately barked orders to take him to the nearest bathroom with a bathtub. Once situated, you started peeling away Sirius’s clothes, revealing the various cuts across his body.

“Hey! What are you--” But you simply silenced him with a wave of your hand, pushing him out of the room and slamming the door in his face. “What the fu--”

“James!” Euphemia’s glare was enough to have him shutting up. “Why don’t you two go back down and finish dinner. Polly spent a lot of time making it.”

“But Sirius--”

“Is obviously in capable hands.” His Father patted a heavy hand on his shoulder, leading him away without another word. Before they made it back down stairs, James caught the gentle knock she rapped on the bathroom door (of her own house!), quietly entering with a, “Is there anything I can get you, dear?”

“A house elf, the one you trust the most. And my apologies for…” your voice faded as they returned to the dining room.

Sirius was up by the time he woke the following morning. James tried several times to see Sirius throughout the night, but you were as strict as you were terrifying, guarding the room like a loyal watchdog until James was too tired to try again. And here you were again, dressed in borrowed clothes and carefully stroking Sirius’s long hair into a complicated braid, pulling strands away from his face so it wouldn’t fall into the bowl of soup he was nursing. Sirius’s face lit up when he saw James enter the room, clambering to get up. His own injuries stopping him from getting far, wincing and slumping back into his chair.

“You can’t move too quickly,” you chastised quietly, trying off the end of his hair. The easy way Sirius let you touch him, to have his guard down completely, caused a shift in James. A Slytherin providing comfort? It was unheard of to him. But here it was, right in front of him, an easy relationship that existed out of two people caring deeply for one another. 

Just like his parents. 

James felt a pang of jealousy go through him.

“Sorry, Prongs. Gotta listen to the Medi—,” Sirius stopped, grimaced as you pulled lightly on his hair. “What? I wouldn’t want anyone else helping me back to health.”

“And now that you are back to being your annoying self, I must be off.” Sirius tried to stand, but your gentle hand was enough to have him stop. “Rest. And thank you, for everything.” 

As Sirius was out of commission, James was the one to walk you to the Floo, taking his parent’s robe from you at your thanks. You straightened out your hair as best as possible, fixing small details of your outfit to hide what you had been up all night, as James wrung his hands, debating whether he should say anything at all. When you reached for the Floo powder, he finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he managed. Your hand paused midair, but it was the only indication you gave to show you were listening. “Thank you for bringing him here. We’ll take good care of him.”

“He’s too proud to ask for help,” you said in response. “But he’s lucky to have someone like you in his life.”

“And like you.” To this, you scoffed, finally turning to look at him.

“I seem to only bring him trouble.”

“He does that fine on his own.” The small uptick of your lips was easy confirmation to your agreement. “But seriously. I’ve never seen him so happy to talk to someone before, and he talks to a lot of people.” When you didn’t say anything, James flushed. “I mean--”

“I’m lucky to have whatever part he’s willing to give me.” And with a flourish, you disappeared into the fireplace.

James never did find out what happened that caused Sirius’s injuries that summer. After a lengthy conversation (the lengthy conversation in question - Sirius: “I pissed my family off and now I’ve been disowned.”, James: “Oh, perfect. I’ve always wanted you as a brother.”), Sirius was unofficially officially adopted into his family. His parents took Sirius to St.Mungos a couple times to make sure everything was okay, but otherwise, the rest of summer was spent just as blissfully enjoyable as the beginning. Only this time, James didn’t have to worry about Sirius having to return to his awful family every night. They stayed up until the sun began to rise, sneaking into each other's room to spend the night, terrorizing the neighborhood with their loud voices until the sun rose. 

And, you were there. Not directly, not with the new disgraced title Sirius proudly bore, but in letters and conversation. Sirius now spoke freely and openly about you, how you had always been there to help him with his horrible upbringing, the way you always seemed to know what to do to help. Sirius admitted to getting into that final fight for you, for your honor, but didn’t elaborate any further. He spent many mornings at James’s desk writing to you, updating you on the new freedom he had, and making sure you were alright. That he’d be there in the drop of a hat if you needed him. 

Now that James was included in the conversation, willingly and welcomed this time, he was able to see how witty you were, how you weren’t just the Pureblood Slytherin he thought you were, but a genuinely good person for Sirius to be influenced by. You easily scolded him when needed, and praised him without letting his ego inflate too largely. Though you were only there in writing, it was easy to see the easy affection Sirius had for you, and vice versa. And, with James being let in somewhat on the secret friendship you shared, how deep it actually was, almost all the tension released from between the three of you. He even got to apologize for butting in so often last year, to which you waved him off with a promise not to do it again.

So, when sixth year started, and he got to see you for the first time in person since that fateful morning, it was like he’d never seen you before. And, all the better, it seemed you were determined to talk to Sirius, even if it meant you got some nasty glares from your housemates. James liked that about you.

So, he made the effort. When you or Sirius walked up to one another, James stayed close, engaging in conversation. Though you looked shocked, Sirius always gave him a broad smile, the prospect of two special people in his life becoming friends made him giddier than James ever thought possible. And Sirius was very open about that fact, throwing his arms around you and James mid conversation to squish you into a group hug. It didn’t take much to get the rest of his friends involved.

Your study sessions now involved all the Marauders, Remus sending you a thankful smile whenever you managed to calm the rowdiest of them down, comparing notes for class. Peter trailed after you happily, using you as a type of shield from the rest of the Slytherins when you walked together to class. You joined them on Hogsmeade trips, a quiet companion as they carried you from place to place. You never questioned what got them in so much trouble they ended up in the hospital wing once a month, but you did start to bring all of them a little treat for them to wake up to. Sirius started joking about you replacing him in the Marauders, to which you answered with a smack to the back of the head.

And James? Well James seemed to seek you out more and more without realizing it. If Sirius sat on your right, he would take your left. When needing a partner for class, he and Sirius would fight for the honor of being your partner, despite the fact that you already began working with someone else. He looked for you in the Slytherin crowd during quidditch matches, easily spotting you as the only person not booing at their victories. You and he would walk to class together, then hang out alone before the others joined. Your one on one time only increased as you got closer. You stayed up late to help him with classwork he struggled with, patient as ever, even if you did take every opportunity to poke fun at him with that deviously dry wit. You even helped Sirius with a joint gift, a box the size of his hand that would fit anything inside it and could only be opened by him. It was the first time he hugged you without Sirius’s intervention.

“Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!” Sirius said in his best imitation of an angry tone, but his smile was too contagious.

Yes, you butt heads. James’ lackadaisical attitude got on your nerves, sometimes done on purpose because James just loved to get a rise out of you, and your uptight scholarly nature often rivaled Remus, but at the end of the day, it was clear that there was a deep respect for one another, something that blossomed without either of you knowing. James would steal food from your plate without asking, loudly teasing you when you reprimanded him, but he would always replace it with some of your favorites, an unspoken apology. You would call him names (dimwit, airhead, and bludger brain to name a few), but you were always there for him at the end of the day, quietly praising his ingenuity, genuinely asking his opinion on matters.

It was why the guilt of the knowledge of your arranged marriage was starting to eat at him, a secret you didn’t know he knew. It was especially bad on days when that dreaded silver envelope arrived, since you frequently sought out Sirius. He recognized the crest on the back, an old and very Pureblood house, that no doubt had to belong to your fiance. You would crush the letter in your grip after skimming it, catching Sirius’ eye from across the room. No words needed to be said for him to stand, meeting you at the entrance hall. It was rare to see either of you for several hours after that. It was routine at that point.

But today was different. Sirius was in an early morning detention, cleaning McGonagall’s classroom after a series of pranks rendered the board useless, and you were nearly hyperventilating as the silver envelope fell into your lap. James only noticed because you were out of your seat faster than he’d ever seen you move, eyes glistening. He was following behind you before he realized what he was doing.

“Wait!” Your head whipped around at his voice, wiping your wet cheeks in an attempt to hide any evidence of your sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Sirius?”

“He’s in detention--what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” A group of giggling second years passed by, watching their interaction with interest. You instantly clammed up, face slacking into apathy. ”It’s nothing.”

James shook his head before tugging you down the hall. Despite your protests, he led you to one of the many secret passages, pulling you until you were in an unused hallway, rows and rows of empty classrooms creating the perfect hiding place. He didn’t speak until the two of you were in one, locking the door firmly behind him, and covering it with an anti-eavesdropping charm.

“What’s wrong?” Without a word, you held the letter out to him.

My Darling Angel, it read, handwriting barely legible with how shaky it was. Do not fret any longer, for your Father and I have finally come to an agreement. Though your price was a hefty one, I have been assured you are well worth it. In merely a years time---

“You’re getting married?” In a year's time, the summer of your Seventh Year, you were going to be a bride. James’s stomach twisted into knots. Tears piled up to the edges of your lash line.

“I spoke to my Father every summer, showing him my grades and my prospects, anything I could to have him increase his greed for more. I thought if I could keep going, just for a little longer, he would become so unreasonable, no one would want to pay my dowry. After all, why would they?” You sniffed, then furiously rubbed at your face, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I am no one special. Surely there are better prospects--”

“Woah, hey!” Your hands were moving too fast, too erratically, for his liking. As gently as he could, remembering the way Sirius acted, he pulled your hands away from your face. Rubbed raw with nail marks, you didn’t even seem to realize you were hurting yourself. 

“James,” his name was said in such sorrow, his very being rattled in sympathy, “what am I going to do?”

So he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled you close, cradling you to his body. You seemed to freeze at the contact. This wasn’t the friendly hug from his birthday, or the forced contact Sirius often made you do. This was something more.

“We’ll think of something,” he promised into your hair. With the gentle grip he had you in, it was easy to pull back and gaze upon the sincerity on his face. He gave you a small, crooked smile. “We won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

So, for the first time, you latched onto James, holding him tight enough to hurt, and wailed into his chest, mourning the life you tried so hard to protect.

For a moment, James allowed himself to be a little greedy, keeping you close enough to let your smell flood his senses. He allowed his hands to roam your back, feeling, as if for the first time, the way your clothes felt against your body, the heat of your being. He allowed himself to enjoy how you felt against him, how for once, instead of the proud Slytherin you always portrayed yourself to be, you allowed him to take care of you instead of the other way around. You seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, and, as ashamed as he was to think it, there was a part of him that loved how you trusted him to show this vulnerable part of yourself. You only ever show it to…

Then, with startling clarity, James realized he was holding you, Sirius’s person, in his arms, in a locked classroom, hidden away from the rest of the school. That same school who watched you run out of the hall with James following close behind. Those second years watched him pull you away! 

Before he could do something stupid, probably throw himself away from you, you pulled away first. Or, really, you yanked yourself away, wand raised with a Tempus spell showing the two of you were about to be very late to your first lesson.

“Thank you, James,” you whispered without looking at him, before you bolted to the door. His heart fluttered--

Oh, crap.

“I need to talk to you.” Sirius shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was at James’s sudden appearance, pulling him away from Marlene and Dorcas. The two, used to the strange way the Marauders always seemed to find one another, turned back to their conversation without another glance. James hauled Sirius up to their dorm by his collar. He had been looking all day for Sirius, with little success. It was just his luck that today, of all days, was filled with classes neither shared, and Sirius had to use his lunch hour to finish McGonagall’s room. And now, when Remus and Peter were meeting up with you to study for your Arithmancy exam, it was probably the best time he’d get. 

And there was just one thing Sirius needed to confess to, before James exploded.

“I know your secret. So please just admit it so I can tell you how bad of a friend I am.”

“Woah, woah woah. What?” When Sirius met James’s serious expression, his face turned from jovial to terrified. “...what?”

“I know, okay?” Sirius opened and closed his mouth, and if it was any other conversation, James would have poked fun at him for looking like a fish.

“You…know?” James nodded once firmly. Sirius swore, slumping down onto the nearest bed. “We were so careful!” At this, James raised a brow.

“You weren’t careful at all! Everyone knows!” Sirius paled.

“...everyone?”

“Well, everyone that knows you.” James eyed Sirius’ expression. With a shuddering breath, Sirius dragged a hand down his face. “You seem surprised.”

“Yeah, a little,” Sirius laughed, but it was far too breathy to be sincere. “I’ve only just convinced…Was I so obvious?”

“You always look for each other. And, even though it started off rough, you’ve gotten really close recently.” He clapped a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. The approval, how easy James gave it, had Sirius’ whole body relax, practically curling into himself. “You deserve each other.”

“Tell him for me, won’t you?” Sirius rolled his eyes, far more playful than he had been. “I’ve only been telling him every day for the last year. I mean, I know Moony’s dense, but I didn’t think it’d take this much convincing.”

“...what?”

“You know him as well as I do, mate. He doesn’t handle affection well. Especially mine.” Sirius laughed, this time much more heartily, his shoulders bouncing. James’ hand fell to his side, but Sirius hardly noticed, practically bouncing from giddiness. “Wow, it feels great to say it out loud.”

James continued to stare at him, mouth agape.

“Now that you know, this is perfect!” He jumped up, excess energy pushing him to his desk, rummaging through the pile of papers before pulling one out. “I’ve got so many plans! I’m thinking next full moon, I'll sneak into his hospital bed, bring some strawberries and chocolate, you know, romance stuff. I’ve been planning for months the best way to do it, but you know Moony. Be nice to him and he clams up, so I’ve been thinking--”

When Sirius turned around, James was slumped where Sirius had just been, the only difference being James’ shocked face to Sirius’ dread.

“What?” Sirius laughed. “Didn’t think I’d have a plan? I’m going all the way with this!”

“You--Moony? But I thought…--” Now it was Sirius’ turn to be confused.

“Why do you look like that?”

“You like Moony?!” Sirius dropped the piece of paper, his dread returning.

“You didn’t--” He coughed, like the words were strangling him. “You didn’t know?”

“No!!” James jumped up. “Since when have you liked…?”

“Oh,” SIrius scratched the back of his head, hair falling out of the messy braid that had your signature all over it. “When you said you knew my secret, I thought--” He suddenly narrowed his eyes, and James grew meek, chest and cheeks flushing red. “What secret did you think I had?”

So, what originally was a conversation James was severely dreading, turned into the most honest conversation they’d had in a while. James bared his heart to his best friend, explaining the guilt that had been eating at him since his birthday, worried he was a horrible friend. How he had only fallen for you harder as you hung out more, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you, but didn’t want to do anything to upset either you or Sirius by stepping over boundaries. How he was there for you when you heard confirmation of your upcoming marriage (Sirius looked angrier than he had in a while when James revealed that small development), and it only solidified what he already suspected, and how your tears felt like burning lava on his skin.

Sirius, in turn, explained how he and Moony had gotten closer now that Sirius knew you had other people looking after you, namely the other Marauders. His new free time was spent with Moony, who didn’t think anything of it, until their playful wrestling got out of hand and Sirius kissed him. James vaguely remembered Remus acting strange, but attributed it to the upcoming moon, one where he was much more affectionate towards Sirius than his usual transformations. He talked about the way he had been trying to convince Remus ever since that day that his feelings were real, that it wasn’t just a spur of the moment mistake, but a budding of affection ever since Sirius was freed of his family's clutches.

So, when they finally calmed themselves down, after a massive cry fest that ended in them hugging, promising not to ever keep secrets ever again, and a series of firing each other up, they rushed to the very object of their affections.

“Moony!” Sirius practically tackled Remus as he and Peter walked down the hall, hands stained in ink and stomachs rumbling. Remus stood no chance against the delighted dog, books flying from his hands as he landed on the floor, wind knocked out of him.

“Wh--” But Sirius had already crawled atop him, mouth pushed resolutely against his. Remus struggled only for a moment, before returning the kiss desperately, hands clutching anything he could reach, settling on Sirius’ back and hair.

“Great Merlin!” Peter exclaimed, nearly tripping over his feet to get away from the two heavily making out on the floor. James let out a laugh, rushing over to help his…unoccupied…friend. “But he-- and Sirius--”

“Well, there goes all those plans.” James joked. Sirius and Remus finally pulled away after another moment of kissing, both panting, but faces alight in pure happiness as they gazed at each other. “Okay, Loverboys, no public displays of affection while we’re around, okay? At least until we’re used to it.”

“Prongs…,” Remus whined miserably, face flushing a brilliant red, only disrupted by the white of his facial scars. Sirius grinned wolfishly, pressing a loud, wet kiss in the space between Remus’ shoulder and collar, doing nothing to help. “Padfoot!”

Peter was still staring at them, mouth agape, even as the two stood.

“Where’s—“ James started, looking around. It was strange to not see you with the other Marauders, especially since you should have been with them for the last hour or so to study.

“Huh??” Peter shook his head violently, finally having the decency to wipe away his shock. When he noticed James’ wandering eyes, he clarified. “Oh uh, Astronomy Tower, I think? Needed space to think or something?”

“But I thought you guys were studying--”

“Never showed.” Remus’ nonchalance was not eagerly received. James whipped his head to Sirius, who was already looking worried. You hadn’t shown up? But that’s hours where you’re unaccounted for!

“James!” Sirius’ panic was clear. In an instant, the day James eavesdropped came rushing back, a stone forming in his stomach. “It’s high enough—“

“I’m on it!” Later, James would deal with the consequences of the unneeded explanation. Later, he would address the confused looks on Remus and Peter’s faces, address the shock on Sirius’ for not needing an explanation. Later, he would beg and plead on his knees for Sirius to forgive him for spying on a private conversation, and staying long past knowing it was wrong. Later. It would happen later. Now, he needed to see you.

He’d never run faster in his life, using every shortcut he could think of to make it to the Astronomy Tower in record time. He took the stairs two at a time, practically launching himself onto the platform at the top, breath coming out in hot pants. 

“James?” There you were. His knees nearly gave out in relief (though climbing stairs that fast may have had something to do with it), especially since it didn’t look like you had a scratch on you.

“Oh, thank Merlin. You’re alright!” You only looked at him, rising slightly from where you were leaning over the railing to stare out into the horizon. The sun was going to set soon, causing the glow to illuminate your silhouette, your expression hard to see.

“Of course I’m alright.” James tried to catch his breath quickly, before walking over to you. As he got closer, your features slowly became clearer. There was no evidence of your earlier conversation (how had it only been that morning that you cried into his chest??), and it didn’t look like you had been crying again. He didn’t know whether to be relieved you seemed okay, or worried that you might be bottling your emotions.  “What are you talking about?”

“Sirius said…” The rest of the words died in his throat. You cocked your head. He guiltily looked at you, then the railing. When you didn’t react, he continued, ”He may have mentioned…”

“Oh.” In an instant, you understood, eyes falling into a glare, no doubt upset at having your privacy violated. “I’m not so fragile as to need a bodyguard to care for me all the time.”

“It’s okay if you do.” You rolled your eyes, turning back to look out over the trees. James copied you, resting his elbows on the bar, but angled his body so his sole attention was on the side of your face.

“That’s a sure fire way to get yourself killed in my world,” you grumbled.

“Well in mine,” he cut in, before you could add on, “if a friend is in trouble, you do whatever you can to help them.”

“Even if they don’t need it?”

“Everyone needs help.” He could see the tail end of your eye roll. “But you do it even if they don’t want it.”

With his breathing returning to normal, the space between you fell quiet. When it was clear you weren’t planning to speak anytime soon, he refocused his attention on the skyline, watching as the sky slowly became more and more orange, the sun nearly hiding behind the mountains. It was cooling down, but with summer nearly there, it created the perfect balmy weather to cause mischief late at night. In the distance, he could hear the faint hooting of an owl, from the forest or the school’s owlery, he wasn't sure, and the faint rustling of leaves. It was peaceful up here.

“Did he tell you?” Your voice startled him out of his thoughts, his body jerking.

“What?” If you felt him move, you didn’t show it.

“Sirius. Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not in so many words,” James said, purposefully vague. He felt bad being deceitful, but he had no idea how to explain his predicament, not when you were wringing your hands together like that, body hunching in on itself, like it was trying to hide how vulnerable you were. And, when you took a deep breath, James understood then that you were about to tell him something important, something life changing.

“He was always there. The Ancient and Noble House of Black always needed to be seen, especially at those parties, but I never really interacted with him. Too famous to be seen speaking to my family, or too busy playing the role of a Pureblood Heir to step away from his parents.” You sighed, crossing your arms, leaning your hip against the railing to look at James. His eyes were wide with innocent curiosity. “Sirius was the one who found me on the verge of jumping off the balcony that summer night.”

“Merlin--” He couldn’t believe how nonchalantly you were acting, as if you hadn’t just revealed your most vulnerable moment to him. You plowed on before he could do something embarrassing, like care for you.

“I had just met my soon to be fiance, all leering and wandering hands, and it was too much. The idea of being sold off like cattle, to be a possession instead of my own person, I always knew that’s where my life would end up but…”

It came as no surprise to you that when you started talking, the story seemed to tumble out without you wanting the full truth to be revealed. It came to him suddenly, the realization that this was probably the first time you ever said it out loud, the only person you probably ever felt close enough to tell, Sirius, being there that night meant he already knew everything from his perspective. The hurt in your voice, the emotion you usually kept locked away behind that Slytherin facade, on full display, made it impossible not to react, even though there was a very Sirius-like voice telling him to let you come to him. He couldn’t stop himself, though, when he reached out when you told him about how you screamed that night, brandishing your wand, even as the old coot laughed. He watched as you described the moment they left, your parents doing nothing but laughing along with your dear fiance, leaving you with nothing but the night air, you climbed up, the least graceful thing you had done in who knows however many years, and tipped forward. His hand latched onto yours, the same way he would have that night if he was there.

He tried not to react as you explained how Sirius’ hands clasped around your legs before you could fall, using his momentum to pull you back onto him and the solid ground. You told him how your arms scraped painfully against the stone balcony, but Sirius’ body took most of the brunt of your fall. You could barely hear what Sirius had said at the time over the ringing in your ears, too shocked at the fact that you were alive, that you didn’t fall, didn’t crash into the floor below like you so wanted, too overwhelmed to hear him yelling at you. 

James did the only thing he could and held your hand tighter, keeping you with him, instead of getting swept up in the memory.

He could hear how you tried to keep your voice as even as possible as you spoke, not daring to show any more emotion than you had to, but James could tell. He couldn’t stop his face from contorting in disgust as you described the way your fiance spoke. He felt his eyes widened as you spoke about standing on the edge of the balcony, staring at the sky and not daring to look down. He nearly wept as you described Sirius’ warm embrace, the only thing that kept you grounded at the time. And when you finished, telling him you had to return to normal the following day, hiding what almost happened, he pulled you into his warm hug before he could stop himself.

“James, it’s alright,” you reassured, patting his back as if he was the one who just bared his heart and past, soothing him as best you could.

“It’s not alright!” Though his words were firm, they were not unkind. He pulled away, bringing your hand to his chest, willing you to feel the way it was thumping wildly. “You--you…!”

“It’s all in the past now.”

“The thought that I might never have met you…” He felt you starting to shake, eye swimming with doubt and hesitance.

“...what?”

“You mean so much to me.” His words rattled you, he could tell, but it was nothing compared to the pure determination in his face, not a hint of regret or ulterior motive to be seen. He meant every word. He had to show you he meant every word.

“You hardly know me--”

“Don’t do that,” he begged, his voice coming out weaker than he intended, but there was no way he would be harsh to you now, not after you bared your soul, not while you try to return to that apathetic life you had adapted to for survival over the years. Not if he could help it. “I know you know I’m being sincere. And you know I know you far better than you wish.”

“...what do you want me to say?”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

“What?!” He pulled your hand closer, keeping you as close as you’d allow.

“Not now. Not in five years, not even in ten, not if you don’t want to. But be with me, in any way you’re willing.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“If this is some cheap Gryffindor chivalry--”

“Not this. Not with you.” He pulled you closer, willing himself not to get his hopes up as you allowed yourself to be pulled a breath away. “I like you. I like you so much I feel my heart beat faster than any Quidditch game would ever make it feel, like it’ll pop out of my chest and flutter around telling everyone who’ll listen how much it feels for you.” You flush at his blatant confession. “I hate your fiance with every fiber of my being for ever making you feel like you don’t have a choice. For making you feel so trapped that you would rather…die,” —his tongue tripped over the word, too overcome with the implication to say it without flinching— “than go through with your marriage.”

“James…”

“It’s not the way I wanted to confess,” he joked sheepishly, before morphing his expression into the most earnest he could will it. “My heart is yours, in any way you want it.”

“I don’t…--”

“I’m offering myself to you,” he clarified earnestly, even as your expression faltered. He lowered his eyes to look at your clasped hands. “Use me however you like. I know Pureblood customs, and this is the way you can get out of it. Marry me, and do whatever you like. Move across the world, or stay by my side. Godric, we could even marry now and divorce immediately if you want!” He met your eyes again. “I just want you to be happy.” 

The silence continued to stretch and stretch. In the last few months of teasing, it was rare you didn’t have some sort of quip to put James back in his place, but now, it seems you didn’t have a single word to say.

He knew it was stupid, the way he said it. But, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Asking you for something simple like puppy love wasn’t going to cut it, not when your very freedom was on the line. As much as James could see himself loving you (he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t already), you didn’t have the luxury of time, not the kind that James wanted to worship you, to prove his earnest feelings the way he knew his parents had, the way Sirius planned to show Remus. But the one thing he could do was make a promise to himself that you would never have to feel stuck again. 

The longer the silence lasted, the more James felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. 

“I’ve just made a fool of myself, haven't I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying, and Sirius always said I needed to work on my impulse--”

His knees almost gave out from under him, your clasped hands the only thing keeping him from doing so.

Your lips were softer than he imagined.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

[worrywrite]

I am frequently amused when I see art of Ianthe post skeleton arm. Amused because almost every artist picks where the skeletal structure starts at a different point. Some go right up to the shoulder, some go just under, some go past the elbow (though I've only seen this once) and some don't even get which arm it is correct. And I'm amused because there is a fairly accurate description in HtN of where Harrow cuts off the grafted arm and begins rebuilding with bone. It's about 3-4 inches above the elbow on the right arm. You can extrapolate her height and estimate just about where it would be. And in m head it should be lower than where most people draw it.

More musings on Ianthe and art of her below.

I've met a handful of folks with a stump in about that same place and I think it's a fairly common point for amputation and so whenever I see art with the skeletal emerging higher up it seems off.

I'm not trying to shame the artists, of course. I don't think I've seen a bad portrait of Ianthe yet. I am, perhaps, most amused as a result of all this how you can tell the artists usually just want to draw a girl with a cool bone arm. And in my head, the higher up on the arm it starts the more I to it they are. After all, why no just give her more visible bones.

I wouldn't be surprised if, in an effort to seduce Harrow she slowly abandoned more and more flesh in favor of gilded bone. Sure she started with it just above the elbow, but then she stripped off the bicep. Then the shoulder. Then part of the flesh around the collarbone. And when she started encountering more arteries and organs it gets trickier but she manages to remove the flesh and grow out her osseous material into plated structures to keep the important bits covered. Then she takes off the neck and the lower jaw. Then the entire left arm piece by piece from the fingertips up, one segment per day. At that point she doesn't feel pain any more. After that, it's the whole collar bone. The face she keeps, because she won't go quite so far as to essentially wear the paint of the ninth house by making her face a mask of bone. What beauty would that leave? She'll leave her breasts too, to satisfy her own vanity and hope that Harrow appreciates it least some flesh. But then it's to the ribcage; which is tricky, but it can be externalized and most of the internal organs can be put in flexible cartilaginous or osseous chambers padded with fat. By the time it gets to the pelvis she's torn, she wouldn't dare rob herself of some of the last pieces of stimulating nerve endings she has, and yet she feels like Harrow wouldn't care much; so naturally she exposes portions but not all of the pelvis. And then it's just the legs, and that's not even a big deal by that point.

Now fully formed, Lich!Ianthe has made herself everything that she thinks Harrow would adore. She has lost her sense of pain, and also almost all of her pride as she has come to realize that she has succumbed to an obsession. She has made herself a monster the likes of which stirs fear in the eyes of God. She is asked time and again to stop, but she only does when she's taken all that she can. Now she's gilded to perfection, equal parts gaudy trophy and skeletal object of desire. And she feels more like her own person than she's ever been.

[m1d-45]

dancing soldiers

summary: meka are infallible. meka do not stray from their path.. except when they do.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: spoilers for fontaine (name and mechanics of open world boss)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and aether as traveller

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd

< masterlist >

fontaine was known for a wide variety of things, from their ornate fountains to the elaborate clothing it seemed nobody was without. any visitors from other nations were greeted by sweeping architecture and the sound of bubbling fonta, and swimming was a must. but even through the shine of the great lake, their fantastical clockwork meka was definitely the star of the show. every traveller was quickly starstruck by the machines roaming the streets, fitted uniforms not masking the clunking of gears within their chests. even underwater, scanning for raiders and filtering the water, keeping the water clear and cool. faceless, cold, employed both privately and for government work, the perfect tool for their job. they had one job, and they did it well.

meka were designed to protect. to guard. to defend their charge, whether that presented as patrolling a barge of merchants or leading the blind through the winding streets of the city. powered by indemnitium and equipped with efficient charging ports, every meka is intended to outlast their creators. few actually do, whether weakened by arkhe or attacked by those opposing their duty, but it remains a fact that they stick to their orders until the last spark fades from their circuits.

they are perfect workers. they do not disobey, they do not stray from their task. their actions are calculated in a split second, every movement taken to further their given goal.

lead.

support.

shield.

“dance!”

maillardet threw aside the screwdriver in his hand in frustration, kicking at the frost gathering in the arena. behind him, unmoving, were his magnum opus… though they refused to move.

“dance, dance. what’s the point of you?”

they did not dance. they did not move. they stood, hand in hand, one beside the other. coppelius and coppelia, the only signs of life being the frosty wind that would occasionally sweep by. they were in standby, with deflated skirts and unmoving hydraulics. normally, them being still would make maintenance easier, but their plates did not move as they should. he couldn’t even remove coppelius’ hat.

it was convenient, just not for him.

“looks to paimon like might just be the fault of poor design.” you watched from between the hairline gap in coppelia’s skirt, seeing paimon cross her arms. your traveller was stumped as well, merely shrugging.

“theyre infused with opposite arkhe,” aether said simply. “maybe they finally reacted with each other?”

“that’s impossible! the arkhe is held within them, far from where the other could react with it, and only one of them are externally charged at any one time.”

“so… why not reset them? paimon remembers one of the melusines saying that most meka around the city just need to be reset from time to time.”

“in those cases, the meka are given conflicting orders, typically by children. all these two need to do is dance, and-“ his voice choked, aether and paimon moving out of your field of vision to presumable comfort him. you try to shift and see, but coppelia’s skirt twitches inward, keeping you where you are.

you’re sheltered between the two meka, coppelius’ cape-thing making up for the gaps in coppelia’s skirt. you were lucky you hadn’t been seen yet, truthfully… but you didn’t want to stress out maillardet.

“what am i supposed to do?” he asked, words shaky. “i promised the chief justice i’d keep them functional for the divine one, and now- you know what they’re like, and they’re both broken-“

“h-hey, it’s okay! paimon’s certain you’ll get them working again! besides, they still seem to be functional, right?” she flies up, and you flinch at the knock of her hand on metal. it echoes around you, much louder than it should be in your hiding space. “oof, still as cold as ever…

“you should just restart it.”

“are you sure? what if something goes wrong? i can’t even perform maintenance, what if i can’t turn them back on after? you know how they acted last time—if lady furina wasn’t there, then..”

“..it’s better than nothing. besides-“ metal skidded over ice, and you see the flicker of aether’s boot as he kicks the discarded screwdriver back near maillardet’s bag of tools. “-you could always just not put them in stand-by. if they’re broken like this, just leave them dancing. i doubt they’ll notice, and it’ll buy you time until they want to visit again.”

”yeah! you only have a handful of hours until they arrive in fontaine, and it’s not like anything worse can happen!”

“i..” he sighed, and a long moment passed. “i guess trying is worse than doing nothing..”

“that’s the spirit!”

your hands twitch into fists, only partly from the cold. the ‘god’ they spoke of so highly, the one that got you into this mess… who were they, anyway? even you didn’t blame maillardet for needing maintenance between fights, but from his fear it sounded like they’d kill him for a malfunction.

you put those thoughts aside, pressing close to coppelia’s core as the meka were powered down. both of them slumped forward, a shift in their plating allowing a cold wind in. you shivered, and briefly considered praying before deciding against it—what god would answer?

gears clicked and switches flipped, both meka making various hisses. the elemental power seeping from both of them slowly ceased, and your heart picked up. how would this end? after a reset, would they remember to hide you? or would you get crushed beneath their skates as they danced?

“…you two should leave the arena.”

“why?”

“is something wrong?”

“no, but if they begin to dance again, i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“what about you? let me do it, i’m more experienced with combat.”

“it’s alright. in the early stages of their development, they didn’t even have a standby mode, so i’m used to repairing them while they’re dancing. don’t worry, i can get the memory you need unharmed.”

memory?

their memory? when aether had first approached, you’d assumed the ‘sabotage’ maillardet was talking about was the fact that neither of the meka would move. it made sense to want the memory to show which direction the saboteur left in, but that memory would show you, the most hated person in all of teyvat, and the melusine that had helped you hide from the gardes. veleda… you couldn’t let her take the fall for whatever crime you’d committed. she didn’t deserve that.

you take a breath, preparing to make a run over it, when you hear a small click. all at once, coppelia’s skirt snaps back to it’s normal formation, and you catch a glimpse of the traveller’s shocked expression before you’re pulled up and away. coppelius pulls you into his arms, coppelia smoothy following, spinning circles around the two of you like a top. when the two you skid to a stop near the edge of the arena, you quickly get your bearings, only mildly motion sick from the ordeal. maillardet is sitting in the middle of the arena, knocked off his feet beside his tools, and aether and paimon stand on the pathway leading back to the fountain. nobody says anything for a good few moments, the silence tense.

“…at least we know where they went?” paimon asks nervously, and aether draws his sword. coppelia sweeps in front of you and coppelius as he begins to walk towards you, and maillardet quickly gets up. he briefly slips on the icy floor, but quickly intercepts him, his words barely audible.

“traveller, the meka-”

“was tampered with.” his voice is cold, and you shiver at the weight of his glare. “don’t worry, i got it.”

“listen to me, please. coppelius and coppelia follow all the standard guidelines for meka-”

“this isn’t about you!” he shouts, “this is about something much more important then your meka!” his sword points at you, a shining blade despite the name. “this is about a crime too large for your opera house to handle.”

coppelius holds you tighter. the sound of his anger- of his hate makes your heart burn as it sinks, leaving an empty pit. you knew fontaine wasn’t the best at justice, but…

“traveller, have you ever read the machining requirements for battle meka?”

“why is this relevant? why am i talking to you?” he pushes off his hand and begins to walk, leaving paimon behind. after a moment, she gasps loudly, rushing forward to pull on his braid.

“wait! freminet lent paimon his copy of those guidelines once! she knows what maillardet means!”

“so what?”

your twin meka begin to slowly skate away from aether as he nears, ignoring paimon. maillardet is looking through his bag, searching for something, but all you can see are the traveller’s eyes. your traveller’s eyes, all your months of gameplay boiling into his rage.

maybe if the circumstances were different you’d forgive him for being so angry, but as it stands you’re barely convinced you’ll live through the hour.

“one of the clauses was about a special line of code that all the battle-capable mekas had to have- stop walking and listen!”

“how does that connect to this? don’t you care for our god? why are you stopping me?”

“because it’s about our god! don’t you remember? navia told you when we stayed with the spina de rosula!”

he does stop, then, staring paimon down instead. “fine. what is it?”

she lets go of his braid, waving a hand between the icewind suite and maillardet as she talks. “mekas have a special override wired into them in the case that the abyss got ahold of them which shuts down their combat functions when faced with the creator! it’s weaker when triggered through their vessels—which is why their attacks are limited instead of stopped—but is mandatory for every meka that’s combat ready, including coppelia and coppelius!”

aether turns to you, conflicted. you still carried in coppelius’ arms, you hidden under the plating of coppelia’s skirt, you who made the meka disobey their creator. you, the creator of those that made them.

“…maillardet?”

“it’s true, cease your fire.” he lifts a plain notebook from his bag, not that aether turns to see it. “i have my maintenance notes here. that override was the first thing i added, even before i gave them their weaponry. let’s bring our findings to the iudex and let our lord relax. please.”

aether’s sword dissolves into dust, a mix of shock and confusion still lingering on his face as he’s pulled away by paimon’s hand on his shoulder. maillardet packs his things and follows, taking some time to pick his way through the frosted floor. once the arena is cleared, coppelius skates to the center, setting you down carefully. then, he takes coppelia’s hand in his, leading her away. they begin their dance around you, gears clicking with elaborate pirouettes, leaving you in the middle of it all to wonder what just happened.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

A Forgotten Birthday

"How old is y/n then?" The new recruit is always trying to flirt with Soap by asking him gossip and facts about the team.

"Twenty-six." He answers her so easily. It feels like a stab to your heart all over again.

"Twenty-seven." You correct, voice conspicuously devoid of emotion.

"No, your birthday isn't until May, and it's..." His face pales. He whips around to look at you. "We missed it. How did we miss it?" You shrug, not meeting his eyes.

"Some things just aren't important." Your food tastes like sawdust. You give up trying to eat and toss it in the trash on the way out. Maybe hitting the gym will help. No, you know he's going to tell everyone, and you don't want to deal with their pity-filled stares and questions about making it up to you now that they've finally remembered.

Running the trail system near the base is a favorite of yours normally. Today, it isn't relaxing, but anger-inducing. You were on a mission in a forest just like this across the world for your birthday. It was almost two weeks after the day that you got back, and you eagerly waited for the surprise party that Soap, Gaz, and Price always set up for each person's birthday, but... nothing. After three weeks, you gave up all hope for one and steeled yourself to give nothing away. Can't let them see you hurt over a stupid birthday. Can't make the team lose focus or lose your own. You're an adult, after all.

Zoned out, you don't realize how far you have run until it's nearly too dark to see the path. Sitting on a stump, you give in and have a cry about the whole thing. Self-pity taking you over for just a few minutes. Wiping your eyes, you startle when a hand touches your back. You leap up and move to a defensive crouch only to see Ghost's balaclava looming out of the darkness at you.

"Luv, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Just, I don't know. Needed a cry, I guess. Didn't think anyone would see me."

"You certainly didn't see anyone. I've been running behind you for nearly five minutes. I could have been anyone. You need to be more aware of things." Your hurt and confusion turns to anger at the lecture he is spouting off.

"Ya, I guess I do need to be more aware. Clearly, I am the problem." You stomp away from him, starting back to base, muttering to yourself about transfers to other teams who might care more. Ghost wraps his hand around your arm and pulls you to a stop.

"What, I make one comment, and you're just going to quit on us? What is actually going on, pet? Someone piss you off or something? Do I need to knock teeth out?"

"I... everyone forgot," you mumble. Ghost glances around to ensure you're alone and tugs you against his chest, rubbing your back. "I was in the shit and when I got back, nobody remembered my birthday." He freezes, hands cradling you.

"They forgot? How could they forget? Your birthday is always at the beginning of the mission season. I thought you guys had it when I was down range. I was gutted to have missed it. Sent you flowers as a sorry." His grip tightens to an almost painful level, and you grip back, remembering the beautiful bouquet that had been left for you without a note. "We will just have to make Soap and Captain pay for forgetting then." You glance up and see his eyes glimmering at you in the moonlight.

"We should probably find our way home first."

"Home, that sounds good." His phone suddenly goes off, making you jump. "Group text. 'SOS emergency meeting. Do not tell y/n.' They ain't even tryin' to be subtle at this point." He guides the two of you down the path, walking quick and assured. Within minutes, he is getting an avalanche of phone calls and texts to the point that he is tempted to throw it into the woods around you, but you turn it off and slip it into his pocket for him.

"Last time you threw one and broke it, Captain said he would glue the new one to your hand, and I'm pretty sure he was serious." Ghost ruffles your hair.

"That was a private meeting, Luv. How did you hear him say that?"

You scoff. "You'd be lucky if the entire fuckin' base didn't hear him tell you that with how loud he was shouting." He just chuckles and guides you both home. He drops you off at the women's barracks and storms into the team meeting, slamming the door into the wall.

"Finally you show up! We forgot y/n's birthday and we are planning a party to make up for it."

"No. You are not."

"What?! We can't just ignore it. We forgot! It's been months!"

"You're not going to force her to accept a pity party to make you feel better about what you did."

"Ghost, I know you hate parties, but she still deserves to know we care."

"So, show her. Before she makes good on transferring out. But no party. I will handle her party from now on since you fucks can't be trusted to remember." He walks out without another word, the room behind him in chaos.

"Why is he acting like he didn't forget, too?" Gaz asks incredulously.

"Because the bawbag didn't. He sent the mystery flowers that made her cry. It was right after he got back from down range. Can't believe I didn't catch it earlier."

Price stubs out his cigar. "So, no party. And she is thinking about leaving. We really cocked this one up, boys." He stands and walks to the door, pausing on the threshold. "No flowers, no gifts. Make it up to her. And Soap," he turns to look the Scottish man in the eye, "sleep with one eye open. Ghost is absolutely going to make us pay for making her cry." He walks away, no pep in his step, now.

"Cry? How does he know she cried?" Gaz seems baffled by the Captain's surety.

"Course she cried. Everyone does when they are forgotten or abandoned."

"Ghost doesn't, though. We never celebrate his birthday."

"We being the key there, mate. Remember last month when she shoved a new set of gloves and a mask at him? Told him the ones he was wearing were manky as fuck. That was his birthday gift." He runs a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I'm off. Need t'think about how I'm gonna beg forgiveness from both of 'em."

[charcoalhawk]

Common knowledge

Summary: sometimes, Jazz forgets that things that were common knowledge in Amity park may not be all that common elsewhere.

Warnings: Phantom Planet is canon

“This class will be focused on argumentative and persuasive essays. The first two weeks will be developing your argument to-“

Jazz doesn’t mean to zone out, but after a rather frantic festive season she’s sorely behind on sleep. Besides she had read the syllabus front to back multiple times since it had been released the other day.

Jazz doesn’t know quite how to feel about this ‘persuasive writing class’ yet, but it’s required for her degree, so at the very least she can suck it up and keep chugging.

At least her other classes look fun so far, and both Deja and Louis are in Psych 102 with her, so they can compare notes.

So far, one whole semester completed and Jazz is pretty confident she has college down. Yes it was hard being so far from Danny and her parents, and the family otherworldliness of Amity, but Jazz needed this change.

A glance at the clock on the lecture room wall jolts Jazz back into paying attention to what the professor is saying. How had she zoned out for almost fifteen minutes? She definitely needed to get some better sleep tonight. Which unfortunately meant she couldn’t finish reading the Psychology textbook they had all been given yesterday.

“- and now, for the remainder of class we are going to discuss some possible essay topics. Now normally I would ask that we limit it to one topic per student, both to avoid copping and to allow for a wide range of topics. However, given the, ah, unexpected event that happened earlier this year, I am going to allow for multiple people to write about the same overarching topic. I would however ask that we think of some unique sub-categories so we can explore most of this topic.”

Jazz sits there stumped for a second. What could have possibly happened in the last year that multiple people would want to talk about it to this extent? Maybe a new game came out? She’ll have to ask Danny, he’d always kept up to date on that kind of stuff.

Or maybe it’s a new study somewhere? She knows she read something fascinating about brain waves in response to-

“Ghosts aren’t real!” Someone shouts from the far side of the classroom, bringing an abrupt halt to the quiet murmuring that had previously engulfed the classroom.“this all has to be some kind of super secret spy-ops thing that got leaked-“

“-Ghosts are totally real!” Another classmate retorts, “When I was six I saw my grandma’s ghost on the day of her funeral-”

“No way! That would me hundreds of years of research are now-“

“All right! All right.” The room quiets at the Professor’s slightly raised voice. “I know you all know how to behave in a classroom, so let’s all settle down and treat this as a discussion and not a shouting match. Now, Deja, would you like to go first?”

“Yes, thank you Professor. Now as I was saying, it’s chemically impossible for ghosts to exist-“

Oh.

Oh.

Jazz had forgotten that most people hadn’t known ghosts were real.

Danny was going to laugh so hard when she told him about this. If she told him about this.

Maybe this time it could stay because just her and Bearbert.

[kairiscorner]

omds i luvvvvvvv your writing so much 🤭🤭 could i req a earth 42 miles or a hobie brown fic where reader gets bullied for dating miles/hobie (whichever one u pick 🖤) because people think she’s “not good enough for him” because she’s like one of the quiet kids she doesn’t go to like parties and stuff like that she’s always studying and that kinda stuff and miles/hobie finds out when one of his friends confronts him ab it (you can write this however u like!!!!) and he talks w reader and stuff just a bunch of htc!! 🖤 thank you sooooo much

OH DAMN, sure thing anon !! i am just like y/n fr it's just that i don't have bitches 😭😭😭 but i hope u like this rahhh !!!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

they're more than worthy of me. – miles 42 x reader

nobody ever has a perfect life, let alone a perfect love life, but when you were with miles, everything felt just right. he loved you with a love that wasn't overbearing or possessive, he gave you your space when you needed it and supported you from the sidelines in every endeavor you dared to try. you didn't stand out much though, really, you blended in quite well into the background. you were used to not being recognized or acknowledged immediately, and you were fine with it—though you were confused why recently, a few of your classmates were acting a little mean to you.

you never harbored any ill will towards these people—as far as you were concerned, you doubt that more than half of these kids would even remember your name. every time you approached a classmate of yours for a question, they'd immediately walk away the minute you walked over to them, others would ask you in sarcastic voices if you couldn't even do something so simple with a smile that tried to get you thinking they meant no harm when in reality, they wanted you away from them. you couldn't even pretend and think that they were just busy or being realistic—that you should be able to do something as simple as the question to an activity that you were stumped on, but you couldn't—this was because a lot of those classmates of yours adored miles.

they liked miles and having his attention on them, angry if anyone else were to get his attention away from them. before you entered the picture, they were all over him—devoted and loved him like a friend, some had loved him in more than just a friendly way, but none of his friends and admirers in your class took it very kindly when they noticed you and miles getting along a bit too well back then; when you two became a thing, everything just got worse. miles still hangs out with some of these people, though he doesn't consider them his friends—tonight, he'd be attending a party of theirs with ganke, with you opting to stay behind and catch up on school works.

late at night, as you were finishing up your studying session, you got a text from miles, asking you to come down and meet him by your front door. you got up from your chair and walked down to your front door, and there he was, battered and bruised in the face—looking into your eyes with hurting in them. you asked him in worried stammers about what happened to him, who did this to him, if he was even okay. you checked his face all over, and when you saw the backs of his hands, they were reddened and scarred, you couldn't tell if the blood was his or someone else's, because you knew this was no accident that happened to him—he got into a fight, a serious one.

"miles, what happened?" you asked him in a shuddering voice, with miles bringing his red, bloody knuckled hands to your shoulders and wrapped you in his arms. he didn't answer you quite yet as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as his initial response. "how could they not accept that i love you?" he murmured as you gently placed your hands on his back, reciprocating his hug despite your confusion. "i... miles, what?" "ganke told me he heard a bunch of the guys at the party talking shit about you behind my back. i... i confronted them, asked them why they said what they said, but the last thing they wanted to do was cooperate and be honest. so i... i did some things i wasn't proud of. i'm sorry, i'm just so sick of people hurting you all for my sake–you deserve better, mi cielo..." he whispered as you pulled away from him, watching the tears form in his eyes as he frowned up at you amidst the cuts and bruises on his face.

you brought him into your house and sat him down on the couch, hurriedly getting him a first aid kit to treat his wounds. you wrapped his knuckles up in gauze, with him mindlessly following your hands with his gaze–him taking in all the gentle and softness of your touch. "i'm sorry, again, mi vida. i shouldn't... i should've handled it better." miles apologized to you again as you were tying up the gauze on his hand. "love..." you called out to him, placing your hand on top of his with concern and love filling your gaze. "i'm just glad you're alive and well. i wish you didn't have to get hurt or hurt anyone, but... i'm glad you love me enough to defend me like you did even though i wasn't there." you said in a quiet voice, smiling up at him with tears in your own eyes, matching the tears in his as he looked back at you and nodded, his lower lip quivering.

"i'd do it all again, and more, for you–mi cielo. i swear, you... you won't ever shed another tear... because of another person being an asshole to you–i can't not love you, cielo, i can't..." miles murmured with a cracking voice as he got more vulnerable. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close as he sobbed, muttering to you how he'd love you forever, that much would never change–no matter if the multiverse demanded you two cannot be, he'd make a world for just the two of you, even if everyone else would disagree.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @solecitoszn @onginlove @euphovlq @meowmoraless

[teatreeoill]

|| Flustered (Geto Suguru X Reader) ||

in which reader has a big crush on Geto (don't we all?), just kind of me tapping into the funny post-credits vibes of jjk. notes: I even kept the small headlines I made for each part because it felt cute, might delete later.

w/c: 1.1 k

screenshot credits to user yutamayo.

-

The part where Geto Suguru likes seeing you flustered.

You were sure Geto Suguru hadn't the slightest idea of what he was doing. Because if he did, it would make him a devil.

He'd always sit patiently waiting for the end of class before coming up to you, just to place a large hand on your shoulder while you were still sitting in your seat, letting it linger there for far too long as he spoke.

"Be careful, yeah?" He heard passingly from Shoko about the mission you were about to take on with one of the older sorcerers.

"Always am." You smile, thinking that if he doesn't move his hand off of your shoulder soon, the warmth of his fingertips might burn through the fabric of your uniform.

"That's not what Shoko says," He gets down on his knees to face you and tilts his head lightly, a dark strand of hair grazing the side of his nose. It would be impolite to not look straight at him now - the eye contact he kept so easily made the blush creep to your cheeks. His hand moves to rest on your thigh. There's no chance in hell he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling okay? Your face looks red, you shouldn't go if you feel sick." He says.

"I'm - fine, I just -" Your chair scrapes the floor as you get up abruptly, "I don't want to keep Mei Mei waiting."

Did someone tell him that I have a crush on him? You thought while stumping down the hall, the only one who knows is Shoko, and there's no chance she'd do that. Damn it.

-

The part where you learn that if you ever ask for something of Mei Mei, be very specific.

It doesn't help to wipe the sweat. It just mixes with dirt and blood that covered you from head to toe, leaving your vision blurred and your moves sloppy. Mei Mei has it all under control - as she usually does, with her battleaxe swinging elegantly through numerous curses each instant, leaving their severed parts to rest on the dirty linoleum floors, but it doesn't mean she'd let you off easy.

"You should at least try to focus, or you wouldn't live long enough to have any chance of getting together with Geto."

huh?

"I'm sorry. I'll focus." you mutter shamefully.

The mission ends almost instantaneously when Mei Mei finds the curse responsible for the recent killings, her blows unwavering even at the horrid sight. You knew you weren't at your usual level on this mission, but Mei Mei's words have shifted your focus completely.

The car ride was silent except for the sound of your uniform's fabric brushing over the car seat every time your leg bounced restlessly, thoughts running back and forth through your mind.

"Mei-Mei, How'd you know that -"

She didn't even wait for your sentence to finish; "Gojo paid me to send a raven to pry on yours and Shoko's conversations."

"Oh," fuck, "wait, shouldn't it be a secret?"

"He paid me to snoop," a smile grazed her lips, "not to keep a secret."

-

The part where Gojo Satoru faces imminent death.

"I'll kill you, Satoru!" You shout, but Gojo only likes it more. He runs around the class pretending that all the things you're throwing at his direction will actually hurt him. He hides his tall figure poorly behind desks, giggling every time another part of school property passes his head by a few inches.

"And end a bloodline just like that?" He teases.

Shoko stands silently in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. She puts a cigarette in her mouth, ready to turn away from the class and leave you to deal with Gojo in any way that you see fit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Geto approaching the classroom, oblivious to the new developments.

"Ieri - " He tries to say something, but she just slowly shakes her head "No".

"Wouldn't go in there if I were you." Shoko closes the door behind her, muffling the conundrum of threats and laughter coming out of the room.

In the hall, Gojo's mocking words could still be heard through loud thuds of heavy objects hitting the floor, "D'you really wanna' kill your boyfriends best friend?"

-

The part where Geto Suguru is so, so sorry.

Geto felt the guilt rush over him now that you knew that he had flustered you very much deliberately. You've ignored him for almost a week now, which by any means would be considered a feat, seeing that you've spent hours together in classes and practice almost every day. And even when he came to apologize, befitting a Jujutsu sorcerer, you stood before him in the hallway with an unholy amount of unwavering pride.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, especially when I knew that you have a crush on me." He had stated the obvious, but still somehow managed to lie. He really wasn't sorry - his heart fluttered everytime he saw your face turn crimson under his touch.

"Had." You corrected.

"Had?"

"Yeah, had a crush on you."

"Oh, so you don't anymore?"

"No." You lied through your teeth, but you were rather convinced that if you'd just keep focusing on the anger you felt, the feeling will blow over eventually anyway.

"That's understandable," He says, taking a small step closer to you, just to test the waters. When you didn't move, he raised his arm slowly, pressing the palm of his hand to the side of your face, watching your body involuntarily eliciting the same response he longed for. On the tips of his fingers he clearly felt your jaw tense up slightly, and the heat gathering quickly in your cheeks, "But I just can't have that happen. You look so cute like this, you know?"

It was futile to resist his kiss, his whole body felt like it belonged to be pressed right against yours. Your pride melted against his tongue, his lips only stopping when he had to draw a quick breath. By the time his hand was entangled in your hair, it was too late to try and regain the last shreds of dignity, and so you opted to wrap your arms around him to press your bodies even closer.