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fear-less · 1 day ago

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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,” he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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lilbabypanda-blog2 · 2 days ago

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Phainon x (fem) reader

Part1 part2 PART3

The group packed up quickly, with Tribbie cheerfully skipping ahead, Trailblazer casually snacking as always, and Dan Heng trailing behind with his usual quiet presence. Phainon lingered just slightly, trying to collect himself as his heart continued to race from Y/N’s earlier compliment.

He caught up as they began walking along a narrow path, the ancient stones of the city outskirts giving way to rough terrain. The air smelled faintly of moss and something metallic, and the ground was uneven beneath their feet.

Y/N walked ahead, her sword strapped securely to her back, her expression calm but focused. Phainon tried to focus on anything but how cool she looked.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her with a casual grin. “You were really amazing back there too, you know. The way you took down that big guy? Legendary.”

Y/N glanced at him, her face lighting up with a smile. “Thanks, Phainon. But it’s not really that impressive when you’ve had as much practice as I have.”

“Not impressive? Are you kidding?” Phainon said, his voice rising slightly. “You climbed a living boulder like it was a staircase! That’s… that’s beyond impressive! That’s—”

“Admirable?” Tribbie chimed in from ahead, turning to walk backward so she could grin at them. “Heroic? The stuff of legends? Keep going, Phainon, I’m enjoying this.”

Phainon stumbled over his words, shooting her a helpless look. “I mean, yeah, all of that! But I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

Trailblazer snickered, patting Tribbie on the shoulder as they both turned back to the path. Dan Heng, walking quietly a few paces behind, sighed audibly but said nothing.

Y/N just laughed. “You’re sweet, Phainon. But I couldn’t have done it without you all holding the others off. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Phainon flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, totally. Teamwork.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel the only sound. The scenery began to shift, with jagged cliffs rising on either side and strange, glowing carvings etched into the stone walls.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “The traces we’re following—there’s a higher concentration up ahead.” He gestured toward a fork in the path, one side leading to a darker, more enclosed area while the other veered toward an open, rocky clearing.

“Splitting up might save us time,” Y/N suggested, already assessing the terrain. “Dan Heng, you and Trailblazer could take the path on the left, and the rest of us can check out the clearing.”

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “It’s logical. But if either group encounters trouble, don’t engage until we regroup.”

Trailblazer gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. No heroics… unless they look really cool.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “Sure, just don’t die trying to show off.”

As Dan Heng and Trailblazer disappeared down the left path, the remaining trio headed toward the clearing. The rocky terrain was uneven, with glowing crystals jutting out at odd angles.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the area. “Let’s see if we can pick up any more traces.”

Tribbie wandered a little ahead, poking at the glowing crystals with her staff. “These things are so weird. I feel like if I touch the wrong one, the whole place might explode.”

“Maybe don’t touch them, then,” Y/N suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tribbie grinned, but she stepped back cautiously anyway.

Phainon, meanwhile, was sticking close to Y/N, his usual energy tempered slightly by the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, marveling at how calm and composed she seemed.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever, uh, get nervous? You know, before a fight or something?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering the question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned to channel it. Nervous energy can be useful if you use it right.”

“Huh,” Phainon said, looking thoughtful. “That’s… really smart. Makes sense, coming from you.”

Y/N smiled. “What about you? Do you ever get nervous?”

“Oh, me? Nah,” Phainon said quickly, puffing out his chest. “I’m as cool as they come.”

Tribbie snorted loudly from a few feet away. “Sure, Phainon. That’s why you nearly tripped over a rock trying to dodge one of those stone monsters earlier.”

“I was strategizing!” he said, his voice rising an octave.

Y/N laughed, and Phainon couldn’t even be mad about being called out because the sound of her laughter was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, Y/N crouched down, her sharp eyes catching something on the ground. She reached out and brushed away a layer of dust, revealing faint scorch marks and a few shards of glowing crystal.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said, holding up one of the shards for Phainon and Tribbie to see.

“Good find,” Phainon said, leaning closer to examine it. “You’ve got an eye for this stuff, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said with a shrug, slipping the shard into her bag. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever left these marks can’t be too far ahead.”

As they continued onward, Phainon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N every now and then, his golden-retriever smile never far from his face. Even in the middle of potentially dangerous territory, she had a way of making everything feel… lighter.

And if he tripped over a rock once or twice while sneaking glances at her, well, Tribbie was kind enough not to comment.

For now.

The group tread cautiously through the glowing clearing, the jagged terrain surrounding them like a maze of natural traps. The scorch marks and glowing shards scattered across the ground were undeniable signs that something was lurking nearby.

Y/N raised her sword slightly, the sharp metallic sound cutting through the tense silence. “Stay alert. We’re close.”

Phainon stepped closer to her, his signature golden-retriever grin still present, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “Don’t worry. If anything jumps out, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Mydei snorted from behind, his rough voice carrying just enough mockery to make Phainon glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t you almost trip over your own sword five minutes ago?”

“Strategic repositioning,” Phainon shot back, puffing his chest out. “You wouldn’t understand, Mydei. It’s a finesse thing.”

“Right,” Mydei drawled, his blonde-red hair catching the glow of the crystals as he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m taking down twice as many as you.”

Tribbie, skipping a few paces ahead, waved her staff around like it was a baton. “Oh, boy. Here we go again. The Phainon versus Mydei Show, round 57.” She paused, smirking over her shoulder. “You know, if you two spent half as much time fighting monsters as you do fighting each other, we’d have wiped this place clean by now.”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, grinding sound echoed through the clearing. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and from the shadows emerged hulking figures of stone and crystal.

The Titankin stood tall and menacing, their faceless, humanoid forms glowing faintly with runes etched into their surfaces. Some carried swords as broad as tree trunks, while others held bows strung with crystalline energy.

“Alright, guys,” Y/N said, her voice calm and commanding as she gripped her sword. “We’ve got company. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Hard? Please,” Phainon said, flipping his blade with a flourish. “This’ll be easy.”

“Bet I take down more than you,” Mydei challenged, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared for battle.

Phainon rolled his eyes but grinned. “Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N sighed. “Can you two not—”

“Ready? GO!” Phainon yelled, charging toward the nearest Titankin with Mydei hot on his heels.

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”

Tribbie giggled, hopping to the side as one of the archer-type Titankin fired a glowing arrow her way. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of fun watching them trip over themselves trying to one-up each other.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, dashing forward to engage one of the sword-wielding Titankin.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Phainon darted around the heavy strikes of a massive Titankin, his movements quick and graceful as he delivered a series of precise slashes to its legs. “That’s one down!” he called triumphantly as the creature crumbled into rubble.

“One?” Mydei scoffed, delivering a powerful uppercut to another Titankin, causing cracks to spiderweb across its torso. He followed up with a crushing blow that sent it collapsing in a heap of stone. “Two for me!”

“Oh, come on!” Phainon shouted, narrowly dodging a glowing arrow. “That one didn’t even put up a fight!”

“Don’t be mad just because I’m better,” Mydei retorted, smirking as he squared off against another enemy.

“Better at being annoying, maybe!”

Y/N, meanwhile, was weaving through the battlefield like a dancer, her sword flashing as she expertly dismantled the Titankin one by one. She didn’t have time to indulge in the boys’ antics, but she couldn’t help but smirk as she caught snippets of their bickering.

“Focus!” she called out, parrying a massive swing from one of the larger Titankin.

“I am focusing!” Phainon shouted back, leaping onto a boulder to get a better angle. He launched himself off it and delivered a devastating blow to one of the archers, splitting its crystalline bow in half. He turned to Mydei, grinning.

“Three down!” Phainon called out, his blade flashing as he leapt backward, dodging the heavy swing of a stone sword. He twisted midair, landed smoothly, and sliced through the Titankin’s glowing core. “Make that four!”

“Four?” Mydei snorted, dodging an arrow that narrowly grazed his shoulder. “I’m already at six. You better pick up the pace, golden boy.” He delivered a brutal punch to the chest of another Titankin, cracks spreading through its torso before it crumbled to the ground.

“You’re counting that one?” Phainon yelled, pointing accusingly at the pile of rubble. “It fell over because it tripped! You didn’t even hit it that hard!”

“Still counts,” Mydei said smugly, flexing his fists.

Tribbie laughed as she hopped onto a rock for a better view, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m just gonna say it—you two are hilarious. You’re like those birds that fight over shiny things for no reason.” She waved her staff, blasting back a Titankin archer. “Meanwhile, Y/N’s probably lapping you both.”

“I heard that,” Y/N called out, her voice steady as she parried the massive blade of a Titankin. She stepped inside its guard, her sword flashing as she delivered a precise strike to its glowing core. The creature froze for a second before shattering into a heap of glowing rubble. “And Tribbie’s not wrong.”

Phainon’s head whipped around, distracted for a split second, which earned him a close call with a stone sword slicing through the air by his shoulder. He yelped and ducked, countering with a well-placed slash to the monster’s legs. “You’re saying you’re ahead of me?” he asked incredulously, finishing the Titankin off with a dramatic spin.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on taking down another Titankin with a smooth series of strikes. Her movements were quick and calculated, every step and swing perfectly timed.

Mydei, mid-punch, glanced over at her with a frown. “She’s bluffing. There’s no way she’s ahead of me.” He delivered a devastating uppercut to a Titankin, sending its head flying clean off its shoulders.

Y/N only smiled, which, of course, made both men more suspicious.

“Seven!” Phainon yelled triumphantly, dodging and weaving through another attack. “Seven, Mydei! You better start worrying.”

“Eight,” Mydei shot back, slamming his fist into the chest of another Titankin. He glanced at Phainon with a smirk. “You’re gonna owe me dinner at this rate.”

Tribbie rolled her eyes, blasting another archer from a distance. “Wow, the male ego is really something, huh?”

Finally, the last Titankin fell, its glowing shards scattering across the rocky ground. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of the group catching their breath.

Phainon wiped sweat from his brow, turning to Mydei with a triumphant grin. “Alright, what’s the tally?”

“Nine,” Mydei said confidently, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ha! Ten!” Phainon declared, pointing his sword at Mydei like he’d just won a duel. “Looks like dinner’s on you, my friend!”

Tribbie chuckled, hopping down from her perch. “I wouldn’t get too excited, golden boy.”

“What? Why?” Phainon blinked, confused.

Y/N sheathed her sword, her grin easy and casual as she stretched her arms. “Because I got 20.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“...What?” Phainon said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Twenty?” Mydei stared at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. “Yeah. You know, while you two were busy arguing and trying to impress each other, someone had to actually take care of the problem.”

Tribbie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “She got more than both of you combined! Oh, this is gold.”

Phainon’s jaw dropped, his face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief. “You—you were counting?”

“Of course I was counting,” Y/N said with a sly grin, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault I’m better at multitasking than you two.”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

Phainon blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… uh… you were incredible out there, Y/N. Seriously. I mean, you always are, but today especially.” His usual golden-retriever energy returned in full force, though his cheeks were still faintly pink.

Tribbie nudged Mydei with a smirk. “Look at him, blushing like she just crowned him king of the world.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Phainon ignored them, flashing Y/N a grin that was only a little bit nervous. “Next time, I’ll catch up. Promise.”

Y/N chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Good luck with that.”

Phainon just stood there, staring after her, the goofy grin on his face refusing to fade.

The group made their way deeper into the rocky terrain, the eerie glow of shattered crystal fragments lighting their path. The air was cooler here, heavy with an unnatural stillness that made Tribbie glance nervously over her shoulder every few minutes.

“So… does it feel like the ground’s gonna swallow us whole, or is that just me?” Tribbie muttered, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“Just your imagination,” Y/N replied casually, stepping over a fallen rock. “Probably.”

Tribbie squinted at her. “Probably? That’s not comforting.”

“Relax,” Phainon said brightly, his usual grin plastered across his face. He gestured to the rocky surroundings. “If anything weird happens, I’ll protect you!”

“Wow, I feel so safe,” Tribbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

As they moved forward, Mydei, who had been walking ahead of the group, suddenly stopped. “Hold up,” he said, holding out a hand. His sharp eyes scanned the ground.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him.

“Something’s off,” Mydei replied, pointing to a patch of the rocky ground that looked slightly… different. The texture was smoother, the color faintly darker, almost like it had been worn down by something—or someone.

Y/N crouched down to examine it. She brushed her fingers over the stone and noticed faint grooves carved into it, leading in a jagged line toward a nearby outcrop. “These look like tracks,” she murmured.

“Tracks?” Phainon asked, leaning over her shoulder with barely contained excitement. “Like… a secret path?”

“Possibly,” Y/N said, rising to her feet. She followed the grooves with her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Whatever made them was big.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tribbie muttered, though she followed behind eagerly as Y/N began tracing the path.

The group walked in silence for a few moments, the faint glow of the crystals growing dimmer as they approached a cluster of large boulders piled haphazardly against the side of a cliff.

“Dead end,” Mydei said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to the boulders. She placed a hand on the surface of one, her gaze narrowing. “There’s something behind these.”

Phainon immediately perked up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You mean like hidden treasure? Or ancient ruins? Or a monster nest?”

“Could be all three,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Fantastic!” Phainon said, clearly missing her sarcasm.

Tribbie poked one of the boulders with her staff. “Alright, so how do we move these without getting crushed?”

“Allow me,” Mydei said, cracking his knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, placed his hands on the nearest boulder, and shoved. The rock groaned in protest before slowly rolling away, revealing a narrow passage that sloped downward into the darkness.

“Show-off,” Phainon muttered under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” Mydei replied smugly, gesturing to the newly revealed path.

The passage was just wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, its walls smooth and slightly damp. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, glowing softly as the group descended.

“This is definitely leading somewhere,” Y/N said, her voice echoing slightly.

“I vote we turn back before we stumble into something we can’t handle,” Tribbie whispered, though she didn’t stop walking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phainon asked, his excitement palpable. “This is an adventure!”

“An adventure that could kill us,” Mydei muttered, though he followed without hesitation.

As they reached the bottom of the slope, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling was high and arched, supported by towering pillars carved with intricate patterns. In the center of the room stood what looked like an altar, surrounded by more of the strange, glowing symbols.

“Whoa,” Tribbie breathed, her voice filled with awe.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, her sword at the ready. The air felt heavier here, charged with some kind of ancient energy. “This place is incredible,” she said, running her fingers over one of the carvings.

Phainon walked up beside her, his grin softer now as he took in the room. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s also probably dangerous,” Mydei pointed out, eyeing the shadows warily.

“Dangerous and beautiful,” Phainon said cheerfully. “Like Y/N.”

Y/N turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing!” Phainon said quickly, his face turning pink.

Tribbie snorted. “Smooth.”

Before anyone could comment further, a low rumble echoed through the chamber, and the glowing symbols on the altar began to pulse.

____

The chamber was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of energy resonating from the glowing symbols on the altar. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing softly off the smooth stone floor.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, studying the carvings etched into the towering pillars. Her fingers traced the lines of the ancient symbols, their glow pulsing faintly under her touch. “These are definitely not from the same era as the city above,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is... older. Much older.”

Tribbie wandered toward the walls, tapping her staff lightly against the stone. “Well, it looks cool. Creepy, but cool.”

“Cool and creepy are rarely good combinations,” Mydei said, standing by the entrance with his arms crossed. He scanned the room with his usual skeptical frown, his gaze lingering on the darker corners.

Phainon, meanwhile, hovered near Y/N, watching her examine the carvings with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you think it’s some kind of warning?” he asked, pointing to a set of jagged symbols that spiraled outward from the altar.

“Could be,” Y/N replied, her brow furrowing as she knelt to inspect the markings on the floor. “Or it might be a map... or instructions.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” Mydei asked, smirking faintly.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure it out,” Y/N shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Phainon crouched beside her, peering at the symbols with a thoughtful expression. “You’re really good at this, Y/N. Like, way smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s kind of amazing.”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Phainon.”

Tribbie snickered from across the room. “He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Phainon asked, his grin faltering slightly.

“The thing where you turn into a lovesick puppy,” Tribbie teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Am not!” Phainon protested, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He quickly stood, clearing his throat.

Y/N, oblivious as ever, was already back to examining the symbols. She stepped closer to the altar, her focus narrowing on a particularly intricate carving. “There’s something strange about this part,” she murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

Phainon stepped forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm. “Uh, careful—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath Y/N’s feet gave a sudden, ominous crack.

“Y/N!” Phainon shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The floor crumbled away in an instant, and Y/N disappeared into the darkness below.

Tribbie screamed, dropping her staff as she ran toward the edge of the newly formed pit. Mydei was already there, his sharp reflexes keeping him from tumbling in himself. He grabbed Tribbie by the shoulder to keep her from getting too close.

“Y/N!” Phainon called, his voice echoing down the dark abyss. He dropped to his knees, peering into the void with wide, panicked eyes.

There was no sound except for the faint crumble of debris.

“Is she—” Tribbie started, her voice trembling.

“She’s alive,” Mydei interrupted, his tone firm as he scanned the edge of the pit. “There’s no way she’d go down that easily.”

Phainon clenched his fists, his usual smile completely gone. “We have to get to her. Now.”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr art #phainon x reader #phainon hsr #phainon honkai star rail #phainon x you #phainon #x y/n #oc x character #x you #honkai x reader #x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you

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neverenoughmarauders · 2 days ago

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Yes - I agree - but Sirius has to explain this to Peter:

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!" "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

It was a friendship but it wasn’t an equal one. Sirius and James are the closest (canon), they’re frequently arrogant about, and a little mean to, their friends (and each other but the equality between them makes this far less problematic than when they throw insults at Peter or belittle what Remus goes through with the full moon).

“How thick are you, Wormtail?” said James impatiently. “You run round with a werewolf once a month — ”

“Put that away, will you?” said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer. “Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.”

They do let Peter hang around them in a slightly patronising way (interview canon and also clear from canon):

Pettigrew, who they, in a slightly patronizing way, James and Sirius at least, who they allowed to hang round with them, it turned out that he was a better wizard than they knew

Why does Sirius choose Peter as a secret keeper?

"I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff. ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you."

Yes there is some anger and hindsight bias but nothing we see from their earlier years seem to contradict the idea that Sirius and James thought less of Peter’s capabilities.

Sirius and James show their love in larger than life acts - like becoming illegal animagi. Remus knows therefore that the love is there, should he ever doubt it. But Peter, I don’t think he knew just how far they’d go for him (not that I think that would change how he acted).

Final note, the few times I try to write pre-GOF wolfstar I realise how impossible it is to do that canon complaint (sorry wolfstar shippers!) because in a way, part of the ‘he was their friend’/‘equality’ thing is the fact that he was as close, if not closer, to Sirius and James than Remus.

“Pettigrew . . . that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them [Sirius and James] at Hogwarts?” said Madam Rosmerta.

So it’s not so much that Sirius and James went around being nice to him all the time or made him feel always included as much as the fact that they weren’t necessarily more or less inclusive to him than Remus (which is difficult to capture if Sirius is dating Remus).

I’m not saying the OP is (or isn’t) suggesting otherwise but I think it’s as inaccurate to portray the group as four equal friends as it is to exclude Peter altogether.

Sirius Black would have died for Peter ! In his own words !! There were 4 marauders !!! That’s what makes it hurt so much !!!!

#james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #Remus lupin #hp meta #I will go on about this #Peter was their friend #but that doesn’t make it an equal friendship

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ssa-danhotchner · 2 days ago

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please i need a least angstier version of happier maybe reader has to go to a mision like s7 aaron in pakistan a he sees how much he really misses her

What we left behind | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

note: I tried my best, I hope you like it!

english isn't my first language so please be kind

cw: BAU reader, beth is in here, angst, regret, past relationship struggles, unspoken feelings

wc: 1.5k maybe?

It wasn’t like you hated Beth.

She was kind, warm, and approachable—the kind of woman people gravitated toward without hesitation. She seemed good for Aaron, too. For all his years of shielding himself, she brought out something softer in him. When you saw them together, he smiled more. He laughed in a way that had felt rare, almost forgotten.

But watching them together hurt in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t jealousy exactly. It was grief.

Grief for what you and Aaron had been, for what you thought you might have been.

He was the one who ended it, after all.

You remembered the night so clearly it still stung, like a bruise you kept accidentally pressing. He’d invited you over, his voice softer than usual on the phone. At first, you thought nothing of it. But when you arrived, the heaviness in the air made your stomach twist.

Aaron wasn’t one to stumble over his words, but that night he did. “You mean the world to me,” he’d said, his voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

You’d stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about? We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not,” he said quietly, looking at you like it physically pained him. “You deserve someone who can be there for you, who isn’t constantly distracted by the job, who can give you all the things I can’t. And I... I can’t keep holding you back.”

His words shattered something in you. “I didn’t ask for perfect, Aaron. I asked for you.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, and shook his head. “You’ll see, one day, that this is what’s best.”

You didn’t fight him after that. You couldn’t. And maybe some part of you even believed he was right. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

For months, you carried that pain with you like a shadow. You buried yourself in work, throwing yourself into cases until you were so exhausted you couldn’t think about anything else.

It helped, a little.

But then Beth showed up.

The team was supportive of Aaron’s new relationship, of course. They were profilers—they could see how happy Beth made him, and they teased him lightly about it. Even Rossi, who had a knack for keeping things professional, cracked a joke now and then about Aaron’s “smiling problem.”

You played along, smiling and laughing at the right moments, even as it chipped away at you.

“You okay?” Emily asked one day, catching you lingering at the coffee machine longer than usual.

“Yeah, fine” you replied quickly, avoiding her eyes.

Emily didn’t press, but the look she gave you made it clear she didn’t buy it.

---

When the opportunity to work with the State Department in Pakistan came up, you jumped at it. The mission would take you halfway across the world for months, giving you the distance you desperately needed from Aaron, Beth, and the suffocating reminders of what you’d lost.

“It’s a great opportunity” you told the team, forcing a smile as you shared the news during a team meeting.

Morgan gave you a skeptical look. “You sure about this, kid? Seems... sudden.”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly.

Rossi, always perceptive, gave you a knowing look but said nothing.

Aaron, however, was harder to read. He’d been quiet during the meeting, his dark eyes flicking to you now and then, but he didn’t say a word.

Later, as the team dispersed, he stopped you outside the conference room.

“You’re really going?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I am,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You didn’t mention you were thinking about this.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Aaron flinched slightly, his jaw tightening. “Of course it matters.”

You sighed, softening your tone. “Look, this is a good opportunity for me. I need... a change.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Be careful,” he said quietly.

---

Pakistan was everything you expected and more. The work was intense, the days long, and the challenges endless. But it was exactly what you needed. The distance, the change in pace, the focus on something new—it all helped you start to piece yourself back together.

And yet, there were nights when the loneliness crept in, catching you off guard. You missed the team. You missed Garcia’s bright enthusiasm, Morgan’s playful teasing, JJ’s steady calm.

You missed Aaron.

You told yourself you didn’t have the right to miss him, not after everything. But you couldn’t help it. You missed the way he grounded you, the quiet strength he carried even in the hardest moments.

---

Back in Quantico, Aaron found himself drifting. The bullpen felt emptier without you, and he hated how often he caught himself looking at your desk, expecting to see you there.

He tried to focus on work, on Jack, on his relationship with Beth. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging emptiness you’d left behind.

Beth noticed, of course. She was too perceptive not to.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she said one evening as they sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“I’ve just been busy,” he replied, though they both knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

Beth studied him for a moment before setting her glass down. “It’s because she’s gone, isn’t it?”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Beth sighed, setting her wine glass down. “I’ve always felt like I was competing with someone who wasn’t even here.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said quietly, his throat tightening.

“I know you care about me, Aaron,” Beth said gently. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

He looked at her, guilt and regret twisting in his chest. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

Beth nodded, her eyes sad but understanding. “And so does she.”

---

When you returned to Quantico, the familiarity was both comforting and suffocating. The bullpen buzzed with the usual energy—Garcia’s colorful office lights glowed from the corner, Morgan leaned casually against Spence's desk, and Rossi greeted you with his characteristic warmth. But despite the smiles and hugs, there was a lingering sense of unease.

You tried to shake it off. You were home now, and that was what mattered.

But then you saw Aaron.

He stood at the far end of the bullpen, just outside his office, his dark eyes locked on you. The usual stoicism in his expression faltered as you met his gaze, something softer, almost hesitant, bleeding through.

Your breath caught in your chest. It had been months since you last saw him, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all. He looked the same—polished suit, perfect posture, the slight furrow of his brow that you’d memorized years ago.

He started walking toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. You tried to prepare yourself for the moment, but when he finally stopped in front of you, the carefully constructed walls around your heart wavered.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, his voice carrying a gravity that made your pulse race.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a small smile, though your throat felt tight.

There was a beat of silence. The bullpen buzzed with life around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his eyes lingered on your face, the way he seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to say no, to protect yourself from whatever this conversation might bring. But the way he looked at you—vulnerable and intent—made it impossible to refuse.

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

He led you to his office, holding the door open for you before closing it behind him. The sound of the latch clicking seemed to echo, amplifying the tension in the room.

You stood awkwardly near the desk while he lingered by the door, as if trying to keep some distance between you.

“How was it?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “Pakistan, I mean.”

“It was... intense” you admitted. “Challenging, but good. It gave me a lot to think about.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he seemed to weigh his next words. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thanks” you said again, the word feeling hollow on your tongue. You couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Aaron, what did you want to talk about?”

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with regret.

“I owe you an apology” he said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked, startled. “An apology? For what?”

“For walking away” he said, stepping closer. His gaze held yours, steady but full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought letting you go would... would give you the chance to find someone better, someone who could give you what I couldn’t.”

Your heart clenched painfully at his words, but before you could respond, he continued.

“But I was wrong” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt both of us. And every day you were gone, I felt it—I felt how wrong I was.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Aaron, I—”

“I missed you” he interrupted, taking another step closer. “Every day you were gone, I missed you. And I realized that I’d rather spend my life trying to be enough for you than spend another day without you.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, trying to process his words.

“You ended it” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You told me I deserved better.”

“I thought I was doing the selfless thing,” he admitted, his expression pained. “But all I did was rob us of the chance to fight for what we had. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The rawness in his voice cracked something open inside you.

“Aaron, I...” You trailed off, shaking your head as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He stepped closer again, closing the remaining distance between you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just... tell me if there’s still a chance. If there’s even a small part of you that still feels the same way.”

His vulnerability was overwhelming. This was Aaron Hotchner—the man who never wavered, never let his guard down. And yet here he was, standing before you, baring his heart.

“I missed you too” you admitted finally, your voice breaking. “But I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

“You won’t” he said firmly, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear to you, I won’t let you down again. I’ll fight for this—for us. Every day, if I have to.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his dark eyes held yours, left you breathless.

And in that moment, you realized something: you still loved him. You always had.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. His breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“Okay” you said softly, your voice trembling but sure. “Let’s try again.”

Aaron’s shoulders sagged with relief, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes.

And as he squeezed your hand, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

---

#criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #angst #angst with a happy ending

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xoamiiren · 1 day ago

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TOUCH DOWN, ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 all star boy

𖥔 PRECIS. a series of headcanons for my university star athletes au PAIRING. star football player!jay x supportive gf!reader GENRE. fluff, suggestive WARNINGS. skinship, kissing, petnames

authors note ୨୧ I’m back. For real this time. ♥️

─────────

Star football player Jay, who always catches you staring during practice, playfully winks every time, knowing it flusters you, and then gets extra smug when you quickly look away.

Star football player Jay, who is known for his intensity on the field but turns into a total softie when you wear his jersey, tugging you close and whispering, "You look so much better in it than I ever could."

Star football player Jay, who walks around campus like he owns the place, yet always makes sure to save you a spot at the cafeteria table, offering you bites of his food even though you pretend you're not hungry so he fills up.

Star football player Jay, who stays late after practice to work on extra drills but never leaves without sending you a teasing voice message, telling you to "be a good girl and wait for me."

Star football player Jay, who doesn't care about anything but the game during matches, but the second he scores, he looks up into the stands, searching for your reaction, heart swelling when he sees you cheering.

Star football player Jay, who playfully throws his sweaty practice jersey at you after a long workout, smirking when you scowl and toss it back, but then pulls you into a hug, refusing to let go until you laugh.

Star football player Jay, who texts you at 2 AM after an away game saying he can't sleep, and when you ask why, he sends a picture of his empty bed and writes, "Guess who’s missing."

Star football player Jay, who hates being the center of attention at the post-game parties, but insists on keeping his arm around your waist the entire time, showing everyone who you belong to.

Star football player Jay, who seemed effortlessly confident until he was about to ask you out officially, suddenly stumbling over his words as he muttered, "So, uh, are we… like… together or what?"

Star football player Jay, who gets into a tense argument with you right before an important game, and even though he plays his heart out, he can’t focus until he sees you waiting for him in the locker room afterward, looking just as torn up as he feels.

Star football player Jay, who isn’t the best at expressing his emotions but leaves small notes in your locker—"You looked cute in class today"—with a tiny heart drawn at the end, just so you know he’s thinking about you.

Star football player Jay, who gets too cocky sometimes, draping himself over you and whispering, "You know you love being my number 1 fan," before trailing kisses down your neck, knowing exactly how to get a reaction out of you.

Star football player Jay, who jokes that his teammates can fend for themselves after games because he has better plans with you, only to groan when you suggest study dates instead.

Star football player Jay, who hates seeing you upset, especially if it's because of something dumb he said. He'll show up outside your dorm room with your favorite snacks, looking apologetic and muttering, "I’m sorry, okay? Can we talk?"

Star football player Jay, who lifts you up after every big win, spinning you around in front of his teammates, who all hoot and cheer, while you laugh and cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Star football player Jay, who clearly limps off the field after a brutal tackle, his jaw clenched in pain, but the moment he catches your concerned eyes in the stands, he forces a cocky smile, pretending everything’s fine just to make sure you don't worry.

Star football player Jay, who often crashes in your dorm after practice, sprawling out on your bed while you massage every knot and tension in his shoulders, arms, and thighs. He lets out quiet groans of relief, murmuring, “You have no idea how good that feels,” while his hand lazily traces patterns on your leg.

Star football player Jay, who is left completely stunned when, during halftime, you walk out onto the court with the cheerleading team, this being your big reveal that you made the squad. He stares, jaw slightly dropped, then breaks into the biggest grin, his heart racing for a completely different reason now as he watches you perform.

Star football player Jay, who completely dies of laughter when you try on his football pads, looking so small and wobbly in them. As you stumble under the weight, running with the ball, he’s practically doubled over, gasping for breath between laughs, saying, "Babe, you're gonna fall over!" even though he's secretly loving how adorable you look.

Star football player Jay, who you find in the locker room after a particularly heated game in the rain, jersey off, smeared with mud, his hair damp and dripping. The second you see him, you can't help yourself, kissing him hard on the mouth right then and there. He doesn’t waste a second gripping the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the tension melts away in that moment.

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multi-fandom-imagine · 1 day ago

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What is your ideal meet cute for Fred and George? Or mistaking them as the other meet cute? (I love the twins)

A/n: I too love the twins 🤭

•Fred Weasley•

It’s the first weekend trip to Hogsmeade of the year, and the chilly autumn air is bustling with students excited to visit the shops. The Three Broomsticks is packed to the brim, with nearly every table occupied and the bar swarming with people ordering butterbeers. You, however, have just managed to snag the last empty booth in the corner, cozy but big enough to share if someone asks. You’re lost in your own world, flipping through a book you brought along, sipping your butterbeer, and completely oblivious to the chaos around you.

Enter Fred Weasley, juggling three butterbeers and a handful of snacks, heading back to where George is waiting at a table,except someone else has taken their spot while he was away. Mildly annoyed but mostly amused by George’s lack of table-saving skills, Fred scans the room and spots your table.

“Excuse me,” he says, leaning down so you can hear him over the noise. You glance up, locking eyes with his freckled face and mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t mind sharing this table, would you? My dear brother seems to have failed me as a table guard.”

You blink, startled but too polite to refuse. “Sure, I guess. As long as you don’t spill anything on my book.”

Fred slides into the booth across from you, setting the butterbeers and snacks down. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What are you reading?”

You hold up the cover, and his eyes narrow as he dramatically scratches his head. “Ah, yes. ‘Advanced Potion-Making.’ Riveting stuff. Do you read this for fun or…?”

“It’s for Slughorn’s essay,” you reply, smiling faintly. “But thanks for the sarcasm. Very refreshing.”

"Ah must be a Ravenclaw..could be the answer to me never seeing you." Fred grins, leaning forward giving you a wink. "You’re welcome. Oh...how rude of me. I'm Fred, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but they’re covered in crumbs from these suspiciously addictive pastries and you are?”

"I am in fact a Ravenclaw and I do know how you are Weasley. I think everyone at Hogwarts knows you and your brother." Your lips twitched into a smile. "But I'm Y/n."You stated and before you know it, the butterbeers he was meant to take back to George have been long forgotten as the two of you start chatting. Fred’s quick wit has you laughing, and your dry comebacks seem to entertain him just as much.

Eventually, George finds him. “So this is where you disappeared to,” George says, arms crossed but smirking. “If you’re done flirting, Fred, our table’s open again.”

Fred barely glances at his twin. “Flirting? Please, George, I’m merely making a new friend. And besides,” he looks back at you, his eyes sparkling, “our table is much better company.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creep up your neck fiddling with the pages of the book. “You can go, you know. I won’t hold it against you.”

Fred shakes his head with a teasing grin. “I don’t think so. Someone has to make sure you don’t overwork yourself with all that potion-making nonsense. I’m staying right here.”

George rolled his eyes but the smile on his face showed he wasn't bothered by it as he gave his brother's shoulder a pat. "Alright mate...see ya back at Hogwarts."

And just like that, a chance encounter turns into the beginning of something far more exciting than a potions essay.

•George Weasley•

It’s the day before the school’s Halloween feast, and the Great Hall is buzzing with decorations being set up and students sneaking in early to help (or cause mischief). You’re perched on a ladder near one of the floating jack-o’-lanterns, carefully enchanting it to spit out harmless sparks in alternating colors. The first year's would love it and it's not like it's going to harm anyone.

Unbeknownst to you, George Weasley has decided this particular pumpkin is the perfect place to hide one of his new prank prototypes a harmless (mostly) enchanted bat that flutters out at random moments to scare passersby.

As you mutter the final part of your spell, the jack-o’-lantern suddenly jerks forward, shaking violently. Before you can react, a loud POP echoes, and a small bat leaps out, flapping wildly. Startled, you lose your balance and tumble off the ladder, your arms flailing as a small yelp escaped your lips.

Before you can hit the ground, a pair of strong arms catch you mid-fall. “Blimey, didn’t think you’d be part of the decorations too,” a voice teases as you’re set gently back on your feet. You turn to see George Weasley grinning at you, his freckled face brimming with amusement.

“That wasn’t funny!” you exclaim, though the heat creeping up your neck as you stepped a few feet away from him brushing off your skirt.

“Funny? No. Brilliant? Absolutely,” George replies with a mock bow. “I’ll take full credit for that bat well, unless it gets us both detention. In which case, it’s obviously my twin’s fault.” He gave you a wink.

You narrow your eyes at him but can’t help smiling as you fixed your yellow and black tie. “So you’re saying you sabotaged my perfectly good pumpkin just to test one of your pranks? Rude."

He gives a sheepish shrug, though the grin never leaves his face. “Sabotage is a strong word. I prefer ‘enhance.’...made it slightly better.Besides, it was a bit boring, don’t you think? Needed a little excitement.”

“You’re impossible,” you reply, shaking your head.

“But entertaining,” he counters, leaning against the ladder with a confident smirk. “Tell you what, I’ll help you fix it and maybe not rig any other pumpkins as long as you promise to join me at the feast tomorrow. Consider it my way of making it up to you.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by his forwardness. “You mean as an apology or because you think I’m gullible enough to trust you again?” You teased as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Bit of both,” he admits with a wink. “But I promise, no bats this time....pinky swear."

You can’t help but laugh. “Fine. But if you try anything else, you’ll be the one fixing all of the decorations.”

“Deal,” he says, offering his hand to shake, though the playful glint in his eyes suggests he’s far from done with his pranks.

And as you both set to work on repairing the pumpkin, you find yourself smiling more than you’d expected because maybe, just maybe, a little mischief isn’t so bad when it comes with a charming partner in crime, especially when he's as cute as George Weasley.

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callmemonster68 · 3 days ago

Text

ENHYPEN - BigBoy ( smut )

Y/N has a thing for grand things, and, well, boys definitely fit the description

Pairing: Enhypen X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands, public sex, oral

Heeseung

Setting: Heeseung is showing off a new pair of sneakers with thick soles. Dialogue: Y/N: "Those sneakers are huge. You know, I have a thing for big things." (Heeseung pauses mid-lace-tying and looks at you with a smirk.) Heeseung: "Oh yeah? Like what, for example?" Y/N (laughing): "I’m sure you know exactly what I mean." Heeseung (chuckling): "You’re getting really good at teasing, you know that?" (He steps closer and lowers his voice.) Heeseung: "We should continue this conversation later… without an audience."

Jay

Setting: The group is eating dessert, and someone comments on the oversized cake Jay brought. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, Jay, you really like big things, huh?" Jay (laughing): "Always! Better to have too much than not enough." (You glance at him suggestively, and a small giggle escapes.) Jay (noticing): "Wait... are you talking about the cake or...?" Y/N: "Depends. Do you think I’m talking about the cake?" (He tilts his head with a mischievous smile.) Jay: "I think we should talk about this in private."

Sunoo

Setting: The group is discussing oversized bags, and Sunoo is showing off a new one he bought. Dialogue: Y/N: "That bag is massive, Sunoo! I love big things like that—they draw attention." Sunoo: "Oh? Then I guess you must be used to me." (You’re surprised by his quick comeback and laugh loudly.) Y/N: "Look who’s confident today!" Sunoo: "Just matching your energy. You started it, I finished it." (He winks and goes back to adjusting the bag, pretending to be indifferent but clearly smiling.)

Sunghoon

Setting: Sunghoon picks up a large water bottle and comments on how practical it is. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, that bottle is huge! I really love big things like that." Sunghoon: "Oh, do you? So that’s your preference?" (You laugh and glance at him.) Y/N: "Maybe. Why? Curious?" Sunghoon (smiling): "Depends. Do you want me to be curious?" (He takes a sip of water without breaking eye contact.) Sunghoon: "This conversation seems like it’s about to get interesting later."

Jake

Setting: You’re helping decorate a room, and Jake is holding a large statue to place on a shelf. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, Jake, that’s really big. I like things like that—big." (He raises an eyebrow, noticing your chuckle.) Jake: "Are you sure you’re talking about the statue?" Y/N (shrugging): "Maybe. Why? Got something else in mind?" Jake (nervously laughing): "You just love making me flustered, don’t you?" Y/N: "I’m just being honest." (He places the statue on the shelf but doesn’t take his eyes off you.) Jake (quietly): "I’d like to hear more about those preferences later."

Jungwon

Setting: Jungwon shows up with an oversized pillow, and everyone comments on how exaggerated it looks. Dialogue: Y/N: "That pillow is huge. You know, I really like big things." Jungwon (raising an eyebrow): "Do you now? You seem pretty specific about that." (You give him a playful smile and glance at him briefly.) Y/N: "Maybe I’m just appreciating the view." Jungwon: "If you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking it’s not just the pillow impressing you." (He laughs and shakes his head, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away.)

Niki

Setting: The group is playing video games, and someone comments on the massive size of a character on the screen. Dialogue: Y/N: "Look at the size of that! I love things like that—big, you know?" Niki: "Oh, really? Since when did you develop such refined taste?" (You chuckle and look directly at him.) Y/N: "Always have. Some big things are just hard to ignore." Niki (blushing): "Are you teasing me, or are you serious?" Y/N: "What do you think?" (He pretends to focus on the game, but the grin on his face makes it clear he’s not forgetting this anytime soon.)

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

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Yooooooo self-aware HSR AU!!!

I would LOVE to know what some characters might think of Reader constantly battling the 50/50s (like how the HSR VAs get together and pull on the banners) with a side of the gacha seemingly favoring Bronya. 😅🤣

Off the top of my head, probably the worst one could be when Reader lost more than seven 50/50s in a row. (Based on past experience. 🫠) And not too long ago, they tried to pull for Sunday when his banner was running and when they saw the Harmony symbol—

—well…no points for guessing who showed up in his place. 😅

And then Reader ended up going all the way to max pity.

Reader: “IS THIS KARMA FOR RUNNING HIM OVER WITH THE ASTRAL EXPRESS!??!?!?!??!”

LMAOOO THIS IS GOLD. 😭😭

Okay, so here's how I think it would happen 🤭 (might not be accurate to the characters, plus idk much about pity and stuffs but I tried from the knowledge I got from yt shorts lol)

Bronya, being the gacha queen, might definitely notice how she keeps showing up in your pulls—especially when she’s not the one you’re aiming for. At first, she’d be gracious, “You’ve summoned me again. I can only assume it’s because you trust in my abilities to lead us to victory.”

But after, like, the fifth time, even she starts getting suspicious. “Is this… intentional? Or is this fate…? Regardless, I’ll fulfill my duties, as always.”

(Meanwhile, March is trying so hard not to laugh in the background: “Bronya AGAIN? You’re doomed!”)

Seven losses in a row, though? That’s when Himeko and Welt step in with some serious concern. “Seven? I’d say the odds are against you, but that’s… statistically impossible. Are you sure the stars aren’t just playing with you?”

“Perhaps this is a reflection of the balance you must maintain across dimensions… or you’re simply cursed.” (Thanks for the pep talk, Grandpa...)

Meanwhile, Silver Wolf is like, “You’re fighting against an algorithm. That’s your first mistake.” And then she offers to “fix” it for you (she can’t, but she enjoys messing with your hopes).

The Harmony symbol flashes, your heart soars, and then… Bronya. AGAIN. The absolute audacity.

Reader: “WHY WON’T YOU LET HIM COME HOME!?”

Bronya, oblivious to your suffering, “I will stand by your side, no matter the circumstances. Was this not what you intended?”

Everyone else is just dying. March is clutching her stomach “HAHAHA you were trying to pull for Sunday, and you got Bronya? AGAIN? Oh, I’m gonna cry—this is too good!” (she would definitely take pictures of you suffering.)

Dan Heng would try to be supportive, offering his trademark calm wisdom, “Perhaps it’s better to focus on what you do have. Bronya is an asset in any situation.” But even he can’t fully hide the slight twitch of amusement at your misfortune.

Now the real kicker: when you lose another 50/50 for Sunday and start yelling about karma for running him over with the Astral Express. EVERYONE stops.

Sunday, if he somehow hears this, “...You… WHAT?” (i kinda wanna hc that these characters aren't actually present during the fights/battle scenes.)

The Trailblazer looks at you like you (more like your screen) just committed war crimes.

Meanwhile, March is choking on her drink, “Wait, you RAN OVER HIM? Like, with the ACTUAL EXPRESS? And now he won’t come home? That’s… yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

Even Himeko raises a brow, “Well… actions do have consequences, as they say.”

You’d swear you hear Kafka’s voice somewhere in the distance, smirking, “Seems like fate is toying with you. What a fascinating little game you’ve got going.”

By the time you hit max pity, the entire Astral Express crew has started following your pulling rituals. March has a notepad, “Alright, you’ve hit 79 pity. This next pull is gonna be the one, I feel it—oh… wait. Nope. That’s another Bronya.”

Pom-Pom is pacing nervously in the background, muttering, “At this rate, the economy of our inventory is going to collapse.”

When you FINALLY pull Sunday, the whole group cheers like it’s a world event. Dan Heng, however, just calmly says, “Perhaps you’ve learned not to anger the stars. Or… the train.”

At the end of it all, Bronya might start feeling awkward about always showing up. If you mention your struggles, she’d quietly apologize, “If I’ve interfered with your plans… I am sorry. I only wanted to be of help to you. Perhaps the stars are telling us something we don’t yet understand.” (Translation: she’s just as confused as you are.)

This AU would honestly be too much fun. Every pull would feel like an event for the Astral Express, and I can already imagine March becoming your emotional support bestie through it all. 😭🙏

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cherbii · 1 day ago

Text

short prompt coz I’m lazy 😛

warnings -> language, smut, mdni

little ramble but all I can think about is private tutor!Nanami Kento who is what seems to be a loving and doting husband AND dad to his extravagant wife and children, only to be having a mistress on the side!

You’re so much younger than him, and hell, he’s told you about his wife and two children, but it was all thrown out the window when you started to develop a little crush on him.

It was no help either when Nanami started falling for you to, and at first he excused it as not getting any intimate moments with his wife, but soon realised it was much more.

Loving husband and devoted father Nanami who started to ‘forget’ to wear his wedding ring when he’d have to tutor you, in fact you don’t even remember when he last wore it.

Then one day, he asked you if you wanted to go out with him to a bar ( said it’s because he knows you’re stressed with finals and thinks you can use a pick me up! ) and you happily accept.

Nanami who had to drag drunk you away from pathetic boys who wanted to sleep with you, back to his car, before gently scolding you to act responsible, all while he’s fuming about how a scum bag got to touch you all over!

Sweet loyal Nanami who gets a raging boner when you drunkly confessed you only did it to make him jealous, before rambling about how you found your tutor attractive and even had him in mind during late nights when you’re alone in your room, *wink wink*

Nanami who decides that he, even if he wants to show you how angry he is by taking you right there, should stop by a gas station shop and get you a bottle of water to sober you up.

Then drives you back to your flat and makes sure you’re inside before leaving, head filled with thoughts (of you, of course)

Nanami who begrudgingly asks you if you remembered anything that happened that night the next time he tutors you, and you say no!

Kidding…you admit you remembered what you said but told him to forget it because it’s improper and unprofessional.

Family man Nanami who decides he’s done with being proper and professional and admits to wanting to do those very things you want to!

Tutor Nanami who still tutors you, but gives you biiiig rewards if you do well after your lessons (he’s fucking you raw on the desk, or shoving his tongue up your cunt until your crying his name)

Nanami who has you ride his thighs while you try to answer, telling you if you want to cum, you need to get the answer right, but it’s just so hard!!

If you got an answer wrong, best believe you’re getting yourself bent over his lap, ass on display before he’s giving you toe-curling spanks until your ass cheeks are rosy and sore!

Perfect husband Nanami who goes home to his wife and children knowing he was plowing your sweet cunt for hours, planning on doing the same the very next session!!!

lol sorry, something 100% not real inspired me to write this and I had to get this thought out

#ᶻz 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐈 #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut

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aspenmissing · 12 hours ago

Note

I’m projecting badly but I’m alone and I hurt… what about Viktor, Jayce, and Jinx with an s/o that suffers from two forms (genetic lotto, lost) of early onset arthritis but due to high pain tolerance, easily hidden braces and usually well managed pain medication… simply never told them about their condition until one day they show up using the cane they only need on exceptionally bad pain days, much needed simply to stay upright.

ᴜɴꜱᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊɪɴx | ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 3943 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ||

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (ᴀʀᴛʜʀɪᴛɪꜱ), ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ (ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ).

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ɪɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇᴀʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴀʀᴛʜʀɪᴛɪꜱ - ʙɪᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ. ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏ/ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Y/N’s arthritis wasn’t something she spoke about often. Diagnosed young, she’d learned to adapt over the years—hidden braces, carefully managed medication, and a remarkable tolerance for pain. It wasn’t a matter of shame but rather a deep-seated instinct to handle it herself. She didn’t want the condition to define her or become a reason for others to treat her differently. On most days, it wasn’t obvious. Her movements were smooth, her posture upright, and her smile steady.

Her colleagues and friends had no idea she lived with the condition, and she preferred it that way.

But some days were different. Some days, the pain flared so intensely it felt as though her body were betraying her, her joints a battlefield she couldn’t escape. On those rare occasions, she relied on a cane—an unspoken admission that her strength alone wasn’t enough.

Today was one of those days.

The morning had been particularly cruel. Her knees and wrists throbbed even before she attempted to get out of bed. Every joint seemed to protest as she moved, her fingers stiff and uncooperative as she fumbled with the simple act of getting dressed. Each step felt like walking through wet cement, every movement a negotiation with pain. She’d sat on the edge of her bed for a long moment, staring at the cane propped against her wardrobe. She hated using it. Hated what it represented.

But today, there was no getting around it.

Work beckoned, as it always did. Y/N wasn’t one to let discomfort stop her. She had too much to do, too many projects and experiments that needed her attention. So, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed the cane and made her way to the lab, each tap against the tiled floor echoing louder in her ears than it probably was.

She told herself no one would notice.

That hope was dashed the moment Jayce turned around.

His attention snapped to her like a magnet, his usual easygoing smile faltering as his eyes zeroed in on the cane. His expression shifted from surprise to concern in an instant, his brow furrowing as he took a step closer.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Y/N winced internally. Of course, he’d notice. There was no hiding the cane, no brushing this off. She offered a smile, though it was strained. “I’m fine, Jayce,” she said lightly, her voice betraying none of the pain that lanced through her with every step. “Just... having a bit of a bad day.”

Jayce’s work was forgotten as he moved towards her, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure how close he should get. He stopped a few steps away, his hands hovering mid-air like he wanted to help but didn’t want to overstep.

“A bad day?” he repeated, his gaze flickering between her face and the cane. “Y/N, you’re using a cane. Why didn’t you tell me you needed one?”

She sighed, leaning the cane against the nearest table as she lowered herself into a chair. The relief of sitting down was immediate, though she didn’t let it show. “Because I don’t, usually. Only on really bad days.”

Jayce crouched in front of her, his warm brown eyes filled with worry. “What do you mean, ‘really bad days’? What’s going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the cane’s handle. She’d spent years keeping this part of her life private, even from Jayce. It wasn’t about trust—it was about independence, about not wanting to burden anyone. But there was no avoiding it now.

“I have arthritis,” she admitted quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the lab’s machinery. “Two kinds, actually. Early onset. It’s genetic.”

Jayce’s expression softened, concern deepening as understanding began to dawn. “Arthritis? Since when?”

“Since I was a kid,” she said, offering a small, wry smile. “It’s manageable most of the time. Painkillers, braces, pacing myself—it usually works. But sometimes... the pain flares up. Like today.”

He shook his head slowly, disbelief mingling with worry. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me? I’m your boyfriend—I would’ve helped.”

She looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Because I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve lived with this for so long that it’s just... part of life. I can handle it.”

Jayce reached out, his hand enveloping hers with a warmth that made her chest tighten. “But you don’t have to handle it alone,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. “You know that, right? You can lean on me, Y/N. Literally, if you need to.” He cracked a small, lopsided smile, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lips trembled, and she blinked against the tears that suddenly blurred her vision. “Jayce, I didn’t want to be a burden. You’ve got so much on your plate already.”

“You’re not a burden,” he said with quiet conviction, squeezing her hand gently. “You never could be. I hate the thought of you hiding this, suffering in silence. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

A tear slipped free, and she hastily wiped it away, a small, shaky laugh escaping her. “Alright,” she said after a moment, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try to let you in more.”

Jayce smiled warmly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

From that day forward, Y/N began to share more of her struggles. Jayce threw himself into learning everything he could about arthritis, scouring research papers and talking to specialists. He designed tools in the lab to help ease her pain on difficult days, his care and attention shining through in every detail.

And on those rare days when Y/N needed her cane, Jayce stood proudly by her side, his love for her unwavering. She wasn’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

VIKTOR

It had been a quiet morning in the lab, sunlight streaming through the high windows and casting long shadows over the many contraptions that filled the room. Viktor sat at his workbench, his fingers deftly tinkering with a hextech core, while Jayce hovered nearby, deep in thought, scribbling notes on a blueprint spread across the table. The usual hum of creativity filled the air, the faint whir of Viktor’s mechanical leg accompanying the occasional clink of metal tools against delicate machinery. Everything seemed normal—calm, productive, routine.

But something was off.

The sound of your steps broke through the stillness, heavier than usual, each one deliberate and measured. There was an unfamiliar tap accompanying them, a rhythm out of sync with the soft padding of your shoes. Viktor looked up instinctively, and his heart immediately sank. You stood in the doorway, gripping a cane, your knuckles white against the polished wood. The shadows beneath your eyes were darker than usual, your lips pressed tightly together as if to suppress a grimace. Even the faint smile you managed looked strained, barely holding against the weight of whatever pain you were carrying.

“Miláčku,” Viktor said softly, setting down his tools. His golden eyes locked onto you, concern etched into every line of his face. “What is this? Why are you using that?” (Darling)

You froze for a moment, your mind racing for an explanation. You hadn’t wanted this to happen, hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. For years, you’d carefully concealed the realities of your condition—braces hidden under long sleeves and trousers, medication tucked discreetly into your bag, a well-practised mask of strength that rarely faltered. But today… today, the pain was unrelenting, a relentless storm that surged through your joints with every movement. The cane was the only thing keeping you upright, but it was also the betrayal of a secret you’d worked so hard to keep.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “Just a bad day. You know how it is.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He was no stranger to hiding pain—he recognised the way you shifted your weight carefully from one leg to the other, the way your shoulders tensed as if bracing against an invisible force. Slowly, he rose from his stool, leaning on his own cane as he made his way toward you.

“You are lying,” he said gently but firmly, his voice laced with quiet determination. “Please, tell me the truth.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. His voice wasn’t accusatory—it was filled with worry, the kind that made your chest ache even more than the pain in your knees and wrists. With a deep breath, you decided there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I have arthritis,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Two types, actually. It’s genetic and… well, I got unlucky.” You tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. “Most days, it’s manageable. I can push through. But today…” Your grip on the cane tightened. “Today isn’t one of those days.”

Viktor stopped in front of you, his expression shifting into something unreadable. He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over yours on the cane before finally settling lightly atop it. The warmth of his touch grounded you, even as his silence stretched on for a moment too long.

“And you never told me?” he asked finally, his voice trembling just slightly, a mix of hurt and concern. “Why, Y/N? Why would you keep this from me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you said quickly, your words tumbling out in a rush. “You already have enough to deal with, Vik. Your work, your health, everything with Piltover. I didn’t want to add to that.”

Viktor let out a sharp exhale, his brows knitting together. “Lásko...” He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “You are not a burden. You could never be a burden. If you are in pain, I want to know. I want to help.” (Love)

Tears pricked your eyes, blurring the golden glow of his irises. His sincerity was overwhelming, his words breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself. You let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “You’re going to regret saying that when I start complaining about how much my joints hate me.”

A small smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, though his eyes remained serious. “Then we can complain together,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. “Come, sit. You should not be standing like this.”

You let him guide you to a nearby chair, easing down with a grateful sigh as the pressure on your knees lifted. Viktor pulled up a stool beside you, his hand never leaving yours.

“From now on,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on yours, “no more hiding. We face this together, yes?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the unwavering resolve in his voice. “Together,” you agreed.

Viktor pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if sealing his promise. When he pulled back, there was a new determination in his expression, the kind that always lit up his face when he was deep in thought.

“I will look into this,” he said firmly, his mind already racing with possibilities. “There may be something hextech can do to ease your pain, or at least make your bad days less… bad. I promise you, Y/N, we will find a way to make things better.”

For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to lean on him—not just physically, but emotionally. And in his arms, you realised that you didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

JINX

Jinx hadn’t seen Y/N all morning, which was unusual. Normally, you’d have already poked your head into her room by now, making some sarcastic quip about her projects, asking if she ever slept, or offering her something to eat. It was your routine—your way of grounding her when her thoughts spiralled out of control. But today? Silence.

She frowned, throwing aside the pile of blueprints she’d been half-heartedly sorting. The hideout felt eerily quiet, and the faint hum of the city outside seemed to grow louder in the stillness.

“Y/N?” she called out, stepping into the main room. Her voice echoed, and the emptiness only deepened her unease.

Jinx’s sharp eyes darted around, scanning every corner. No sign of you. The gnawing feeling of dread, the one she thought she’d buried long ago, crept up her spine. She hated this—hated the hollow ache that came with wondering if someone she cared about had disappeared, leaving her behind again.

She clenched her fists, shaking her head as if to banish the thought. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself, before heading towards the workshop.

As she neared the doorway, the sound of faint, uneven footsteps on the stairs made her freeze mid-step. Her heart leapt to her throat.

“Y/N?” she called again, her voice hesitant this time.

When you finally appeared, gripping the railing tightly with one hand and clutching a cane in the other, Jinx’s breath caught. Her bright blue eyes widened as she took in the sight of you.

Your face was pale, a sheen of sweat on your forehead. The usual warmth in your expression was dimmed, replaced by an exhaustion you couldn’t quite hide. For once, you looked... vulnerable.

“Jinx,” you greeted softly, your voice as steady as you could manage. You offered her a smile, the same comforting one you always gave her, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“What the hell, Y/N?” Jinx demanded, sprinting over to you. Her sharp gaze darted between your face and the cane. “What’s this? You hurt? Did someone do this to you?”

You huffed a weak laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Calm down, love. No one did this to me. It’s just... well, it’s me.”

Jinx’s frown deepened, her confusion giving way to worry. “What do you mean, ‘it’s just you’? You’re not making any sense.”

You sighed, gesturing for her to help you over to the nearby sofa. She was at your side in an instant, her hands hovering nervously as though unsure where to touch. She ended up slipping an arm around your waist, supporting you as you eased down onto the worn cushions.

The relief was immediate, though the ache in your joints persisted. You let out a breath, wincing slightly as you adjusted your position. Jinx stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor.

“Alright,” she said, her voice sharper than usual, “start talking.”

““I’ve got arthritis.” you began, your tone calm but serious. “Early-onset. Two kinds, actually. Lucky me, eh?”

Her jaw dropped, her expression twisting into one of disbelief. “What? Since when?”

“Since always, really,” you replied with a shrug. “It’s genetic. But I manage it, mostly. Pain meds, braces... you’ve just never noticed because I’m good at hiding it. Today’s just... a bad day.”

Jinx’s brows knitted together, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly. “You always tell me to come to you when something’s wrong. Why didn’t you do the same?”

You reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “Because I didn’t want you to worry, Jinx. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding me to it.”

“That’s stupid,” she shot back, her tone laced with frustration. “You’re the one person who’s always been there for me. You can’t just... hide this from me! What if you get worse? What if you—”

Her words faltered, her voice breaking as her throat tightened. She looked away, blinking rapidly, but not before you saw the tears welling in her eyes.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth as you reached up to cup her cheek. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. Instead, you gently turned her face back towards you. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ve been dealing with this for years, and I’ll keep dealing with it. But you’re right. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Her lip wobbled, and she let out a shaky breath, her blue eyes searching yours. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you said, pulling her into a hug. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around you, clinging tightly. Her grip was firm but careful, as though afraid she might hurt you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of machinery in the background and the distant murmur of the city outside.

When Jinx finally pulled back, her expression had shifted. Her usual manic energy was creeping back, though her concern still lingered. “Alright, here’s the deal,” she said, her voice more determined now. “From now on, no more secrets, yeah? If you’re in pain or need help, you tell me. Got it?”

You smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Got it.”

“Good,” she said, standing up and cracking her knuckles. “Now, you sit there and rest while I go blow something up. That’ll make us both feel better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Go on, then. Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“No promises!” she called over her shoulder, her grin wide and mischievous. But as she bounded towards the door, she paused, glancing back at you. Her gaze lingered, softer than usual, before she finally disappeared from sight.

You leaned back against the cushions, letting out a slow breath. The pain was still there, a constant ache in your joints, but for the first time in a long while, the weight on your heart felt a little lighter. You didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

BONUS: JAYVIK

The soft glow of Piltover’s lanterns spilled through the workshop windows as the rhythmic clinking of tools filled the air. Jayce was hunched over a blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand occasionally scribbling notes in the margins. Viktor, seated nearby, tinkered with a new Hextech prototype, his movements precise despite the faint tremor in his hands. Both men were so engrossed in their work that neither noticed you entering the room—until the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping against the floor cut through the silence.

Jayce’s head shot up immediately, his blue eyes wide with concern. Viktor’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the small screwdriver in his fingers as he turned towards you. The intensity of their gazes was almost enough to make you want to turn around and leave, but the pain radiating through your joints made standing without the cane a battle you weren’t willing to fight.

“Y/N?” Jayce’s voice was thick with alarm, his gaze dropping instantly to the cane in your hand. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You hesitated, your hand tightening around the polished wood. The pain today was unbearable, spreading through your body like fire, refusing to be ignored even with the strongest medication you had on hand. It had taken everything you had just to make it to the workshop. Hiding this from them had always been easy—you’d mastered the art of disguising discomfort with easy smiles and careful movements—but today wasn’t one of those days.

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… a bad day.”

“Nothing?” Jayce echoed, his voice rising slightly with disbelief. “Love, you’re using a cane. That’s not nothing. What’s going on?”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the weight of both the pain and their scrutiny. “It’s arthritis,” you admitted at last, your tone calm but firm. “I’ve had it for years. Most days, it’s manageable. I don’t even need the cane most of the time. But sometimes…” You glanced at the cane in your hand, then back at them, gesturing vaguely. “Well, sometimes it’s like this.”

Jayce looked as though someone had just punched him in the gut. His mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to get the words out. “You’ve had it for years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

Viktor, however, didn’t react with the same shock. His amber eyes studied you with quiet understanding, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “You didn’t want us to worry,” he said gently, his voice low and measured. “You’ve dealt with it alone because you thought it was easier that way. Am I right?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you nodded. “Yes,” you admitted after a moment. “I didn’t want to burden either of you. You’ve both got so much on your plates already—Hextech, the Council, everything with Zaun. I didn’t want to add to it.”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, his pacing footsteps echoing softly in the workshop. “Burden us?” he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. “You’re not a burden. You never could be. How could you even think that?”

“Because I know how much you two care,” you said softly, your eyes flicking between them. “And I didn’t want to see that look on your faces—this look—every time I had a bad day.”

Viktor’s own cane tapped gently against the floor as he moved closer to you, his expression steady but compassionate. “I understand,” he said, his tone reassuring. “It is not easy to let others see your struggles, especially when you’ve become so used to hiding them. But you don’t have to hide from us.”

Jayce stopped pacing and turned to face you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He’s right,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with guilt. “We’re a team, Y/N. If you’re hurting, we want to know. We need to know.”

You felt your resolve waver under their combined concern, a lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t want to seem weak,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” Viktor’s tone was firm but warm. “Strength is not pretending to be fine when you are not. It is letting those who care for you help.” He paused, a flicker of amusement softening his serious expression. “Besides, if you ever need to borrow my cane, you’re welcome to it. We can be a matching set.”

A startled laugh bubbled up through your tears, and you found yourself smiling despite the ache in your joints. “What, and have the two of us hobbling around like an old married couple?” you teased. “I think I’ll pass, Viktor.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a smile, his shoulders relaxing as some of the tension left the room. “For the record,” he said, crossing the room in a few long strides and wrapping you in a fierce hug, “you’re not weak, Y/N. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore. We’re here—for the good days and the bad ones.”

Viktor placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “And I promise I won’t make too many jokes about sharing canes. Only a few.” His eyes sparkled with subtle mischief.

You leaned into Jayce’s embrace, feeling the weight you’d been carrying alone begin to lift. With Jayce’s unrelenting support and Viktor’s quiet understanding—peppered with his dry humour—you realised you didn’t have to face the worst days alone anymore. And that thought, more than anything, made the pain a little easier to bear.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #jayvik x reader #arcane angst

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fear-less · 6 hours ago

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded.

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors.

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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toastedclownery · 3 days ago

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Shrike as Huitzilopochtli... 2!

Ah shit. Here we go again. This time with some more facts (and some corrections lol)

Huitzilopochtli, “Hummingbird of the South”, is the patron god of the Mexica (historically called the Aztecs). He was the patron of the capital city of the Aztec empire, Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City). He was the god of warfare and the sun, as the sun of the fifth and current era.

We'll start with the iconography, and then possible themes

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Huitzi is nearly always represented with quetzal feathers (quetzalli) on his headdress, a lot of gods in the pantheon have them (In my last post I called them hummingbird feathers but those are the ones on his back. Whoops!). These appear in Shrike’s design as the spikes of his tentacles.

Huitzilopochtli is most known for having a black mask around his eyes. Shrike has dark circles around his eyes. His namesake, shrike, is a bird also known for having a mask of black feathers around its eyes. Additionally, when he’s dressed up as Bandito in ep2, he puts on a dark antiface. And as a potential extra layer, this is to imitate the black masks that raccoons also have.

Huitzi is called the "hummingbird of the south", and so he wears the head of a hummingbird on top of his own. The Aztecs also believed that warriors who died in battle got reincarnated into hummingbirds, so that’s another connection to warfare. Shrike has a beak-like mouth that has visibly been getting longer throughout the episodes.

The god has a pectoral circle made of seashell on his chest (anahuatl). I’m not entirely sure if the collar of his jacket is supposed to be a reference to this. In his reference sheet it’s a circle, various animators draw it as a circle, but Zeurel never draws it as a circle when animating, so it might be a stretch.

Huitzi commonly carries Xiuhcoatl, the “Turquoise Serpent”, as a weapon, mentioned in the story of his birth in the Florentine Codex. When dressed up as Bandito, Shrike grabs one of the floppy leaves of the plant, resembling the shape of the snake.

But Xiuhcoatl can also be found on the pattern on the sides of his shoes!

Also mentioned in his origin story in Florentine, he has a xiuh atlatl, a “turquoise dart thrower” (although it can also be associated with Xiuhcoatl as the same thing).

That would be his gun. It’s not the only time that guns are gonna be compared to dart throwers.

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Huitzilopochtli was the sun of the fifth era to the Mexica. This sun has the symbol “Nahui Ollin”, which means “4 Movement”. The Ollin is one of the Aztec calendar day signs, it means “movement” or “earthquake”, and it is represented as two intertwined lines. Here it is represented in Codex Borgia.

Now here’s what I’m thinking

This might just be where Shrike’s pinky quirk comes from! Shrike was the one to tell Beebs about pinky promises, and they seem to be very important to him. So much so that he subconsciously keeps his pinkies up whenever he’s holding his guns or his phone.

The reason why each era has a name and symbol attributed to it is because they’re named after the way it would end. This fifth era is named after earthquakes because the Aztecs believed that this world would end with strong tremors, the sun would lose its perpetual fight against darkness, and the stars would come down to earth in the form of creatures called Tzitzimime to kill all of humanity.

This god represents the sun. The sun in the solar system. Earth’s sun, our sun, the Terrans’ sun. Yeah, that sun.

The sun’s job was to illuminate the world for us humans, and to not let it fall into darkness. This could be why Shrike has a fear of the dark, and has such appreciation for Terrans!

Shrike, as the protagonist of the show, is Huitzilopochtli, the god most important to the Mexica. Zeurel currently doesn't have a specific nationality for him, he's generally hispanic, but the crew's Spanish consultant is Mexican, and so is Sr. Pelo, the voice of Bandito. In Bandito's show there are curtains with the colors of the Mexican flag and a prickly pear cactus, which appears in the coat of arms in the middle of said flag.

This symbol actually comes from the legend on the origins of Tenochtitlan! Huitzilopochtli told the Mexica to leave Aztlan, the place where they were originally from (that's where the term "Aztec" comes from). He told them to build a new city where they found an eagle perched on a prickly pear cactus, devouring a snake. That was in the middle of lake Texcoco, where Mexico City still stands on today.

I'd say Shrike is the one who has the strongest connection to his past life memories because he feels a strong connection to Mexican culture and language (if he spoke ancient Nahuatl it'd be too obvious so they made him speak Mexican Spanish instead). He also has the habit of calling everyone “amigo”, even to the people he dislikes or doesn’t seem to know at all.

Maybe it’s because he did know them. A long time ago?

#monkey wrench #five sun theory #shrike sanchez #huitzilopochtli #aztec mythology

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ameliathornromance · 3 days ago

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Cage Fighter! Orc x Reader - Prolouge

A/N: Here it is! I've decided to kind of start the story backwards, from the very beginning of all of this 'going on the run' stuff. If there's any feedback you want to give on how you'd like to see the story go, please comment and I'll consider it when writing the next part. Enjoy the prolouge!

TWs: Orc loses a tooth, mention of drugs and an illegal cage fighting ring and violence.

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The room you’d been given as a nurses office was grimy. The walls were spattered with black mould, the examiners table in the corner of the room had chunks of it’s mattress missing, exposing the yellowing sponge, which otherwise would have been clad in the same black faux plastic lining that was held together with duct tape.

You had done your best to sterilise the tools you’d been given, soaking them in alcohol, spraying them with other cleaning supplies and – for good measure – bleach.

Given how dirty the office was you’d been given, you doubted that your efforts to sustain a clean environment would do much. But something, was better than nothing.

Outside of your office, the muffled cheers of the ongoing cage match went on, accompanied with the occasional crack of bones breaking or hard slap of skin on skin as the two fighters collided in battle.

Sometimes, you wanted to cover your ears, sink into your imagination, pretend you were back in your residency, where everything was fine and well… Well, as ‘fine and well’ as it could be. You would try to imagine the clean and sterile office you shared with your fellow students, and their white coats, clean of any kind of bodily fluid, showing off their naïvety to the field of medicine.

But the harsh reality of your situation always came back to you, when the door leading out to the cage would be thumped on and in would stumble this evenings fighter.

Tonight, you were in charge of taking care of the Event organisers favourite toy: Big Money.

From what you knew – being given a file of medical information about the Orc – he was 6’3, was over 201 pounds of muscle and could throw what the Event Organisers so lovingly and excitedly called, ‘the Death Punch.’

That was detailed in the notes of the file. The rest of the medical information was pretty standard, he was aged 28, didn’t smoke, but drank quite heavily, wasn’t sexually active and had no known allergies or conditions.

And, as if hearing your thoughts, a hard thump came from the other side of your door.

You opened it and stepped aside to allow the Orc to enter. Unlike most other combatants, he came in steadily, as if he’d never been in a fight in the first place.

Without so much as a greeting, he sat on the table and looked at you expectantly. Grabbing your tools, you got to work.

There was no point in trying to talk to him. Ninety percent of the time, these fighters were too out of their minds on adrenaline or some kind of other substance to hold a proper conversation and could only answer your basic medical questions.

First, you examined his face.

While beat up, and slowly turning black and blue in certain places, there didn’t seem to be anything too damaged. The tell tale signs of broken bones were absent, as well as anything that would signal lasting damage.

“Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” You asked him. Holding up three fingers, the Orc grunted. “Three fingers.”

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lifenconcepts · 2 days ago

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I absolutely agree with that and am SO happy to find someone similar to me!! I’ve never been one to hate on the shit another finds good but the popularised versions of identities being this half which is just sunshine and rainbows always feels a little unjustified for how much those same people which say ‘embrace the weird! Be yourself! Love others!!’ and say they support those which unapologetically go against what social norm has been formed, suddenly go from all kind to ‘yuck! How can you say that? That doesn’t seem right.. you’re not one of us!’ the very moment you mention you support real fur instead of faux, that hunting and genuinely mauling your food with your hands is okay, feel angry when another animal marks your home or vehicle, or any other variation of not being the ‘aesthetic therian’ others so believe is the ‘only’ way of being alterhuman.

The exact definition that’s been burned into our brains like a branding has gotten boring! There’s no right way to be yourself, because you’re the only one who knows what you actually look like! And no matter how much I see ‘alterhumanity is different for everyone’ I still tend to think that not all really get that into their brains. They take in the words but not the MEANING behind them. I want others to just blatantly face the facts that some find it nice, prefered in fact, to just want to be able to think and act like an animal. None of that explanation of why and how. (I love to find meaning behind everything but that’s simply because my soul craves knowledge) I too sometimes believe it to be great for the simplicity of a creature’s mind. You can enjoy harming another life without some twisted sense of pleasure (although that’s also fine. Huntings dogs were bred to hunt. Ofcourse they will be happy to hunt), to go where you walk simply because it’s what feels right (why must you understand the journey or destination in mind when birds migrate simply by how it feels and where is better? They don’t think ‘oh gee! It’s the 8th of September! I must get going to Portugal otherwise I may not survive the cold!’ Their minds subconsciously gather the temperature change and just vaguely understand they need to fucking go some place warm), and it feels irritating to fight for this in a community that claims to support and understand eachother alot- BUT ANIMALS DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN THEMSELVES! They don’t! They don’t decide to just casually start feeling some way and try change to be that, no! They feel a way, and so they are that. And that may change, it may be wrong, but who cares!? Emotion is emotion and sensation is sensation. Whatever feeling comes along then it’s that feeling which is invoked. This makes more sense with examples but I just had to get it off my chest.

You won’t find a flying squirrel explaining to another ‘look, I just don’t feel enough like a rodent enough because I’ve seen the air like the birds and bugs, perhaps I’m not made for this body because I love the air as must as the trees. Is it so wrong?’ No. It’s just living as it fucking needs to, eats shits walks and floats, and will die when it needs to. Our human minds allow for a lot more to do and various things to come of it, but they also are just so much of a plague of questions that assault simple activities. Ah- I could go on for hours, but everyone needs to know that an alterhuman will be alterhuman even if they don’t explain themselves. Maybe someone misunderstood themselves but to what extent does it even matter? Maybe it’s chosen maybe it’s involuntary but why are you policing another? Is life showing any sign of rules? Sure, patterns exist, and there may be exceptions for moral wrong doing, but in the end it’s always up to subjective perception to decide what is right for you. We already have human-made rules, it’s called the law. Don’t kill or abuse others, don’t steal and destroy another’s property, and the rest is up to your grubby little hands to decide (some laws are idiotic I will admit). And I needed to get this out for a long time but damn it- ALLOW others to exist without a label! Allow yourself to go unlabelled! It’s a common practice but it’s not as neccesary! Do you know how much agony you’ll be spared if you stop going ‘well how much of a Therian am I? What counts as Otherkin? Have I experienced any symptoms of So-and-so in the past month?’ And rather spot what makes you feel better in your body, what brings happiness, and what you do often. The cause ain’t even all that neccesary to understand unless you want to. Just focus on what you feel like and what you want to see in yourself and then you can go all ‘let’s find a word for this’. Honestly. The English language has already so many words, and that’s not even taking into account those which grown lost with time. You really think newly-made terms don’t hold as much value? Or that a single word must explain your own mind and body? Your soul is boundless, but able to be gazed upon at times. So why limit yourself to fit into a new box just to claim you ‘escaped the system!!’ as you once more alter yourself and grow bound to mere words and a fear for others judging you.

Okay that’s a bit off topic now, thanks for the opportunity to ramble, but yeah. Let animals be animals. And animals don’t need to explain themselves, they can blatantly do whatever feels good or right at the moment without it having define their entire existence or life. Animals can be dirty, mean, confusing, nasty, dangerous, scary, but still have nice qualities. And even if not, it is not their fault.

Never ever mistake me. I am not just in favor of the uwu romantic version Being An Animal. It's not all moodboards and waxing poetic about tails/wings/etc and running in the forest wild and free. All of that stuff is GOOD and FINE and a nice outlet for all flavors of nonhumans, please do not stop engaging with that sort of thing. I'm talking about me also wanting to embrace the gross and so-called ugly and less fortunate aspects of animality. like when you're wrestling a large prey animals into submission so you can eat that day but it fuckin Gets You with a claw/antler/horn/hoof/beak/etc and suddenly you're hurt real bad. Lost an eye, a toe, half your tail. Got a permanent limp from being stomped so hard that will make hunting difficult so you may not live your full natural lifespan. dying of severe cold or heat and then your body decomposing slowly, being food for other things. scent marking with piss, shit, musk. being young and inexperienced so you go without food for days cuz you can't hunt for shit.

there is no part of animality that is something I don't desire. I want it all, because all of me is animal. does it suck to downgrade from human sized complex brain to smaller wolverine brain? No not really! I am not mourning the loss of things I never asked for in the first place. sure I could say that woo, less complex brain means less capacity for things to go wrong, but that is a very human lens to look through. does a wolverine know it's "lucky" that it cannot have certain human mental illnesses because its brain may not be that complex? no, and that's why I'm not worried. I could turn into one fully physically overnight and then die stupidly 2 years later and that would still be ideal. sure I also may romanticize some things in ways that are not really Natural for my species, like how I think places that feel like Home just seem so beautiful to me, but no damn animal is perfect. I am allowed a couple flaws. several, in fact, lmao.

I Crave It All

#Therian #Therianthropy #Therianthrope #Nonhuman #Otherkin #Alterhuman #divine Illumination #my eepy ramblings

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