#If this flops I’m going to cry /silly

[mossy-paws]

PHIGHTING! Album cover challenge

God-ish

I feel as if I have been neglecting my tumblr followers lately, so here’s this full course dinner that took away 8 hours of my life

OG album cover: (Specifically this was more inspired by Ado’s cover of the song!)

[deliciousangelfestival]

You're the One - 1

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 2,100

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”

Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.

It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.

Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.

That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.

But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.

Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.

But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.

Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.

In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.

“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.

“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”

Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”

She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”

Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.

“Wait… my wallet.”

He heads back inside.

“Jade?” he calls out. No response.

On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.

“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.

Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.

“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.

Then it hits him. The home theater.

As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.

“Jade!”

Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”

She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.

Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.

“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”

“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”

Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”

Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”

The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.

Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.

She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”

“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.

Then, a notification chimes.

Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.

The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”

Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”

Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”

“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.

“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”

The room goes silent.

Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"

Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.

Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”

Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”

Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”

💍🔔💍🔔

15 Years Ago

The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.

“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”

“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.

Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.

But it doesn’t feel like yours.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”

You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.

In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.

It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.

Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.

You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.

It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.

Bucky.

The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.

Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?

You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.

But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.

Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.

“Bucky?!”

There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.

“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.

He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”

Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”

He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”

Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”

But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.

“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”

As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.

And that terrifies you.

Join the taglist 💖💖💖

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@barnesxstan

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@mrs-maximoff-kenner

@lostinspace33

@read-just-cant

@hzdhrtss

@umadirectioner

@hextech-bros

@cookingdancingchick

@pattiemac1

@yiiiikesmish

@chocofilledheart

@railmesebstan

@ozwriterchick

@mrs-maximoff-kenner

[charliemwrites]

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[nicole-2099]

“Little us..”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋅⋯⋯⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(SJ. Sim Jake. X reader)

(Jake as a dad😝🤩)

(Fluff/cute/short/simple!!)

Note: okie dokie so this is basically what id picture when I think of Jake being a dad, oh and yes IK it’s been a while…school has started and I’ve been busy so don’t expect much from me posting but I will try!!! Anyways enjoy reading and don’t forget! Don’t be silly wrap that Willy<3

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋅⋯⋯⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You wake up to the sound of your sweet baby boy crying, you can’t help but groan as you push yourself out of bed you’ve already gotten up 4 other times and you have no idea why he wont stop crying, you rub your eyes as you make your way to his crib, you sigh as you lift your baby up into your arms cradling him, rocking back and forth in hopes he’d stop crying. “Please just go to sleep pretty boy, I’m tired too..” you say in hopes he’d Listen, as you rock back and forth you seem to start drifting off and you almost lose your balance, but a pair of firm hands grab your waist, and you jump eyes wide open now, you sigh once you realize it’s your husband Jake, “when did you wake up..?” Jake wraps his arms around your waist pulling your back against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Just now..what’s wrong with him..?” Jake hums his sleepy gaze turning to the baby in your arms. You shrug looking down at your baby with a frown as he squirms around in your arms, you yawn and press a kiss to your babys forehead. “Baby..your tired go get some sleep I’ll take him..” Jake says as he takes the baby from your arms, you sigh and say with another yawn “I’m sorry..” Jake eyes span to you and he looks at you with a frown, “no don’t, don’t be like that, you have nothing to be sorry for, just go sleep I’ll be with him..” you smile at Jake a loving look in your eyes and you lean in and press a kiss to his and your babys cheek. As you make your way back to your room you can hear Jake humming and talking to your sweet boy trying to calm him down, you flop on the bed to tired to even pull the covers up over yourself, you fall asleep a few moments later.

You’d wake up what felt like a few minutes later, but it had been at least 2 hours later, you roll over hoping to see Jake already sleeping and back in bed but you don’t, you sit up out of bed looking around waiting for your tired eyes to adjust, your turn on your bedside lamp and look around the dimly lit room and see no signs of Jake or the baby, you jump to your feet and hurry to the babys room, and turn the light on and look around and in the crib not seeing Jake or the baby, you’d start to panic now and you’d rush to the living room and you still don’t see any sign of them, your basically a few seconds away from a panic but then you feel a cool breeze hit your back, you turn to see that the balcony door was open, and instantly your mind races with thousands of thoughts as you come up to the balcony, but they all fade away instantly when you see Jake half asleep holding your sleeping baby boy in his arms as he hums and looks up at the stars on the soon to be blue sky. “Jake..?” You say confused out of your mind he snaps out of his half asleep state and looks up at you with a sleepy tired smirk “he sleeps better to the sound of the night..the second we got out here on the balcony and sat down he slept..”. You can’t help but chuckle softly. “Baby..you scared the crap out of me I was thinking the worst..” you say softly as to not wake the baby, Jake smiles at you as he stand up from the chair he was sitting in and yawns. “I’m not crazy sweetheart…ugh come on let’s get back to bed my back is killing me..” you’d nod as you both step back into the living room closing and locking the door to the balcony. “Do we put him back in his crib..?” You ask, Jake shakes his head. “He’ll sleep with us for a while..maybe at least till he’s 2 then we’ll put him in the crib..” you smile nodding as you sleepily wake your way back to your room, jake and the baby following behind. You’d sleepily crawl into bed and take the baby from Jake as he slipped back into bed, you’d gently lay the baby in the middle between you and Jake, your inch closer wrapt your arms around his small body holding him tightly, Jake smiles at you with sleepy eyes and wraps his arm around you pulling you against him, he presses a kiss to your and the baby’s forehead. “Sweet dreams..”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋅⋯⋯⋯⋅๑┈•✦

It’s been a hot minute since my last post so if this flops it’s all good, anyways hope y’all like it also, go a head and leave ideas if u have any!!! 😝😝

[justwinginglife]

A Trial of Tears and Tails

Sorry this is so random, I came up with this idea and wrote it on my lunch break, haha. Just thought it was so cute and funny.

“Um. My love. Are you fully rested? Could you come here and tell me that it’s not just my lack of sleep making me see things?”

Rafayel poked his head into the bathroom with a towel in hand. “What’s wrong, honey? I got the towel, like you-” He dropped the towel, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Okay. So it’s not just me then.”

Giggles erupted from the bathtub beside you as your son busied himself poking soap bubbles, oblivious to the stares of his two parents and oblivious to the fact that where once there had been two little legs, there now emerged a tail. A mermaid tail.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I mean, it’s cute. It’s super cute. But does he… I mean, did he do it on purpose? Does he even know he did it? Does he know how to control it? Or is he going to keep randomly transforming for the rest of his life? What if he doesn’t know how to change it back? Will he ever walk again?” You started spiraling.

Rafayel rushed to your side, kneeling down beside you at the foot of the tub and pulling you into his arms. “Hey, hey, don’t think too hard; you’ll give yourself a headache. Look at him- he’s fine. He’s happy. I say we just let it play out and see what happens, kay? It’ll be fine.” He repeated again, nuzzling his nose against your ear before leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to your temple.

But soon enough, it was very much not fine.

At first, you both just watched your son. You watched as he splashed around in pure bliss, you watched as his smile spilled across his face and tugged at his rosy cheeks, you watched as he squealed his delight. And you thought to yourself that he’d never been cuter than he was right now. You couldn’t help but pepper him with kisses and he couldn’t help but laugh. Rafayel gazed fondly at the warm sight before him and, wanting to join in on the fun, he soon began tickling your son’s sides.

That was when the trouble started.

In attempts to escape Rafayel’s tickles, your son soon began splashing and squirming, and it was then that he realized he couldn’t just up and run. It was then that he realized that he was now stranded in the tub, bound by his flopping tail. And he didn’t know why the hell he had a tail.

He started crying, screaming, wailing- all manner of devastation and despair arose within him. And it damn near broke Rafayel’s heart.

He immediately moved into a protective stance, trying to console the tearful toddler. He made silly faces, he ruffled his hair, he picked him up and cradled him, rocking him in his arms, whispering that everything would be okay. He pressed kiss upon kiss to his head, like it was a precious ritual, like all would be well once he’d bestowed enough of his love. But it was to no avail.

Rafayel turned to you in desperation; “Help me,” clear in his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do??” You mouthed back to him, taking the crying child from him.

He threw his arms up in frustration, “I dunno- sing him a song, do something, do anything!”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, rocking him back and forth, as you began to sing the first song that came to your mind. “Um… I wanna be… where the people are. I wanna see… wanna see them dancing.”

Rafayel raised a brow at you. “Part of your world? Really? That was the best you could come up with?”

“You said to sing him a song! I thought it kinda… fit the situation?”

Rafayel snorted. “I see it’s going to be up to me to fix this. Alright, give him here; lemme try again.”

After taking him back from you, Rafayel marched his way into the kitchen. You followed behind, curious as to what his next plan of action was.

“Maybe the little guy is just hangry. Some food will cheer him up.” Rafayel started to warm up his steak dinner from last night.

“Raf! He barely has teeth, how is he gonna chew the steak?” You exclaimed.

“Well… maybe I’m hangry too! Maybe the food was for me.” Rafayel grumbled, anxiously chomping on his steak before spoonfeeding some of his mashed potatoes to the kid. Fortunately, it seemed to soothe him for the time being, but the issue of his tail was still to be addressed. How were you going to get him to turn back? You were sure once he finished munching on mashed potatoes that he would remember the tail and then be back to bawling and blubbering in no time at all. And if he cried, Rafayel might just cry. And you couldn’t have that.

So you disappeared into the nursery and came back with his favorite toys, his favorite books, his favorite movies. You spent the next two hours entertaining him, reenacting epic fight scenes between his toy robot and his toy dinosaur, reading to him all manner of fantasy and fiction, and snuggling up beside him as the TV played his favorite movies. He was more doted on than he’d ever been in his single year of living. And he loved it. But he still had the damn tail.

Rafayel suggested yoga and that was when he learned that children were not very flexible. Then he suggested meditation and that was when he learned that children do not sit still long enough for it. He finally settled on teaching the kid to use the tail, and that was when he learned that the age of one was far too young for someone to learn how to swim. The kid retained absolutely none of the information Rafayel so enthusiastically provided.

You knew this was a very serious moment, but it was hard not to laugh when you heard Rafayel’s voice echoing in the bathroom, emphatically declaring, “Now, kick! That’s not a kick, kick! Like this! No, like this! That’s a… that’s something. That’s… getting closer. Nope, never mind, it’s not. Yeah, okay, this is not working.”

Eventually, Rafayel passed out on the couch with the child dozing off in his arms. Your poor husband had exhausted nearly every brain cell in existence trying to solve this issue (so his nap was much deserved), but now, as you watched the two of them fondly, you noticed that peeking out from beneath the blanket, two tiny feet had finally appeared.

You laughed so hard that you almost woke them up when you realized what had happened; he had exhausted the kid back into being a human.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[gingernut1314]

Extra Special

A Songbird Story

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy wants to make this Valentine's Day special. Extra special for his extra special songbird.

Warnings: fluff, like the tiniest bit of angst, smut (p in v, biting)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Sooo....I got this out a bit later than I wanted (like an hour late) so it's no longer valentines day...but let's all pretend I got this out in time 😂

This is a part of the Songbird series, though not part of the main storyline (if you want to add this extra little story into the main storyline, it could be read between part 8 and part 9). I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

↞ to Songbird Masterlist | Buggy the Clown Masterlist | One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

“SHIT!” The screaming voice of Buggy and the sound of shattering glass jolted you from your sleep like some alarm clock you hadn’t asked for. You started up, ripping the blankets off your body as you fought against your sleep-blurred eyes to find your captain in the dim light of his room. Panic at the thought of something having happened to him struck you hard and fast.

“NO!” Buggy shouted at you, a detached hand flying your way and shoving up back down in bed with a bounce.

“Hey! Buggy, what the hell happened--” 

“Nothin’! Stay asleep!” Your concern turned to irritation as he continued to hold you down. 

“I’m not going to stay asleep you jackass!” You huffed, grabbing for his hand to hold it in a way so you could sit up once more. 

The door to Buggy’s chambers lay open, the light illuminating the hall filtering into his room and allowing you to see the predicament Buggy had gotten himself into. 

He skillfully held a tray of food in his last remaining hand while his sea-glass eyes looked downward mournfully at the shattered mug and spilled tea on his floor. It was your mug, one you had picked up on the last island the Big Top had landed on. 

“I-I’m--I broke your mug.” He said slowly, almost as if he was nervous about how you would react. 

“Were you bringing me breakfast in bed?” You asked, completely glazing over the subject of your broken mug. Buggy’s mouth fell open as his eyes glanced towards the tray he still balanced. 

“Uh--yeah.” You kissed the bit of exposed wrist of the detached hand still in your grip before letting it fly back to his body, a smile pulling to your lips. 

“Then what are you waiting for? Come here.” You said patting the empty space next to you. Buggy looked to the spill, then back to you, and then back to the spill once more. “It’s just a mug, baby. I can get a new one.” Those eyes found you once more, his mouth opening and closing like some fish out of water. You sighed, patting the bed a bit more aggressively. 

“We’ll clean up later. My stomach is eating itself I’m so hungry.” Buggy rolled his eyes at you dramatically, closing the door before starting for you.

“Now that’s a bit dramatic, don’t ya think, songbird?” You scoffed at him and his silly little grin which was growing wider and wider the closer he got to you.

“Dramatic? I’m dramatic? I’m not the one who was about to cry over--” A gloved hand came up to cover your face, shoving you not so gently back onto your pillow. 

“Scoot over, yeah?” The bed dipped as you swatted Buggy’s hand away from your face, shooting him a daggered glare that he merely winked back at. 

“Asshole.” You huffed, sitting back up as Buggy passed over you to his side of the bed.

“Yes, but you like this asshole.” A detached hand came around to bop you on the nose as he flopped down next to you. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You huffed, watching as he extended the tray of breakfast foods out to you. 

“You’re favorites of course.” Your playful annoyance was quickly replaced with that giddy feeling in your chest you still weren’t used to feeling. A feeling that was warm and pressing dangerously against the seams of your heart at Buggy’s thoughtful kindness. You took the tray, placing it in your lap as you smiled gratefully up at your captain. 

“And--” He said, a detached hand flying into the bathroom only to come back out with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. They were in the colors of yellow and white and sat in a red and white striped popcorn container. You realized the flowers were supposed to mimic the food typically within such a container. 

You’re mouth hung wide open as Buggy handed you the flowers, his grin turning all too goofy. A smile that was even more stunning than any flower you could ever receive.

“Thank you, baby. What did I do to deserve all this today?” You asked, bringing the flowers to your nose to smell their sweet scent. 

Shit--they even smelled like popcorn. How’d he do that?

“Cause today’s Valentine's Day, duh.” You blinked up at him. Blinked once, twice--

“Valentine’s Day? I don’t understand.” Buggy’s eyes all but fell out of their sockets in shock. 

“What? You don’t know what Valentine's Day is?” You shook your head and Buggy continued to gap at you. “It’s only one of the biggest holidays they celebrate in the East Blue.” You shrugged at him, leaning over to place the flowers on the nightstand next to you.

“I grew up under a rock, remember? My dad didn’t care about shit like holidays.” You said, looking over the assortment of food on the tray in your lap. You went for the fruit first, popping one in your mouth as Buggy gave a huff of annoyed air.

“The more I learn ‘bout your daddy the more I dislike him.” You shrugged, moving so you could hook your feet over Buggy’s lap, bringing the warmth of his body flush against yours. His hand was quick to find purchase on your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze as you raised a bit of fruit to his lips. 

“Tell me about it?” You asked, Buggy taking the fruit from your fingers. The brush of his painted lips made your skin tingle and burn and wish to feel over them. 

“Well--ya know. It's just a day you spend with the people you care about.” He said between chews. “Do nice things for ‘em. Treat ‘em extra special.” 

You tried to play it off cooly by taking a bite from some of the other foods on the tray, but you were anything but cool. Your heart was beating against your rips in a near-painful manner. That giddy feeling rolling around in your chest so fast it made your heart ache with its wildness.

He cared about you. He was telling with his words that he cared about you. 

“Oh? And--I’m getting treated extra special?” You asked, raising a fork full of food for Buggy to take. He did and gave your thigh another squeeze.

“No, I’m gonna treat Cabaji to a good time. I’m gonna go snuggle up in bed with him while I feed him breakfast.” You rolled your eyes at Buggy’s tease, taking another bite of your food. 

“But you’re not feeding me breakfast. I’m feeding you.” You said, bringing another fork full of food for him to eat. He took it with an audible chomping sound. 

“Hand over the fork then, smartass.” You smirked, keeping the fork far away from him.

“I thought you were supposed to be nice to me today.” Buggy was quick to snatch the fork from your hand, his other hand moving from your thigh to pinch at your side in a way that had you yelping and squirming to get away. The tray of food Buggy had so kindly brought to you almost found its way onto the floor to join your mug had Buggy not sent a detached booted foot to nudge it back into place.

“I am being nice. See how nice I’m being.” He insisted, skewering a piece of fruit onto the fork and choo-choo training it towards you. You mocked irritation once more at his antics but ate the fruit with a chuckle.

“I’ll forgive you if you say sorry.” You said after swallowing. Buggy gave a chuckle of his own as he grabbed your cheeks in a squishing hold, pulling you closer and closer until his lips crashed into yours.

His grip loosened, giving your lips the freedom to move in tandem with his. To taste the spices within your breakfast and the sweetness of the fruit. 

Buggy pulled away all too soon and you chased after his lips, needing that little buzz of happiness kissing him gave rise in you. 

“I’m sorry.” He said against your lips, which claimed yours once more. 

“Humm…I don’t know if I forgive you.” Buggy gave a rumbling growl that shook through your chest, burning at your skin.

“Oh yeah? Do I need to beg for your forgiveness?” You smirked, running your fingers over his exposed arm, feeling over the smooth skin and the course blue hair that lay there. 

“Begging is a very good start.” He gave that little whimper you loved oh so much to hear. One that had you grabbing him closer, the tray of food forgotten fully as he grabbed you right back.

And just as Buggy had opened his mouth to start to beg, sweet sounds your body begged itself to hear, a knock sounded at his door. One that had anger spiking in Buggy so sharp and fast he was ripping himself off of you and hurling himself from bed, leaving you a drunk kissed mess. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU IDIOTS?” Buggy shouted as you fought to calm yourself back down. 

As he screeched and howled at whoever had interrupted his alone time, you went about picking up the bits of food that had fallen in your hast to get your captain closer. 

You ate the rest of your breakfast as you pulled yourself from bed, yanking on a pair of Buggy’s pj bottoms which lay scattered over the floor as you went about tidying up the red sheets, as well as picking up the mess that was your shattered mug.

As you did this, you caught bits and pieces of Buggy’s conversation with, who after a quick peek through the crack in the door Buggy had left, found Mohji standing there looking very, very stressed. 

“There is a tax to dock, captain.” 

“Then don’t dock. Go around the island.” 

“We-we did sir. There are docks all around the island and the beaches are very populated--guards posted on each.” You threw the mug away as Buggy fumed at these words. 

“And the next nearest island?” 

“A day’s journey, captain.” Buggy cursed. And cursed and cursed some more. 

“Fine! Pay the godsdamned tax.” Mohji left with a quick yes, captain and an apology before his footsteps rushed off. Buggy came back in looking like he was about to pop a blood vessel. It was a look that only deepened when he found you were finishing up cleaning the spilled tea. “What are you--”

“You never pay a tax. We should just go to the next island.” Buggy huffed, slamming the door shut behind him.

“We can’t just “go to the next island” ‘cause today is Valentine's Day. Not tomorrow. And this island has the best beaches for miles.” You blinked at him slowly--beaches. You loved beaches. Loved the sun on your skin and the sand between your toes. It was a fact Buggy knew of you. A love he had learned of during both of your time on the Going Merry.

“Are you--are you taking me to the beach?” You asked calmly, trying to not get your hopes up. Buggy huffed away, trying to settle his raging emotions as he snagged a small, light blue bag from under his vanity. 

“Take a look.” He said, pulling a smile to his face that seemed to help him calm down greatly. 

Fake it until you make it was the philosophy you believed Buggy went with to get through life. It was a pretty good philosophy--one you might even pick up living by. 

You took the bag from Buggy’s hand, pulling the red tissue paper out to find a few pieces of folded, polyester outfits within. 

The first you pulled out was a pair of blue, yellow, and red diamond-patterned swim trunks. Trunks that were definitely meant for Buggy who was now genuinely grinning again as he watched you open the gift. 

The next thing you pulled out was a matching bikini. It was tasteful, but still cut in a fashion you knew Buggy was eager to see you in. In other words, small but covered the important bits pretty well. 

The suits were bright and flashy and so Buggy. You loved it. 

“Wha’d ya-” You didn’t let him finish his question before you were attacking him in a hug and in smacking kisses to both his cheeks. 

“I love it! Thank you, baby.” Buggy grabbed hold of your hips, finding your lips for a kiss. 

“How ‘bout you get ready and I’ll make sure everything’s in order with this shitty tax, hum?” You nodded, kissing him again quickly before rushing off to the bathroom. 

The beach was crowded, just as you had heard Mohji tell Buggy, but you and your captain found a space a little ways away from everyone. And, as an added bonus, it was far enough away from the water that Buggy’s nerves were put at ease. 

You dug your toes into the sand as you watched Buggy set up camp, pulling beach chairs open and laying a blanket down before your chairs. He placed a picnic basket down on top of it, one he had surprised you with on the way here. Buggy even put up an umbrella, though that was mainly for him. 

And he did this all in just his flashy swim trunks. 

The sun was no help in the growing heat in your body. 

No help as you watched the muscles throughout his arms and legs work. No help as you watched his blue hair, which he had put up in a flowy ponytail, fall over his shoulders, leading the eyes to his chest. A chest covered in a dusting of blue hair that you had run your fingers through many, many times before and wished to do now. 

It had you almost wishing to take Buggy by the hand and drag him all the way back to the Big Top just so you could see those muscles work to pull those swim trunks off. So you could see the delicate skin that lay hidden beneath and run your tongue--

“Tah dah!” Buggy exclaimed, a pound smile on his face as he gestured towards the set up. 

“Good job, baby.” You praised, swallowing down the sudden dryness in your mouth. Buggy beamed like one of the rays of sunlight shining down on you two under your praise. 

“You gonna take that cover off? Let me see how good you look in that bikini?” You nodded, placing your beach bag into one of the chairs before yanking your cover-up--which was just one of Buggy’s old t-shirts--over your head. 

Buggy gave a low curse as you showed off your new swimsuit--you moving your body in a way that put it on full display for him.

“You like?” You asked as you watched Buggy’s tongue shoot out to wet his lips.

“Do a little twirl for me.” You did so without question, moving your hips in a sultry rotation that earned you a low groan from your captain. “Shit, songbird--maybe we should call it quits? Head back to the ship.” You smirked as you faced him once more.

“Humm we could…but no. I want to get some sun.” You said, the clown all but whining in displeasure. “You were the one who chose this bikini. You only have yourself to blame.” Buggy dramatically pouted. 

“Let me at least put lotion on ya. Don’t want you to burn.” You shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t burn.” Buggy’s hands flexed at your continued denial to let him touch you. 

“I do.” You scanned over his body slowly, making the clown all but squirm under your gaze. 

“Would you like me to put lotion on you?” He nodded frantically, sending a detached hand for the lotion in your bag. He all but shoved it in your hands before sitting down on the blanket before you. 

You knelt down behind him, putting a dollop of lotion on your hand. You moved his hair over his shoulder before beginning to rub the lotion in, your captain humming and leaning back to be closer to your touch. 

You took your time rubbing it into his skin, tracing shapes into his skin, and digging your fingers into the tenser bits of muscle you came across. The whole time Buggy was a huming, groaning mess and it was making your body utterly ache to have him hum and groan in other such pleasurable ways. 

Once every last bit of skin was covered, you moved around to sit before him, his eyes dazed and struggling to focus. Eyes that scanned over your body, which he began to reach for. 

“Uh-ah. No touching.” Buggy huffed, those green-blue eyes snapping to look into your own. 

“Why not?”

“Because I only get to touch.” This earned you another, rumbling groan, and those eyes lulling closed. You watched him shift, his trunks seeming to grow just a bit tighter around his crotch. You smirked at his flushed state. 

“Let’s go back to the ship.” He asked on a whisper, as if your answer might change. You put another dollop of lotion onto your hand and began to rub it into his shoulder, chest, and abdomen. 

“Later, baby. You went through all the trouble to get these swimsuits, make us lunch, and pay that tax.” You said, his sea-glass eyes opening to watch you near mournfully. With a chuckle, you leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his painted lips. A kiss he savored and whined when it ended. “Thank you. You’ve made me feel extra special today.” 

A small smile pulled to Buggy’s lips, that warm emotion flashing through his eyes. A look you thrived under whenever he graced you with it. 

“Of course, songbird. Speakin’ of extra special, I have another gift for ya.” He said, sending both of his chopped hands towards the basket. 

“Another one? Buggy, baby, that’s too much--” Buggy shushed you with a quick kiss. He pulled away as his hands reattached to his body, the box he had grabbed thrust into your hands. 

“Nothin’s too much for my songbird. Now open it.” He said excitedly. You sighed, your own excitement dancing around in your chest. 

You tugged at the box’s flaps, freeing them from the colorful tape holding them closed. A small gasp left you as you pulled one of the gifts out. 

It was a notebook. A beautifully elegant notebook that, in looping letters, said Songbird’s Songbook #1. 

And there were more notebooks within the box. Books of different colors and designs but had the same title drawn on the cover. Each was labeled with a number as well. 

You felt your eyes prick and you fought to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of Buggy. 

“I-Buggy…” You said in a small voice, looking back towards the man you cared for so, so much. A man who had changed your life for the better--who had pulled you from such a dark, dark place.

Guilt panged in your chest. A guilt that rose your anxiety and had you tapping your fingers against the hardcover of the songbook.

“I didn’t get you anything. You should have told me you were doing all this. How--this is--baby, I want to get you something too. Something as thoughtful and beautiful as this. I--” Buggy cut you off with a soft, comforting cradle of your face between his ungloved hands.

“Baby, you’re gift enough for me.” You huffed, feeling those tears begin to pool in your eyes. “I don’t need anything but you. Don’t worry. Please don’t worry.” But you couldn’t not worry. Because you were worried every day that you wouldn’t be good enough. That he would find some reason to toss you away--to abandon you.

“Hey--if you really want to give me something, you could sing for me.” You blinked a few times to clear the tears stinging your eyes on a nod. “Ya? Okay--hey, stop that.” He chuckled, running his thumb under your eye to try and comfort you further. “A song and your company would be a perfect gift.” You nodded again, clearing your throat from its tightness. 

“What--what would you like me to sing?” You asked, leaning your cheek further into his palm. 

“How ‘bout that song you’ve been workin’ on?” 

“It’s not finished.” He nodded, his smile pulling wider.

“I know. But it’s still my favorite.” You smiled, that giddy, warm feeling filling your chest like a flash of lightning. With a quick kiss to his lips, you two laid out on the blanket, facing one another as you began to sing your song softly. 

Buggy watched you like you were the most interesting thing in the whole world. Watched you with that warm look in his eyes and an easy smile on his lips. His hand found its way to feel over your side, running his fingers up and down your skin. 

You sang your song of lonely and restless need. Of freedom and the sea and of a feeling for someone so strong it could drive them mad. 

When you finished your unfinished song, which you had added just that much more to since the last time you had sung it to him, Buggy pulled you in for another soft, lingering kiss that had your heart soar like some dove. 

You almost grabbed him back into you when he pulled away but thought better of it--there would be plenty of time to hold and caress each other after this little beach trip. 

Buggy went about presenting you with lunch then in a flashy manner. The lunch was simple but perfectly catered for a beach day. 

After lunch, you two sat in your beach chairs. You soaking up the sun and Buggy sitting in the shade of his umbrella, hand in hand. 

Once you had had your fill of sun and sand and the sound of crashing waves, you helped Buggy pack everything up before heading for the Big Top. 

The ship was as quiet as the grave, the rest of the crew out enjoying the beautiful day and exploring the island you had paid to stay on. 

“I don’t get mad,” Buggy started, pulling you towards the circus tent that stood proudly close to the bow of the ship. “But I might have one more gift for ya.” You smiled and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“Then I owe you one more song.” Buggy squeezed your hand right back with a nod. 

“I would love that, songbird.” He led you to the entrance, placing all of your beach gear on the deck before turning you around and covering your eyes with his hands. “No peaking.” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You held onto his hands as he led you into the circus tent, your steps a little stiff from your momentary blindness. Buggy positioned you and turned you just a little bit this way and that before you felt his breath on your ear again.

“Okay…ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” Buggy chuckled before removing his hands from your eyes. 

You gasped at the sight before you. A wonderful scene, one with a candlelit dinner table, a meal still steaming and ready to eat. You gathered it must have just been laid out, meaning one of your crewmates was making a mad dash for the exit. 

Flowers covered the surrounding area, filling the space with their forally sweet smells. Music played softly in the background as well. Songs from your favorite artists and inspiration since childhood. 

But on top of the dinner and the candles and the music, sitting in the middle of the circus ring was a shining, sleek piano. Another one of those songbooks lay on the music stand, a single rose pressed between its pages.

“I’ll have it moved to one of the backrooms so you can have a little more privacy to practice and create your music. I know you’ve been needing a piano so--” You snapped around and attacked Buggy in a tearful kiss before he could finish. 

Your captain was quick to wrap you up in his arms, pulling you flush against his warm body. Your lips moved in perfect synchrony. In a sweet, tearful kiss that gradually grew more needy. More wanting and fiery. 

You pulled away, littering kisses over his cheeks and jaw and neck, your hands sliding their way downward. Fingers pulled at his bright swim trunks and you were just about to follow your hands downward when Buggy stopped your descent. You whined but it was silenced by his burning kiss. 

“Nah-uh. Want to make you feel good.” 

“But--” A voice stealing kiss found you again, Buggy’s body moving you backward until you ran into the piano he had just gifted you. 

His feeling hands found the strings to your bikini and loosened the top so that the triangle-shaped fabric fell away from your breasts, hanging loosely around your waist. Those stunning eyes of his darkened in lust at the sight of you, his tongue coming out to wet his lips in something akin to hunger. 

Your fingers were gripping the back of his neck and guiding him towards your pebbled nipples, Buggy readily following your lead. His teeth grazed over the sensitive heft of your left breast, making a low moan pour from your chest. A low thing that turned mewling when his lips encased your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over its peek. 

You held him closer, your body giving out onto the keys of the piano, making the instrument give a screeching ring that echoed throughout the circus tent. 

Buggy’s strong arms grabbed you around your thighs and shoved you up onto those keys, abusing the poor, elegant instrument once more with your weight. 

You would have been worried about breaking such a beautiful gift had a pleasure-filled fog not begun to roll through your mind, blocking out any sense or reason. 

He removed his mouth with a pop from your breast only to latch it around your untouched and lonely left breast. Your fingers scraped over the back of his neck, pulling low moans of his own from his throat, the vibrations of it buzzing at your body and adding to the growing wetness between your legs. 

Buggy’s hands grabbed for the bottom of your bikini, yanking them off with help from his chop-chop abilities to fully do so without pulling away from you.

He switched breasts again, biting lightly at your flesh and making you squirm in his hold at the flashes of pleasure that pulsed through you.

You spread your legs further, giving Buggy full access to your weeping pussy. It wanted his touch--needed it and you were beginning to grow desperate. 

A chopped hand crawled its way down your stomach, finding its home on top of the mound of your pelvis. 

“I should make you beg for it, ya know.” He murmured around your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple and pulling a needy little whine from you. “For teasing me at the beach.”

“Y-your fault. You--” You sucked in a shuttering breath as he dipped a finger into your dripping folds. A finger that rounded your cilt but never once dared to touch it, sending you just enough pleasure but never enough to scratch the deep itch that had been building within your body all day. “You bought the damn bathing suit.” 

Buggy chuckled, pulling away from your nipple to lick a wet trail up the valley of your breasts, sinking his teeth into your neck. A pinch of pain that only melded and mixed with that dulled buzz he had lifting in you. 

“I wanted to match. So fuckin’ sexy.” And his finger finally moved to land on your clit,  rubbing circles into it and sending your body radiating in ecstasy. 

“Oh--oh gods--yes--thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You rambled into his hair, holding his face that much closer to your neck, which he continued to bite and suck a deep bruise into. “I-I love this fucking suit--oh my gods!” 

Your hips began to move on their own accord, rocking against his finger and his cock, which had tented his trunks in his own arousal. 

More, more, more. 

You need more of him. All of him. 

With these foggy thoughts in mind, you reached your hand down to tug his suit as low as you could. It was an action that only exposed more of that happy blue trail which led to your real goal, still hidden breath those bright trunks.

“C-Captain--Captian, please, please, please! I-I need you in me please!” You begged, continuing to pull at the band of his trunks to spur him on.

“F-Fuck--yeah, baby. Anythin’ ya need.” He grit out pulling away just enough to shove his swimsuit down, letting his cock spring free from its restraint. He hissed at the sudden exposure to the chiller air, his tip already leaking milky pearls of precome. 

You grabbed for him, running your thumb over his slit and spreading it around the mushroomed head of him. Your mouth fell open on a needy pant as he thrust mindlessly into her hand, bringing his cock that much closer to your sobbing pussy. 

Digging the heels of your feet into that perk little ass of his, you dragged him closer and closer until he was pressed oh so nicely against your entrance. 

It took only took one thrust and your guiding hand to have him sinking inch by glorious inch into your aching pussy. Your walls flexed and relaxed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper into you. 

“Oh fuck.” Buggy cursed in your ear as he bottomed out, his last unchopped hand coming up to grab a fistful of your breast. You nibbled at that pierced ear, humming your growing satisfaction for him. 

“M-move, baby. S-so good for me.” You breathed, raking your fingernails up and down his back, sending shivers through your captain’s body. 

“Yes--fuck, yes, songbird.” He said on a whimper, his hips pulling him all the way out all the way to his reddened tip, only to sharply thrust back into you. You gave a deep moan of his name, hanging onto him for deep life.

Each thrust sent low humming through your body. Humming that grew louder and louder and louder until it was all you could hear. 

Each bite and suck at your neck spread sparks along your skin like the start of some wildfire. 

Each circle and flick of your cilt ignited and deepened that built within the depths of your abdomen. 

Buggy chuckled against your skin, his thrusts never once faltering in their steady, pleasure-pulling pace. 

“Wh-what?” You panted, grabbing hold of his chin to look into those sea-glass eyes. Eyes a swirl of blown-out lust and mirth. 

“J-just--heh--this wasn’t what I had in mind when I said--m-makin’ music.” He huffingly laughed, a rather brutal thrust pulling a deep moan from your chest. A thrust that pushed your body harder into the keys beneath you, the piano letting out a horrid sound at the sudden movement. 

“I-It’ll be inspiration.” You wavered, moving his lips against yours in a sloppy dance of tongues and spit.

That deep build rolled around within you. Rolled and spurred your hips to move that much faster against Buggy’s. The added pressure of his pelvic bone slamming against his finger, which pushed against your clit that much harder had that white buzz spread through your thighs, into your hips, and then to rush wildly down through your core.

Buggy pulled from your kiss, free hand shooting up to hold your neck in a loose hold so that he could watch your brows furrow and mouth hang open in a gasping call of his name as you came. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, pulling your name and nicknames alike from Buggy’s panted lips. 

He pushed fully into you, nose brushing against yours as hot ribbons of come shot into your constricting pussy in spurts.

Buggy whimpered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His body fell slump against yours, only held up by your legs around his waist and your arms around his waist. You held him tight, pressing your forehead into the side of his head, breathing in his scent with each heaving pull of air into your lungs.

“I think--I think we broke the piano.” You panted with a chuckle, kissing his shoulder. Buggy groaned, his body finding strength enough to hold you back just as tight.

“Whatever--I’ll steal you another one. I’ll steal so many pianos you won’t know what to do with them all.” You kissed his shoulder once more, a large, goofy grin pulling to your lips. One that, just like that warm feeling in your chest, you couldn’t help.

“Thank you. Today was very extra special.”

Original Requester for main Songbird series: @srgtjamesbarnes

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @friedtacokitty

[naurimastaur]

Seeing them for the first time, again

Summary: losing a lung and your friends to wkcd meant Gally had a pretty shit year. What’s the harm however, in seeing a familiar face?

Pairing: Gally (maze runner) x nb!reader

A/N: this is so cringe but I’m so obsessed with him Idc if this flops with the dying tmr fandom// also this is my first attempt at angst so go easy on me

———————————————————————

“Hey everybody relax, we’re all on the same side here,” Gally called out amongst the chaos. The faces of his old friends turning towards him in apprehension. The familiarity of his voice momentarily pausing their act of rebellion, the concealment of his face enhancing their confusion.

“What do you mean, we’re all on the same side? Who the hell are you?” Thomas, ever the skeptic, interrogated.

Gally’s eyes weren’t focused on him however, for lingering in the back was the reason he joined the right arm to begin with; y/n. Wretched and messy but all in one piece, they stood in front of him.

It was like seeing them for the first time, all over again.

———————————————————————

Gally had heard the familiar siren of the box’s arrival. He wasn’t remotely interested most of the time on seeing who came up with it. On this day however Gally had overworked himself, and the idea of joyfully revelling in a greenie’s newfound terror seemed like a treat.

Towering over the box he spotted a figure hiding amongst the supplies, crouched like a caged animal, eyes wild and ferocious. He had to admit his curiosity was peaked, most greenies were crying at this point. This one however had looked at him in rage, a hand lingered behind their back.

“Where the hell am I?” They snarled, chest slightly heaving, the only real indicator of their fear.

“Your new home,” Gally had replied, a sarcastic smile on his face. His gaze never left the greenie, whose eyes had regarded each and every teen boy in front of them with predatory caution.

“Why can’t I remember anything?” They questioned, eyes never focused on one person.

“All part of the glade’s charm,” Gally said, before he had reached out an arm for them to take. His admiration controlled his limbs before his brain did.

The greenie considered his offer before they had hauled themselves up, and bolted towards the maze doors. Gally hadn’t bothered to run after them, leaving the job to someone who actually cared like Newt. He had however returned his gaze to the supplies, noticing one of the crates was missing a shard of wood, no doubt a fault of the greenie’s.

He had to admit he was enamoured from that point onwards.

———————————————————————

Now they stood adjacent, mirroring their first encounter. Y/n was looking at him with rekindled fury, this time paired with their tainted memories. Their gally had died back in the maze, physically and figuratively. This version was a stranger; a defying act against fate.

The fire within them was awakening once again, where it was quieted by the nature of the glade, it now burned with the raw desire for revenge.

Their wrath was overcoming their joy. For where their heart was aching for the comfort of Gally, for the ease of his embrace, the overbearing rage was all-consuming.

Wkcd had taken Gally, that much they were certain of. This was a trick, a taunting illusion created from the depths of their imagination and wkcd’s tampering. Their time confined within wkcd’s laboratories meant they were forever trapped in their own mind, never knowing for certain what was real.

What was real was that there was a time when Gally had been theirs, when his company mellowed their temper and gave them faith. But those feelings had died with him, things were different now. They were both different; no longer two sides of the same coin but two puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit anymore.

( why did I write this cringe corny ass ending)

———————————————————————

A/n: might write a part 2 if I’m feeling silly. Also, why did I describe y/n so animalistic? Bc I’m so crazy and quirky and I can do what I want!!!! If you’d like to leave a request for any character for me to write, feel free I’m open to any! To my Weasley twin enthusiasts I will write them again don’t sweat it, I’m going through a phase<3

@thescrunkler despite you not being in a tmr phase, you’re getting tagged anyways x

[taijuslegalwife]

Restart ⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

chapter one.

imaginary friend!Baji x child! Reader

warnings: female reader, usage of female pronouns, bit of angst at the beginning, description of wounds/gore, fluff, rushed again lol

(e/c) = eye color (y/n) = your name

“I’m good, I promise.” 

Those were Baji’s last words before he tiredly shut his eyes for the last time. Almost immediately his senses focused on the way he started to feel himself slip quickly away from life, feeling his warm thick blood gush out of his gaping wound in his abdomen at an alarming pace. It pained him to be forced to listen to his friends mourn and weep for him as he felt himself die. He began to feel colder and colder despite so many warm hands holding him and attempting to squeeze some life back into his body. 

The last thing Baji ever had heard were sirens blaring loudly coming closer to his location and the sound of many men fleeing the scene; the feeling of one pair of hands letting him go was replaced by another who he almost immediately recognized as Kazutora’s. Baji sighed his last shallow breath before the darkness of death consumed him whole.

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

When Baji heard sounds of a child playing he immediately opened his eyes, expecting to see a flashback of his life. Instead he was met with the large doe-like (e/c) eyes of a little girl. Baji immediately was stunned at how friendly this strange little girl was when he didn’t even know her. His eyes lit up in pure shock as Baji hurriedly craned his head down towards his abdomen—where his stab wound should be, but he was met with no blood, no wound, no scar even. His hand felt around where he was stabbed but felt nothing, skin as smooth and perfect as if no harm had ever come to it. Baji didn’t even realize it but he had exhaled deeply, resting his worried hand back down onto his lap as a tentative smile crawled up onto his now relaxed face.

Baji then froze again and immediately drew his attention back to the mysterious little girl. Before he could stop himself he accidentally murmured out in a confused tone, “Who the hell are you?” The little girl took no offense to Baji’s rather aggressive word choice and instead happily giggled out, “My name is (y/n)! And you are Mr.Squiggles!!” 

Baji’s brows furrowed a bit as he sweat-dropped at his silly nickname this girl had given him. He blankly pointed to himself and laughed out, “Nah, that doesn’t sound like me. How about you call me by my real name? It’s Baji.” Baji doesn’t tell the random girl his first name since he didn’t expect to get close enough to her for this girl to be able to use it. She frowned for a bit before shuffling closer to him across the large fluffy pink rug resting on the brown wooden floors, grabbing hold of his hands and looking up at her new friend, “I guess I should use wrong names, huh? I hope you like being my first best friend..” He paused a bit awkwardly as the little girl grabbed hold of his cold ghostly hands; he softly eyed her for a moment before verbalizing his current thoughts bubbling inside him, “You do realize I’m dead right? I can’t be your friend.”

(Y/n) froze entirely while her large head slowly moved up as her large doe eyes focused on Baji’s face. She stopped moving entirely as she instead opted for staring at him with wide unblinking eyes and her knees tucked up to her chest as the little girl questioned him despite her increasingly pounding heart being all she could hear, “Are you haunting me? My mom talks about ghosts haunting houses all the time..” Baji’s breath stopped for a moment as he began to internally panic, not wanting the random child to begin crying. He moved his thin pale hand over to her—starting to gently stroke her hair like how his mother used to when he would throw a fit at her young age. He stopped talking for a moment as he only chose to speak when (y/n) looked more at ease with him, “Why would I haunt you? Didn’t you say I’m your friend?”

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

chapter 2

omg I hope this doesn’t flop this took forever to come up with!! Anywho let me know if you want to be a part of my tag list lol

REQUESTS FOR ONE-SHOTS/ HEAD-CANNONS ARE OPEN!!

╰┈➤ taglist: @fullmoonblood6 @petuniasmd @tr-mha-fan

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Sixteen: The Chaste Moon

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Fifteen ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: The full moon comes just before Easter, fostering a time of rebirth and renewal…among other things.

Word Count: 6.1k

“This is fantastic!” 

Marlene had never seemed so happy in all her life, looking up at the ceiling as if to thank the heavens for the good news.  

“It’s not like we’re—” you began, though it was no use. 

Marlene grabbed your shoulders, shaking you silly. “What’d he say? Did he have to get down on the ground and kiss your feet? Godric, did he cry? I bet he cried.”

You cringed, glancing back at your dormitory door. “Please keep your voice down. I don’t want Lily to hear—”

“You don’t want her to hear what?” Dorcas asked with a devilish grin, slipping into the room. 

You groaned, rubbing a hand down your cheek as Marlene took her hands from your shoulders, going over to Dorcas. 

“They made up,” Marlene explained, still grinning. 

“Of course they did,” Dorcas said with a wave of her hand. “Nothing could keep Y/N and loverboy apart.”

You felt your cheeks blazing, too frazzled to come up with a decent comeback. 

Dorcas threw her bag down onto her bed, laughing at the way your face contorted in embarrassment. “When's the wedding?”

“Oh! I have an idea!” Marlene began, still mad with excitement. You were happy she ignored Dorcas’s comment, lest you have both of them on your tail. “Let's all eat in the kitchens tonight, I’m sure we can convince Isby. Besides, she loves James.” She bolted towards the door, glancing back at you and Dorcas. “I’m gonna go find the guys.”

Before you could protest, she was running down the staircase. You poked your head out after her, though by the time you did, she had already rounded the corner, disappearing out of sight. When you turned back to Dorcas, she was howling with laughter, flopping down onto her bed.

You sneered, crossing your arms in a vain attempt to look tough in the face of her teasing. 

“C’mon,” Dorcas sighed, her smirk not having left, “I think it’s sweet, you and James.”

“Well I’m sure Lily wouldn’t appreciate you making up some tall tale about me and her ex boyfriend,” you said, narrowing your eyes. 

“Fine, I won’t mention it,” she said, before adding under her breath, “so you won’t have a heart attack.”

A few minutes later, Marlene came barging through the door again, Lily in tow. 

“Remus is gonna tell the others for me,” Marlene said happily. 

Lily chuckled at her eagerness, offering with a kind smile. “I’m glad to hear you and James made up.”

“Yeah,” you said, your heart beginning to hurt at the sight of her sweet expression, “me too.”

At six o’clock sharp you went down to the common room, finding the other party of four already lounging in the armchairs tucked away in the corner. James looked up with a grin not unlike Marlene’s, though you only offered him a small smile back, your nerves were starting to get the best of you. You remember the look you had briefly caught him giving you in the courtyard, or so you suspected, like he was looking at the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

Unlike James, Sirius was sulking with his shoulders slumped, appearing utterly forlorn. 

“What’s wrong?” Dorcas asked him. “Minnie make you polish the mouse cages?”

Sirius glanced up at her, his mouth twitching towards a grimace. James, Remus, and Peter popped up from their chairs, though Sirius made no move to leave, continuing to pout. James leaned over him, pulling him up by his arm. Sirius begrudgingly obliged, huffing like a child. 

“Is everything all right?” Lily asked, this time with real concern, unlike Dorcas who still appeared amused by his mood.

“Broke up with Seraphina,” James whispered. 

Sirius slapped his arm, glaring at him as you all began to walk towards the portrait hole. You tried your best to keep your eyes from James, focusing on anything but. 

“That doesn’t seem cause for sulking,” Marlene said, stepping through. “This is what, a monthly occurrence?”

“What do you think I am, some animal?” Sirius scoffed. 

“Yeah,” Dorcas laughed, “a pig.”

“You should see his quarter of the room,” Remus muttered, causing Lily to snort, a hand coming to cover her laughter. 

“Or a dog,” you said, now with your own smile. 

Sirius shook his head at your cheap shot. 

“Really, though,” Dorcas began, “I didn’t think you even liked her that much.”

“I didn’t,” Sirius grumbled, for once losing his ordinary swagger.

Marlene side-eyed him curiously, raising her brows. “Who broke up with who?” 

Sirius didn’t answer, letting his hair fall into his face as he stomped down the grand staircase. 

“No,” Marlene gasped. 

Your group passed a gaggle of students, prompting Sirius to shoot daggers at Marlene. She closed her mouth, heeding his warning until you all went down to the basement, safe from prying eyes. 

“Are you kidding?” Marlene asked, a hint of mischief making its way into her voice. 

“I didn’t say anything,” said Sirius, straightening his posture. 

“This must be a first,” Dorcas said. “Have you ever been dumped before?”

Sirius elbowed Peter when he started to snicker, though he was saved from any further retaliation as you all came upon the painting, James tickling the pear. A house elf was not standing guard when it swung open, a first since you began taking your meals there. James stepped away as you peeked inside. There were dozens of house elves running around, setting plates upon the tables that would soon be sent up to the Great Hall, though Isby was nowhere in sight. You glanced back at the others with a shrug, stepping inside. 

Just as the painting closed behind you, Isby came skirting around the corner, shouting something illegible in her high pitched voice. She stopped in front of you, her hands on her hips.

“Too many, too many!” she cried. “Isby will only allow Miss McKinnon and Miss Evans to stay. I asks all others to leave at once!”

“What about Remus and I?” James asked, flashing her his most charming smile, saved for only the most dire circumstances. “Head Boy and a Prefect?”

Isby seemed to be thinking it over as Sirius crossed his arms, shaking his head at James. 

“You know them, too. I promise they’re all right,” you said, motioning to Dorcas, Peter, and Sirius.

After a moment Isby moved out of the way, allowing you all to come inside. “Miss L/N is the most stubborn student at Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Isby,” you said, smiling down at her. 

The others gave their own thanks, save for Sirius, who was still upset at her total dismissal, despite knowing him for seven years. 

You all made up your plates, sitting down at one of the long tables once all the food had been sent away. Lily took her usual place beside you, James on the other, much to your chagrin. The heat of him next to you felt foreign, like an invitation you could never say yes to. You wondered if things would go back to the way they were, exactly the same? You weren’t sure, only wishing that no one would make mention of what had happened, the subject never to be breached again. 

“It’ll be okay,” Lily said, watching Sirius poke at his food as if it were mush. “I bet Seraphina will come running back in a few days. A week, at the most.”

“That's what I said,” James said, motioning across the table towards him. 

Sirius dropped his fork, letting it clank against his plate. “Enough with the fucking pep talk. I’m fine.” 

“He’s fine,” Marlene chuckled under her breath. Peter snickered again, prompting Sirius to send him a sharp look, though it did little in ways of quelling it. Peter continued to smile, meeting your eyes with rounded, rosy cheeks. 

“I think this might actually be good for you,” Lily began, though Sirius only turned to her with a flat expression, clearly unwilling to hear her out. “One likes to be crossed in love a little now and then.”

You looked down at your plate, a fit of giggles overtaking you. Everyone was glancing between Lily and you as if you were each involved in some form of shared hysteria, though James seemed bothered most by not being in on whatever was going on. 

His eyes searched the side of your face, turning to Lily with the same perplexity. “What?”

“You have to read more muggle novels,” Lily said, pleased by her own roguery. 

“I read muggle books,” he argued. “I just read, ugh— Remus, what was that book you gave me?”

“On the Road?”

He looked to Lily triumphantly, his hands waving around as he spoke. “On the Road!”

She raised her brows, forgetting her dinner in favor of testing him. “What happened in it?” 

James thought for a moment, his tongue pushed into his cheek. “Some guy from the states gets divorced and drives around a bunch. Goes to Mexico, does some drugs— what more do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t read it,” Lily said, laughing at James’s sigh of discontent. 

He looked to Remus again, who did not appear too keen on his involvement. “Back me up!”

“That's the basics,” Remus began, “but you could've just gotten that from the sleeve.”

“How soon we move on from my heartache,” Sirius said, interrupting James just as he went to counter Remus’s betrayal. 

“I thought you were fine,” Dorcas taunted, leaning across the table towards him. 

“I am,” Sirius said, “but I find it cruel you all thought I was in the depths of despair and went on discussing literature.”

“That's just because you’re not well read,” you laughed.

To the annoyance of your entire party, Sirius went on to name every book he read in the past year, the majority of which were either textbooks or magic-centered. The only works of muggle literature were in the form of motorbike handbooks and music magazines, and other unsavory works. Just as he went to name them, Lily stopped him, promising that you took back what you had said. By the time the whole debacle had been settled, you all had finished your dinners, your plates levitated away by a house elf. 

On your walk back to the common room, James bumped your shoulder, leaning in towards you. He looked as though he had something up his sleeve, and you feared for your own sanity and your future self, soon to be bombarded with a truly tortuous array of words. You stared at him, waiting for him to speak. 

“Will you let me teach you how to duel now?”

You rolled your eyes, though after a moment the idea didn’t seem as ridiculous. You had tried the dueling club to no avail, and going directly to Taurisus was not preferable. However, the idea of being alone with James for what could only be described as a training session (the thought itself made you want to grow small), was as horrifying as it was a month ago, and that was when things were simple. 

“C’mon,” he begged, “it’s a good idea and you know it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, flying up the steps of the grand staircase. 

His eyes brightened, leaning away with a grin. “Lovely.”

“What’s lovely?” Marlene asked, glancing behind her at the two of you. 

“I’m going to teach her how to duel,” James said, still looking proud that he had convinced you. 

“That's excellent,” Lily said with a smile. 

Sirius chuckled, “Merlin knows you need it.”

You stepped onto the seventh floor platform, scoffing at the smirk on Sirius’s face. “I did just fine with Mulciber.”

“Call it luck,” he said, passing ahead of you down the corridor. His walk had returned to its usual saunter, long legs striding without any of his former melancholy. You started to think the only real way to cheer him up was for you to be in misery. 

“I’m sure you were stellar,” James began, “but some practice never hurt.”

“You sound like Lily,” Marlene said, though you barely heard her. You saw an out, right there in front of you like a shining beacon of hope. 

“Speaking of, are you sure you’ll have enough time between schoolwork and quidditch?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“Of course I do,” he answered.

“I wouldn’t want your performance to slip,” you continued, “especially when it looks like Gryffindor has a good shot at the cup this year.”

James let a short breath out of his nose, shaking his head. “We’ve got it in the bag, right Padfoot?”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” Sirius said, turning to you. “We’ve got a whole new game plan for the Easter holiday.”

“I’m so sorry I’ll be missing it,” Dorcas drawled. “Two weeks of drills and scrimmages.”

“Don’t remind me,” James said, coming up to the portrait. “When you’re the worst one on the team, you’ll be sorry”

Dorcas scoffed, “Impossible.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

On Saturday morning, James hounded you as soon as you stepped foot in the common room, forcing you to come with him to the RoR for your first dueling lesson. You had just eaten breakfast, looking forward to a lazy day of schoolwork and tea, although James would take none of your complaints. 

“We have two weeks of no classes, and you want to practice at the crack of dawn?”

“It’s nine, not the crack of dawn,” James said, pulling you out into the corridor, “and don’t you want to get a head start?”

Unlike usual, the RoR was without its piles of old, forgotten knick knacks and furniture, transformed into a wide open space perfect for your purposes. You were still yawning as James stood in front of you, staring at you with a far more serious expression than you would have liked. 

“How good are you with Stupefy?”

You crossed your arms, slightly offended by the question. “That's a fourth year spell.”

“Sorry,” he said, pursing his lips in thought. “What about the blasting curse?”

“Well,” you began, trailing off. 

“We’ll start with that, then,” he said, turning around to stand near the other side of the room. “I know you learned it, so just show me where you’re at and we can go from there.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you prepared to perform the spell. “Confringo!”

A short burst of fire erupted from your wand, though it wasn’t nearly to the degree of what you had been aiming for. James’s shield charm easily blocked your measly flames, dropping his hand once they fizzled out. 

“That wasn’t bad,” he said.

You sighed, your shoulder drooping. “You don’t have to lie to me. That was awful.”

“Maybe it’s me,” he said, taking a few steps to the side. “Try it without focusing on a target. Maybe you just don’t want to hurt your best friend.”

You rolled your eyes, taking your position once more. This time, you zeroed in on a spot on the wall, imagining the face of someone ghastly, an unfriendly set of eyes pointed towards you. “Confringo!”

You were more successful this time around, though it was still weaker than it should’ve been. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you huffed. “I know what it’s supposed to feel like, but it just never does.”

James came over to you, his expression still sympathetic. “Okay, what do you think it’s supposed to feel like?”

“I don’t know,” you began, “powerful? Like energy coming from my wand.”

“It’s not coming from your wand, it’s coming from you,” James said, his gaze darting around as he pondered his next words. “If the blast isn’t strong enough, it’s not because your wand doesn’t have the power. Your wand is just there to direct it.”

“Great,” you chuckled bitterly. “So I’m not powerful enough.”

James shook his head immediately, his eyes wide. “No, it’s not that at all. I don’t know how to put it—” he stopped, scratching the side of his head. “You have to have confidence, even if it’s fake. You can’t be scared of your wand, just have to tell it what to do, even if you aren’t sure you got the stuff to do it. It doesn’t know the difference. Does that make sense?”

You tried to picture it in your head, the feeling he was attempting to convey. You remained unsure, nodding anyway. 

“All right, let's try it,” you said, realigning your stance. 

Again, you zeroed in on the blank wall, trying to forget James standing beside you. You imagined that you had performed the spell perfectly a thousand times before, convincing your wand that it would do what you said, exactly as you told it. 

“Confringo!”

Like before, the blast was present, though still not strong enough. Just as you were about to pout, James urged you to try it again. 

“Remember what I said, don’t be scared. Tell your wand what to do and it’ll do it.”

You glanced down at your wand as if to force it to obey you through a harsh look, wondering if such a thing was even possible. When you turned back to James, he nodded, looking at you as if he was totally, completely sure you would get it this time. 

“Confringo!”

The heat from the fire warmed your face as the flames soared, dancing through the air. They whipped around one of the pillars, the light of it so bright you needed to squint just to keep your eyes in front of you. You couldn’t explain the feeling even if you tried, though it was not entirely unlike casting other spells. However, there was something more behind it this time, the magic flowing from your veins, through your hand and into your wand where it seemed to double, triple in magnitude. The blast kept raging on, not subsiding until you lowered your wand, the embers floating up into the air before they flickered out. 

James watched as the orange glow dissipated, his smile slowly growing before it turned into a large, proud grin. “That was brilliant!”

“That felt great,” you said, a laugh of disbelief bubbling from your chest. 

James’s eyes were bright with joy as he ran to the other side of the room, raising his wand. “Try it again.”

You performed the curse a dozen times, each as well as the last. James blocked every one of them with the same overzealous grin, making comments here and there about your form. You each lost track of time, spending hours in the RoR, ultimately forgetting your original purpose as you threw low level jinx’s at each other. The clock tower was just striking eleven as you zigzagged around the room, repeatedly blocking James as he tried to perform the tickling charm. 

“Don’t!” you cried, out of breath as you spun around to block another. “You’re such a git!”

“This is good practice,” he laughed, stopping to stare at you from across the room. 

You narrowed your eyes, your wand at the ready. “I’ll retaliate!” 

“I’d like to see you try,” he paused, smiling devilishly. “Relashio!”

You suddenly dropped your wand, letting out a noise of surprise as you bent down to pick it up. You were too late, the words leaving him before you could react. 

“Rictusempra!”

You began to laugh wildly, forgetting your wand as you clutched your stomach, phantom fingers tickling your sides. You tried to yell at James, though your sentence came between fits of giggles, uncontrollably pouring from you, “Stop—it—right—now—you—toss—er!”

You fell to the floor, your head thrown back as the tickling did not let up. James mercifully flicked his wand, the charm ceasing. You caught your breath, glaring at him as you sat up. He was still grinning like a fool, his arms crossed as he looked down at you. 

“I hate you,” you groaned, standing again. “That was completely unfair.”

“How so?” 

“Cat and mouse games are not duels,” you said, straightening out your jumper. 

“It’s a cousin,” James said. “And I won.”

You rolled your eyes, though it only made him snicker. “I meant it when I said you were a tosser.”

“You’re full of it,” James said, slipping his wand back into his pocket. “You shouldn’t go around saying shite like that, you might lose your spot as my favorite.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, though you told yourself it could've been the remnants of the charm. 

“Whatever,” you said, a smile forcing itself onto your lips. The feeling in your chest lingered, the air suddenly hot and suffocating. You put away your wand, heading towards the door.  “I’ve got homework, and so do you.”

“Fine, but we're back here tomorrow afternoon,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “I have practice in the morning, but after lunch I’m all yours.”

If only. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The second of your dueling practices went slightly better, given that it didn’t devolve into James attempting to jinx you. You went over a few spells you already were comfortable performing, doing mock-duels to get you more comfortable with it. James was encouraging the whole time, whooping and hollering whenever you were able to block something difficult, or when you were able to trip him up a bit. He was still miles better than you, though he did have years of practice under his belt during what he so affectionately dubbed his “wilder days,” which he reminded you of constantly. 

“The only reason I’m halfway decent at dueling is because I was a little punk. Don’t feel bad because you were actually a good student.”

He practiced with you a few more times over the first week of the Easter holiday, during which you were able to avoid what had happened the first time, keeping things largely professional. He was also putting the Gryffindor quidditch team through more practices than any other house, trying to use up all the free time slots on the pitch that Monsieur Button would give him. The fact that Dorcas had gone home for the holiday did little to tamper his mood, convincing himself that there was no doubt Gryffindor would win the cup. 

By the end of the week, things were entirely back to normal, at least the normal you had grown accustomed to. Being alone with him felt less and less nerve wracking as the days went on, your anxiety subsiding into its usual hyper vigilance, though nothing more. Still, your mind could not let go of the cards, one in particular. 

The common room had been decorated with pastel streamers by the house elves, hung around the room above the portraits. The entire space was filled with laughter on the Friday before Easter, the radio playing in the corner as drinks flowed aplenty. James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus were nowhere to be found, though you knew full well where they were. Remus was being escorted by Madam Pomfrey to the shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the others waiting for her to leave before they went down the same tunnel to stay with him throughout the night. 

Lily had found out about Remus’s condition when she and James began to date. Eventually, you, Marlene and Dorcas were made privy as the months went on, much to the dismay of Remus, who had hoped to keep his secret from as many people as possible. He was only met with kindness and the promise that none of you would ever mention it, though that did little to stop you all from worrying. 

Since you were made aware, full moons were a haunting affair, causing a permanent knot to form in your stomach until the following morning. You were trying your best to ignore it as you played a game of wizard’s chess with Lily in your room, though between your poor skill and your distracted mind, she was beating you by a mile. 

“Your move,” she said, still looking down at the board. Barely any of your pieces remained, though you were still holding onto your king and queen.

You made your move, though you knew your efforts were futile. When Lily took her next turn, she destroyed your knight. 

“Check.”

“I give up,” you said, knocking over your own king, which popped right back up on its own. “You’re bound to beat me sooner or later.”

“How unsportsmanlike,” Marlene said, her leg bouncing where it hung over the side of her bed. 

You didn’t respond, waiting as Lily checked her watch.

'What's the time?” you asked. 

“Just after midnight,” Lily sighed, “still a ways to go.” 

“I can’t take it anymore,” you said, standing from your chair. “I’m going to bed.” 

You got ready in silence, cocooning yourself in your four-poster, a charm cast to block out their voices. You tried not to picture the scene as you fell asleep: a stag, a dog, and a rat, scurrying around a raging wolf, howling at the moon.

“Y/N,” Lily whispered, shaking your shoulder. 

Your eyes flew open, the light in your dormitory dim. Outside, the sky was red along the horizon, fading into pink clouds. You sat up, throwing off your covers and swinging your legs out. “What time is it?”

“Six,” she answered, stepping away so you could pull on a jumper and a pair of shoes. You also grabbed your wristwatch, which she had been miraculously able to repair. 

You both went down to the common room, waiting for James, Sirius, and Peter to return. Lily had begun to wait for them to get back when she and James started dating, taking you along for moral support once you were aware of his secret. After they broke up, neither of you thought to stop doing it. 

Lily’s knee was bouncing as she stared into the fireplace, now just burning through embers. Your cheek was resting in your hand, forcing your eyes to remain open against their will to close. 

Twenty minutes later, the three boys came through the portrait hole, haggard from the long night. All and all they seemed okay, though the bottom of their trousers were caked in mud, their shoes scuffed. Without a word, Sirius threw himself down into an armchair, the cloak over his arm. 

“How’d it go?” you asked softly.

“Pretty good,” James said, his voice dull. He ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up in odd places

“Is he doing alright?” Lily asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Not too bad this time.”

James threw a long into the fire, standing in front of it with his back to you. You studied his shoulders, which somehow seemed to be dragging him down, a weight too heavy for him to bear. You wanted to walk over and wrap your arms around him like you had last week, too hold him and tell him it would be okay, just like every other time. 

“That’s good,” you said, though it came out weak and unconvincing. Nothing was ever good the day after a full moon, though you tried to make the best of it. 

“You guys can go back to bed,” James said, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes met yours, drained of their usual light. 

Lily nodded, looking to you with pressed lips. James never liked it when you lingered, though you always wished he’d let you, just once. 

“Go get some breakfast,” she said, each of you heading back towards the staircase. “I’m sure Isby will let you in, but if not, use the cloak.”

“Okay, mum,” Sirius mumbled, a half hearted effort at brightening the mood.

You shook your head, taking another look at James’s back before you went up to the dormitories, a deep, aching longing pulling in your chest. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You spent most of Saturday doing schoolwork, the guys holed up in the hospital wing for hours at a time before Pomfrey would kick them out, only to have them return forty-five minutes later. Remus always hated it when you made a fuss over him, so Lily only sent him down some notes for Ancient Runes. She knew he didn’t need them, but it was the only way to tell him that she was thinking of him without making him feel even more guilty than he already did. You could offer nothing, only your hope that he would feel better for tomorrow. 

At some point that evening, Remus was able to hobble his way up to his dormitory, which he much preferred to the old beds in the hospital wing. When you came back up from the kitchens with Lily, you caught Sirius bringing a plate up for him, piled with more food than he could ever eat. They all stayed with him that night, likely trying to distract him the best they could. By now, they were as good at it as they ever would be. 

You all sat in the common room after breakfast on Easter morning, save for Remus, who was in the midst of a much needed nap. 

A handful of students on the other side of the room gathered around as Maxwell Thomas began to levitate a first year in a wooden chair. You glanced back to watch as the first year held tightly to his seat, staring down at the floor with a grin as he was lifted a few feet, growing higher and higher as the others below laughed. Soon, he was nearing the ceiling, his head bonking it before Maxwell lowered him again. 

“Man,” Sirius whined, looking up from his magazine, “Springsteen’s putting out an album in June.”

“How will you ever survive for a month?” Marlene teased, laughing more when Sirius’s brows pinched in a deep, rather dramatic display of sadness. Peter chuckled as well, sinking further into his chair. 

“Don’t start, McKinnon,” Sirius said, pointing the magazine towards her, “Springsteen is—”

James slapped him on the shoulder, his eyes narrowed towards the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. Sirius turned to look, his expression darkening. You craned your head back, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach when you saw Zephyr hopping down the steps, making his way through the common room towards the portrait hole. His eyes darted across the room, soon finding your group before they shot away again. 

“What’s he doing here?” Marlene whispered, her voice rushed.  

James flew up from the sofa, followed quickly by Sirius, letting his magazine drop to the floor. Broken from your frozen state of shock, you pulled at Sirius’s arm, though he tugged it back, blazing with anger. 

“James,” Lily warned, sitting on the edge of the cushion. 

You watched in horror as they neared Zephyr, tensed and prepared for a fight. You whispered James’s name in an attempt to draw him back, though he did not acknowledge you. You tried the same with Sirius, though it had the same nonexistent effect. 

“Oi!” James called, walking faster towards Zephyr, who was just about to open the portrait. “Where’re you going?”

Zephyr turned, his mouth tight as he stared back at James.

“Nothing to say?” Sirius asked, his voice seething. He pulled out his wand, pointing it towards him. 

Zephyr’s lip curled as he glanced behind them towards you. 

“Don’t look at her,” James gritted as he whipped out his wand, his knuckles growing white as he held it.

Zephyr stiffened, looking down at James’s wand with a careful consideration. He took a breath, tightening his jaw. “I’m not looking for a fight,” he mumbled.

“Well, you’ve found one,” James said. He raised his arm like a bolt of lightning, so fast you barely had enough time to jump off the sofa and shout his name. 

It was too late. Zephyr flew back, falling to the floor with a groan. He went to reach for his own wand, though James stood over him, peering down at his startled face. 

“What are you doing back here, you fucking traitor?” Sirius spat, coming to stand beside James. 

Zephyr’s expression shifted into something disgusted, as if the stench of them was putrid. He began to prop himself up, not taking his gaze from Sirius. “You’re one to talk.” 

Every student in the common room looked on in complete confusion, murmuring to themselves as they watched the scene unfold. Peter was standing, though he made no move to go over, his hand buried in his pocket. 

Zephyr’s eyes landed on you from his spot on the ground, looking at you with the same expression of contempt. 

“What did I say?” James barked, flicking his wand again. 

Zephyr’s face erupted in ghastly, red boils, rapidly growing in number so quickly that soon you were unable to recognize his features. His hands came up to his cheeks in horror, attempting to cover the blemishes as they began to ooze. Again, he went to reach for his wand, though James’s foot came to his shoulder, knocking him down before he turned around to look at you, still frozen in place. 

“Bloody hell,” Marlene murmured, though you hardly heard it. 

With another glance at Zephyr, James took his foot from his shoulder, marching back towards you, Sirius following behind. Immediately, Zephyr took out his wand, performing the counter spell. 

Without a word, James grabbed your arm, pulling you up from the sofa. “C’mon,” he said, rushing you over to the portrait hole. 

Zephyr was standing, his wand in his hand as you passed him, the others following. James pushed you behind him, his cheeks blushed with rage. 

“Don't touch her, or I’ll give you worse than boils,” he began, pushing open the portrait. “Same goes for your mates.”

He let go of your arm, lacing your hands together as he took you out into the corridor, Peter slamming the portrait shut. 

“Gentle!” the Fat Lady said, though no one paid attention. 

Hand in hand, James tugged you down the corridor, to where you did not know. You were too stunned to speak, hearing Marlene’s frazzled voice as if you were underwater. 

“Where are we going?” Lily asked as James led you down a set of stairs.

“McGonagall,” he answered, short and clipped. 

You hadn’t the mind to protest, and even if you did, you weren’t sure you would. 

“This isn’t the way to her office,” Peter said sheepishly. 

“She won’t be there now,” James said. “I’m going to her quarters.”

Presumably, McGonagall’s quarters were located on the third floor of Gryffindor Tower, down a narrow, dead-end corridor. There was nothing to indicate this was where the door led, though it did not stop James from pounding on it, making you wince where you stood behind Marlene. He stepped back, waiting for her to answer. 

The door swung open after a moment, revealing none other than McGonagall on the other side. Her eyes were narrowed as they darted across your faces, clearly peeved and rather surprised at your intrusion. 

“There better be a dragon loose in the castle,” she said, her voice shrill. 

“Zephyr’s in the Common Room,” James said, doing nothing to conceal his anger. 

McGonagall let out a small humph, her posture straightening. “He’s been taken care of,” she began. “It’ll do you all well to leave it be.”

“That's bull,” Sirius scoffed.

“Leave it be,” James repeated, appalled by the suggestion. “Does this mean that Mulciber and Wilkes and—”

“I’ll remind, Mister Potter, that as Head Boy you are held to a higher standard than the rest of the student body, and that your increased responsibilities may be taken away at any given time.” 

James’s jaw tightened, though he did not argue. 

“It is unlikely any one of them will formulate a similar plan while in this castle,” McGonagall continued, moving to shut the door. “I will take no further inquiries—”

James quickly stepped forward, putting his hand on the door to stop it from closing. “I want to speak with Dumbledore.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened briefly, her face growing stony. “Do not push your luck any more than you already have.”

“I want to speak with him, too,” Marlene said. 

“As would I,” Lily added, taking a sharp breath as if shocked by her own outburst. 

Sirius raised his chin. “Same here.” 

“You will do no such thing,” McGonagall said, resolute in her decision. “Now, my advice to you all would be to leave your classmates well enough alone. If I find that any of you have engaged in activities against school policy, the consequence will be as dire as it is swift.”

“Like the consequence you gave Zephyr?” Sirius said, staring at McGonagall with little fear.

She did not respond, closing the door with a single, solitary glance in your direction, partially obscured beneath her hat.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Taglist: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

[ellitx]

Chapter 20: Wind's Soliloquy

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to: srr_yo

word count: 6.3k

           The rain had been pouring ever since. It never seemed to stop but it was not strong and heavy, fortunately. Yet the frequent raindrops made the land so gloomy as if the Hydro Archon was crying for days.

           A young maiden ran towards a nearby shelter, her shoes stepping on the muddy field and forming a small splash with each stride. Alas, she shielded herself from the cold droplets.

           The flowers in her arms were wet yet they still retained their shape and form. As much as she wanted to complain and scream at the sky for ruining her journey, she feared the Anemo Archon may hear her and punish her for saying such unthinkable things.

           She sighed disappointingly. Her fingers buried against the bouquet and held it tightly close to her. Her trip near the tower’s entrance had a purpose. She wasn’t aimlessly wandering, nor was she just a citizen passing through.

           No, she was here to ask for blessing from her nation’s god and his beloved. Legend has said if you offer an offering near the entrance, your wishes will be heeded. Of course, at first, she had doubts. There was no such thing as miracles. But she took back her word when an unbelievable and impossible incident became possible.

           Shortly after Ludi Harpastum, a festival of joy and celebration, a calamity struck. A massive storm surged. Houses were damaged, and the once vibrant fields lay ravaged. The disaster had devastated her family's home. Thankfully, the Knights of Favonius offered to let the victims stay at their headquarters for the meantime while they restore the city. And one thing she noticed, in particular, was how frequently the villagers are going outside the city to travel to the old broken tower.

           At first, she thought of it as simply gathering materials and the like. And her friends were tagging along with them, so she didn’t pay too much attention to it. But when those expeditions had become nothing with no result, she had grown suspicious.

           Everyone was bringing flowers, wines, and food.

           What were those for? That was the first thing she asked her mother after she returned to her “expedition”. Her mother smiled tiredly, patting her head affectionately before she motioned her to sit next to her.

           It seemed the offerings were meant to seek favor from the Anemo Archon.

           “By offering gifts and prayers to Lord Barbatos and his beloved, the city will be restored.”

           The daughter’s eyebrows scrunched together, her doubts growing further. “But will that really work? We can’t just simply sit still and pray then— poof!” She raised her arms, motioning them slowly like acting out an explosion, “Everything will magically return to normal,” she continued before flopping back to the edge of the bed.

           “Oh, you silly girl!” Her mother pulled her to her chest and playfully messed her hair which earned her a huff, but a lighthearted one which the mother fondly recognizes.

           The giggles and laughter died shortly as the dawn of silence took over the room. The candle was their only source of light and despite the poor lighting, she could easily notice there’s something on her mother’s mind that’s been distracting her.

           “Mom?” She called out. Her mother’s eyes flickered before snapping her gaze to her and forcing a smile.

           “It’s getting late, love. Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

           It was ridiculous. Laughable even, that her mother just offered to tell her bedtime stories when she’s already in her teens.

           “I think I’ll pass. I’m too old already for bedtime stories,” she replied, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a playful grin. “Who said you’re too ‘old’ for bedtime stories?” The mother feigned shock, her tone higher than before.

           She chuckled, shaking her head at her mother's antics. “Mom, you know what I mean. I’m sixteen!”

           Her mother's expression softened, a flicker of sadness in her eyes that didn't go unnoticed. “You'll always be my little one, no matter how old you are.”

           The daughter’s heart tugged in guilt then sighed in defeat. Whether it’s because her mother was manipulating her feelings or not, she’s unable to resist her pleading gaze. “F-fine, I wouldn’t mind hearing another story as long as it’s you telling me.” The woman smiled widely and supported her weight by resting her face on her palm.

           “Legend tells of a corner of the city that has been forgotten by the wind.”

           Her fingers brushed over her hair, tucking it behind her daughter’s ear whilst lovingly gazing at her, taking notes of the changes in her features. She knows her mother is being sentimental again over how quickly she grows. She understands those sentiments yet it’s best not to speak of the topic and make it depressing when the blitheness was there a minute ago.

           “To reach that place, one must stand before the fountain and close their eyes, then wait for thirty-five heartbeats, then walk seven circles clockwise around the fountain followed by seven further circles anticlockwise. Upon opening one's eyes, one will find they have arrived at a little shop…”

           The daughter closed her eyes and let her ears envelop the tune of her kin’s soft voice. Time had slowed down between them. It was only her and her mother together in this lone room with a single stalk of candle. She didn’t mind. After all, her voice was calming and soothing.

             She didn’t exactly remember when and how it happened. Because by the time she woke up and heard ruckus and clamor outside of the Favonius’s Headquarters, her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw.

           Everything was restored. As if the aftermath of the storm wasn’t there from the beginning… Everyone was cheering, crying, applauding, and gathering at the plaza where the statue of the nation’s god stands. She didn’t bother changing her clothes and doing her morning routine.

           She needs to understand— know— what in the world just happened. Pushing and squeezing her lithe frame against the closely packed multitude, she looked for any familiar faces to answer her horde of questions that began to bubble over her head.

           She called out to her friend and finally freed herself from the applauding audience to stand next to her friend.

           The girl's friend turned with a wide grin, their eyes reflecting the joyous atmosphere. "Can you believe it? It's like a miracle! The city is restored!"

           "But how?" she questioned, her eyes scanning the crowd for anyone who might have answers.

           "Rumors say it was the Anemo Archon himself," they replied, pointing towards the statue of the god. "They say he granted our prayers and restored our home."

           She gazed at the statue, still skeptical of the sudden turn of events. “Wh-what are you talking about?” Her lips stuttered, unable to fathom their collective and unanimous praise.

           The corner of the friend's lips trembled. Their hands were shaking even if it was already on the girl's shoulder. She could feel them shaking— shaking like a scared dog but there was a big grin on their face.

           “The Anemo Archon forgave us of our sins.”

           That was the last thing she heard. The mutual and unified cries of the civilians, priests, and nuns, all together as they clasped their hands to one to honor and pray for their lord.

            But something felt amiss, a whisper of doubt amidst the jubilation. Why would the Anemo Archon intervene now? What sins were they being forgiven for? The questions swirled in her mind, leaving a lingering unease.

           If it was indeed the Anemo Archon's doing, she couldn't help but feel grateful. Yet, she wondered what had truly transpired. The mystery of the sudden restoration only deepened her curiosity.

           But days after days of trying to uncover the truth, all of those doubts are nothing but a disguise for her lack of faith in her god. She was just being an unfaithful devotee of Lord Barbatos. How could she? And she truly felt remorseful and guilty for having doubts of the Anemo Archon’s capabilities.

           He had saved their nation more than once aside from the recent events of the storm, and that was enough for her to be grateful to him. If it truly was a blessing from the Anemo Archon, a miracle of wherein she can believe in it, then please…

           The bouquet in her hold was settled on the concrete flooring. She ignored the raindrops collecting into the fabric of her blouse, focusing on her prayers and her prayers alone. Her fingers clasped together, intertwining into a tight grip as she muted out every noise, every raindrop.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,” she whispered fervently, her voice barely audible over the patter of the rain.

           Her mother had always been her pillar of strength, her unwavering support. The thought of losing her was too much to bear. So, with her heart heavy with worry, she offered her prayers to the divine, seeking protection and healing for her loved one.

  —

             The tempest of the snowstorm was undoubtedly so cold that even his cloak was not enough for him to provide the warmth he sought. Venti peeked over the window of his room, watching over the tower looming over them so ominously.

           A little jingling was heard next to him and it was enough to recognize who it was even if he was not looking where his little friend was.

           “We are so close to the outside world…” He mumbled to himself, vigilant eyes unfaltering as if he was fighting against the mere stack of bricks. “And tomorrow we’re going to face Decarabian…” He shifted his gaze to the figure sleeping on the other side of the bed.

           The little wisp levitated over to him slowly and tilted its head before letting out another chime of jingle. Venti chuckled and lightly patted the two little sprouts sticking out of its head.

           “I’m not afraid,” He replied. “But I am afraid of losing her…”

           He glanced at the sleeping figure once more, a wave of emotions crashing within him. The weight of the impending battle was heavy on his shoulders, but his love for her, and his determination to protect her, was even heavier. The wind stirred outside, a reminder of his responsibility to liberate the nation, but in this quiet moment, his thoughts were only for her.

           Barbatos’s two dotted white eyes squeezed, reassuring his friend as he twirled over to you and gave another set of ringing. He patiently waited if he had another word to say, but it was enough of an indication when the wisp returned to lodge next to him. Venti easily deciphered what he was saying:

           “I may be a wisp, but I will do everything in my power to protect the both of you.”

           His eyes creased before he cupped his hands and gently lifted Barbatos so they could see each other eye to eye. “Thank you. That means a lot. I started this rebellion myself and I’d be willing to do anything. However…”

           The young bard briefly paused, staring absently at where you lay and Barbatos followed his gaze. It was not unusual for Venti to be deep in his thoughts. With how they have often been together, it’s one characteristic of him that Barbatos took notice of.

           But unlike his deep pondering, within his deep blue eyes he could see swirls of uneasiness. Eyes of worry lost in contemplation, reflected a storm of concern. The furrowed brow framed windows into a troubled mind, where the weight of thoughts etched delicate lines around the eyes. In their depths, shadows danced, revealing a tumultuous sea of unease. The gaze, once bright, now carried a subdued flicker, like embers struggling against the encroaching darkness.

           Barbatos was quiet but he slowly approached his friend and flew over his shoulder. The wisp already knew what was bothering him, but he didn’t break the silence. Rather, he let the silence consume them.

           He already knew this war would be a matter of life and death. Full of bloodshed and ruthless crashing of swords and greatswords all for the sake of freedom. They had lost several allies, what more if Venti loses you?

           What more if you lose him?

           Venti bitterly laughed to himself, catching Barbatos off-guard. He wanted to soothe his friend, but the cold sweat running over to the nape of Venti’s neck and the clenching of his fist over to his shorts was enough to come to a conclusion: Venti was scared.

           How come when he’s this close— they’re so close, he began to cower? He prepared himself in and out. From days to weeks, weeks to months, he led and planned everything with precision. Did he doubt his capabilities? Or was he scared they would never obtain freedom? Perhaps the weight of responsibility pressed harder than he let on.

           The impending battle with Decarabian, a foe of colossal proportions, bore down on him. The prospect of facing an archaic power, an entity that once ruled over Mondstadt, sent shivers down even the god of freedom’s spine.

           Venti cast a sidelong glance at the peacefully slumbering figure beside him. In the quiet of the room, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest served as a stark reminder of what he stood to lose. The very thought of harm befalling you awakened a vulnerability he tried to bury beneath the bravado.

           He sighed, a mix of frustration and self-awareness. The war-torn history and the battles fought in the shadows, all led to this moment. Yet, the proximity of his friend, the one who anchored him, uncovered a layer of trepidation he never fully acknowledged.

           The little wisp fluttered near him, its tiny form a manifestation of loyalty. It chimed softly, a melody of encouragement. Venti managed a rueful smile, realizing that even Barbatos wasn’t immune to the currents of fear and doubt. The approaching conflict, an inevitable clash with the remnants of a bygone era, hung heavy in the air.

           Perhaps it was fate upon meeting two important people,  in Barbatos’s life; and never did he foresee he’d forge a deeper relationship with them.

           Amidst the raging storms, he thought he would never be heard but alas there a boy clad in a dark cloak with a lyre in his hand appeared in front of him.

           “Barbatos,” he called. “If anything happens to me, protect [Name] for me, alright?” Venti stood up from his seat and discreetly walked over to your bed. Barbatos watched from a distance. The bard’s hand gently brushed over your tousled locks as he lovingly smoothed the disarray of strands.

           Venti's eyes held a tenderness, a silent promise etched within the gentle caress. The room was filled with a hushed intimacy, interrupted only by the soft rustle of hair beneath his fingers. He delicately gathered a handful of your hair, the strands flowing through his fingers like silken threads. Holding them close to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss upon them.

           “Watch over her. Promise me that. Please…”

           Barbatos, observing this silent exchange, nodded in understanding. The air in the room seemed to shimmer with an unspoken bond, a connection that transcended the uncertainties of the impending conflict.

  —

             Freedom. That’s all that matters. That’s all that matters to the people of Mond. Freedom is everything to them, and if it were to be taken from them, they would rebel and fight for it to get what is rightfully theirs.

           That is what everyone fought for. That is what Venti fought for when the tyrant locked them up. And that freedom is what he promised to seek for his dearly beloved.

           The promise… That’s right, the promise.

           Barbatos made a promise to his friend: to guard and keep you safe from your father’s wrath. That he achieved. He did not need any of those extravagant praises from everyone, or a luxurious celebration that he protected the last survivor of the royal family. Your love and attention were enough for him as his honorarium, and if his plans went smoothly, then he couldn’t ask for more than your presence.

           But what about his promise to you? Not as Venti, not as Barbatos the Anemo Archon, but as Barbatos the wind wisp. He faintly recalled from his memories, vague echoes of your voice ringing in his head to protect your dear. He could hear your cries, he could vision your tearful face, and he could smell the faint aroma of smoke and blood from the past.

           “Barbatos, please. Protect Venti…”

           He stood at the precipice of conflicting roles, torn between the weight of his promise to the girl he cherished and the duty he bore as the Anemo Archon. The memories of her pleas echoed through the chambers of his mind, each word a poignant reminder of the sacrifice she had made.

           As he prepared for the impending battle against Decarabian, Barbatos couldn't shake the dual nature of his existence. The freedom he had fought for was now intertwined with the personal pledge he made to safeguard Venti—the mortal guise he wore to be closer to you.

           The wind wisp, a manifestation of his divine essence, hovered beside him, a silent witness to the internal struggle. Barbatos knew that protecting Venti meant more than shielding the bard from physical harm; it meant preserving the essence of the person he had become through his interactions with you.

           The wind wisp chimed softly, a comforting melody that seemed to say, "I'll protect what you hold dear." At that moment, Barbatos made a silent vow to honor both promises—to secure the freedom of Mondstadt and to shield the vulnerable heart of the bard who had become an inseparable part of his divine existence.

           Yet no matter how much he convinced himself that he still preserved the life of Venti for all these years, those were merely pathetic excuses he gave to himself that he was unable to protect him. That was the harsh truth he wished to never know. The harsh truth he often ran away from. The harsh truth is the least he wanted you to know. And because of that harsh truth, you will never be able to uphold your promise to Venti to travel the world with him.

           You were living a life of lies.

           “I hate you,”

           Such vile words escaped from your delicate lips, coated with nothing but hatred. All love was lost and diminished. Resentment smoldered within you, a slow-burning fire that refused to be extinguished.

           “I hate you!”

           Three venomous words stung into his heart and soul. His eyes, once alight with the sparkle of mischief, were now dimmed by the torrent of tears that streamed down his ethereal face. He reached out his hand to you as tears cascaded down like a torrent.

           “[Name], no… Don’t leave me, please!”

           His voice cracked, carrying the weight of a thousand heartbreaks. His outstretched hand trembled, fingers desperately reaching for something that was slipping away.

           The once carefree Anemo Archon was now a broken deity, his essence shattered by the cruelty of your hatred.

           “No, no, no!! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me here!!”

           His chest heaved with sobs, each tear a testament to the agony that consumed him. The celestial realm seemed to weep alongside him, mirroring the storm within his soul.

           Barbatos jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The echoes of your anguished words still reverberated in his ears, a haunting melody that refused to fade. The room felt oppressive, shadows dancing on the walls like spectral remnants of the nightmare that had gripped him.

           His chest heaved as he tried to dispel the lingering emotions from the dream. The remnants of your hatred clung to him, a weight that threatened to drown him in a sea of regret. The moon cast a soft glow through the window, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had unfolded in the dream.

           With trembling hands, Barbatos wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, realizing that he had been pulled into the depths of a waking nightmare. The images of your tears and the venomous words hung in the air, a phantom reality that felt too close for comfort.

           He whipped his head and cast his eyes promptly into the quiet room until they landed on a maiden deep in her slumber. Barbatos sighed in relief and for a moment, he simply sat there, the silence broken only by the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. The nightmare had been a cruel reminder of the consequences of his choices, a vivid manifestation of the fears that lingered in the recesses of his heart.

           The lies Barbatos had forged for years were now haunting him. The lies that shielded you from the brutal reality all for the sake of selfish love. Barbatos had meticulously woven a tapestry of deception to protect you from the burden of his divine obligations, but mostly from his growing sick and obsessive love for you.

           You still haven’t discovered he was the new Anemo Archon until the blonde traveler told you everything about him during the night of the Ludi Harpastum festival. Barbatos scoffed, recalling how you were so caught off guard when the truth finally surfaced after you were separated from him. If only that pesky traveler and his fairy companion just minded their own business, he wouldn't need to cast you into a deep yet tranquil slumber.

           With great reluctance, he drew himself up and looked at the girl who held a very special place in his heart. You’ve brought so much joy and happiness to his life, not to mention more laughter than anyone else ever could. To see you seething with anger and searing pain would bring a weight on his chest like nothing else.

           Barbatos slowly embraced your hand to his, slipping his fingers in between, and softly brushed his lips along your knuckles, kissing each of them one by one. His vision blurred as his gaze wandered towards your angelic features, but a sudden pang of panic gripped his heart.

           “I didn’t knock her hard, have I?” he asked himself, his mind suddenly clouded with worry. The archon sighed deeply, berating himself over his unplanned actions. It was fortunate he still knew how to wield his powers and put you to sleep. He just hoped he didn’t dose you too much where it’ll take you years for you to wake up. He could only hope you’ll wake up soon, otherwise he might throw another outburst in Mondstadt.

           You've always brought light into his world and filled him with warmth. In a matter of minutes, you've managed to affect him in ways he never thought possible. He exhaled deeply and closed his eyes tightly, replaying the many times he found comfort in your arms or gave him a loving smile. There were many things he would like to say, but for now, his turbulent state of mind is not helping him.

           Barbatos groaned in frustration, ruffling his head in sheer irritation. It took every ounce of strength within him to restrain himself from throttling some ignorant traveler. Those ungrateful bastards deserve to pay dearly for ruining his precious morning.

           His rigid frame softened and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Barbatos slumped on the floor next to you and hugged his knees.

           As if afraid to wake up, it feels like a waste to even blink within this dream. And to think that the other side of the sky is so vast… Does he deserve this ending?

           Sometimes some things can’t be helped. While wounded by his own helplessness, the present in all its clumsiness, is changing into a brilliance of fabric reality.

           The more I protect it, the more it looks fragile. And the more I steal it, the more I want it…

           Barbatos sighed, the weight of his internal conflict bearing down on him. You’re everything to him—his source of strength, his light in the darkness, and the light at the end of the tunnel he was always seeking. The guilt that slowly piled upon him like countless millstones on a tree of regret and the past memories won’t let him move forward, hindering him from doing what’s right.

           He knew you deserved better than what he had given you. He’s been hiding a lot of things from you: his identity, his status as an archon, and even the death of Venti.

           Barbatos tugged his hair tighter, his frustration palpable in the agitated movements. He couldn't escape the relentless truth that bound him — because to you, Barbatos was merely your wisp friend. He was not the Anemo Archon, and certainly not the free-spirited bard.

           It frustrates me because I can’t be him and it begins to burn at my throat.

           Biting his lips, blood drew out. How cruel was he to decide to pose as your lover? He only wanted to be loved, cherished, and adored. To hide behind masks of illusions and cruelty? It’s not what you deserve.

           He clutched at his chest as if trying to quell the searing pain that echoed through his heart. The memories of carefree days as Venti taunted him like elusive specters. The laughter, the music, the unburdened joy — they felt like distant echoes mocking him in his current divine form.

           Barbatos needs you. Venti needs you. He fumblingly sauntered to your bed and gently opened his palms, caressing your soft skin. He felt a newborn warmth along him.

           The deceptive dance of his identity left him feeling vulnerable. The looming possibility that you might leave him once you wake up and still remember the truth was a haunting specter. Every moment spent with you was tinged with the fear of losing the connection he so desperately craved. For now, everything is falling into place. He'll continue to act as him even if it means to deceive you. But that won't ever happen again, he'll be careful— cautious— about everything he does around you. The past will never haunt him anymore. It will never touch you.

        You will never know. It was all a dream. A nightmare. But it's better not to mention anything of what happened that night, isn't it? It's the best and safest option. The world that should be smiling kindly to you and his friend reverted to his direction, taking their wishes that were never his from the beginning.

           There’s a place he yearns for but can never reach. The place he wants so much but can never grasp. He almost forgot to wish when he gazed in the distance.

           In his tightly clenched fist, his heartbeat is heating up again. Leaning down, he rested his head against your stomach and closed his eyes, breathing in the same pattern as yours in rhythm.

           “I love you,” he whispered, fluttering his lashes to where you lay and gazing at you oh so lovingly. His fingers trickled to your arm, clinging and clutching, before traveling to your bare neck. “You love me too, right, [Name]? You’ve always said you love me.”

           He crawled over you, his physique looming over your comatose state. His teal irises glittered as he peered closely at your sleeping face. His lips curved upwards in a smile before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

           That dreamless sleep, the veil between worlds will fall aside. His lingering touch, beaming with emotions he wasn’t aware of, glistening with affection, reverence, and lust all at once, creating a warm nimbus aura around his body. All while his unguarded words formed something like a prayer.

           “Oh love, you’re so pretty… so tender, and so beautiful.”

           His slender finger gently traced the contours of your face, tracing every outline of the contour of your nose, cheeks, and lastly lips. It lingered for more than a few seconds. He leaned in, slowly and carefully. He stared at you and let them blur as he stroked your cheeks.

           There was no response, not even an inkling of recognition or reaction.

           He exhaled shakily, taking off any remorse or guilt left in his conscience, and pressed his lips against yours. He savored the sweet taste that lingered on your dry lips.

           I love you, I love you, I love you…

           Despite their parched state, he paid no mind, lost in the intoxicating essence of your embrace. His kiss was light and soft, yet it held a fervent passion as if the dryness of your lips only intensified the craving for the delectable flavor he found there.

           I love you so much, [Name]. The things you do to me…

           With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and relished every bit of your breath, wanting nothing more than to get drunk on its sweetness. Barbatos slowly pulled away, his lips tugging your bottom lip before it bounced back to its place. He panted, blinking for a few moments.

           A kiss with you has always been his favorite, and it didn’t take too long for him to know he wanted more because shortly he went back and connected his lips with yours again.

           A kiss here, and another kiss, and another, and another. It went on a cycle, an endless loop that he didn't even know how long he had been kissing you repeatedly. So sweet. So enticing. One short kiss after another, he wanted to engrave this in his mind.

           With every passionate lip-lock, he became more obsessed. In all honesty, he felt that he would die if he stopped, the taste still lingering in his mouth and permeating through his whole being. You’re the ethereal drug, a celestial intoxication that transports him to heavenly realms.

           Barbatos, feeling an unsettling shift in the air, abruptly sensed an intruder nearing the ancient ruins and broke the kiss. He gritted his teeth and summoned swift wind spirits to investigate the entrance. Their ethereal forms swirled with urgency as they darted towards the source of the disturbance.

           Whoever dared to step foot in here will not be spared. He already warned them if they wish to be spared from his wrath. The archon's eyes, usually serene, now flickered with an intensity born of both irritation and vigilance as he awaited the wind spirits' report.

           Upon checking, a lone maiden was standing near the wind barriers. She placed the bouquet of Cecilia flowers on the altar created by the Church for their offerings.

           "For Mondstadt, as always. For the verdant plains, for the hills, and for the forests of Mondstadt. May they continue to flourish, as always. For Mondstadt, as always. For the everlasting freedom of Mondstadt from the blizzard and the tyrant, whose coldness and oppression are one and the same.”

           What a peculiar girl letting herself drenched in rain. The rain was strong and despite the bad weather, she still offered her prayers to him.

           “Oh, Anemo Archon. I do not wish for anything but for the good health of my mother. I implore you to please guard her against illness and adversity,”

           Her prayers echoed in his ears. Barbatos crossed his arms and watched her from afar through the eyes of the spirit he cast. A lot of things have changed in Mondstadt. The city, the village, and even Stormterror’s Lair where he currently resides with you.

           He didn’t pay any particular attention to the changes outside of the ruins. But he did notice many of his people frequently visited this area to pray and ask for their blessings. Perhaps someone from the Church must have noticed him and thought this was his abode, and decided to create a shrine here, but also making sure it won’t ever disturb him.

           It’s been a while since Ludi Harpastum ended. He didn’t want to admit it but he’s been counting the days since you’ve been asleep. From minutes to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks, he never left your side. But he didn’t merely sulk in the corner, waiting for signs of you waking up. Unlike before, he decided to terraform the ruins to make it more to your liking.

           He remembers very well that you love the garden of the manor, so he made a special area for you. He remembers you love your library in the tower, so he prepared lots of books for you to read. He remembers the fountain you’d always whisper your wishes at, so he built it for you. All these things he had done, he did it for you while he waited for you to open your eyes.

           The very essence of his being intertwined with the elements, breathing life into the desolate ruins. As he lifted his hands, a harmonious dance of nature began.

           The once crumbling tower regained its majestic stature, rising from the ground as if it had never suffered the scars of time. Petals of vibrant flowers cascaded in a gentle descent, wrapping around the structure like a colorful embrace. An intricate tapestry of blossoms adorned the surroundings, replacing the debris and rubble with a carpet of nature's beauty.

           The Anemo Archon had woven a tapestry of renewal and growth, turning the dilapidated ruins into a sanctuary of life and vitality. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, and the ambiance echoed the melody of his power, a testament to the god's ability to shape the very fabric of the world.

           He made the once rubbled, stormy lair into a sanctuary haven for his dear. It’s his gift for you that once you’re awake, you’ll dance around with him and live the life with him you’ve always dreamed of.

           He must admit though, the shrine built by the Church of Favonius was exceptionally well made and further enhanced the beauty of this sanctuary. Barbatos sighed, contemplating if he should aid the young girl by sheltering her. He never meant to become a ruthless archon and that is far from his ideals.

           His drastic change was all because of Aether. Of course, it was him. He’s too smart for his own good and Barbatos hates how quick he is to catch on to his relationship with you. But he’s here to change everything. So if he wanted to make a good image as an archon to his people, then so be it. After all, he only wanted your perception of him and that’s all he cares about. Nothing more, nothing else.

           He’ll make everything right this time. If you see him as reliable and trustworthy, then he’ll be loved by you. Finally taking his decision, he ordered his little spirits to guide the girl to find shelter. As for her prayers…

           Barbatos is no genie. He couldn’t guarantee all of his followers’ prayers. He’s not like the Dendro Archon who could cure illnesses…

           He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling on his shoulders. Being an archon was not a walk in the park. The expectations of the people, the intricacies of diplomacy with other nations, the constant struggle to maintain balance—all of it took its toll. Barbatos couldn't afford to let his guard down.

           News about his rampage must have reached his neighboring countries and he doesn’t want another burden to be added to his already tumultuous situation. As he watched the wind spirits guide the girl to safety, he couldn't help but feel the isolation that came with his position.

           The tower, now restored, stood as a symbol of his power, but it also harbored the secrets he desperately wanted to keep hidden. Aether's presence had disrupted the delicate equilibrium he had crafted, forcing him to confront the challenges that came with being both a god and a man.

           His thoughts circled back to you. Would you ever understand the complexities of his existence? The burden he carried for Mondstadt and its people? As the archon, he had to maintain an image, but beneath the divine facade, there was a being struggling with the desire for love and understanding. He also wanted you to see him as Barbatos.

           Not the Anemo Archon, but simply Barbatos, a young man who loves you through Celestia and Teyvat. Who harbored feelings for you for millennia.

           He shook off his inner turmoil, his eyes focusing on the horizon beyond the borders of the sanctuary. The wind carried whispers of prayers, and he knew he couldn't fulfill them all. The duties of an archon were exceptionally hard, and the struggles were his to bear. The winds howled in response, a melancholic melody echoing the challenges he faced.

           He sighed for the nth time, exhaustion began to creep over him. He placed the back of his hand over to his head to ease the throbbing pain of a migraine. The constant internal conflict and the strain of maintaining appearances were taking their toll.

           As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he summoned a gentle breeze to soothe his troubled mind. The rustle of leaves and the familiar scent of the wind helped him find a moment of peace amidst the chaos. He turned his back and returned to where you were.

           Barbatos kissed you on the lips and it calmed him, more effective than the breeze he used to himself. You’re always his cure, the one constant that brought tranquility to his turbulent existence. The soft touch of your lips against his was a momentary escape from the weight of his responsibilities. As he pulled away, a faint smile played on his lips, grateful for the solace you unknowingly provided him.

           “I promise you, I’ll make this our sanctuary.”

           At the end of his lonely world, maybe he’ll arrive at his true world with no regrets or remorse.

taglist: @trust-the-oxygen @so-uncute

sorry for the delay on the update. i announced on my tumblr that i would be posting this chapter in late august or early september but a lot of things happened and i self-sabotaged this sob

[yatzstar]

Secret (Sister) Weapon

Hey all, this is a rarity for me to post an actual piece of writing over here, but I came across @star-farer’s ik’aad AU for The Bad Batch and it was so cute I had an idea I couldn’t resist! Featuring a young Omega at age 4-ish and her group of brotherdads, a gigantic piece of fluff.

-

“I’m winning!”

“No you’re not! This isn’t a competition.”

“Yes it is!”

“No, it’s not! This is sparring.”

From her position against Wrecker’s leg, Omega watched the argument between Hunter and Crosshair unfold. Above her, Wrecker sighed. “They’re being silly again.”

Omega tilted her head back to look at him, nodding with a sageness that was amusing on such a small face. “Vewy silly.”

Wrecker shot her a grin before calling out, “Just call it a competition and go already!”

Hunter gave Wrecker a look that earned a giggle from Omega. “Alright, I’m going to win.”

Crosshair smirked, spitting out his toothpick. “Oh yeah? We’ll see…”

A few seconds later, Hunter hit the ground, his face digging into the soft grass as Crosshair pressed down on the arm twisted behind his back.

“Nice try,” Crosshair leered, resisting Hunter’s attempts to free himself. “I win.”

Hunter twisted his head to glare at Crosshair, and in doing so caught the wide, enraptured eyes of the little girl a few feet away. Being pinned in front of her, even if her greatest concern was where her latest scribbles of drawing were going to hang, added an extra layer to the humiliation. Unless…

“Omega!” Hunter’s call grabbed Omega’s attention, her little face beginning to break into a smile with the anticipation of what came next.

“Shut up,” Crosshair hissed, pressing harder on his arm. “Don’t you do it.”

Undeterred, Hunter extended his free arm dramatically, crying out, “Omega, help me!”

Omega was on her feet at once, using Wrecker’s leg as a means to lever herself up as she replied with all the strength a child’s voice could muster: “I’ll save you Hun’er!”

“Cheater.” Crosshair’s accusation was nearly lost beneath a giggling yell as Omega came charging toward them, her limbs flailing in the wild, ungainly manner of children. She stumbled and nearly fell over her own feet, but somehow kept her balance long enough for her to plow into Crosshair’s leg.

Though Crosshair complained about the fairness of it, he was still compelled to play along. The force of Omega’s impact against him was little more than a small nudge, but he flung himself off of Hunter with dramatic flair, flopping onto the grass. He was rewarded with Omega’s delighted laughter at her “victory”.

Hunter rolled onto his back, grabbing Omega and lifting her onto his chest. “I knew I could count on you.”

Omega beamed at him. “Saved you.”

“You did. You’re the strongest of us all.”

Omega turned her attention on her victim, who still lay sprawled in the grass. When Crosshair did not move, a frown of concern appeared on her face, and she slid off of Hunter, crawling over to him. She grabbed his shoulder, shaking him with what little strength she had. “…Cwoss?” Her question turned into a surprised shriek as Crosshair moved like a striking snake, snatching her up in a single deft motion.

“You have to remember that sneak attacks are always a possibility.” Crosshair smirked, standing up and taking Omega with him.

Omega fought back, tiny hands pulling at the arm that held her securely. “Le’go’a me!”

“I don’t think so.” Crosshair pulled the little girl in close, all but cuddling her as he ignored the flailing limbs. “You’re too strong to waste on those idiots.”

Omega’s fighting halted with a small, scandalized gasp as she craned her neck to glare at him, her face pinched in a scowl. “Tha’s mean!”

“Yeah, that’s mean,” Hunter agreed with faux hurt, pushing himself to his feet. “You don’t deserve to steal her.”

Crosshair’s lips curled into a devilish grin, jostling Omega just enough to make her squeal. “Just try and stop me.”

Wrecker stood up, catching Hunter’s eye. “Don’t worry, Omega! We’ll save you!”

Omega’s frown turned into a smile, then into outright laughter as a chase began, Crosshair running with her bundled in his arms while Hunter and Wrecker pursued. Initially, Hunter and Wrecker were not trying that hard, but it became clear that Crosshair was fully committed when he put a sizeable amount of distance between them. Then the chase picked up, Hunter and Wrecker sprinting outright to try and catch up with Crosshair, who had always been the best runner among them. Around the Marauder they went, Hunter and Wrecker splitting up to try and flank Crosshair, but he artfully dodged their attempts. Omega laughed all the while, especially when Crosshair “accidentally” tripped Wrecker and almost sent him sprawling, pushing her into breathless hysterics.

“How are you tormenting the poor child now, dare I ask?”

Crosshair slowed slightly as he came around the Marauder’s front, meeting Tech’s vaguely amused gaze from where he stood on the ramp. “Hunter cheated again.”

Tech rolled his eyes, though he cracked a smile. “Ah, yes. There’s no fair way of winning in that situation.”

Hunter came thundering after Crosshair, Wrecker close behind him. “Give her back!”

“Not a chance,” Crosshair hissed with no real malice, hoisting Omega like a sack as he tried to keep distance between himself and his brothers. “You can’t win without her.”

Hunter and Wrecker leapt forward with renewed determination, and Omega fell into another fit of laughter as Crosshair dodged and twisted to keep her away from their grasping hands. This went on for several moments before Tech said, “You should let her breathe. She’s redder than a jellyfruit.”

The brothers finally paused, looking at Omega. Her face had become deeply flushed from laughing, making her blonde curls appear all the paler as she dangled in Crosshair’s arms. When she spotted Tech, she stretched out a small hand, gasping through residual giggles: “Tick, ‘elp meee!”

Crosshair hesitated to release her, but when Tech took a menacing step forward, he gave her up, carefully setting her down. “Alright, alright. I don’t need all three of you on me.”

Omega took one step and immediately stumbled, all the previous motion upending her balance. She almost went face-first into the grass before Tech’s hands appeared to save her.

“What have they done to you, my dear?” Tech asked, brushing stray hairs from her face as he settled her in the crook of his arm.

“Dizzy,” Omega declared, flopping against him.

“I see. It will pass.” Tech turned an unimpressed look on his brothers. “Maybe now you can get some real training done.”

Crosshair scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “Because Hunter can’t cheat anymore. She never saves me.”

“Nuh-uh!” Omega raised her head, looking greatly affronted. “I saved you…” She trailed off, frowning at her own fingers as she tried to come up with the number.

“Three,” Tech whispered in her ear.

“Fwee times!” Omega declared, showing three fingers for emphasis.

“As opposed to Hunter’s ten,” Crosshair muttered, aiming a halfhearted glare Hunter’s way.

“Those numbers seem indicative of who the better combatant is, if nothing else,” Tech said.

Wrecker laughed, and Crosshair smirked as Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Whose side are you on?”

Tech shrugged. “No one’s, but I suppose Crosshair could stand to have a little help next time. What do you think, sweet one?”

Omega nodded earnestly. “I’ll help him, pwomise!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Crosshair said, his tone serious though his eyes betrayed his mirth.

“You’ll have to wait,” Tech murmured as Omega sighed softly, her head dropping against his shoulder again. A nap was not far away. “I believe our secret weapon is running low on energy, but with the removal of such an unbeatable opponent, I think the next sparring round is bound to be more fair.”

“But what if Cwoss needs ‘elp?” Omega mumbled, clearly torn between her duty and her oncoming fatigue.

“I’ll be just fine,” Crosshair said, reaching out to smooth her messy hair and assuage her concern.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Wrecker assured her. “I’ll help him out!”

Hunter turned on him with a frown. “I don’t think so…”

Omega giggled tiredly at the ensuing squabble, and Tech sighed. “They’ll sort it out, maybe. In the meantime, would you like for me to read you a story?”

“Yes, p’ease,” Omega said, her words broken by a yawn.

By the time they made it onto the ship, she was already half-asleep.

[chthonicgodling]

HI EVERYONE GATHER ROUND FOR THE BIG FINALE📣 📣📣 HHEYYY - WHAT?!?! FINALE??!!! hang on I’ll explain!!

starring! Tory & ELoki! [& Maci & Røkia] A Canon Convo from June!

Even tho I’m treating this as a finale to this year’s parade of Drama Updates, I wouldn’t call this an Update of anything, it’s more of a REWIND to a scene that KILLED me months ago. I knew I’d come back here once I had time…

🥲Loki stressing about Røkia’s dragon shape due to 😰previous circumstances.

When this Convo took place I think I literally said the words “oh my gOD” out loud. head in my HANDS. YOUUU KNOW WHAT PART😭 in fact it made me so insane that I’d actually posted it basically right on here (duh that’s a tumblr screenshot lmao). Crucially - can we have a ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR ELYSIUM’S BETTER HALF, my RP partner @fenixethekid (hiatused indefinitely on tumblr)?! hello?!!! FUCKING HELLO WITH THIS??!!! lol EeL had no chance how could you not fall in love with Tory

So, finding a spot for one of my favorite moments of the year. serving as our official loose Finale episode it is 🥹

Though indeed this is NOT the last you’ll see of these 3, it’s a finale in the sense that Pregnancy Arc is over, baby’s HERE! These comics all year have felt like one continuous project to me, 145 drawings later - I’m MOVING OOOON. Who knows what comes next!

And in fact who EVEN KNEW we’d end up HERE back when EeL initially found himself wedged between Maci & Tory in their insane kinky whirlwind?? Their silly little baby adventure in January?? And then cut to— accidental & spontaneous throuple?! (insane dynamic still VERY & crucially included don’t worry rawr 🤪😇)?! Convos like THIS?! Tory catching Loki in his arms while reassuring him with the ONE THING HE’S LACKED AND CRAVED THE MOST OUT OF HIS WHOLE LIFE? oh yknow.

I don’t know what else to say in this caption that I haven’t already said over and over again. I love them. I’m obsessed with them. I love YOU. Thank you for jumping into the quicksand of the Elysium’verse with me. You are trapped now we will not let you go💀💖

[hi pwease give me attention on this the grand finale wrap up of the insanity I’ve been posting frantically abt all YEAR. if this flops I’ll crumble into a sad pile of dust. Aren’t you crying?? THE SECRET IS FAMILYYYYYYYY AREN T YOUU CRYYYI MG GG?? COME CRY WITH ME]

EeL & green bubbles are all mine (he is mine. idc); Tory & orange bubbles are all Fenixe’s. Sob sob. sob sob. Thank you… thank you. I’ll be over here bawling on the floor

[ccstiles]

imagine one evening, Alphonse is lying next to Boo when they’ve already fallen asleep. He’s also sleepy, but his thoughts are keeping him up.

It surprised him when he found out he was Boo’s first relationship. Out of anyone they had ever met, they chose him. They had waited patiently for all these years to find someone and then they met him and decided he was worth a chance.

Al’s not sure what they saw in him, but if being with him makes them happy, happier than they’ve ever been before, then perhaps it’s worth it.

I’m making myself cry

NO WAIT THAT IS SO CUTE OH MY GOD???

Sugarboo and Alphonse said farewell to Seth as he rode off on his motorcycle, Betty in hand.

It had been a lot of stress to get the two boys to a point where they didn't want to strangle each other, but to Sugarboo it was worth it.

The two flopped onto Al's couch, happy to be done with that situation when Alphonse spoke up,

"let's just hope that when your ex comes to town, it's not as difficult to deal with" he joked, turning to Sugarboo.

"well that won't be much of a problem," they said quietly, nervous to tell Alphonse, "Because I don't have any exes."

"wait, what?" Alphonse was confused, "what do you mean you don't have any exes?"

"I mean, you're my first ever relationship." Sugarboo hid their face in their hands, "I never really found that... Connection with anyone else."

Alphonse just sat there in shock for a moment. He was Sugarboo's first relationship? He couldn't believe it. All this time, they hadn't been able to find a connection with someone, but they had found one in him?

Sugarboo yawned then and changed the conversation. "As much as I love talking with you Al, I'm really tired"

"oh yeah, me too," Alphonse smiled as he looked down where Sugarboo had laid their head on his shoulder, "wanna cuddle?"

"is that even a question?" Sugarboo giggled as they turned to wrap Alphonse in a big embrace, giggling as he maneuvered the both of them to lay comfortably on the couch together.

"good night boo," Alphonse kissed the top of their head once they were comfortable.

"mmm, g'night Al," Sugarboo was already dozing off, content.

Alphonse just smiled at them as he too tried to go to sleep.

But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept on wandering to what Sugarboo had said. It was still so astonishing that Alphonse was their first ever relationship. He, out of everyone that Sugarboo had met on their journey of life, was the first person whom they fell for.

He didn't know what it was about him, maybe the charm, maybe the good looks, maybe the attitude. But deep down, he knew. It wasn't because of how he was as a person, no, it was something deeper than that.

Seth had always gone on about magic and fate and Mothman or whatever, and Alphonse always thought it was silly. But now, here he was, with his beloved Boo, and he gets it now.

They were fated to be together, to love each other, to be each other's whole world

And Alphonse wouldn't have it any other way.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Writing prompt (It’s silly)

- They sit down and TALK (while cuddling maybe). Stede explains what happened that night, and Ed explains what happened that day (was it at daytime? I don’t remember. But it’s izzy’s confrontation. That turned depressed ed into Kraken (and also depressed) ed )

““You don’t have to tell me or anything- I just- I’d just like to know what happened. The night you…”

Abandoned me was left unsaid”

They thank each other for being sincere at the end, ed feeling particularly guilty for leaving the crew at an island and throwing Lucius overboard.

I just want them to sort it out, to know the full story. Stede to tell ed he ended up faking his own dead in the most dramatic way possible to be back with him. And Ed to tell stede how it was when he first went back to the revenge, just curled up on bed and crying

I love heavy dialogue fanfics, sue me

LOVED this one! It wound up being one of my personal favorite fics I wrote for my birthday! <3

“Was it the kiss?”

Stede paused, his fingers stilling in Ed’s hair. He might’ve been close to drifting off, before Ed had to open his mouth. “Hm?”

Ed had to take a moment, push down the urge to leave this conversation for an easier time. They were trying to get past that. Talk it through as a crew of two, Stede was saying. And Ed had been thinking about this all fucking day, ever since Stede woke him up with a smiling kiss.

“I, uh,” he said, humming softly when Stede’s fingers started right back up in his hair. They’d taken to going to bed a full hour early, lately, just so they could cuddle and chat, and Ed never felt safer than he did just like this, his head pillowed on Stede’s chest. They could talk. He would be okay. “I was just wondering. Y’know, that day. Was it the kiss that made you panic?”

“Ah,” Stede said softly. “No. No, Ed, I promise it wasn’t the kiss. I loved the kiss.”

“Okay,” Ed mumbled.

Stede offered no further elaboration, instead moving his hand down to scritch lightly through Ed’s beard in a very obvious ploy to distract him. That could be the hard part about talking it through as a crew of two. Stede was a slippery motherfucker.

Tough luck. Ed could multitask.

He nuzzled into Stede’s hand, eyes closing at the feeling of Stede’s fingers in his beard. “You don’t have to tell me or anything. I just - I’d just like to know what happened. The night you…”

He trailed off. Hadn’t quite thought through where that sentence was going to go, distracted by Stede’s lovely fingers lovingly brushing along his jaw, and the last part, the abandoned me, hung heavy in the air.

“Because, like,” Ed went on, desperate to fill the silence, “if it was something I did, then I’m kinda scared I might repeat it -”

That was it. Fuckin’ bulls-eye. Getting Stede to open up could be like pulling teeth, but if he realized that his silence was making Ed suffer…

“No,” Stede gasped, reaching his other hand away to land on Ed’s side. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and like this, Stede’s hand always rested protectively over the cluster of scars on his tummy. “No, Ed, sweetheart, you didn’t do anything.”

Ed hummed softly, invitingly.

“I don’t want to make excuses,” Stede whispered, his eyes wide in the dark of their bedroom.

“No excuses, but I just want an explanation,” Ed said.

“Well…” Stede let his head flop back against the pillows. “Honestly, Ed, if I’d been woken up, I probably would’ve been there, but -”

“Wait, back up,” Ed said, resting his hand over Stede’s on his tummy. “If you’d been woken up? What do you mean if? I had a guy -”

Stede let his eyes close, like he didn’t want to watch Ed’s face. “That guy never woke me up, Ed,” he admitted, his voice a near-whisper. “It was Badminton -”

“The admiral?” Ed frowned. “What would he - shit, Stede, did he hurt you?”

Stede grimaced.

Ed sat bolt upright in bed, looking down at Stede in shock. “Did he -”

“It’s alright, sweet pea.” Stede sat up, too, taking Ed’s hand, putting it on his chest so he could feel his heartbeat. “Think he was a little pissed. About the whole thing with me killing his brother. He was so worked up, marched me out there at gunpoint -”

“What the shit,” Ed whispered.

“It’s okay,” Stede hurried to say, “because he tripped. Shot himself right in the eye. He was really drunk.”

“Stede, holy fucking shit,” Ed whispered, bringing his hands up to cup Stede’s face, just feel for himself that he was alright. “That’s fucking - shit! You could’ve died!”

Stede frowned, like he was digesting that.

“Oh my God, Ed,” he near-shouted, then. “I could’ve died!”

“Are you just now realizing that?”

“It’s the first time it’s really - fucking sunk in, thanks,” Stede snipped, shaking his head at the cieling. “Holy shit, I almost missed out on…all of this!”

Ed rubbed Stede’s back, trying to help ground him. Thankfully, Stede seemed a bit pissed more than truly rattled, and just mumbled about how Badminton really should’ve been kicked off the base acting like that before he was able to get to him, and…

Was Ed happy that Stede had been held at gunpoint? No. Fuck no. He wished he could bring Badminton back from the dead so he could shoot him personally. But…it was nice to know the context. He didn’t think he’d ever actually been angry with Stede, but it was still easier to swallow the whole thing knowing that Stede had been through something that would’ve made anyone panic.

It meant that it hadn’t been Ed’s fault.

Which led him directly to - 

“Hey, Stede,” Ed realized, shaking Stede’s shoulder. “Do you think what happened with me was your fault?”

Stede paused in the middle of his tirade about poor guard management at the barracks (“really, there was no reason he should’ve been able to march out a registered academy member at gunpoint without us being stopped by some authority”), and he blinked at Ed a bit blankly. “Uh,” he said, “yes?”

“Alright, that’s what I was afraid of.” Ed squirmed a bit. “Can you hold me for this?”

They repositioned, moving Ed between Stede’s legs so he could lay with Stede’s arms around his back and his head resting on Stede’s wonderful soft tits. The world was better from this vantage point.

“You really don’t have to get into any of it,” Stede told him, resting a hand on Ed’s cheek.

Ed nuzzled into his palm. “I want to,” he said, a bit surprised by how much he meant it. “You don’t deserve to think it was your fault. Just like…”

“Just like how you didn’t deserve to think me not showing up was your fault,” Stede finished with a smile, encouraging.

Ed took a deep breath.

“So,” he began, haltingly, “you know what happened when I got back to the ship?”

Stede frowned. “You pushed Lucius?”

Ed let out a little frustrated huff of a breath. “No, man. I mean, I was upset, but I was okay. I cried a lot, made a blanket fort. Slept in your robes because they smelled like you. I wrote some lyrics. I sang for the crew. I was feeling so much better. I thought they were gonna support me, in not wanting to be pirates anymore.”

Stede’s frown was deepening, a confused line popping out between his eyebrows.

“It’s not an excuse,” Ed hurried to say. “But Izzy, y’know, I said I wanted everyone to call me Edward, and then Izzy came in and told me he should’ve let the English kill me, and he said death was better than how I was acting, and he yelled at me until I tried to choke him - just to get him to stop, I swear - and then he said that was me, the violence was me, and he told me I better watch my fuckin’ step.”

He was rambling, a bit, because Stede had gotten very still and very quiet.

“Stede?” Ed prompted, nudging him a little.

“You’re telling me,” Stede said, his voice quivering with an anger Ed was a bit thrilled to realize wasn’t directed at him, “that he did that and I mourned his death? I let everyone blame you for what happened with his leg? Fuck, Ed, I would've shot him in both legs my fucking self, if I'd known! I just let him walk around my ship and -”

“Hey, hey, babe!” Ed rested his chin on Stede’s chest. “It’s okay, he got better -”

“Holy shit.” Stede dragged a hand over his eyes. “You had to interact with him - he came into our bedroom and opened the curtains on us in bed, after he did that to you.”

Ed frowned. “That’s - it’s okay, he was just being Izzy.”

“It’s not okay!” Stede shook his head emphatically. “You must’ve felt so unsafe -”

“I didn’t,” Ed promised. “I didn’t, because you were there.”

Stede let his breath out, long and slow.

“It doesn’t excuse what I did,” Ed mumbled, deciding to play with Stede’s chest hair instead of meet his eyes any longer. “And I feel awful for the crew. I shouldn’t have pushed Lucius. It wasn’t right, to take it out on them.”

Stede, apparently, had not moved on. “If I were you, I would've eaten his toes myself, just to really drive home the point.”

Ed snorted. “Babe.”

“I’m serious, Ed.” Stede held Ed’s face, making him meet his eyes. “Be sorry for the crew all you want. They’re okay. But you did not deserve that - do you think Buttons can bring people back from the dead? I’d like to have a word with someone.”

“Stede.” Ed let his body relax, curling around Stede’s. “Y’know, I wasn’t planning on giving you visions of bloodlust.”

Stede huffed. “You deserve the bloodlust.”

That was an idea, that Ed was worthy of the protection. Ed tabled it for later.

“Anyway,” he said, forging bravely ahead, “the point was - it wasn’t your fault.”

Stede blinked. Looked at him. Blinked again. 

“Oh,” he said, then. “I mean, it didn’t help -”

“Did not help, no.”

“But it wasn’t…” Stede nodded. “It wasn’t all me.”

“Wasn’t primarily you. Wouldn’t have happened at all if it had been just you.”

“Huh,” Stede said. “That’s…good to know.”

It was. It was good to know that it hadn’t been Ed’s fault, for Stede to know that it hadn’t been his.

“Life’s a dick,” Ed shrugged, figuring that was really the best way to sum it all up. “Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking - how did you leave Barbados? If you went back to your wife?”

“Oh!” Stede cuddled Ed close, his face breaking out into a smile. “Ed, you would’ve loved it! It was amazing - so, it all started when my ex-wife tried to stab me in the earhole with a skewer…”

Ed laughed and gasped through Stede’s story, and something in him felt quiet, for the first time in a long time. He still thought he had more amends to make. He still felt awful for the crew. But the whole world felt lighter.

Ed snuggled close to his boyfriend, and the world felt easy.

[eddysocs]

Bet On It — Hawkeye Pierce x OC

Summary: When Josie scoffs at one of Hawkeye's pranks, it starts a prank war between them that the whole camp starts putting money on.

Word Count: 1,355

Warnings: Just good ol’ fashioned tomfoolery

A Challenge Is Issued

As BJ flopped down on his bed, the tent was filled with the sound of a fart, and Hawkeye lost it, whooping and wailing with laughter as BJ ignored the silly little whoopee cushion prank, and Josie continued filing her nails as if it hadn’t happened, at least until Hawkeye quieted his riotous laughter. Only then did she give away how she felt about the childish move.

Hawkeye praised himself for a job well done, but Josie let out an audible scoff, loud enough to be heard over his self congratulations.

Hawkeye went quiet the moment he heard it and turned to her, eyebrows raised. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on. Where’s the creativity? The finesse?"

BJ grinned now, clearly enjoying where he suspected this was about to go. "She has a point. I was expecting more from the great Hawkeye Pierce."

"Excuse me, but who made you the arbiter of pranking genius," Hawkeye shot back, folding his arms.

Josie shrugged. "I’m just saying, for someone who’s supposed to be the prank king, this is pretty underwhelming."

Hawkeye straightened. "Oh, so you think you could do better?"

"Without breaking a sweat," Josie replied, a bit too smug for his liking.

BJ leaned back on his cot, his grin widening. "I think you’ve met your match, Hawk."

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes at Josie, his brain already working on a retort. Then, with a sly smile, he said, "Alright, Collins. Let’s see what you’ve got. Starting tomorrow, we’ll find out who the real prank master is."

Josie tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Fine," she agreed casually. "But don’t cry when I leave you in the dust."

"Oh, it’s on," Hawkeye replied, already cooking up some of his best prank ideas yet.

The War Begins

By sunrise, the 4077th was already buzzing with anticipation. News of the impending prank war had spread like wildfire, and the camp’s personnel began taking bets on who would come out on top. Klinger acted as the unofficial bookie, his clipboard overflowing with wagers.

"You’ve got this, Josie," Margaret Houlihan said, slipping Josie a confident nod as they passed in the mess tent. "Someone needs to knock Pierce off his high horse."

Josie grinned. "I’ll do my best, Major."

The first strike came during breakfast. Hawkeye had replaced the sugar in Josie’s coffee tin with salt. The moment she took a sip, her face twisted in revulsion. Across the room, Hawkeye doubled over in laughter.

"Well played," Josie admitted, setting the cup down and wiping her mouth. "But that’s just round one."

Later that day, Josie retaliated. While Hawkeye was preoccupied at lunch, Josie slipped out, donned a pair of surgical gloves and whipped up a homemade concoction of itching powder, rubbing it onto Hawkeye's soap.

She was back in the mess tent before Hawkeye finished eating, and she grinned to herself. He would be having a very unpleasant shower that evening, and she’d come out on top for the day.

As evening rolled around, Josie found out just how right she was. Hawkeye came out of the shower, towel around his waist and itching himself silly. "Collins," he bellowed. Josie didn’t even have to make an appearance, she simply sat in her tent and laughed. Round one was hers, and everyone knew it. Some more members of camp even started putting their money on her.

The Escalation

As the week progressed, the pranks became increasingly elaborate. By the end of the second day, the camp was in an uproar. Hawkeye had rigged Josie’s tent door with a bucket of water, drenching her as she stepped outside that morning.

Josie retaliated by filling Hawkeye’s boots with mashed potatoes. Determined to act unfazed, he wore them into the mess tent at dinner time, causing the place to erupt into laughter when he pulled out a spoon and started shoveling the potatoes out. Day two had gone in his favor.

But the stakes continued to rise. Josie replaced the gin in the Swamp’s still with water, much to the horror of both Hawkeye and BJ. Hawkeye countered by sewing the sleeves of Josie’s scrubs shut, leaving her fumbling for scissors before assisting with her next surgery.

The camp was in hysterics. Even Colonel Potter, who usually turned a blind eye to the unit’s antics, couldn’t hide his amusement. "This is the kind of nonsense that keeps morale up," he said to Radar, "but make sure those two stop by my office so they don’t get to taking it too far."

"You got it, sir!"

When the message got to the two of them that Potter wanted to see them, they thought their war was about to come to an early end, and so they resorted to swatting at each other and blaming the other for going too far and landing them in hot water.

As it happened, that wasn’t exactly the case. "I know you two think this is all in good fun," he said, "but if this war of yours interferes with patient care, you’ll both be scrubbing the latrines for a month."

"Yes, sir," Josie and Hawkeye said in unison, though neither had any intention of backing down.

The Big One

The turning point came on a humid Thursday afternoon after nearly a week's worth of pranks, big and small alike. Hawkeye had been unusually quiet the day before, which immediately put Josie on edge. She knew he must be planning something big.

The trap was sprung during lunch. As Josie sat down with her tray, the bench beneath her collapsed, sending her sprawling to the ground, her food on top of her. It may have been hardly edible, but she’d rather eat it than wear it. The mess tent broke out in laughter, with Hawkeye leading the charge. She’d have to be more careful if he planned on pulling anything else today.

"Nice try, Collins," he said, smirking like he’d won, as he offered her a hand.

Though she accepted his help up, Josie wasn’t defeated. That night, while the camp slept, she executed her coup de grâce, with a little help from Radar and cooperation from BJ.

When Hawkeye woke the next morning, he found himself surrounded by chickens. Dozens of them, clucking and flapping in the confined space of the Swamp. His cot, his belongings, even his beloved Hawaiian shirt were covered in feathers.

"Collins," he shouted, stumbling out of the tent, a particularly disgruntled hen nearly tripping him up as he did so.

Josie stood outside, arms crossed, a triumphant grin on her face. "What’s the matter, Pierce? You look a little…ruffled."

The camp was bursting at the seems with laughter this time, with Klinger nearly choking on his cigar as he counted the chickens as they poured out of the Swamp. How she’d managed to get a dozen of them in there was a feat not even he could imagine matching.

"That’s it," Hawkeye declared, raising his hands in surrender. "I concede. You win."

"Glad you see things my way," Josie replied, smirking as she walked away.

Aftermath

By nightfall, the prank war had become the stuff of legend, something the members of the 4077th would tell to their children years from now. Josie Collins was crowned the unofficial prank master, her victory celebrated with cheers and a round of drinks at Rosie's.

"Admit it," Josie said later that night, sitting with Hawkeye by the still, feathers still littering the Swamp. "You didn’t think I had it in me."

Hawkeye took a sip of his drink, a begrudging smile on his face. "I’ll admit, I underestimated you. But don’t get too comfortable, Pussycat. Next time, I’ll be ready."

"Next time?" Josie raised an eyebrow. "You’re a glutton for punishment, Hawk."

"Maybe," Hawkeye said with a grin. "But at least I have a worthy adversary."

Josie clinked her glass against his. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

As the moon rose over the 4077th, the two pranksters sat in companionable silence, plotting their next moves, because in the chaos of war, a little laughter went a long way.

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @immyowndefender

[omg-dragon-age]

I honestly can’t with all these…. PEOPLE… crawling out of the woodwork and sneering at the trailers and art for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Like who are you again?? Why don’t I know your handle? Ohhh, that’s right, you sampled Dragon Age in between your Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty careers and now you think because you also played five minutes of Skyrim and downloaded Elden Ring that you’re now some kind of dark fantasy RPG expert and that anything out of your silly, silly head is actually worth the pixels it takes up on a screen.

Like I won’t even talk to you if you’ve less than 100 hours in Dragon Age, because those are the try-hards and wannabes crying about cartoon art and insisting the Veilguard is going to flop as hard as Anthem. “It doesn’t look like Dragon Age”. Bitch how would you know? It’s like looking at someone’s silhouette and then complaining their photo doesn’t look the same.

Unless you’ve:

Done at least one completionist run of each of the three games (yes all the shards, goddammit)

Read all of the novels

Read World of Thedas Volumes I and II

Can recreate a map of Ostwick, Orzammar or Skyhold without consulting a reference

Can name each companion from all three games without consulting a reference, and

Have at least 100 GB of screenshots and videos across the games

… then I cannot have a conversation about Dragon Age: The Veilguard with you. We’re not going to be able to see each other’s vantage point. It’d be like a native speaker discussing the intricacies of their language with someone who only knows how to say “I’m hungry”, count to 3, and a bunch of random swears in that language. Pointless.

Ask me about any of the other games, books, videos, lore, I’ll happily share what I know and delight in your latest discovery! But I don’t want to talk about The Veilguard unless you’re on my tier with all the other rabid lore theorists and 800 hour plussers , because there’s a bunch of us and we’re fine without your opinion