#and yet all I am right now is just.... blah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowersforbucky · 6 months ago

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i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #worst!logan x reader #worst!logan #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett imagine #logan #logan howlett one-shot #logan howlett one shot #logan howlett fic #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool 3

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elysiality · 2 months ago

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-⋆˚꩜｡ synopsis — ever since the knife incident, Shauna's been latched onto you like a leech hungry for blood. as annoying as this is, an opportunity for escape presents itself in the form of your girlfriend, Nat. you let yourself indulge in malicious compliance with what 'It' wills. (requested part 2 to Wolf In the Headlights)

TRICK OR TREAT —

★ natalie scatorccio and shauna shipman. (PT.2 to W.I.T.H.)

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, grinning widely as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' "

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

-⋆˚꩜｡ content contains — fem! reader, yellowjackets typical antics, yellowjackets season 3 spoilers, shauna shipman being shauna shipman, marriage blood rituals (no, you're not reading this wrong), infidelity but not really??? blood, blah blah blah, you know the drill, I am not a botanist chat, consensual (ish) drugging, clap if you're surprised, blood drinking, suggestive-ish?? wow this is long—

══════════════════════════

ever since the knife incident™, you were under the, quite frankly, delusional impression that maybe Shauna would leave you alone now. maybe, just maybe, you and Nat could now live out the rest of your miserable, definitely shortened lifespan without the imposing influence of America's First Female Dictator (trademark pending).

as you might've guessed, that was not the case. if anything, she's just gotten even more annoyingly clingy and paranoid now— you didn't even know that was possible.

the whole 'good dog' comment was a spur of the moment thing. the most condescending, degrading insult you could think of at the moment (granted, not a very creative one). she took it to heart, as luck would have it.

she goes everywhere you go.

you're trying to do your chores? she's right next to you— not helping, but watching you do your work, sharpening that darn knife of hers like it wouldn't cut through diamond at this point.

try to sneak off with Nat for a secret, much needed makeout session? she pops out of seemingly nowhere, her footsteps blending in with the rustling of the trees, and completely ruins the vibe by scaring the living daylights out of the two of you.

it'd gotten to the point where you considered joining Lottie's weird wilderness cult to escape her— the one thing Shauna refuses to touch with a ten-foot pole.

unfortunately, Nat was on Shauna's side with that one, so that idea was completely vetoed. in her words, 'joining a cult is all fun and games until you realise that you can't leave'. you can't help but agree.

Shauna's 'affection' (heavy air quotes on that) isn't just limited to stalking either. she's been trying to show off for you— and by that, I mean that she's been showing off. plain and simple.

if she walked around like she had a stick up her ass before, there's an entire tree up there now. her favourite pastimes (since she was freed from butcher duty once she became queen) now include (but aren't limited to):

poking fun at Nat every chance she gets (expected, but disappointing nonetheless),

alternating between sneering at the will of the wilderness and fully supporting whatever It wills as long as it involves violence,

hitting on you like it's her full time job instead of actually trying to lead the group,

turning down Melissa's advances, thoroughly confusing the poor girl who she made out with less than a week ago, and finally—

running a full blown dictatorship with hut searches, body patdowns every morning (and she does yours personally), etc and relishing in the fact that no one can tell her to stop.

you're actually not quite sure why none of you have tried to impeach your 'queen' yet. you've brought up the topic with Nat in your hut before lights out almost every day, and every day she gives you the same answer— "She sees through our bullshit. We need a foolproof plan before we try to pull anything on her."

even worse, Hannah killed the guide dude. y'know, your pathway back home? yeah. so now she's in with the group and besties with Shauna, apparently. typical. homicidal murderers stay together, as you had remarked to Nat. you both chose to ignore the hypocrisy in that sentence.

so that's been your life now for the past couple of weeks. the days have been getting colder, and with it, everyone has been getting antsier.

Akilah has started frantically trying to breed out the animals as quickly as possible. small groups of two or three go out deeper and deeper into the woods every day to try to salvage whatever herbs and fruits they can find and possibly bring back their seeds. the animals have started retreating deeper. you've managed to skin and gut enough of them to get a decent supply of meat and warm fur, but it's not enough. it's still not enough.

inevitably, what you've been dreading will happen. winter will come and pass. your numbers will grow smaller and the pile of corpses will grow larger. who knows, maybe yours will be among them?

these were the wonderful thoughts that have been floating around in your head for the past week or so.

then came your salvation. Nat dragged you into your hut one night, claiming that she wanted to hit the hay early— odd, considering that she usually stayed up for hours on end after the sun went down (which signalled lights off, given that not one of you apparently thought to bring a watch with you to nationals), but you went with it. the days have been draining you of whatever little energy you did have.

to your surprise, what you expected to be an hour long cuddle session before falling asleep turned out to be a surreptitious strategy meeting. Gen, Robin, Melissa, Mari, Akilah, Van, Tai and even Misty piled into your tiny, cramped hut one by one.

"We needed to get you away from Shauna." Gen explains in a low voice, setting the torch down in its makeshift torch holder. Nat's jaw clenches. "She follows you everywhere. She has this nasty habit of sticking around our hut every night to make sure we aren't plotting against her."

your eyebrows raise just slightly. "Well I can't really say I'm surprised. So what changed tonight?"

Gen nods to Akilah. "Lottie tired her out today", Akilah tells you, her voice hushed as she glances around nervously. "I told her that I had a vision that Shauna would be our salvation. She basically forced Shauna out of her hut and took her to the woods to spend some quality time with her."

"Probably exchanging notes on how to piss us all off with tales of the wilderness and it's hunger for violence." Mari remarks to some nervous giggles.

"And you're sure she's asleep?" you ask, shifting backwards so that you're leaning against Nat, folding your legs in to make room for everyone else.

"We drugged her." Tai holds up a bunch of leaves you can't put a name to. you frown. you've seen some patches of these around your usual snare areas. "Akilah recognised these from her time with the Girl Scouts. We mixed it into her share of the berry juice. They made her sleepier. Van and I had to carry her to her hut. She was out like a light before we even set her down."

"She actually trusted you enough to drink it?", you ask, aghast. this was the same Shauna who had once threatened Robin at knife point to the point of tears because her stew was slightly off-colour. turns out, Mari had put in some natural laxatives in hers, just out of pettiness. they turned the stew a darker colour. she served a week on latrine duty for pulling that one.

"Well, yes, under normal circumstances she would've probably forced it down my throat, can, juice and all—", Van admits, her head drooping onto Tai's shoulder, "but I drank some of it in front of her to convince her. I don't think we fully got there but she was too tired to protest."

"And Lottie?", you persist. usually she's more on neutral territory, but she seems to have joined the Shauna Shipman hype train when she got the chance.

"Already taken care of." Tai replies, tucking Van's now sleeping head under her chin. "She accepted the juice without giving us any problems." "She likes sleeping early at night anyway." Akilah adds. "She likes the clarity the dreamless sleep gives her."

"Course she does." Nat snorts.

you're filled in on the plan, the girls enthusiastically rapid-firing their strategy at you. you're surprised to hear about the satellite cell thing from a suspiciously quiet, red-in-the-face Misty. Nat keeps glaring at her every now and then. you're not sure why.

with each word that leaves their lips, your heart becomes lighter and lighter. a way to get home. away from the wilderness. away from It. away from this rag-tag village made by teenage girls with not a single complete high school education between them and a body count that grows with each passing day.

"So...you in?" Nat asks finally, when all the girls have extinguished their frenetic explanations.

It's a no-brainer— you're getting good at those.

"Yes.", you reply immediately. "Hell yes. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of her." you get sympathetic nods. "I just— need to get away from her."

Misty holds up a finger. "But- wait. There is...a crucial role for you to play in the plan..", she explains nervously, looking around for support. everyone else determinedly avoids eye contact. she sighs dejectedly.

you're grateful that Shauna sleeps deeply when she does. you would've given the game away with the explosive reaction you had to the role you were assigned.

the next morning, you tramp out of your hut, steaming mad. Nat follows behind you, yelling after you and cussing loudly. you make as loud a ruckus as you can. sure enough, Shauna is stomping out of her own hut in half a minute, gun slung over her shoulder, hair tousled from sleep, her face twisted in annoyance and just the slightest hint of intrigue.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Nat snarls as you stomp off towards the animal pen. she grabs your arm roughly, spinning you around to face her dark eyes.. "— hey! I'm talking to you."

sure enough, Shauna storms up to Nat like a knight in blood stained flannel, shoving her off of you by the collar of her shirt. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Shauna hisses, advancing on Nat threateningly. one finger strokes the strap of her gun menacingly and Nat backs up a bit.

Nat eyes her gun for a bit and decides she wants nothing to do with that. "I'm gonna go check on the snares." she announces loudly. then, she shoots you a withering glare. "If there's any left."

she storms off towards the forest bordering the village, leaving a trail of literal dust fuming behind her. you cough as you wave it out of your face.

Shauna turns to you. "The hell was that about?", she asks. her tone is even enough, but you can glean the excitement in her eyes, the vehement tapping of her fingers against her chest.

you roll your eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." Shauna groans in frustration. you start to imitate Nat, storming towards your hut, but she catches your wrist, spinning you around to face her again. her face is set in annoyance.

"It's not fucking nothing. Your beloved girlfriend, who was being a complete doormat for you like two days ago, is now starting fights with you at— like, the asscrack of dawn.", she snarls, her tone holding just the slightest hint of jealousy. "Now you're gonna tell me what's going on. Or so help me god, you're gonna pay for it."

god. she sounds like a corny stuckup villain from one of those archaic movies your parents used to watch. you think. you might just be making that up. you can't remember the last time you watched a movie.

you huff, kicking around the pebbles on the ground with the tip of your boot, muttering incomprehensible curses before giving in. "Yesterday, Nat couldn't sleep at night. She decided to break curfew and go check on some of the nets we strung up around those berry patches Gen found. They were completely ripped to shreds."

you pause for dramatic effect, looking at Shauna, who's hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. like a moth drawn to a flame.

"She thinks I did it because Gen had an 'alibi' as she says." "Couldn't it have been an animal?" Shauna asks, slightly confused. "That's what I said!" you say impatiently. "But she shut me down which lead to the catfight you just saw."

you plop down on one of the chopped logs glumly, picking at your dirty nails. the perfect bait. she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. Shauna stands over you for a quiet second, stock still, then— "Come to the lake with me."

you look up, surprised at the suggestion. "The lake?" she nods, her pale cheeks flushing an unusual shade of vermillion. she shuffles on the spot, rubbing the back of her neck. "I drew the four today. I'm going to take the bucket downstream, but I need help. We need water for the animal pen too."

you eye her suspiciously. "And how do I know you're not just trying to take me out and shoot me or try to drown me or something?"

she laughs at that, a low, raspy sound that sends tingles down your spine. you're unsure of whether it's in a good way or a 'i should run way'. knowing Shauna for as long as you have, probably the latter.

she leans down your eye level, cupping your face, stroking your cheek. the calloused pad of her thumb traces the scar at the corner of your lip, the one you got from the plane crash.

"Don't worry about that, kitty-cat. You're too interesting to kill just yet."

you snort derisively at the nickname but you don't look away from her, maintaining fierce eye contact. she grins approvingly.

for the next couple of weeks, the cycle continues. Nat pisses you off more and more, pussies out on any dates you planned with her in front of the others, you go running to Shauna's arms, who smugly accepts your clingy affection. this seems to grate on Nat's nerves extraordinarily well, and she drifts apart from you further and further each day, much to Shauna's satisfaction.

you wake up one morning after a particularly explosive argument with Nat, surveyed by an incredibly tired Shauna. she'd stormed off to the woods at sunrise and you'd promptly fallen back asleep, completely unbothered. Shauna stayed with you until you did, stroking your hair. it's too early to ruminate in the miseries of your failing relationship.

as luck would have it, your beauty nap is rudely interrupted by a loud clanging coming from outside. your stick hut is unfortunately not a very good sun filter so you have to blink rapidly a couple of times as you sit up to clear your vision.

you frown as you see that the entire community is already awake and moving about outside, seemingly hard at work. you throw off your drab blanket, quickly changing into something subjectively presentable before trudging outside at a slothish pace.

your jaw drops the second you step out. your previously drab village now looks like the Halloween isle at Target just threw up over it. or well, it would, if all the decorations didn't look like they were made by three year olds. your friends aren't artists, clearly.

streamers, fake cobwebs, orange and purple spiders (did they use berry juice for dye??) are mounted on every hut. at the dinner table, a couple of the girls and Travis are using textbook paper (you had ample of those on hand, given that your school insisted that all students carry their study material to nationals— you thank your lucky stars) to make more spiders, paper pumpkins and just about every other decoration you can think off.

your eyebrows furrow in utter disbelief. Tai shoots you a grimace from where she's making bloodred berry wine, talking in hushed voices with an annoyed Mari, who looks like someone just pissed in her stew.

you scan the site for Shauna and see her out of the corner of your eye— putting fucking devil horns made of her own notebook pages and meticulously coloured in red onto the decapitated head of the necrotic guide.

you make your way to her, weaving through the chattering girls, wondering if you're stuck in a dream. you crash into several people several times which only confirms the reality of your situation.

Shauna looks up as she hears you approaching. she's looking quite pleased with herself, taking a step back, admiring the rather lopsided horns with pride. “Check it out.”, she says eagerly. “I used some of the cellulose from the plants to make glue. Smart, right?”

you cut to the chase immediately. “Shauna, what the fuck is going on?”, you ask. “Why does it look like we're trying to put on a Wilderness rendition of ‘Friday the 13th’?”

she stares at you, as if a bit confused. like you've just asked her why you weren't back home right now. “Halloween.” she says in a tone that clearly has an undercurrent of a sassy ‘duh’ to it.

“Okay, assuming it was even remotely around Halloween time, which it isn't, what's with all the decorations?” you press impatiently. “We're wasting resources.”

she squints her eyes at you, slight concern on her face. “Do you not know what Halloween is? Have you forgotten that much about civiliziation?”

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, face stretching into a grin as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' “

“No, my point is— why now? We've never celebrated— I don't know, Easter or Valentine's day—”

“We celebrated Easter.”

“With berries. And I'm pretty sure they were the poisoned ones. And we only found like— two.”

"It's the thought that counts."

she shrugs. then she turns to look at you. “If you really want to know, I'm doing this because Halloween is your favourite holiday.”

you're taken aback by that statement. you'd expected a ‘just because’ or maybe ‘i decided to join Lottie’s cult and this is a ritual to show our appreciation for the gifts of the wilderness’ (although that theory is quite the stretch). not this surprising display of thoughtfulness from Shauna.

“You're actually thinking about someone that's not yourself?” you say in disbelief, concern leaking into your tone. “Are you gonna sacrifice yourself to the voodoo forest gods or something?”

she huffs, wiping her juice-caked hands on a nearby rag that could've been a handkerchief or animal skin— you've stopped being choosy about two cannibalistic instances back. “Well you don't have to sound so surprised about it.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, I really do—” you start off, but she cuts you off impatiently as she chucks the rag onto a passing by Gen. “Trick or treat?”

you stare at her, miffed. “What?”

“Trick or treat?”, she repeats, stepping closer to you.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I don't know. Pick one.”

“Well- well treat, obviously. I don't fancy being jumped or something.” you stammer out, surprised at the abrupt question.

she smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you jerk back, heat rushing to your cheeks despite your best efforts to control the reactions of your face.

“Good choice.” she says approvingly, starting to walk away.

“Wait! What's my treat?”, you call after her, confused at the mixed signals she's sending you— the mixed signals being wondering whether she was flirting with you or severely plotting to murder you in your sleep. knowing her, the latter is quite likely.

she turns back and grins at you. “Wait till winter comes!” with that, she struts off, presumably to lord over Mari for fun.

the rest of the evening is…surprisingly cheerful? you feast on Coach’s remains (rest in pieces) as well as some of the last fruits of the season, talking and laughing.

everyone had a makeshift costume. it was fun to get resourceful, for them, at least. you weren't feeling very creative (when are you ever, really?) so you just put some paper horns on one of Gen’s headbands and passed it off as the devil. Shauna matched you, guiding you far far away from Nat, who had ironically dressed as your opposite— an angel.

you go to sleep hungover and curled up in Shauna's arms, your now official residence. Nat gets her own hut again. just like she always wanted.

the rest of the week counting down to winter pass by in a blur of prepping, piling on clothes and reevaluating your plan, over and over again. you wake up on winter morning, a pit of dread in your stomach, your body cold without Shauna next to you.

you hear the scream— shrill, loud and full of grief. shivers run down your spine and you wince as you pull on your multiple layers of clothing, dashing out of your hut to the animal pen, where Akilah sobs over the corpses of her babies. everyone gathers around her silently, looking down at the sprawl of your only food source, now dead and completely worthless.

it happens so quickly. the decision to hunt. the card drawing. you read them like books.

you pick up your mask— a fox mask. fitting. you grab the nearest weapon— a knife, and charge after poor Mari, wiping your stinging eyes as you do. Shauna is on your tail, marking you closely. something about it reminds you of the last soccer practice you ever had. the same collaboration. being able to predict each other's moves to work in harmony.

when you reach a copse of trees that bends into a fork, you see your opportunity. you turn to Shauna, who's scanning the woods with the precision and intent of a predator, starving for air. god, you are not athletic. “We should split up.” she immediately turns her gaze to you, her eyes wild and fierce. “No.”

it's a simple, one word command. an order to back down. as established before, you're not one to cower before her. you stand your ground.

“We should split up.”, you insist. “We'll have better chances of finding her. I'll reconvene with you at the village when the horn sounds.”

she grips onto your wrist tightly, no doubt leaving marks that will bloom into bruises tomorrow. her eyes lock onto yours. she's trying to psych you out.

but you've been here before— and won. you stare right back. you know you can wait her out. you have no interest in hunting down your friend. she, however, is losing precious hunting time and the annoyance is showing through her body language as the mist from her ragged breathing starts to get denser and denser with each passing second.

she gets off on the thrill. she can't live without it.

finally, she breaks the eye contact, groaning as she flips wisps of her sodden hair out of her macilent face.

she lets go of your wrist, glaring at you like you were the one that killed Jackie. “Fine.”, she spits out. “But if you don't come back to the village immediately after the horn sounds, I'm coming back to find you myself.”

she presses a kiss to your jaw that's more possessive than anything, before taking a left down the trail left by the snow, her boots trampling through the heavy white ground.

you head in the opposite direction at first, taking the right ‘path’, knife held aloft as if ready to strike. the second she's out of sight and you've sufficiently disguised yourself among the trees, you turn back and follow her discretely, keeping your distance.

she prowls through the trees, her footsteps soft on the snow, barely making a sound. her head twitches with the slightest noise, her hand resting protectively on her dagger. her eyes scan the vast landscape, searching, hunting. a wolf.

'run', you find yourself thinking desperately. 'run, Mari'. there's no way she'll survive out here even if she does escape. no food, no water, no warmth. murder is more merciful.

but you hope that if she truly does have to die, it's a mercy killing. that she comes face to face with one of her friends, who'll hold her hand as she bleeds out in their arms, who'll comfort her in the throes of the end of her life.

not Shauna. never Shauna.

you watch as Shauna discovers Mari’s clothes— her coat, her pants, her socks. poor Mari is now freezing cold, stripped down to her unders, running from your pack of wolves— and, you think, as you notice the red droplets on the ground leading away from the discarded rags, bleeding.

Shauna’s face changes from a confused grimace to a callous look of victory, a small smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

something creeps up on you at that exact moment. a shadow of lingering anger that's always been there. resentment towards her— for everything, basically.

for killing Jackie.

for being enraged at the world for her baby not surviving and then taking it out on everyone.

for twisting her righteous grief into something dark and malicious that manifested in every terrible way possible.

all thoughts of the plan are abandoned as you watch the cantankerous girl trudge through the snow, looking straight ahead— as though she can smell the bloody trail Mari is no doubt still leaving behind. you snap off a branch, thick and heavy, from one of the nearby trees. you're hot with the blinding urge to punish. to make it sting.

she stops dead in her tracks, jerking awkwardly. she can sense something. she's not dumb, far from it. she's always had a sixth sense for these kinds of things— Jackie’s death, the fire, everything.

Shauna stands stock still, perturbed by sudden silence, the air of a foreboding omen lingering around her. you can see her grip on her knife tighten. you watch from behind a tree, eyes locked onto the two, faint red scars on her neck. your markings.

you don't think any longer. you charge her, so fast that she barely has time to blink before you're on her. her knife is once again knocked far far away from her hands, landing somewhere in the snow where you can't be bothered to look for it.

you're back in that position. straddling her waist, pinning her wrist down with your free hand, the other holding something to her throat. only, this time, you don't hesitate.

you press down with the branch, hard. she starts choking. “We've- been here- before…”, she chokes out, but she's smiling. her eyes glint with an emotion akin to pride. “Yeah. We have.” you pant out, furious that she's still able to talk.

she's coughing now. her air column is slowly being cut off, her lungs struggling for life. you can feel it. every single movement of her body underneath you, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her body frantically tries to get her the oxygen she needs.

“Old- habits die— hard, huh?” she chuckles out, but it's weak, pathetic. it lacks any of the caustic nature it usually holds

. you press harder. you've always thought the phrase ‘seeing red’ was a poorly described metaphor for being a total cornball— you think you know what that feels like now.

the grin on her face is fucking infuriating. with each pass of your eyes over her ecstatic face, the press of the branch against her throat becomes tighter.

you're vaguely aware of the horn sounding in the distance. you don't care. Mari is dead. if not her then another one of your friends. just another reason to kill her.

her face is turning blue now. her eyes flash with just the slightest hint of fear when she realises— you aren't stopping.

you don't intend to either. you want her gone. you want to feel her squirm and gasp for air under you, like poor Javi. like Mari. like everyone she ever left for the dead. to feel her pulse slow down, to see those earthy eyes glaze over as they stop seeing your enraged face, to see her stop feeling.

she's staring to panic now. her knife hand, which was previously holding onto the branch, pulling it closer, now struggles against the force you're using.

“Y-you know this isn't gonna do anything f-for you, right?” she wheezes out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the back of your own.

you count down the seconds till she stops breathing. the end is inexorable for her now. 10…9…8….

“She's already- already d-dead…”

her voice is getting weaker now, just a little above a hoarse whisper. 7….6…..5..

“You- you're just so…..fascinating…a-aren’t you?”

any second now, she'll die. you'll never have to deal with her again. 4…..3…2… almost...almost...—

“You're jus-just like me…for this…y'know that?”

with that, she pulls you down into a kiss, breathing her last breaths into your mouth as you gasp into it.

fucking hell. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. of all the bullshit in the world, that's what stops you.

you immediately yank your mouth away from hers, her freezing cold lips slowly turning pink from the warmth of the kiss.

you pull the branch away from her throat, just slightly. she immediately gasps for air, letting it fill her parched lungs again.

she smiles weakly at you, her face completely drained of its vivid colour. infuriating. you feel like giving up all morals and just throttling her.

instead, you roll off of her, throwing aside your branch. you both sit up, panting for completely different reasons. you look over at her from the corner of your eye as you rub the blisters starting to form on your palms.

her cheeks are now flushed red, her eyes sparkling in a way that you've only see them do when she was around Jackie. she's smiling uncontrollably, like a teenage girl with a puppy crush— which is, in hindsight, exactly what she is.

only, you aren't sure any other teenage girl with a crush in the outside world would be grinning like a lovesick fool after nearly getting strangled to death by the receiver of their affections.

“You're a sick fuck.” you spit out, rage making your voice shake. “I'll never be anything like you.”

Shauna grins at you cheekily, winking as she presses her palm gently against her sore, reddened throat. “You're right. You aren't anything like me. I would've gone for the kill, kitty-cat.”

you get up and stalk off, moving with as much agility as you can, your feet finding purchase in the snow. you don't have to look to know she's right on your heels. you wouldn't be surprised if she was skipping after you at this point. you don't turn to confirm your suspicions.

you find the other girls hovering over a pit in the ground. the lump in your throat is back as you survey the scene. Mari lies in pieces, impaled on spikes, in just her grimy, once white, tunic, her body completely stained in blood.

you wipe the stray tear that slips down your cheek, holding back the torrent of sobs that are stuck in your throat.

Mari, who was so excited to get back home and return to the land of creature comforts.

Mari, who saved Melissa when the guide shot her and had nursed her through the night, despite her clear dislike for her.

Mari, who had been cooking for all of you from day one, who secretly snuck you a couple extra rations when she noticed that you looked particularly malnourished.

Shauna steps up next to you, not half as emotional as you are. she examines Mari’s mangled corpse with the cold detachment that makes you shudder and want to slap some emotions, anything into her.

“Get her out of there.” she orders no one in particular, but the rest scramble to oblige anyway. you don't.

you watch, numb, as Gen and Melissa pull Mari out, letting Robin tie the knot on her leg to drag her along.

you hear quiet sniffles from beside you and turn to see Van, who looks about as devastated as you feel.

wordlessly, you hold out your arms to her for a hug. she accepts, trembling in your arms, warm tears dripping down your neck and soaking your shirt. you don't care, because you're crying too.

minutes later, Gen is leading the group back to the village as the designated navigator, the others in tow, dragging Mari’s corpse along and leaving a path in her blood.

you hang back at the very end of the group, walking slow, like a fly in amber. Lottie brings up the rear end, quiet as a mouse.

Shauna walks next to you, choosing not to comment on your languished pace, or on the tears streaming down your face that you hastily wipe away.

she rubs at the redness around her neck as she walks, hissing quietly under her breath from the friction burn. you silently take off your silk scarf and tie it around her neck. she thanks you. you, obviously, don't respond.

it's only after a few minutes of silent walking that the quiet becomes unbearable and you pipe up in a hoarse voice, “I'm sorry.”

Shauna chuckles dryly, turning her head to look at you, her steps becoming more like a strut. “No you're not.”

“No.” you agree. “I'm not.”

“The only regret I have is not finishing the job.”, you state flatly. She snickers. "As you should."

if Lottie finds this interaction odd, she doesn't let it be known. she's probably too busy foreseeing the divine future or whatever the fuck anyway. you wonder if she'd be able to foresee you poisoning her drink before it invetiably happens.

the unbearable silence stretches thick between the two of you again. you try to maintain that, but the urge to speak your mind is just as insufferable as the silence.

“It didn't have to be this way.” you grit out. “The hunt, I mean.”

Shauna turns to you again, flashing you those wide brown eyes that purport a sense of innocence that she definitely does not have.

“Oh but sweetie, it's what the wilderness wanted.” she turns her head around to Lottie, who's perked up at the mention of her god. “Isn't that right, Lottie?”

Lottie nods slowly, but it's clear that her mind is far, far away. “Yes. It's what It wills. It had to happen—”

"Oh can it, Lottie." you snap at her. she immediately defers, silently drifting back into her own thoughts.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly. “Bullshit. You don't even have faith in that.”

Shauna shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe I'm changing my ways.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”, you reply immediately.

“Then you know me pretty damn well.”

“And the hunt had to happen.” Shauna continues without a hint of remorse. her voice rises, but the others in front of you don't react. not a twitch, nothing. you suppose they don't want to be next.

“It's crucial to our survival.”

you narrow your eyes at that, your tone zealous. “And we couldn't have gone— I don't know, berry hunting?”

Shauna simply shakes her head, taking off her hat— Javi’s hat. “No. Death is essential to this place. We need to feed It blood. And she would've died anyway. She wasn't strong enough to survive out here. Natural selection works the way it's supposed to.”

you stop in your tracks, gawking at her. she stops you, calmly mirroring your movements.

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?” you ask, trying to hide the consternation coursing through every fibre of your being, every vein pulsing in your body, ever muscle stretched taut.

“You tell me. Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?”

the unsettling tone in which she said it, a cold statement utterly lacking human compassion, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and causes your skin to prickle in a way that has you frantically rubbing at it through the bulky fabric of your clothes.

if you found it unsettling, Lottie must've thought she was in a living nightmare. you hear a small gasp behind you and turn just in time to see the tall, slender girl crumple into a heap on the forest floor, her mouth gaping wide open.

“Lottie!” you rush to her side, dropping to your knees and she stirs, completely and utterly dazed. you pull her head onto your lap as Shauna stares at the two of you in complete disdain.

“I'm- I'm fine…”, Lottie tries to tell you, but her tattered voice tells you better.

you start to fan her as the others get ahead. Shauna just shrugs. “Keep up.” she walks off to join the others without looking back.

you flip off her back and help Lottie get back on her feet. she stares after Shauna’s retreating figure almost reverently, before turning to you and giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen from her.

it unsettles you immediately, and also makes you feel small— like she's a pre-school teacher watching you stumble over your ABCs. you silently help her to her feet and keep her balanced by letting her lean on your side.

the only sound for the rest of the trek is the quiet crunching of branches under shoes that ring out like gunshots in the silence.

they string her up by her feet like she's some fox they shot. not one of your friends, one of you.

it's all on Shauna's orders, of course, but that doesn't mean that you don't feel sick to your stomach when you see Mari’s glazed over eyes staring at nothing, a gaping hole in her cheek, her dark hair shrouding her face like a veil.

Shauna pulls out her knife, surveying the group for a victim, someone to fill her previous shoes. your stomach drops as her eyes lock onto you.

she glides towards you, a small smile on her face. she kisses your forehead lovingly and then pushes you out of her way, holding out the knife to the trembling girl in the pink hood.

“Natalie. Please, do the honours.” Shauna drops the knife into her trembling hands, and she grips onto it like a vice, turning it over unsteadily in her hands.

“The Wilderness has made its choice clear.” Shauna announces to the group. she scans them, waiting for any objection. none comes. Shauna turns back to the girl, her eyes gleaming with arrogance. “Prepare her for tonight. And when it's done, bring me her hair.”

you can't stand it. the girl's dark eyes look up to meet yours, terrified and shadowed by black powder. you choke down your fear, taking a firm step forward. “I'll help her.”

Shauna turns her head to you sharply and for a second, an uneasy sensation creeps down your spine. but then she smiles, shaking her head. “No. You're coming with me.”

she doesn't give you time to argue, taking your hand in hers. she bends down, brushing her cool lips over the back of your hand. “C’mon.”

before you can squabble with her on the matter, she starts pulling you behind her, making her way to the little alcove right behind your village. Lottie follows behind silently, her eyes locked onto the back of your head.

the others retreat into their huts, ready to wash the blood off their hands to get ready for the feast tonight.

you try to speak multiple times, but she hushes you each time. finally, as you dig your heels into the (literal) muck and refuse to move, she sighs deeply. “You're finally getting your treat, kitty-cat. Try to show some more excitement, yeah?”

your treat? as in, from Halloween, a million years ago?

you're about to grill her for more details when she finally pulls you into the alcove trove and effectively gags you.

in front of you is a chopped tree log, one of the more common pieces of furniture around these parts. but what makes your jaw drop is what sits atop the log.

a gorgeous crown of roses rests on the log. a variety of shades of reds and whites threaded together into a single crown, tailored to fit your head exactly.

it somehow sparkles, the setting sun light reflected off each frail petal, fluttering in the breeze.

the delicate scent tickles your nostrils, a considerable improvement from what your poor nose has gotten used to smelling in all the time you've been here.

the cherry on top is what's attached to them. gorgeous white antlers— a hind’s, perhaps, have been attached to the stalks tying the roses together. they've been meticulously polished until they shine and have flowers draped over them, crocheted together by fine twine.

you stare in awe, shocked speechless. as horrifying as it is to be stuck in the woods, you'll admit that there's been no shortage of beauty when the landscape is concerned.

somehow, Shauna has managed to craft something— or gotten someone else to craft something, let's be real, so incredibly stunning that it takes your breath away.

you turn your head to Shauna, your eyes wide— and sparkling, you're sure. she has the widest, goofiest grin you've ever seen on someone set on her face, her own shining eyes gleaming with pride. you've never seen her look as happy when it's not a hunt.

“Holy shit….” you stutter out, breathless.

“You like?” she asks the obvious as you turn back to admire the crown, slinging herself over your back, tucking her chin onto your shoulder.

“Yes- yes- I- is this for…me?”, you ask almost petulantly, picking up the crown with an almost childlike wonder, turning it over.

“It will be. On one condition.”

you almost drop the crown at that, but you catch it just in time and set it down carefully, turning back to face her. her arms are looped around your waist and she shuffles you backwards till the back of your legs hit the log.

your mood immediately sours, eyes narrowing. “Oh, of course. I should've known. What's the catch?”

Shauna turns her head to look over her shoulder at Lottie, who you nearly forgot existed in your admiration for the crown.

she's leaning against the doorway calmly, apparently watching you in a way you're sure she thinks is serene. you think she's a peeping Tom.

she nods encouragingly at Shauna, who turns back to you giddily, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Well…I'm queen now. Of our village, I mean.” she adds as you raise your eyebrows. “And like all good queens, I need a consort. Someone to look pretty and rule by my side.”

she takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with her own slim ones, resting her forehead against yours. “I've been waiting for weeks to do this. I think it's fair to say your relationship with Natalie is old history.”

you spare her a noncommital grunt of acknowledgement, your heart giving a meek twang at her words.

“So I want you to be mine. You're perfect for me. We're perfect for each other…. And the others— they love you like they don't love me. I need them to listen.”

“So I'm essentially your P.R. marriage?”

“No.” she shakes her head. “I need you.” she rests her forehead against yours, inhaling your natural scent, unbothered by the musk.

Lottie pipes up, ruining the intimate moment completely, as she has done several times before. blue baller.

“And besides, it's what the wilderness wills.” she finally steps into the alcove. the sun lights up the back of her head, almost like it's giving her a halo. huh. maybe there is some truth to the whole ‘lottie is jesus’ rumour spreading around camp (by one, Marianna Sofia Ibarra, of course.)

her eyes display her excitement even as her voice stays even and steady. “Your marriage will be beneficial to our survival. I can see it.”

you hear a record scratch and immediately put a little distance between you and Shauna.

“Woah, woah. Hit the brakes. Let's circle back to that. Marriage?”

Shauna shrugs, pulling you back into her as she smiles again. “How else are you gonna be the crown princess?”

“Aren't- aren't we a little young for that?”, you peep feebly, melting into her touch despite yourself. you've been starved for affection since you moved out of Nat’s hut and for some reason, Shauna’s lavish love is like a drug— intoxicating and addicting.

“We're both 18. And I think we've lost all sense of societal norms long ago.” Shauna says pensively, peering into your eyes. “I'm serious. Marry me. I want you by my side.”

you look at her, then Lottie, then at the crown. then you chew your bottom lip and exhale deeply, making your final decision. sometimes, you have to take one for the team. and sometimes, that phrase means marrying a gorgeous, severely mentally ill teenage girl.

you nose your way into her neck, inhaling her scent. thankfully, Akilah had also learned how to make natural perfumes a while back. it was a purely accidental but welcome incident. it wasn't nearly enough to cover the long term stench seeping through your pores, from your very being, but it did its job well enough.

“Fine then. I'll be your wife.” you submit quietly.

Shauna lets out a sharp bark of a laugh as she accepts your hug, clinging onto your clothes, nails digging into your bag. such a dog…

and that's how you end up here. you're sitting across from Shauna, a little ways away from the campfire the others have started. Lottie sits in between you two, a torch in between the three of you illuminating her face.

you're dressed in clothes almost identical to Shauna’s. your robe is a little shorter, but loose and comfortable. Mari’s hair dangles from various folds of hers. her crown of antlers sit next to hers. she intends to put them on during the feast.

yours, meanwhile, is already on your head. heavy is the head that wears the crown— and boy was this damn crown heavy. the things you do to look like a good monarch…

Shauna is eerily silent. apparently, Lottie had offered to officiate your impromptu wedding, given that she was the voice of the Wilderness or whatever other title she's being called by at this point in time.

Lottie snaps you out of your thoughts as she picks up two cans of steaming hot tea, and passes them to you two.

you take a cautious sniff and wince. it's strong and saccharine smelling— not at all the scent of the meager tea you usually make.

Shauna, meanwhile, downs the entire cup in one go like she's taking a shot, without any hesitation.

“Is there something in this?”, you ask Lottie, who's closed her eyes like she's trying to gather her thoughts, cautiously.

both Lottie and Shauna turn their heads to you like you just committed blasphemy.

you bristle, scoffing defensively. “What?”

“Sweetie.” Shauna's tone is warning and she tilts her head at you just slightly. an order to shut your trap. “Drink.”

you bite your bottom lip to prevent the protest that was about to leave your mouth, instead downing the sweet drink without any further comments. there's no point in losing your motivation after you've nearly reached the finish line. Lottie hums approvingly.

you set the cup down on a nearby stick, watching it wobble precariously before predictably toppling over. neither Shauna nor Lottie seem to notice. or if they do, they don't care, they're quite preoccupied at the moment.

“Hold out your palms, please.” Lottie says in a soft tone that makes you feel like you're trying to summon a demon at an occult club meeting.

you do as she says and she places the back of your hand on top of Shauna, who loops her fingers through yours, squeezing encouragingly. she starts chanting something in French that you can't be bothered to rack your brains to translate.

your mind is just flashing with thoughts like ‘this is stupid’ when the tea hits. your world turns upside down while your posture is still erect and things start blurring in and out of vision. the flames of the torch start dancing, burning high and bright, reflecting Shauna’s glowing face in them.

okay then. so that tea was definitely spiked.

you're brought out of your haze when a sharp, stinging pain runs across your palm. you let out a quiet yelp of pain as your eyes struggle to focus on your hand. you register red. oh. you're bleeding.

Shauna is bleeding from her palm too. unlike you, she didn't make any dying animal noises, instead sitting still as a statue, patiently awaiting the next set of instructions from Lottie.

Lottie picks up your paln, pressing it down on Shauna’s wound. you stifle another yelp of pain, watching as your blood mingles with Shauna’s, dripping out onto the pale white snow.

you're sure there's something poetic to be said about this scene. you're too busy reeling from being drugged to think about haikus and limericks.

you wonder how you understand the French that Lottie is spouting suddenly and then realise that she's switched back to English. you squint your eyes to take a gander at Shauna and catch her eye. her eyes are hooded and her jaw is slack. she's just as high as you are.

“...and hence drink her blood, so that you may be bound to each other by the grace of the wilderness.” Lottie says breathlessly.

your body somehow moves on autopilot, knowing what is wanted of you. you raise your palm sluggishly to Shauna’s lips. she catches your wrist, pressing her mouth to your blood-soaked palm.

she licks a long stripe across the length of your cut, blood dribbling down her chin.

you swallow harshly as she lets out a low groan at the taste of your blood before dropping your hand. she makes no move to wipe the remaining blood from her mouth.

then, she returns the favour. she presses her palm to your lips. your tongue swipes at the cut experimentally. a tangy, metallic taste bursts on your tongue, making you drool.

that's probably the iron deficiency talking, you think slowly, struggling to comprehend— well, anything, really. it's like trying to talk when your face is stuffed full of marshmallows.

Shauna watches, entranced, as you slowly lap up her blood, some of the warm liquid splattering on the front of your robes. the hunger in her eyes grows as she does.

she hasn't eaten since morning, the small part of your brain that's yet to be infected by the drugged tea reasons. that's not what she's hungry for, replies the other.

finally, she drops her palm after extricating it from your grip— you had unconsciously been holding it to your face with both hands, and you stare at each other, riveted by the bloody, messy sight of other.

she has somehow never looked better than she does now, mouth covered in blood, earthen eyes locked onto yours, dark hair whipping about loosely in the wind. the earth moves on without you. you're trapped here, lost in her, dead to the world.

Lottie's chanting in French again. you squirm, feeling antsy, hungry. hungry for her, your brain supplies helpfully.

thankfully, she seems to be just as affected by this weird...mating ritual thing, as you are. her bleeding hand scrunches up snow and then lets it goz over and over again, till it looks like a bunny massacre has taken place at that particular spot.

finally, finally, Lottie switches back to English, delivering the words you've been waiting, dying to hear.

“By the power vested in me by the wilderness, you may now kiss your bride.”

this time, when Shauna leans forward and captures your blood stained lips in hers, a messy, open mouthed kiss, you respond back just as hungrily, desperately gripping the front of her robe to ground yourself as you do. you taste the tea on her tongue and can't help but smile against her lips.

she pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly. she rubs your cheek soothingly as a small whine leaves you, her other hand finding yours. she turns to look at Lottie, who's staring at her reverently again.

“Come. We have a feast to attend.”

Shauna stands up first, somehow not faltering even a little, her back completely rigid. she takes your hand in hers tepidly, getting you up on your feet.

you aren't as elegant as she is, stumbling forward, but she catches you with a casual ease— like she's been doing this all her life. it certainly feels like you've been hers all yours.

Lottie gets up last, holding the torch. she nods at you two and starts ahead, leading the path to the burning campfire, where Mari’s body is being prepared.

you're too high to remember the semantics of the night. the only thing you remember is being seated next to your wife, her hand looped in yours, her veil over her head, her antlers protruding through like the queen she was born to be, your subjects seated around you as they feasted on the body of your fallen comrade.

you fall asleep sometime during the feast. clearly, Shauna had ordered the others to not wake you, since when you wake up, you find that your head is her lap, sleeping in till the wee hours of the morning. the girls are clearing up the remains of the feast.

Shauna smiles down softly at you as you stir. she leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

you tense up just slightly before relaxing again. without the influence of drugs clouding your thoughts, you finally remember your aim again.

you roll over, forcing your body into a seated position, rubbing your eyes. “Mm. Don't tease your wife now.”

she laughs, a melodious sound that is completely uncharacteristic coming from her, but so natural too.

she once again holds onto your hand as you head back into the village, quietly looking at the rest of your friends. her grip is almost possessive now. you are hers now, you suppose.

you know what she's gonna do before she actually does it. she spots a familiar pink hood walking back to their hut and your eyes follow her line of sight just seconds too late. it doesn't even really matter.

she struts over confidently, spinning the girl around with the pride of a peacock before you can think to stop her.

your brain is still trying to recover from the after effects of being high out of your damn mind. your body feels light as a feather— but for a completely different reason.

you can't hear what Shauna’s saying, you make no move to either. you instead watch with vivid satisfaction as she taunts her to no avail, pulling her hood down to reveal Hannah.

she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide and furious as her brain slowly processes what's going on. you can practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS NATALIE?!” she screams as she whirls around to face the village, her voice shaking with anger and a touch of fear. perfect. just the way you like her.

the others emerge from their huts one by one— Tai, Van, Gen, Melissa, Travis— everyone. they all stare at her with a mixture of satisfaction and revulsion, refusing any explanations. they don't have to explain. the looks on their faces are telling enough.

her eyes lock onto you and then widen in betrayal. she knows that you had a role to play in this. about damn time that she realised.

“Shauna likes power. She won't jump in to save anyone— but she feels a claim over things that aren't hers.” Misty explains to you, her glasses making her eyes gleam in reflection of the torchlight.

or perhaps that's how she always looks. you're quite scared of her sometimes. “You need to weaponize that against her.”

you slowly start walking towards your ‘wife’, unable to resist the urge to deliver a villain monologue.

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that.” you start off wrly, smirking at her as you near her. “I thought you would've caught on immediately. It's why I was just the slightest bit hesitant of the plan at first.”

you lay your head on Nat’s lap, fiddling with the rough strands of blonde hair that's starting to fizz out as her roots show more and more. “And, you're sure you're fine with this?” you ask again, unable to hide the worry in your tone.

Nat laughs— a throaty, rough sound as her hands cup your upside down face, squishing. “Well, in normal circumstances, I would've ripped her fucking eyes out with that godamn knife of hers for even looking at you..”

she trails off to general giggles before continuing, “— but this is different. We- we actually have a chance. Of leaving this shit hole. Of getting home. And besides, I trust you.”

she leans down and kisses you— a tender, warm thing that fills your stomach with butterflies, like it always does. “So yeah. Fuck her if you need to. I know you'll always be mine anyway.”

“But I was pleasantly surprised when you let your guard down so easy. You really do have it bad for me, huh?”

you would've felt the slightest twinge of remorse for the hurt flashing in your eyes, did you not fiercely remind yourself that she was the reason you weren't cozied up with Natalie under a heated blanket right now.

you reach up for her face, stroking the gaunt lines of her cheekbones as you force her to look at you. “It's too late to clip her wings now. You can't stop her. She's long gone.”

you practically beam at the shattered look in her doe-like eyes, relishing in her shock as you remember all the times she's done the same to the others. you deliver the final blow— a death by a thousand cuts.

"You've grown quite predictable. I knew you'd turn out to be boring."

you press your lips to hers, humming as she stays stiff against you. then, your teeth graze the soft, plump flesh of her lips— and you bite down. hard.

she gasps, yanking herself away from you even as she starts to bleed, the red dripping down her chin and trickling into her robes.

you smile sadistically, squeezing her face with one hand to draw more blood. she hisses, drawing away from your touch like you've burned her. you roll your eyes. always the drama queen.

her eyes scan your face, looking for any hint of regret for doing this to her. she finds nothing.

you lick a droplet of her metallic blood from the corner of your mouth, swiping the rest off with your thumb.

then, you shoot her a sultry grin. just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker.”

────────────౨ৎ ────────────

a/n: I tried to shorten it but it didn't work— whatever ig. you get a long fic now ! yayayayay— also, this once again had a lot more shauna x reader than nat, that's mb yall

if you want a pt 3 to this, get back to me after s4 releases cuz I have ZERO ideas rn lmao

reminder that requests are open for all the Yellowjackets girls, dead or alive!

taglist: @jigglypufflashton

#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets #yj #yj season 3 spoilers #yj season 3 #yellowjackets x reader #wlw #shaunanat x reader #(๑>◡<๑) works !

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adeadcreator · 1 month ago

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hii ♡, first time requesting anything, so i'm a little bit nervous ( ＞Д＜；), but i love your work sm and id love to see this hc i thought about!

jojos reactions finding out the reader likes to make portraits of them but is always too scared/embarassed to show them? (*´-`)

thank you so much if you do 🥐

NO need to be worried!! I love seeing how creative others are! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I just had to put this request in two parts, since i have no self control when it comes to writing :')

Part 2 <-

Jonathan:

He found you under an oak tree, pencil in hand as your (E/c) eyes skimmed the area, it wasn’t an unusual spot for you to be. For as long as he’s known you, you’ve been attached to your small sketchbook, “(Y/n)! There you are, I’ve been looking for you!” He called out as you perked up.

“Oh, hello Jonathan! I was wondering where you were” He neared as you placed down your sketchbook, your smile growing as he began telling you about his past few days. His rambles never seemed to cease, not until you both noticed the sun meeting the horizon.

“Ah, I must get home soon before the sun sets, I’ll see you later than Jonathan!” You said before gathering your art supplies, giving Jonathan a sweet kiss on his cheek, You were quite the distance away as Jonathan realised that you had left your sketchbook.

“(Y/n) you’ve left your sketchbook...” he called out as he watched as your figure became microscopic, he glanced back at the small book.

Should he take a short glance? No, no a true gentleman shouldn’t, yet the small book seemed to be calling his name as he grabbed a small stick. With each centimeter he took, he held his breath, at least until he was startled by a familiar malicious blonde.

“Oh and what is this? A journal?” The blonde English man snatched the small book as Jonathan gasped “Dio! Place that down, That’s (Y/n)’s, you mustn't glance through it!” Jonathan neared the blonde as he mimicked his step-brother.

“Blah Blah, aren’t you at all curious about the contacts it may hold?” Dio asked as he waved the book around, Jonathan was conflicted for a moment, of course he was curious especially since you kept it so close, away from his eyes.

However nothing was worth losing your trust, “No, I am not.” The blonde glanced at his step-brother before scoffing “Well I am, now let’s see what she’s been hiding!” the blonde devil smiled wickedly as he flipped through the pages, all while Jonathan attempted to snatch the book back.

Though the two stopped their small game as Dio gave a baffled expression “There’s nothing in here, just your neanderthal face.” the blonde forcefully showed the shocked navy haired boy.

Truth be told, Dio was right, with each page a variation of him was there. Sketched with such precision it seemed as if it was a photograph, he felt a soft bang in his heart as he took the book from Dio; who was rambling about god knows what.

Joseph:

You and that damned sketch book. No matter where you were or what you were up to, he was expected to see you hand in hand with your black sketch book. You carried it as if it was a treasured relic, even when he was training under Lisa Lisa rigorous test.

“Hey, what is it about that book you always have to have it with you?” he asked, leaning into your personal space. Slamming the book closed as he glanced from your now shut book to your face, he could see a glimmer.

Of what exactly? He wasn’t sure “Oh what was that Miss Lisa Lisa, you need me?” You questioned, pretending to hear her voice before bidding Joseph goodbye. Leaving him puzzled and intrigued as you slipped away from him, sketch book in hand.

Despite his numerous requests and pleas for a simple glimpse of the pages of your sketchbook, you never caved in “For the last time Joseph, no.” much like a whiny child, he clung onto you as you waited patiently “Please, please, please (Y/n)! I promise to do whatever you want!”

You had to give him credit, his commitment to this was astounding “Will you leave that poor soul alone? you're like a whiny brat.” Caesar asked as he seemed to be more annoyed than anything, though Joseph ignored the harsh blonde “Please, I’ll even do your chores!?” Caesar suddenly pulled the brunette off you as you lightly laughed.

“You hardly even do your chores Jojo, So I don’t think you’ll hold up your end of the deal. Speaking of chores, I have to go see if Miss Lisa Lisa needs help with the laundry. Bye bye jojo~” you bid farewell to Caesar as well.

Though not before catching a glimpse of Joseph being more dramatic, expanding his arm as you began leaving. Hearing Caesar’s lecture before feeling a harsh momentum crashing onto your lower legs, causing you to let go of your book and stumble onto the ground.

Complete horror plastered on your face as Joseph reached down to your spilled pages, slamming your head onto the floor as you heard rustles of pages. You hadn’t even bothered to lift it up as you heard some playful gasps, “I never knew you loved to sketch me! Man these are really good and detailed, Say why don’t I pose for you on your next one~”

Jotaro:

A pair of (E/c) eyes. That's what he first made eye contact with as they turned away once again, At first it did startle him, not that he showed it, but soon after he had gotten used to them staring at him at such odd times before they moved onto something else.

No matter where, no matter the time, he could always count on the pair of (E/c) eyes to sneak glimpses of him. “So, What are you drawing now (Y/n)?” Kakyoin asked as he glanced at the page briefly before stepping back.

“Nothing too interesting, just some plants and fabrics” you said as the red-head boy gave a knowing glance before pointing at the paper “Try to narrow this part more, otherwise it’ll look like their constipated”

Laughing you hardly noticed a curious set of blue eyes attempting to sneak a glance of the paper. Though with no such luck as (Y/n) shut the book softly.

You both were shoulder to shoulder as the car continued on the desert land, with the senior Joestar rambling about who knows what and Polnareff trying to get the attention of Avdol.

Your fingers smudged with the charcoal, gently enough to create a soft grey. You had listened to Kakyoin's advice and narrowed the familiar pair of eyes.

This had to be one of your better portraits of Jotaro, not that the others were hideous, this particular one seemed to catch his essence better.

You hadn’t even realized the pair of blue eyes watching your every move, not until you began to shut the book. When he gently held it open, your (E/c) eyes widened as he glanced down.

“Looks good.”

Josuke:

“What do you think he’s saying to em’?” Okuyasu asked as he lowered his binoculars “Like I care about what he’s saying, look at how he’s invading their personal space!?” Josuke practically screeched.

Not far from the famed manga artist's home, Josuke and Okuyasu were hiding in the bushes as Rohan pointed something out once again.

Ever since school had ended for the summer break, you had been in the presence of Rohan. Sometimes posing for him in exchange for some art lessons “That bastard is gonna pay for touching her face!”

He clenched his fist dramatically as Okuyasu nodded along “Let’s go beat him up!” Right as the pompadour boy was about to reject his friend's offer he watched as Rohan passed the (H/c) haired girl her sketchbook back.

Something not even he had laid eyes on, a surge of jealousy inflicted upon him. Glancing up from the manga artist (Y/n) saw her beloved boyfriend walking up to the two in a menacing manner “Oh hey Josuke, I thought we were meeting at Tonio’s later.?”

“Yeah we are but not before I teach this bastard a lesson on social distance” His face was filled with anger as he neared the two, though not before an explanation from the terrified manga artist.

“What are you talking about you idiot? I was teaching her how to draw facial expressions?!?” Rohan screeched towards the end as Josuke’s stand emerged.

The manga artist ripped the sketchbook from her hands before opening it, showing the array of portraits of the pompadour boy. Josuke quickly stopped his stand as he looked upon the pages, all while (Y/n) stood in embarrassment.

“Hey this isn’t half bad, should I pose for you now? That way you get a better angle of my hair” he said as he began retouching his hair.

#jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba imagines #jolyne cujoh x reader #josuke x reader #gappy x reader #jotaro x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #johnny joestar x reader #joseph joestar x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #jojo headcanons

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augiewrites · 2 years ago

Text

"secret admirer" - dead poets society

summary: y/n receives yet another profession of love under their door—too bad the hallway is always empty when they open the door

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 591

i am back two years and one english degree later to write a fic that no one asked for! now that's what i call self care!

part two

Winter proved the student body of Welton wrong when they thought the school couldn't get any more dull. The cold can be cruel like that.

Just like the winter stripped the North of all life, Welton stripped it's students of all identity. In a place where boot licking is the norm and conformity is the goal—Y/N's only retreat was the 200 square foot box they called home for ten months of the year. The only place anyone in Welton was allowed to be themself.

That was exactly where Y/N and their roommate—Quinn—found themselves on a particularly cold Sunday morning.

Y/N sighed and looked from their homework over to Quinn, who had yet to get out of bed, "Do you know that guy that's like...scary good at latin? What's his name? Minks?"

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, wrapping the blanket closer to their body, "the ginger kid? Always hanging out with that tall dude?"

"Yeah, him," a pause and yet another sigh from Y/N, "I think I need a tutor if I want to keep an A this semester. I—"

Suddenly an envelope skidded under the door and across the floor. Rapid footsteps followed soon after and Y/N could hear a door slamming further down the wing.

Quinn rolled their eyes, "God. Not another one."

Y/N just shot them a look and picked up the envelope—one of many addressed to them and left unsigned.

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer."

"You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if you were the one with a secret admirer mehmheh blah," Quinn mocked in a high tone, "Yeah. If they were for me, they'd be romantic. For you? Prepare to be murdered."

"Shut up."

Y/N opened the letter and dove in. Their heart was beating much faster than they would like to admit.

Lovely Y/N,

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

I couldn't help but think of you when Keating had us reciting Lord Byron's work last week. The sun was so bright for a dreary winter day, and the rays illuminating from the window painted an image of heaven around your silhouette. You looked so lovely, I could barely register Byron's words.

I would happily go toward the light if I knew you were waiting for me within it.

Sincerely,

Yours.

Y/N could feel Quinn's eyes on them as their cheeks burst into a rosy flame.

"He's in my English class."

Quinn gasped, "Finally! We have a lead!"

"Quinn, I really don't want to play detective on this...what if I think it's the wrong person and make a fool of myself? I think I would have to drop out. Die, even."

But Quinn kept rambling on, completely ignoring their roommate's apprehension, "it's too bad I'm not smart enough for AP English—I would for sure be able to catch that creep staring you down. You're so oblivious. He could be telling you all these things to your face and you would doubt that he's into you."

"I'm not that oblivious, Quinn."

"Oh, please," Quinn exclaimed, "you're so romantically challenged! This guy has been right under your nose and you don't have a single clue!"

Y/N scoffed and returned to their homework.

"Whatever you say, Quinn. We're just going to have to wait and see."

~~~

a/n: who could it possibly be?? 🤯

part two

#dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #dps #dps boys #dps fanfiction #todd anderson #neil perry #steven meeks #gerard pitts #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #todd anderson x reader #neil perry x reader #steven meeks x reader #gerard pitts x reader #charlie dalton x reader #knox overstreet x reader #dps x reader

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wonderjanga · 9 months ago

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C.C and Marylin Headcannons

Okay, so the other day I saw someone type about their headcannons for Billy. I wanna put my head cannons for him/his parents too cause I’ve been thinking about this for a while.

So as of now, I’ve been playing a bunch of Tomb Raider games. If you’ve played or at least heard of the franchise, you’d know that Lara’s an archeologist. And guess what? C.C. and Marylin are. (Btw am I spelling her name right 😭) So, in my mind. They both grew up in England and then immigrated to the US and met in Fawcett and blah blah blah. Now to the good stuff, you know how Lara exudes utter badassery? You do? Great! So all the heinous, wild, plot armor filled things she did in the newest TR trilogy (Tomb Raider, Rise of the Tomb Raider, and Shadow of the Tomb Raider) Marylin did all of that. I’m cooking guys I swear, just trust me. Then as for C.C., in my little mind, he’s half Norse and half British. So, you know that one game where Lara wields Mjölnir? (I think it was Tomb Raider Underworld?) He did that. Guys, I swear I’m cooking.

So now, cause Billy in Marvel form looks like their Dad, and Mary in Marvel form looks like Marylin, you gotta wonder what their old archeology buddies are thinking. They’re either not surprised, or they’re like are you flipping kidding me? I can imagine one of their old buddies going up to Billy and being like:

Buddy: “C.C.! You old bastard! How have you been? How’s the wife and kid? Also, quick question, you disappeared for a couple years and didn’t bother reaching out to anyone. You good?”

Billy: *Looks around before flying off cause he has no idea who this person is (he’s too young to remember them)*

I can also imagine the JL with this, specifically Batman. He runs facial recognition on Billy and finds C.C., Bruce is like okay, cool, finally, a clue about that man’s identity, only for him to find pictures, photos, and newspapers from the 40’s and 50’s (I believe in time bubble Fawcett. The Batson’s died in 58 and Billy and Mary were 8 at the time. By the time the time bubble appeared, they would’ve been 10 or 12.) So, Bruce digs a little deeper and finds that C.C. and Marylin have killed a lot of people during their time as archeologists (and they definitely have since I based them off of Lara. Guys, Lara has killed a lot of people.) He also finds out that C.C. and Marylin are dead. So now he’s left confuzzled as to who the heck Billy and Mary are, cause they look exactly like them. Or at least Marvel does and Mary looks like a teenage Marylin, so for all Bruce knows she’s Mary Batson and Marylin is actually dead. But then that raises another question for Bruce, where is Billy? Is he Captain Marvel Jr.? They look similar, but not completely. The whole thing has left Bruce with more questions than answers. It’s also left him looking at The Captain in a newer light. He didn’t think the man had the emotional capacity to have a serious relationship. (He thought he was too childish. Not that my Marvel is, he acts more like a 20 something year old guy instead of a kid) Not only that but now he at least has confirmation that Cap is human… maybe. But I also want to look at this with other heroes! Like Wildcat (the goat) he grew up during the Great Depression and due to his slow aging he was allowed to live all the way up to now. He might’ve seen the Batsons in the paper. He might’ve also read about how their plane went down. I can imagine him being like “Hmm… You’re familiar.”

There’s also Question who I know would be driven up a wall trying to figure out who Billy is, and if not Billy, then he’s trying to figure out where Marvel’s from, cause the Living Lightning is thousands of years old. Yet, he keeps getting led back to an archeologist whose plane fell down in- *gasp* Egypt! Near Kahndaq! *Double gasp* He spirals.

Then there’s also Black Adam, who does his own research on the champion. He finds out the same thing Question did about the plane. The next day he flies over to Fawcett:

Black Adam: “You sniveling worm! What were you doing near Kahndaq?!”

Billy: “Dude, what are you talking about?!”

Black Adam: “You know what I’m talking about, Batson!”

Billy: *Gives him the most horrified look Adam had ever seen on Marvel’s face.*

Oh, and let’s not forget about Ebenezer. Imagine seeing your dead brother, or at least someone that looks like your dead brother, fly around saving people. After everything he did to Billy, I’m sure he was scared shitless(pardon my French). But what I think is worse, is that he’d constantly be waiting for Marvel to do something, only for him to do nothing and just unknowingly leave Ebenezer in suspense for every waking moment. Bonus points if Ebenezer knew about the Lara Croft behavior.

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lumosinlove · 19 days ago

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Vaincre

july part i

(Bit of a shorter chapter to make the others start and end where I want them to, but still fun and beachy!)

Nate: What’s up everyone, this is Nate here with my co-host, Jade, welcome back to the Lion Pride Podcast. Okay, this episode is titled ‘Maybe Now I Can Come Home’ and for good fucking reason. Like congratulations to the Rangers, whatever, this is a Gryffindor Lions podcast but—but I am a Logan Tremblay lover and—oh my God, I can’t.

Jade: No, seriously, because guys think about this. We have to talk about this. I haven’t seen anyone actually break this down which surprises me endlessly because it is an insane fucking story. Logan Tremblay is not known for being particularly out there, or candid with the media. I mean, on a scale of Sirius Black to Thomas Walker, he is far, far closer to the Black side of things.

Nate: For sure. At least in public.

Jade: Right. I mean, you’d know.

Nate: Ha.

Jade: Don’t give me that smug little ‘ha.’ I KNOW you see them all the time having pizza.

Nate: I would never TALK about that on here. But yes, I do.

Jade: Okay, we’re talking about Tremzy.

Nate: Yes, yes, we are.

Jade: I mean—we did do a Harvard Years podcast when Logan was first public about them on that mic’d up segment during the Lions-Rangers series.

Nate: [Tearful] Hey, seventeen.

Jade: Hey, Ten. [Squeals]

Nate: My heart.

Jade: But this is just—okay. I mean, I’m skipping ahead but, I’m sorry maybe I’m the only one who saw the way Logan got kissed by Leo Knut and Finn O’Hara. Was everyone else doing something during that moment? That wasn’t a kiss that was a KISS. That was a mother fucking die-hard love confession and no one actually said anything. I didn’t quite understand the Tremblay trade when it happened—trade away MVP?

Nate: And also I don’t think anyone missed that it was hard on him. If you put photographs of him during those last months of being in Gryffindor beside photos of those first months in New York…

Jade: Two different people.

Nate: Two. Different. People. And O’Hara and Knut, too. There’s a photograph—like game day walk in photograph—of O’Hara that just breaks my heart every time I see it.

Jade: Near the concussion?

Nate: No, right after the trade. I have never seen someone look so exhausted.

Jade: I know. When they traded Tremz, I thought there must have been something wrong in the room that they were keeping hush-hush. That we didn’t, like, pick up on.

Nate: Maybe someone thought their relationship was wrong in the room.

Jade: Well, fuck ‘em then, there was nothing wrong with those three, except that one of them has been forced to another city.

Nate: For real. Like, let’s unpack. Logan has just won his second Stanley Cup in two years. That’s insane. Like, on two different teams? He is looking like THE difference maker. He’s finished a one year contract, could demand, like, any amount of money he wants. Should be the happiest guy around. And yet he falls into his sister’s arms—that was Noelle, one of his three sisters—and what does he say?

Jade: Maybe I can come home now.

Nate: Just knock me out, Logan. Knock me flat on my face.

Jade: Maybe I can come home now. I mean, hot mic for real, oh my God. No, it’s everywhere. I’m sure this is not what Logan wanted, more drama surrounding him. Plus, that’s not exactly what an organization wants to hear after your player has just won a Cup, but I gotta say, if the way fans are reacting says anything, it’s that it was a raw moment and maybe one everyone saw coming. There’s no more confusion. He’s separated from his family. Okay, they’re not married, they don’t have kids, that’s been some people’s favorite thing to point out, but they live together, they are together. That would be hard.

Nate: ‘Oh, but that’s part of the lifestyle, blah, blah’ — Yeah. We know. That doesn’t make it less hard.

Nate: Right. Rangers fans are obviously a little upset but—they don’t really know him. Ha, sorry, I sound like a creepy fan, I’m not saying we know him, but we know him as a player. As our player. This guy has been a Lion for his entire NHL career—a team he met two partners on. Well, not Finn.

Jade: Oh, Finn. Oh boy.

Nate: Finn is a whole new can of worms.

Jade: For a different episode. But anyway—Can you imagine if this actually changed things?

Nate: Do you think it could? He has lots of star power. I’m not sure that matters though. Not if no one is willing to talk about a move. The Lions are up to their ears in big salaries already, I mean, maybe not quite yet with Lupin, but Potter, O’Hara, Black, like, this is no joke. And Knut is about to make big bucks and they’ll need a long-term goalie back up solution—more money. A few years ago, I was wondering about a rebuild, now I feel like we have an All-Star team which is unsustainable.

Jade: Like ow. I’ll protest. I’ll literally drive to New York with a hand-painted side, let Logan Tremblay go home to be kissed in the way Finn mother-fucking O’Hara and Leo Knut kissed him on that open ice—Actually, though.

Nate: New headline: Hot mic costs New York Rangers their top forward due to protests from romantics everywhere.

One moment, his headphones were being pulled out of his ear, the next, Sirius was being kissed. It was an off-center thing, Remus having leaned over the couch behind him and only half landing it on his mouth.

“I show you the podcast app one time and I’ve created a monster.”

“This one had Logan’s name on it,” Sirius said. “It’s Nate. From Sid’s.”

“I know who Nate is,” Remus laughed. He came around the sofa and sat snugly against Sirius’ side. “Is this about what Logan said on the ice? About going home?”

“You already heard it?”

“Well, it’s all over the internet. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“It’s…” Sirius shook his head. “It’s kind of amazing. The…” He pressed his lips together. He didn’t even know how to say it.

“I know,” Remus said softly.

Sirius smiled. “Of course you do.” He dropped his phone and headphones to the side and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist, scooping him closer. “Ça va?”

“Well. My mom has left to go grocery shopping with James—God help her. Lily just texted me that her and my dad just arrived in town for grill stuff and extra ice and more beach chairs—they’re also going to take Harry to story time at the library, which is in an hour and a half…”

Sirius blinked in surprise when Remus’ threw a thigh over his lap and settled there, all muscle and warm weight for Sirius to get his hands on.

“Regulus just took Julian to the skate park,” Remus continued. “And no one is supposed to arrive here until this afternoon.”

Sirius hands tightened on Remus’ waist. Suddenly, he could see it. He didn’t know how he had missed it before. Remus’ cheeks were flushed with anticipation—anticipation for Sirius. He wanted him. It was in the curve of his shoulders and the way he arched slightly into Sirius’ hands.

“Are you…” Sirius blinked around the house. Quiet. So quiet. “You mean—we’re alone?”

The breath Remus let out had a soft, needy sound in it. “We are so, so alone.”

“Oh…” Sirius managed, and then Remus pressed a hard, open kiss to his mouth.

Sirius’ world went a little blurred at the edges. Remus spread his knees around Sirius’ thighs and pressed his hips down. He was already half-hard, maybe just at the thought of coming over to Sirius, and Sirius spread his palms over Remus’ ass to press him down harder.

“God,” Remus whispered into his next kiss.

They had been careful. Good, quiet, and careful. Remus’ hair was sun-warmed as it slipped through Sirius’ fingers.

“We—” Sirius pushed his hands up and under Remus’ shirt.

“Upstairs,” Remus said.

Sirius thought of that creaky, creaky bed and had never wanted to be anywhere more. He couldn’t help laughing as they stood. He felt jittery. A sugar-high but it was all Remus. In the bend of the tight staircase, Sirius found himself pressed up against the wall. A picture frame holding a print of the oil-painted lake rattled as his shoulder knocked it. By the time he looked away from it, making sure it wasn’t in danger of falling, Remus had sunk to his knees.

“Re,” Sirius breathed. The laugh that followed was more a breath than anything. Just a tumble of pent up energy that was beginning to realize the gates were open and the sun and sky were being let in.

Remus just looked up at him. His hazel eyes were glassy, pupils dark. He reached for the elastic band of the shorts Sirius wore, but only tucked his fingers into them as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sirius to the material. Sirius felt his ab muscles jump at even the glimpse of heat. He pushed his fingers into Remus’ hair and tightened his grip, enjoying the way Remus’ eyes slipped closed, the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Don’t make me wait,” Sirius said. He moved his free hand to push the material of his shorts down until he could grip himself freely. The word alone had nearly been enough for him, like every inch of him knew how long it had been.

Sirius’ body, his whole world, curved towards the heat of Remus’ mouth. His nails dug into the backs of Sirius’ thighs, little pin-pricks of sharpness to accompany the all-consuming blush of pleasure that made him sigh. Sirius’ head thumped back against the wall, his mouth open and his breath shallow. Remus wasn’t making him wait. His pace was fast, his tongue pressing the underside almost too firmly. Sirius was going to come too quick. He could already feel it rushing towards him, drawing him taut.

“Wait, okay, wait, wait,” Sirius panted, tightening his fingers again to ease Remus to a slower drag. “Re, I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

Remus made a soft noise and pulled off. He stood, steadying himself with a hand on Sirius’ chest. Sirius cupped a hand over where Remus tented his shorts and pressed the heel of his palm down hard.

“Me too,” Remus said through a shaky laugh. He pushed into Sirius’ hand and Sirius watched the way his jaw tightened. “Oh…”

Sirius knew that, if one of them didn’t move, they were going to end up grinding against each other in this stairwell. He wanted more than that. He wanted Remus completely bare and spread out beneath him.

“Come here,” Sirius said. He turned Remus so he faced the stairs.

“Can you…” Remus stopped just halfway up, his head falling back against Sirius’ shoulder. He covered Sirius’ hand with his. Sirius let Remus guide his hand up his clothed shaft for only a few moments, kissing along his neck, before he eased them forward again again.

Sirius had dampened the snug front of his boxers by the time they were falling onto their bed. The mattress gave a whine, drawing a brief laugh from both of them, but there was no one to hear. Alone, giving a voice to the pressure in his chest, it only turned him on. It shifted when Sirius did, pulling Remus’ shirt and shorts away, and creaked again as Sirius bent over his body.

No one was crafted like Remus Lupin. No one. Sirius set his mouth against the strong cut of his hips. They pushed up against his mouth and Sirius tugged his own shorts away. His t-shirt followed, left to share a heap on the floor. Sirius kissed the pale line of skin where his swim trunks hid him from the sun, then the fainter ones along his biceps and neck. They got lost to grinding against each other again, all skin now, their own desperation turning it into a smooth glide.

“Where’s—” Sirius began to question, but Remus shook his head almost wildly.

“I don’t know,” he panted. “I don’t know, I don’t know, don’t get up, just—” He looked almost frantic. “Oh, fuck…”

Sirius had pressed them together again, aligned so perfectly that they could feel all of each other. He reached down for Remus’ thigh and coaxed it around his hip.

No, he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t leave this warmth right now, not for anything. He tucked his nose into Remus’ neck as he ground his hips forward. He smelled like heat. Like the soft forest that surrounded them. Remus’ heel pressed into Sirius’ back and his hands went into his dark hair.

The bed groaned in time with Remus’ soft sounds. Sirius’ only warning that Remus was coming was when those sounds choked off and missed a beat. The warm flood between them had Sirius setting his panting mouth against Remus’ shoulder. A knocking momentarily startled a gasp from Sirius, but it was only the bed against the wall as he fucked forward, watching Remus’ golden, hooded eyes.

“Oh, God,” Remus’ voice went tight, his neck arching up, head pushing down into the pillows. “Keep…Sirius—”

It sounded so good, the rest of his life. Remus saying his name like that. It sent him right over the edge. Remus lifted his head for a sloppy kiss that had a sated, finally sort of smile in it. His foot slipped from Sirius’ back to the mattress.

Maybe not the most romantic of their moments, but Sirius glanced towards the bedside table. They had over an hour. That had been over too quickly for Sirius’ liking, but the second Remus had crawled into his lap he’d known he was a goner.

“Next time,” Remus whispered. “We’ll be married.”

“Mm, not next time,” Sirius said. He pushed himself up on his elbows. He brushed their noses together. “Next time is going to be in just a few minutes.”

Remus stretched out against him, laughing. “Oh, good.”

Sirius could only hope they looked normal when they heard Hope’s car pull back into the driveway. They’d lay there three rounds in, sort of kissing, sort of fading in and out of an afternoon nap, but naked with the sheets pushed down and the warm breeze coming in front the open window, tangled up in each other in a way they usually couldn’t—not when Julian really, really didn’t know how to knock on doors first. Remus had groaned after a few hours, saying they were pushing their luck and that a car could be back any moment. No sooner had Sirius finished getting dressed again than had they heard the crunch of gravel.

“Hey, Hope,” Sirius said. He adjusted his shirt and held out his arms to help carry the groceries inside. He still felt hot. He still felt Remus.

“Hello, honey,” Hope said, handing him two bags. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Remind me to never take James Potter to a grocery store again.”

Sirius laughed. “Okay?”

“I asked for green onions and he brought me asparagus.”

“Wow,” Sirius said. “I’d make fun of him, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have made the same mistake.”

He brought the bags into the kitchen where James was unloading things into the fridge and cupboards.

He held up two limes and raised his eyebrows, a look Sirius returned with silent questions.

“How’s it going?” James asked.

“Good? You?”

“No, no,” James waved a lime. “How’s it going. You look a little…” A smile fought at his mouth. “Sunburned.”

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Little flush.”

Oh. James’ eyes flicked to Remus, who they could just see through the windows taking more stuff out of the car.

“James,” Sirius grumbled.

“Did you get some…sun?”

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius nodded.

“Atta boy.” James’ laugh was knowing, and he patted a hand to Sirius’ chest. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m welcome?”

James leaned in conspiratorially. “Here are some things you should know about me.” He held up a fist and opened up a finger as he spoke. “One? I am a terrible grocery shopper. Ask Lily,” James said. “I make the thing take three times as long.” He took out his phone. “Two? My son takes after me and loves a good story time. A little help from Google.”

Sirius just shook his head. “I can’t believe…And Regulus and Jules?”

“Well. I was ready to slip Jules a twenty, but…” James shrugged. “I think they just wanted to hang out.”

As if on cue, a second car pulled into the driveway. Sirius and Remus’. Regulus put the car into park and opened his door, then, from the back, out tumbled Julian, talking a mile-a-minute. Both of them were sweaty, the sweat showing in Julian’s mussed hair and at the neck of Regulus’ t-shirt, and bother were—laughing. Real laughter. Hard laughter. It was a sight, to say the least, to see Regulus holding a pair of skates—even if they had wheels instead of blades—and smiling like that. As Sirius watched Regulus tossed an arm around Julian’s shoulder and messed up his hair even further.

Sirius took a bag from James and began to unpack it as he watched—he ended up just holding a pack of hamburger buns and staring. They ditched their skates and went over to help Hope and Remus. Julian was given the bag of ice to carry. He didn’t even seem to mind the cold as he walked happily between Sirius’ brother and his own.

“Nice to see him like that,” James’ voice came.

Sirius, when he went to speak, found his throat tight. When James’ hand appeared on his shoulder, he didn’t flinch, but leaned into it. “You have no idea.”

The cars started arriving around three. First, Thomas and Noelle.

“Okay, Lupins,” Thomas called as he shut the driver’s side door. He lifted his sunglasses to perch them on his head. “I see how it is, secret spot, personal paradise.”

Sirius followed behind as Remus jogged down the driveway and threw his arms around Thomas’ neck. They stumbled a little, rocking, and Thomas’ slapped him playfully on the back.

“We are so ready to party this shit up,” he said—then looked at Hope and put his hands to his mouth. “My apologies, Mrs. Lupin.”

“We are ready to help with dinner,” Noelle cut in. She came around and opened her arms to Sirius. “And literally anything else that needs help.”

Sirius smiled. “You’re our guests. Thanks for making the drive. Where’s your brother?”

“Probably being wrangled—with Finn—by Leo into actually remembering to pack their suits.” Noelle said, then nudged her shoulder against Sirius’. “You should call him. Nothing will get his ass into action than a call from you.”

Sirius laughed. “I count on that.”

“I have such a surprise for you,” Thomas said.

“Don’t panic,” Noelle added. “He means that in a good way.”

“A good way?” Sirius asked skeptically.

Noelle laughed. “It’s a good surprise. Now, go call my brother otherwise they’ll get here at eight. Also—” She held up a bag. “I brought some wine that should go somewhere cold.”

Sirius laughed and nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.”

It was an interesting feeling, walking with Noelle. She had a similar presence as Logan, soft but steady.

“Have you, ah…” Sirius had wanted a moment to ask her, but now that it had come, he wasn’t sure how.

“I didn’t know the mics would catch it,” Noelle said, her face going a little drawn. “I…I mean, he basically said it in my ear, I didn’t think…” She sighed as Sirius opened the screen door into the house for him. “At least he said exactly what he wanted to say. That’s all I mind.”

Sirius took the wine from her, two crisp looking bottles of white. “Did he tell you about me?”

“You?” She blinked, confused.

Sirius turned and opened the fridge—already pretty full, but managed to slot the bottles somewhere between two bags of lettuce. He swallowed, letting the fridge’s coolness wash over his face. He switched to French. Somehow, it was easier in French. “We’re not the same team without him.”

He turned to face her again. “And I don’t just mean on the ice.”

Noelle had Logan’s features. The full mouth and the thick eyelashes that shaded green eyes. They went interested and sad in just the same way as her brother’s.

“It was hard on all of us when he got forced out,” Sirius said. “Especially—well, Leo was…sort of okay, I guess. Sometimes okay. Trying to be okay. But Finn…”

“Finn and Lo…” Noelle sighed. “Yeah, they don’t really do distance very well.”

Sirius nodded. He fiddled with a magnet on the fridge that held up a photograph of a young Remus, maybe just seven years old or so.

Sirius didn’t know what else to do other than just…say it.

“I’d like to have a few of us to take a pay cut so we have the space to bring him back,” Sirius said in a rush. He swallowed when Noelle’s mouth dropped open. “Home. And—and, of course, I would be one of them, I’d never ask that without being—”

But Noelle had already thrown her arms around him.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work,” Sirius said. Slowly, he settled his hands on her back. “But I wanted—when I heard what he said to you, I wanted you to know what we’re trying.”

“Sirius,” Noelle began softly. “You…You changed his life.”

She pulled back to look at him, her hands holding his shoulders. With her soft eyes, Logan’s eyes, Sirius didn’t mind so much.

“I hope you realize how much you helped him. You…He’d kill me for blubbering over it to you of all people, and I know, I know none of it was easy, but I am so, so grateful to you. And Remus. And I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m really happy to be here. With Thomas, yeah, but also just…because I appreciate you two. More than I can say. You…” She had to stop, green eyes filled up. “Sirius, you saved by baby brother’s life in so many ways.”

“That’s him for me, too,” Sirius managed. “And…Really, I’m going to do what I can.”

“I know,” Noelle said. “Fuck, I know you are.”

They stood by the fridge until Sirius heard Remus and Thomas laughing as they came into the house.

“On that note,” she laughed wetly, patting his shoulder. “Go call him and see where he is.”

Sirius wandered out towards the lake. He shook out a beach chair until the joints clicked into place and sat down while the phone rang.

“Sirius Black,” Finn’s voice came. “You gave us just enough time for the hangovers to disappear, and I thank you for that.”

Sirius snorted. Well, Finn sounded all right, at least. “Hey. How were the Cup parties?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Finn laughed.

Sirius thought of the podcast he’d listened to that morning—though, after Remus, it felt like years ago. “As long as you guys are good.”

“We’re—” Finn sighed. “The phone is being snatched from me. See you soon, groom.”

“Cap,” Logan’s voice came. “Is my sister there?”

“Yeah. Where are you?” Sirius asked. “I want to see you.”

“We’re about to get in the car.”

A rustle, then Leo’s voice, like he’d pulled the phone towards him. “I’ve been trying, Cap, believe me.”

Sirius laughed. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. I know all you probably really want to do is relax.”

“Oh, ouais.” Logan again. “It’s so hard to come to a beautiful lake to watch my best friends get married.”

Sirius smiled, eyes on the water. “It is pretty gorgeous.” He reached down and trailed sand through his fingers. “You’re all over the internet.”

Logan didn’t reply for a moment. Only the sound of suitcase wheels and something being shut—a drawer maybe—filled the silence.

“I am all over the internet,” Logan finally repeated. “I am ‘a player of a generation.’ And I am in love with two boys, which no one can ignore now.”

“Two boys?” Sirius heard Finn’s voice. “Where is this other boy—oh, there he is, howdy…”

Logan let out a sound that sounded all smile and hopelessly smitten. “Mm…Ah, what were we talking about?”

Sirius couldn’t help his smile. It actually hurt a little. “I thought I was a player of a generation.”

“You are the player of a lot of generations.”

“Shut up.”

“You are!” Leo shouted from the other end of the line.

“We’ll be there soon,” Logan said. “We’ll come straight to you.”

“And…” Sirius hoped his hesitation was enough to let Logan know he was asking about their cabin.

“Uh-huh, all good there.”

“Does Sirius Black know your secret?” Finn asked. “The one you’ve been keeping from us.”

Logan’s laugh was bright. “He does.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, then jumped a little when someone fell down into the sand beside him. Regulus just raised his eyebrows in greeting before looking out onto the water.

“I do,” Sirius said. “Drive safe, okay?”

He heard the click of Logan hanging up. It left him to the waves, the sun, some music now coming from the house, and the quiet ways of his brother. Regulus was frowning at the waves and picking at one of his nails like he was nervous.

Sirius reached out, hesitating for only a moment, and settled his palm lightly on the back of Regulus’ neck, scratching gentle fingers through the buzzed hair there. To his surprise and relief, Regulus leaned into his touch.

“Salut,” Sirius said. “You okay?”

Regulus nodded. “Tomorrow,” he began, then cleared his throat. “There’s someone coming tomorrow night.”

“D’accord,” Sirius said. Phone calls taken on the porch.

When Regulus looked at him, the angle of the sun made his already pale eyes look almost clear. “And she’s important.”

Remus never wanted to see the cabin any other way again. Thomas, Noelle, Kasey, Natalie, Alex, Cole, Layla, Moody, Arthur, Pascal, Celeste, and all the Dumais children. Katie Dumais, facing away from Remus, had clearly just said or done something that had Julian looking after her darting away figure, slack-jawed.

He was happy to stand at the grill with his dad and let a steady rotation of his friends keep him company. He liked watching Sirius across the beach, standing with James and Kasey in only his swim trunks with the sun making water gleam across his chest. He felt like someone had stretched out every single knot in his muscles after that afternoon. Getting his mouth on Sirius, getting his warm skin slick against his own. Remus flipped a burger with his eyes still mostly on Sirius and nearly sent the whole thing to the floor.

Only the sound of car wheels on the gravel drive made him look away.

“Fucking finally,” Remus shouted as Finn popped the driver’s side door. “You were going to miss dinner.”

“It’s not my fault someone can’t use Google maps,” Finn called.

“I can,” Logan said, pushing out of the back seat. Leo, coming around from the passenger’s side, gave Remus and smile and an eye-roll.

“Sorry, Loops,” Leo called. He went to the trunk, popping it before emerging with two coolers.

“Oh my God,” Remus said. “What did you do?”

“My mama’s famous crab cakes,” Leo said. “The best french onion dip you’ve ever had, and some fresh sourdough bread, baked this morning.”

Remus handed the tongs off to his dad and went to the the coolers. “You’re the best, you really just needed to bring yourselves.”

Up close, Remus finally got a proper look at Logan, tucked under Finn’s arm. He had a taped-up cut along his cheek, a fresh looking black eye, and scraped up knuckles.

“Oh God,” Remus snorted. “Your face.”

“He’s going to ruin the wedding photos,” Finn said. “So sorry.”

“You said I looked hot last night,” Logan replied.

“You do. But in wedding photos? I don’t know.”

Logan hit his chest weakly and slipped out from his grasp to go find Sirius.

“Ice that knee of yours!” Remus shouted after him, and Finn cackled.

Remus watched Sirius’ eyes find Logan walking towards him. He watched Logan hug him tightly, despite the fact that he was wet. Logan pointed to the dock, and held up his hand. By Sirius’ smile and nod, Remus guessed he had asked if that was where the ceremony was going to take place. Sirius kept talking, fast for him, fast like he was telling Logan a play while they were on the ice, as they walked over to the drinks table. Finn was already there, pouring coke into a cup for Logan and a gin and tonic for Leo and himself.

The sweeter sight was the expression on Sirius and Logan’s face when Pascal came up behind them and put an arm around them both.

“Leave this, yeah?” His father appeared at his side, squeezing his shoulder. “Go hang out with your friends, bud.”

“Oh, thanks, dad.” Remus handed off the tongs.

“And try to keep your brother from bouncing off the walls at Alex O’Hara’s presence.”

Remus laughed. “He’d just lose it over someone else.”

Remus made it about six steps before Thomas Walker cornered him.

“All right, Lupin, it’s time.” Thomas leaned back against the side of the house and crossed his arms. “Let’s talk party.”

“Ah, yes,” Remus said. “It’s you against my beautifully sleepy town.”

“It really is,” Thomas nodded sagely. “And guess what? I’m going to win.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “My God. Come here.”

Remus got himself a beer and steered Thomas towards where Sirius, Regulus, and Leo were sitting around the easy-burning campfire Hope had gotten started. Remus took the spot beside Sirius, Thomas beside Leo.

“Tell him to chill,” Remus said to Sirius. “In your Captain voice.”

Sirius blinked at him, cleared his throat a few times, then shook his head. “I think it only happens when it has to.”

Leo laughed. “What, you can’t summon it on command?”

“He would if he could,” Regulus said, then stood up. “Come on, Le. I have a feeling more wedding talk is about to happen, and I’ve had enough of that to last me a while. Let’s get some food.”

“Bring me more chips,” Sirius tilted his head back as Regulus walked behind him.

“No,” Regulus said.

Sirius cleared his throat again and said in a deeper voice, “Bring me more chips.”

Regulus laughed. “No.”

Sirius popped the last of the ones on his plate into his mouth. “No captain voice, sorry.”

Thomas clapped his hands, then rubbed his palms together and leaned forward. “I have sat you both down here today to discuss—le parties.”

“It’s not French by adding le,” Sirius said.

“La parties,” Thomas grinned.

“I was trying to explain how sleepy—” Remus began.

“La parties,” Thomas tried again.

Sirius reached for Remus’ plate and threw an olive at him.

“—this town is,” Remus grabbed the second olive out of Sirius’ fingers and ate it. “And I mean that in the most loving way possible, quiet. So. I recommend we go to some of the bars and not have anyone lose their minds.”

“How do we make sure you don’t end up at the same bars?” Thomas asked.

“I’m going to be at the house Logan rented mostly,” Sirius said.

“And I want to go to that pub on main street,” Remus said. “The owner and I go way back, he’ll give us the roof.”

“Also,” Sirius said. “Would it really be so bad if we ended up at the same—”

“Not at all, baby,” Remus said at the same time as Thomas’ enthusiastic, “Yeah.”

“T,” Remus laughed. “We—this isn’t exactly the world’s most traditional wedding. We’re already getting married on a dock. You really think we can’t be together for—what?” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Our ‘last night of freedom?’”

“All right, all right.” Thomas held up his hands in surrender. “Think of it this way, then.” He pointed to Remus’ beer. “Can I have a sip, I have a speech and no drink.”

Remus handed it over, sharing a smile with Sirius.

Thomas’ sip turned into draining half the bottle and handing it back to Remus with a grin.

“Think of it this way,” Thomas said. “It’s not just for you. It’s also for me.” He raised his hands, looking over both shoulders at the yard, the fire, the tables where people sat eating. “It’s for us.” He looked towards the beach and smiled, pointing. “It’s for them.”

Remus followed his gaze and smiled, too. Finn and Logan were in the water, Logan in Finn’s arms, their heads bent close together.

“You’re together,” Thomas said, and when Remus looked back at him. “And it sort of feels like you always have been together. You have a long time to be together in your togetherness.” Thomas tilted his head, thinking, then spread his hands again. “This togetherness is for us, too, to appreciate and celebrate both of you in the ways you deserve. Not just as a couple. But as yourselves.”

“You enjoying yourself there, T?” Remus asked, trying not to smile.

“Well, only if you let me throw you some parties.”

Sirius laughed. “D’accord. Throw us parties.”

“For the record, I was never not ready for a party,” Remus stood and sat beside Thomas, settling his arm around his shoulders when Thomas did the same. “But I liked the speech, T.”

Thomas grinned. “Just wait for your wedding day, Re.”

Logan walked through the entire Lupin cabin, moving between having to squint against the setting sun, which angled perfectly into the lake-front sitting room, and blink so his eyes adjusted to the darker rooms. He’d even gone upstairs, where he’d heard Hope direct people towards to change out of wet bathing suits. It was a bit of a maze. Not because it was large. The house was on the smaller side—though Leo would make him reevaluate what he considered small—but had been divided up into more rooms than usual. Bedrooms, cozy but tiny. He poked his head into what must have been Sirius and Remus’.

No Finn. He used the top window to better search the yard, then went back downstairs and onto the porch to search the beach. Finally, he found him. In the water, floating alone near the end of the dock. His toes surfaced every once in a while as he floated on his back and Logan wanted—he didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted him, wanted to be in that water where the sunset had turned the lake into rippling orange and pink glass.

When Logan reached the dock, Finn must have heard the shake of the boards because he turned.

“Oh, hi there, baby,” Finn grinned.

“Hi.” Logan set his drink down as he lowered himself to sit at the very end, putting his feet in the water.

Finn’s chest was pale beneath the water as he stroked towards him. He stayed low as he stopped in the water just below Logan. His shoulders took on the pink of the sky and Logan leaned forward as best he could and brushed his fingers over the freckles there. Finn caught one wrist and kissed the inside of it. Logan let him, admiring the way the light caught on his face and how the water had pushed his hair back.

“Where’s Le?” Finn asked.

“Catching up with Reg.” Logan nudged his toes against Finn’s chest. “Been looking for you.”

Finn wrapped his hands around Logan’s ankles and gave a small tug. “Come in with me.”

Logan bit his lip, smiling. “Okay.”

Finn watched as Logan stripped off his shirt and drained the last of his drink.

“Cold?”

“Not at all,” Finn said.

He had barely submerged in the water before he was in Finn’s arms. Finn dunked them anyway, and the sounds of the party momentarily silenced in the clear water. Logan felt Finn’s mouth press to his, and then they were in the evening air again, and Logan blinked the water out of his eyes. Finn’s skin was warm as he coaxed Logan’s legs around his waist.

“You need a haircut,” Finn said.

“I know,” Logan said, wiping his hair back. “What about the beard? Sirius was making fun of it.”

“I’d call it scruff.” He smiled at Logan’s scoff. “And I think you should keep it a few more days.” Finn leaned forward and bit gently at the stubble on Logan’s jaw and lowered his voice. “Will you suck me off later? Scratchy.”

Logan groaned and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m in a wet swimsuit, you can’t say that right now.”

“But you have to before you shave,” Finn pressed his smile against Logan’s cheek. “Promise?”

“Ouais, ouais, promise, now shh.” Logan looked down. “Are you standing?”

“No, I’m the most still water-treader in the world.”

Logan splashed his hand down and Finn spluttered through a laugh when he got a face full of water.

“Yes, I’m standing,” Finn said. “And I could hold you like this for hours.”

“Do it.” Logan sighed and let himself relax into Finn’s hold. “I love everyone, but I’m tired of talking to anyone but you and Le.”

“Well, I’m right here.” Finn tilted his chin up and kissed Logan quick. “What do you feel feel like saying?”

Logan blinked. It could have been the feeling of water running down his back and shoulders. Or the sun setting. Or the warm air. Or just that he was alone with Finn in a large body of water and with his muscles still aching from the play-offs, he could imagine that it was his heart aching instead. He’d had just one drink, he needed to drive them to their cabin later, but it was recent enough that everything went soft like those colors in the sky, and, for a moment, Logan wanted to fall apart.

“Hm?” Finn asked softly, but Logan could tell he knew. “What’s that look for? I was just messing.” His brown eyes—but no, the light slanted across them, it turned them lighter, so light that Logan thought he could see deeper into them and might find the right words there. The words that Finn always seemed to have. Finn blinked, and a drop of water fell down his cheek.

“Don’t,” Logan said in a rush, putting a panicked hand on Finn’s cheek. “Don’t cry, je t’aime, I love you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Finn said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m not crying?”

He blinked again, and Logan watched two more droplets fall. Water, he realized. Lake water caught in his eyelashes and brows.

“Oh,” Logan said softly. He let his hand slide to Finn’s neck. He closed his eyes, shaking his head at himself. “Oh. Good.”

He couldn’t see Finn’s kiss coming, but it wasn’t a surprise.

“We’re all right,” Finn said. “I love you, too.”

Logan nodded. He kept his eyes closed, tightened his hold on Finn. He wouldn’t bring it up. That midnight in the water, years ago. All the words that had pent up in his chest. He didn’t need to be comforted through it.

“And I’d ask you to race me to the raft,” Finn whispered. “But I’d definitely win.”

Logan smiled, his laugh falling between them. “I’ll win tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Finn said. “This mystery of yours.”

Logan smiled and pushed his hands through Finn’s hair until he could cup his jaw and pull him into a kiss. Finn brought him closer, hands on Logan’s ass in a way that wasn’t any better than him biting at Logan’s jaw. Logan hummed at the brush of Finn’s tongue against his and locked his ankles tighter around Finn’s waist.

“Do you think anyone—” Logan gasped out the words as Finn got his teeth on his throat. “—would notice…”

Finn’s kisses dissolved into a laugh and he pulled back to look at Logan. “The house is right there, Lo.”

Logan looked over his shoulder towards the shore, frowning. “Hm. Ouais.”

Finn’s laughed harder, head tilting back. Water lapped against them as he hoisted Logan closer. “Your face.”

Logan snorted. “Well, I…” He looked pointedly down at Finn’s bare chest.

“Are we not going to have our very own private beach soon enough?”

Logan opened his mouth. “Quoi—that’s not—” He leaned down and stopped Finn’s laugh with a kiss, keeping their lips close as he growled, “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you,” Finn replied.

“You said I was a mystery.”

Finn laughed hard. “I said it was a mystery, but you are also a baby mystery of your own.” He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Logan’s swimsuit to feel his bare, smooth skin. “I love solving you…”

Logan took Finn’s lower lip gently between his teeth and pulled playfully before letting it go.

“Finn, Finn, Finn…” Logan whispered, and Finn’s gaze went melted. Logan pressed a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “Je t’aime.” He pressed a kiss to the other. “Je t’aime, je t’aime.” He brushed their noses together, back and forth three times.

“I know where you went,” Finn said softly.

Finn, Logan thought. Ocean. Nice. Say something, anything—

Finn spanned his hands up Logan’s back, thumbs swiping back and forth over the high of his ribs. “Just now. Just for a second.”

Logan nodded quickly. “Just for a second.”

Finn’s smile started small. “And where are you now?” He squeezed Logan tighter, a small pulse of his arms, like a reminder.

As if Logan needed one. Logan grinned, amazed, absolutely giddy with relief that they were both grinning at each other through this. He pressed a thumb over Finn’s lower lip, feeling his smile. “Ici. I’m here.”

Sirius was coming up the stairs to change out of his wet swimsuit when his bedroom door opened and Finn and Logan stepped out.

Immediately Finn had his hands up. “Just dry clothes were put on. Cross my heart.”

Sirius laughed, eyeing Logan’s face. “Oh yeah?”

Logan was blushing, but Sirius figured he’d probably be doing that either way.

“Ouais,” Logan said, fingers curling around Finn’s to push his hands down. “He’s telling the truth.”

Their hands swung lightly, tangled between them.

“Pretty jumpy for the truth,” Sirius said. “Hey, actually—” He nodded to Logan. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Logan’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded. He looked up at Finn. “Meet you…wherever Leo is.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He patted Sirius’ shoulder on his way down the stairs.

Logan followed Sirius back into his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. Sirius did a double-take, but someone—Remus—had made it up from earlier that day. He cleared his throat and turned towards the dresser.

“What just happened?” Logan asked in French, amused.

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “So, parties. Tomorrow night.”

“My house, yeah.”

“But also—” Sirius took a fresh shirt from the dresser and turned towards Logan as he pulled it on. “I talked to your sister. I hope that’s okay.”

Logan’s green eyes went soft. Maybe worried.

“Shit,” Sirius said, hands on the ties of his swimsuit. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan said. He wet his bottom lip. “I just…”

Sirius reached for his underwear and shorts while Logan settled on words. When he turned back towards the bed, Logan gave him a helpless sort of shrug.

“I don’t mind. I just don’t want everyone to get their hopes up too much.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “But the entire fanbase—both of them—are calling for you to go back where you want to be.”

“Well, not all of them.”

Sirius nodded. He’d seen the hateful stuff, too. He knew however they ignored it, it still dug deep. “How are you with all that?”

Logan flashed him a half smile. “Captain.”

Sirius laughed and sat beside him on the bed. “Yeah.”

“I’m fine,” Logan said. “Which is…” He gave his head a sharp shake, like he was clearing it. “I…I was talking about this with Noelle, actually.”

“Hm,” Sirius said.

“I think about how long I dreaded it,” Logan said. “I mean, at school, just staring at Finn, completely gone over him, and dreading it. But now it’s here. And I have them. And I’m…so perfect.”

Sirius feigned a cough around his words. “Back to back Cups.”

Logan shoved him.

“Really, though,” Sirius said. “I know it’s partly that they want your talent in their own city, but people also want you and Finn and Leo…” Sirius shook his head. “I am sorry you didn’t see the microphone when you talked about going home, I know you probably didn’t want all this sort of attention, but…It’s incredible, Logan. It’s not just that they want you to be where you think home is. It’s that they want you to be with who you think home is. A couple years ago, if I had told someone I thought Remus was home…” Sirius shook his head.

Logan didn’t say anything. He twisted his silver pendant between his fingers.

Sirius frowned. “Tremz?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Ouais. It’s even more than I had hoped for.”

Sirius hesitated. He tried to think of what he’d said that was wrong, peering closer at Logan’s face. When he did, he saw that the silence wasn’t distress. Logan was biting back a small smile.

“Oh…” Sirius laughed lightly, disbelieving. “You saw it.”

Logan gave a funny little shrug.

“Oh my God, Tremz. You knew the mic would catch it. You wanted them to hear you.”

“I am trying to get home.” Logan sighed. “I thought it might get some more people on my side.”

“Fuck. Do the boys know?”

“Still trying not to get their hopes up,” Logan said. “But…Leo really likes that I said it. Leo also really, really missing me being home. I mean, Finn, yes, of course, but Leo and I…” Logan swallowed. “We’re quiet together in a way that’s just for us. I miss him so much.”

Sirius nodded. Remus was that for him. But he was also someone he could be louder with, more free. It must be interesting, to be in Logan’s shoes. Different needs met by two different people.

“I also couldn’t have done it without you,” Logan said. “And Remus. And I know nothing happened the way you wanted it to, but…I couldn’t have done anything without both of you.”

Sirius put an arm around Logan’s shoulder and Logan clasped his hand. “And a lot of people will say the same thing about you.”

“Well…” Logan was pink-cheeked again. “Ouais, I hope.”

They sat there in silence for a long moment, smiling among the sounds of their friends and family outside.

“Okay, truth, before we go,” Sirius said and gestured towards the bed. “Did you and Finn…”

Logan scoffed and hit him in the chest. “No.” He paused. “Almost. In the ocean.”

“Tremz, that’s not a fucking ocean.”

Logan paused, then laughed, closing his eyes. “I meant lake.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sirius rose and stretched, then went to the mirror to try and wrangle the wet tangles of his hair.

“Don’t tell me you and Remus haven’t—”

“Are you joking? If Julian so much as sees us on the beach, he comes with us.”

Logan snorted. “Oh shit. Maybe you two should take our cabin for the night.”

“I accept.”

“Non.” Logan stood up. “Not a chance, that was a joke.” He moved to the doorway. “But hey.”

Sirius was still laughing as they walked down the stairs together. “What?”

“Tomorrow night’s going to be fun.”

Sirius nodded, then put a hand out to stop Logan from turning out of their quiet hallway just yet. “Hey.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Even if it doesn’t happen next season,” Sirius said. “We keep trying.”

A small flash of fear—because of course Logan was scared of that—but he nodded. “We keep trying.”

“I’m not kidding,” Finn said, squinting through the windshield from his place in the back seat as Logan drove slowly down a dirt road. “It looks like you’re taking us somewhere to kill us.”

The headlines illuminated the complete darkness save for a few solar lamps that illuminated house numbers. Each one was different—a 38 on a cluster of carved pines, a 46 on a bear raised on its back legs, a 50 on the silhouette of a lighthouse.

“We’re almost there,” Logan said.

“It looks like forest,” Finn protested.

“Harz,” Leo said from the passenger seat. “It is forest.”

“And I’m not taking you here to kill you,” Logan said. “You’ll see what I’ll do to you soon enough.”

“Hell yeah,” Leo reached over and squeezed the back of his neck.

Finn was quiet, but when Logan darted a glance in his rearview mirror, he was biting his lip against a grin.

“All right, then,” Finn said.

Leo threw his hand out. “Deer, Lo, deer, stop, stop, stop.”

Logan eased the car to a stop just as Finn let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he whispered.

Three does, eyes reflecting at them in the headlights, stood at the side of the road, half hidden in the trees.

Leo rolled down his window, letting in the cool night air. “Hi, babies, hi.”

Their ears twitched at Leo’s voice, listening.

“Stay away from the road, sweethearts.”

Finn reached up and hit Logan’s arm, and they smiled at each other before looking back at Leo.

The deer looked on for another moment, tails twitching, before they darted into the trees, disappearing in a handful of silent seconds.

Logan found the right drive and turned in, letting the headlights wash over the house.

“Oh, Lo…” Leo leaned forward in his seat, peering up through the windshield.

Logan cut the engine. “My mystery.”

Leo grinned at him before opening his door.

While they got the bags, Logan checked his email again and then turned up the flashlight on his phone to find the small rock that the owner had hidden the key beneath. It smelled like pine inside and Logan felt right at home. He flicked on lights as he went, revealing a spacious living room with windows facing the lake and a kitchen large enough to host in. He smiled as he listened to Finn and Leo’s voices mixed with suitcase wheels hitting the floor and their footsteps following his.

They settled in easily, tired from the drive. They crowded each other in the bathroom, and when Leo snuck into the shower while Logan was washing the lake off of him, when and both of them emerged sated and flushed, Finn just grinned and turned the page of his book.

“That was fun to listen to.”

“Was it?” Leo straddled his knees and hooked two fingers into the band above the tight front of Finn’s pajama pants. He bent to kiss over the shape of Finn, then looked at Logan and tilted his head.

Finn cursed under his breath and closed his book. “I love us and vacations.” Logan watched as Finn tilted his head back and knit his brows when Leo bent to take him in his mouth.

Later, with a still fast beating heart, Logan lifted his arm and Leo knelt on the soft mattress until he could curl against his side. He pushed his nose into Logan’s neck and breathed in.

“Mhmm…” Leo hummed contently. He kissed Logan’s skin. “I think I’m going to sleep so damn good tonight.”

Logan smiled. It was Leo’s favorite sleeping weather. Logan had spent probably too long seeking out the very scene in front of them—porch doors of their master bedroom, currently thrown open with screens in place, letting cool night air in with the sound of lapping waves.

“I know you are,” Logan said. From the other side of the bed, Finn held out a fist, which Logan tapped with his own.

Logan could all but feel Leo relaxing, heavy against his side, his breathing already leveling out.

In the early dawn, and he wasn’t sure what had woken him, Logan found that Finn was staring up at the ceiling. Logan watched the hand on his stomach rise and fall with his even breathing, his fingers fiddling with the tie of his pajama pants. The string had gone wonky in the wash, one side far longer than the other. He looked to Leo. He was already looking back, his blue eyes gray in the dark room. He had his head on his own pillow, not Finn’s shoulder like Logan, but his hand was curled protectively around Finn’s bicep.

It felt good to all be awake. Just being together, laying quiet with all the time in the world tomorrow morning. This was home. It didn’t matter if he’d never slept in this bed before, if the sheets smelled like a forest he didn’t know.

Logan held out his hand, fingertips towards the ceiling, palm towards them. Without a word, Finn picked up his hand and high-fived him. The slap was loud in the room. Logan just clicked his tongue scoldingly and kept his hand there. Leo’s laugh was a short release of air, and he held up his hand, too, palm towards Logan’s, questioningly. Finn pressed his palm right against the back of Logan’s, softly this time. An owl picked up a song somewhere outside. Low notes cooed through their window as Logan slipped his palm away.

Logan picked up the longer tie of Finn’s pajamas, the flat woven strand cottony to the touch. He heard the sound of Finn opening his mouth, probably to ask what he was doing, but he stopped himself as Logan nudged Finn’s and Leo’s hands together. Leo settled his fingers briefly into the spaces between Finn’s, squeezing once before straightening them again.

Logan took the string and threaded it carefully around Finn’s ring finger, then crossed over diagonally and wrapped it around Leo’s, just behind it. He wrapped that path twice more, three small figure-eights binding them together, then dropped his hand to Finn’s chest.

Finn’s heart was beating hard and fast, so fast that Logan felt his cheeks get warm.

Neither Finn or Leo moved. When Logan glanced them over, they were both staring at the string, at their linked hands, bound by Logan’s makeshift rings. Finn’s chest had stopped moving beneath Logan’s head, but it started up again in a deep, easy exhale. Logan cupped their palms and lowered them to rest over the pounding of Finn’s heart. Leo threaded his and Finn’s fingers together and kissed Finn’s shoulder through a smile. Logan settled his hand over theirs and closed his eyes, wishing there was something to bind them together like this every where they went.

#vaincre lumosinlove #coops #wolfstar #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #smut #fluff

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nanamiluvs · 1 year ago

Note

hiii luv ur writing^^!!

i was wondering if you could write some wriothesley x chubby reader... insisting she's too heavy to sit on his face despite him urging her to do it and that it'll be fine,, eventually getting tired of her excuses and grabbing her thighs to pull her down onto his face

thanks for asking and tysm! wriothesley would def do that and he would beg you to sit on his face. also, honestly i think wriothesley is the type to prefer chubby and/or muscular bodies, he just views it as more meat for him to bite. he has a large body as well, so yeah.

pairing : wriothesley x chubby!reader

rating : explicit

wc : 850

warnings : reader is afab but no pronouns used, wriothesley calls reader "angel" and "doll", wriothesley is desperate, reader is a bit insecure about their weight, face sitting, oral (f receiving), wriothesley eats pussy like no other, slight dirty talk, i mean how can he talk much when his face is stuffed with pussy

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

wriothesley who wants you to sit on his face, you who thinks you're too heavy for that. he begs to differ.

wriothesley who tells you that he wants you to sit on his face.

wriothesley who pouts for a moment when you tell him no. it's okay, really, he would never force you to do something you don't want to. he just doesn't understand what exactly makes you uncomfortable with the idea, and wriothesley is a curious man when it comes to you.

but come on, how could he know that you thought you'd be too heavy for him? for him, for wriothesley who could throw weights twice as heavy as you around with ease? and wasn't your thighs crushing his face and your pussy suffocating him the entire point?

wriothesley who mentions the idea again later on, and this time, you agree to do it. it'll be fine, you think, you'll just rest your weight on your legs and he will also get to have what he wants. if he had a tail, you know it'd be wagging behind his back by the way his smile widens.

wriothesley who's just thrilled to finally have you on top of him, your wet heat hovering above his face. his dick is aching in his pants, purposefully left clothed so he can feel how much it wants you.

wriothesley who looks up at you weirdly after a few seconds, and you think that's it. he regrets it all.

"you want me to starve here? come on, doll, sit, no backing down now." he grins, his breath hitting you from how close his face was to your cunt. his rough hands caress your plush thighs as he playfully bites the inside of your thighs, pressing a kiss right after, waiting for you to properly sit.

you gulp. "i am sitting though..?" you lower yourself a bit more, pretending like you're placing your entire weight on him. "is this better?"

"nah, not really, but..." his eyes now stare into yours in a more serious manner. were you uncomfortable with him? you seemed like you were in doubt. "love, if you don't want to, you don't have to, i'm not-"

"i-i want to, but..." he pauses for a moment as you part your lips, listening to what you have to say. "i can't just sit on you! i would...crush your face, probably."

wriothesley who raises his eyebrows at your words. "yeah?"

you want to escape his gaze yet his eyes hold you in like a prisoner.

wriothesley who listens to you babble about some nonsense. i'm too heavy, it'd be a turn off for you, it's embarrassing, blah, blah, blah.

wriothesley who takes it as a challenge and simply grabs your legs and pulls you onto his face with a shriek, your entire weight pressing down on him. your pussy is met with his eager mouth and your clit presses against the tip of his nose, making your legs go numb for a few moments. "w-wrio, you!" you call out, shy as his tongue delves between your folds to lap up your slick like it's the last thing he ever wants to taste. he groans against your cunt at your taste, the vibrations making you grab his hair and press yourself harder on his face.

he grins in response, your skin feeling every movement of his. he moans into your pussy when you tug on his hair, all your thoughts about insecurities thrown out the window with the way you push yourself down on him. his hands grab your thighs firmly, wrapping them around his head as he kept pressing you down on him. his tongue pushes in at your hole after sucking in your clit harshly, "mmh, so-" he mumbles, and you swear you see stars by the way the sound vibrates through your body, "so wet for me, doll-"

wriothesley whose dick throbs, stretching against the tight fabric of his undergarments, begging to fill you to the brim. his hips thrust into the air in want, in need, desperate for some friction as he feasted on you. he knows you're close as you start grinding against his mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out and licking your folds as his nose presses against your clit. his hold on your body was still firm as ever, only tightening as he gets more into it. he sucks in your clit as the waves of pleasure wash over your body and you cum on his face, his greedy mouth licking up everything he can.

he lifts his hands and you back up, checking to see if he was okay.

wriothesley who fucking smirks at you from below, breathless and half of his face drenched and glistening with your juices. "how unfortunate," he says as he pulls you down once again, "make sure to break my neck this time."

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley #wrio x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin smut #genshin wriothesley x reader

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krystella-shifts · 3 months ago

Note

if i've been persisting for months that i am rich and i have desired amount of money but 3d shows me the opposite, but whenever i look in 3d i say "i already have it all in my 4d, it doesn't matter if i don't have it in 3d" am i doing everything right? 😭

honesty 3d is so exhausting..

btw you are very comforting and sweet, i like you a lot

Nooo don't say you don't have it in the 3d 😭🤦🏻‍♀️ you're literally affirming you don't have it??? 😭 And stop separating 3d and 4d cuz they're the same!!! I stopped using those terms unless I have to explain smth in my post. Cuz why make it complicated?? 3d IS 4d reflected physically. So you have it. It's not like "oh I have it in the 4d but I don't have it in the 3d yet.. I will get it.." and blah blah. No! You have it now. That's it. You're rich now. So act like it. Youre not manifesting it, you're just stating a fact. 😌💅🏻✨

And OMG stop 😭💖 comforting is such a compliment now that I think about it tho. Thank youu 🩷 I'm grateful to have you here

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scrapyardboyfriends · 1 month ago

Text

Plotdale 30 May 2025

[The Village with Aaron and Robert]

ROBERT: So...what's it gonna be? #AreWeBackTogetherYet

AARON: *Deep sigh of regret* Sorry, I have to marry John. It's what the Plot wants.

ROBERT: *Rejected Face* Right...so the Plot still hates me. Great. But hey wait...you walked out of your wedding and kissed me back! #WhyAreWeNotGettingBackTogether

AARON: *Got me there Face* Yeah well that was a mistake #AndIWillKeepMakingThem

ROBERT: So why didn't you go with him just then?

AARON: Because I don't know when you'll be back again and I wanted to try and get all the face time I could before the Plot separates us again. And also #ForTheFans ...That's why I can't want you yet Robert. We thrive on angst and slow burns and the fans need to see the yearning. It's for maximum drama okay. Plus I'm Plot!Dumb. I don't know quite how yet but I am. #SeeYouSoon

--- AARON walks off ---

ROBERT: *Rejected Face*

PLOT: *Whispers* Look at the PARALLELS!

[The Village Hall with all those irrelevant people]

FAUXBERT: I should tell everyone the wedding's off. I can see the writing on the wall. Plus I know it will give the fans who hate me some hope.

PLOT: No no it's not time yet, here I brought him back.

PLOTRON: Hey hey I'm here, ready for the wedding of the year. #IMissRobertAlready #ButIAmStubborn #SoIPersist #ForTheDrama

REGISTRAR: *Over it Face* Damn I was really hoping to finally go home. #TheseGaysTheyAreTryingToKillMe

FAUXBERT: *Surprised Face* Oh good, cause I really thought you were going to choose Robert there for a sec-

PLOTRON: Oh I tried mate but I'm not allowed to yet. #ForTheDrama

REGISTRAR: Can we get this over with for the love of god? #MaybeICanOfficiateWedding3.0

--- The Most Dull Wedding of the Year Commences ---

REGISTRAR: Do you so and so take blah blah blah #GodIAmBored

FAUXBERT: *Attempts Smugden Face* I do! #NothingCanGoWrongNow

PLOTRON: *Through a fake smile* I do...I guess...at least this is practice for Wedding 3.0 #ForTheDrama #AreWeBackTogetherYet

[The Bus Stop with Robert and Swirling]

ROBERT: *Head in hands* *Moody mode activated*

SWIRLING: *Fond admiration Face* Was it worth it? Risking prison for #TrueLove ?

ROBERT: *Rejected Face* Apparently not. The Plot has it out for me. #IMissAaron

SWIRLING: Yeah it really does. I have to arrest you now because a currently unknown informant snitched on you. I'm as sorry as you are. I was rooting for you. For what it's worth, I won't cuff you. Does that get me an invite to the inevitable Wedding 3.0? *Helps Robert into the back of the car*

ROBERT: *Brushes Swirling's helping hand away* Yeah yeah...I might need a new best person since my own sister keeps selling me out.

[The Woolpack with PLOTRON, Mack, Ruby, Caleb, Kerry and some other irrelevant people]

VICTIM: *Plot!Dumb Face* *Gives the most uninspired speech unable to be summarized because it's already been forgotten*

MACK: *Interrupts the speech* #ThankGod Hey sorry I'm late I was locked in a weed attic. #MyPlotsAreWeird

PLOTRON: *Confused Face* Yeah it's uh...fine...you'll make it up to me later...probably when I become less Plot!Dumb. Plus, I had uh...other things going on. #IMissRobert #ForTheDrama

VICTIM: Oh...now I forgot what I was saying #NoOneCares

SOMEONE IRRELEVANT: Time for your first dance!

PLOTRON: Do I have to Plot? You know how I feel about dancing. #TechnicallyItsJustStanding

PLOT: Sorry you're Plot!Dumb right now. All previous characterization goes out this window. You're completely fine with this now. Anything else would be too direct of a reference to your superior weddings.

--- PLOTRON AND FAUXBERT dance ---

FAUXBERT: This is the best day of my life. #Foreshadowing

PLOTRON: Really I think we might be cursed. #Foreshadowing

FAUXBERT: *Sickly Creepy Smile Face* No this is how we were meant to be, together forever, I'm never letting you go. #Foreshadowing #RedFlag #RunAaronRun

IRRELEVANT PEOPLE: *Plot!Dumb Ignorantly Happy Faces*

--- CALEB AND RUBY arrive ---

CALEB: Sorry we missed the wedding of the year. I brought you interior design vouchers because everyone hates your flat. #ForTheFans

RUBY: You deserve happiness Aaron.

KERRY: Have you heard of Robert Sugden?

RUBY: Who?

PLOTRON: #GodIMissRobert

[Prison Phone Call with Robert and VICTIM]

ROBERT: Hey Vic, so I'm in prison again. Crimes of passion and all that. #IHateThePlot

VICTIM: *Shocked Face* Again? But I wasn't done choosing John over you right in front of your face. Makes no matter, I can do it over the phone. Aaron chose John forever and ever till death do them part #Foreshadowing They made a promise in front of everyone.

ROBERT: So did we...twice. Why does everyone forget that? #TrueWeddingsOfTheYear

VICTIM: I forget everything that isn't immediately important to the Plot at hand. So anyway you just need to use this time to move on. *Hangs up*

ROBERT: *Rejected Face* Move on? Has she met me? *Operation get Aaron back 2.0 Commences* #AreWeBackTogetherYet

[Outside the Woolpack with PLOTRON, Mack and some other irrelevant people]

MACK: Look I decorated the hideous van to make up for missing your wedding. I put in as much effort as this union deserves! #IHateJohnClub #DemotedToVicePresidentBecauseRobertIsNowPresident

PLOTRON: Uhh...yep, sounds about right. You can make it up to me at Wedding 3.0 to Robert.

--- FAUXBERT AND PLOTRON get into the hideous van ---

FAUXBERT: Right, lets turn our phones off the Plot can't reach us. #Foreshadowing

PLOTRON: Sounds great! Although usually I like to take my Plotless time to think about Robert and now I've got new material. Soz. Anyway...here's my totally inappropriate wedding song pick for our road tunes.

--- FAUXBERT AND PLOTRON drive off in the hideous van ---

KYLE: Hi! I've brought the Plot! There's a body being pulled out of the lake. Swirling is having the busiest day!

RUBY: Oh no I'm going to prison. #PrisonIsntSoBadRobertIsThere

IRRELEVANT PERSON: So much for being Team Fauxbert #Foreshadowing

[The Hideous Van with PLOTRON and FAUXBERT]

FAUXBERT: *Stops the van* *Soppy Face* I just want to savor this moment before the Plot hits the fan. #Foreshadowing

PLOTRON: Soppy Git *Derogatory*

FAUXBERT: *Soppy Face* We've made it. We're unbeatable.

PLOTRON: *He doesn't understand that Robert and I are inevitable Face*

FAUXBERT: Our lives are just going to keep getting better and better #HeavyForeshadowing #PlotKlaxon #TimeToGoFullVillainJohnnyBoy #BeOurHero #BringRobertAndAaronBackTogetherWithYourCrimes

--- PLOTRON AND FAUXBERT kiss ---

PLOT: Sorry sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you! #TeamRobert

#emmerdale #robron #plotdale

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years ago

Text

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

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silentstyx · 5 months ago

Text

one year later, still yours

sum: sure, I used to be a regular here but I haven't been here in over a year and you still remember my order.

tw: unrequited feelings - both ends. percy's a sarcastic ass.

ive been pumping out fics heheh, also i love using logan lerman as percy bc hes jus so percy n hes so scrumptious and i wanna eat his face and his biceps and every bulging muscle on his ripped body ugh.

it was a slow day in general. you've been working at a local coffee shop near your house for two years now and your favorite regular that you've grown romantic feelings for is gone and been gone. you know that he only came in to buy drinks for his mom, but you also knew that he loved eating blue food dye, and if there was a blue drink he'd make starbucks even more rich. yet, you haven't seen him or his mother. you figure he'd started buying from a local coffee shop that's closer to his house and plus its still a small business that helps.

it sucks though because you had grown feelings for this boy. his name was Percy Jackson. you would always spell it wrong just to tick him off. 'persy jakeson' 'pansy jackson' 'perry the platypus'. a few that you have put over the year he was here. he would come in every saturday at the same time with the same order for him and his mom.

"medium caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, a blue sugar cookie, and a small hot chocolate to go! puh-lease!" is exactly how percy would say it. his mom got the caramel macchiato and he got the blue sugar cookies and hot chocolate. you remembered the order and the cute face though after two months of him ordering at your shift. you made sure that if you guys were open that saturday at 8:35 that you were there for that shift.

you hear someone coming in, even though it was slow you were still working. "hi, welcome in! how are you?" you attempt to sound nice. don't know how well it's working yet. you haven't looked up. you were wiping the counters down. you look at the time.

saturday, 8:35 AM.

you look up immediately. it's him. you smile, "been a while, hm? thought you found somewhere else to get.... a medium caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, blue sugar cookie, and a small hot chocolate all to go?"

he scoffs, "psh, never. you're the only one. my mom just stopped drinking coffee so i didn't have a good enough reason to go to the local coffee shop with the cute barista without telling my mom about the cute barista. 'we have blue sugar cookies and hot chocolate for free at home Perseus' blah blah blah. i have to admit though, the pillsbury dough boy with blue frosting and blue sprinkles is a lot better than your guys' cookies. might run you for your money."

you laugh, "so she tried to keep us apart? what is this, Romeo and Juliet?"

he laughs with you, "i'm surprised you remembered the order."

"you're a regular, of course i remember," you say incredulously, "you want the cookie and small hot chocolate but no macchiato?"

"yeah thats fine.. but [insert reader's name], sure, i used to be a regular here but i haven't been here in over a year and you still remember my order. thinking about me?" he says with a smug smile plastered on his stupid pretty face.

his stupid pretty face with some black hair falling into his long dark eyelashes and his gorgeous sea green eyes and his pretty pink full lips that you just wanna kiss and nibble on 'til there red and peeling.

"so am i right or completely far off?" he questions with a shit eating grin.

"think you have completely lost it, perry the platypus." you sigh, with your own stupid smile on your face.

he rolled his eyes and laughed, "oh we're bringing that name back? okay, okay. just know I'll get my revenge."

"ooh menacing," you say sarcastically as you hand him his hot chocolate and bag of his treat, "i left a little note under the coffee sleeve for you."

"oh i'll be sure to throw it away before i get to read it." he says sassily with a big goofy smile as he walked out.

you smiled and laughed at his shenanigans.

he got outside and got in his car. he immediately moved the sleeve, which he doesn't even know why you still put it if you make it directly for him to drink immediately - not too hot but not cold.

he lifts up the sleeve and sees you did write something. at first all he sees is a smiley face, he then turns the cup and sees what you've written in full. your number.

(123) 456-7890

#kate unfiltered . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁#kate writes 𓂃🖊#percy jackson & the olympians #pjo #HoO #heroes of olypmus #percy jackson #perseus jackson #sally jackson #percy jackson & the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #HoO x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson x reader #reader x percy jackson #perseus jackson x reader #reader x perseus jackson #sally jackson x reader

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uzurakis · 1 year ago

Note

ok not nagumo but still sakadays. hear me out on academic rivals to lovers w/ natsuki. ooooh you hate each other so much you make sooo many essays dissing each others work and you loooovvve to annoy him and get up close and— god, he's pretty— whaaaaaaaaat?????????

“still convinced your essay on the evolution of weaponry is more creative than mine?" you say, dropping your bag onto the table with a loud thud.

the guy doesn’t even flinch at your intrusion. he calmly looks up from his notes, “duh,” his expression annoyingly indifferent. "yes, i am. because it is."

you scoff, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. "pleasee, your analysis of technology weaponry is soo dry, anyone could make that. but my piece on futuristic weaponry has, you know, imagination."

he raises an eyebrow, the only sign of his annoyance. "but imagination isn't everything. my work is grounded in reality, something yours severely lacks."

"grounded in reality? that's just a fancy way of saying boring." you lean closer, trying to get under his skin. "your essay is like reading a complicated blah blah textbook. mine's a thrilling adventure, hmph.”

natsuki’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but he catches himself. "thrilling adventures are for fiction, not academic essays, idiot. you're just using flashy ideas to cover up a lack of depth."

your mouth opens, ready to fire back another retort, but then you pause. the words get stuck in your throat as you notice something. up close, natsuki is.. pretty. his lashes are long and his eyes, sharp and focused, hold a depth you’ve never really seen before. his indifference suddenly feels like a challenge, and your heart skips a beat. you find your gaze drifting to the two moles below his right eye and the single mole beneath his left eye, tiny details you had noticed before, and and

whaaaaaaaaaattt????? since when did you start to pay attention to your rival? not just paying attention to beat him but literally, clearly, paying attention. his features and all, the person in front of you; seba natsuki, the one that crawls under your skin as long as you can remember. how? when? why?

wait, you just realized?

he tilts his head, noticing your silence. "what's wrong? run out of things to say?"

"uh, no. i was just.. thinking about how wrong you are." you blink, shaking yourself out of your reverie.

“right,” he narrows his eyes slightly, studying you. "you sure that's all you were thinking about?"

you swallow, feeling your face heat up. "of course. what else would i be thinking about?"

natsuki leans back in his chair, a hint of amusement apparent in his gaze. "i don’t know. you seemed a bit.. distracted."

"i’m not distracted," you say, a bit too quickly. "i just can’t believe how stubborn you are."

"and i can’t believe how stubborn you are," he counters, leaning forward again. "yet, here we are."

the proximity makes your heart race. you can see the faint stubble on his jawline, the way his lips curve ever so slightly. and those moles—how had you just noticed them before and didn’t think much about it? it’s infuriating how he can be so infuriatingly attractive.

"it’s impossible to talk with you," you mutter, trying to regain your composure.

"maybe ‘cause you're relentless," he replies, his tone almost.. admiring?

both fall silent, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. for the first time, the banter feels like a prelude to something else, something you can’t quite put into words. no fucking way.

natsuki breaks the silence first, his voice softer. "you know, maybe we’re both right in our own ways. different perspectives, same passion."

“huh?” you blink, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. "did you just.. agree with me?"

he shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "maybe. but i’m still the best around here. don’t get used to it."

"pft, wouldn't dream of it," you reply, thanking god you can still stop your own smile from forming. you find yourself stealing glances at him, those moles now etched in your memory, as the realization dawns that your competition might just be the spark of something.. else, something new.

and fuck, you don’t want to think about it. not now, not never. fuck. fuckity fuck.

n. i love u whoever sent me this prompt UGHHH U DON KNOW HOW MUCH A SUCKER I AM FOR RIVALS TO LOVERS AAGHHH *does a flipback* i love u did i say i love u nonnie @—@ i rlly hope u like it as i doo MUNCHING ON YOUR IDEA mwah xoxo

@uzurakis

#.writing #sakamoto days x you #sakamoto days x reader #sakadays x you #sakadays x reader #natsuki seba x reader #natsuki seba x you #sakamoto days natsuki #sakamoto days seba #natsuki x reader #seba x reader #seba natsuki x reader #seba natsuki x you #sakamoto days #sakadays

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mirkwoodshewolf · 6 months ago

Text

What is this feeling; George Weasley x reader

*Author's note*

And here we are with the second fic of the day as part of the Sirius Black daughter story-plot. Hopefully soon I can get the chapter up where reader and Georgie boy FINALLY admit their feelings for each other then idk if I'll do the Post-war of Hogarts who knows but then that'll be it. Pictures and gifs below I DO NOT own I'm just using them for visual purposes. Enjoy my lovelies :)

Taglist:

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@waddles03

@plethora-of-things

@queen-paladin

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

____________________________________________________

It was that infamous time of the year. Not only was Hogwarts the host for the Triwizard tournament, but it was also the time for the Yule Ball. That time when the boys get all awkward around the girls as they try to work up the nerve to ask a girl to go with them to the dance. Or they become too egotistical and think charm and silver-tongue words will make us swoon.

It's also when the girls start going frantic about what dress they’re going to be wearing and hope they don’t buy the same dress as their friends or anyone else for that manner. Meetings in dorm rooms about helping each other’s hair and makeup style. You really can’t avoid the Yule Ball, no matter how hard you try.

I personally don’t have any grudges or hate against the ball itself. I mean what girl doesn’t want to get dressed up and feel like a Princess in a fairytale? It’s just the pressure behind it all that I can’t get behind.

“Afternoon milady.” I turned and saw George leaning up against the corner pillar.

“Ahh I see that you’re back to your original self now. Or did you just dye your hair ginger to feel young again?”

“I take it you heard?”

“You’re lucky none of the Professors have heard of it yet. I warned you and Fred that aging potions are tricky if you don’t get….”

“The exact measurements right blah, blah, blah, blah we got it now.” I punched his arm.

“Watch it Weasley or I’ll slip that aging potion of yours into your morning drink. But this time I’ll make sure the effects last for a month.” That got him to shut his mouth.

“Anyways.” He cleared his throat. “Besides our failed attempt to get into the Triwizard tournament, how was your dance lesson? I’m told Ravenclaws had the Room of Requirement today to discuss the ball.”

“It went just as well as I’m sure yours did. Except Professor Flitwick had two students come together and they just ended up falling flat on their faces. Note to self I’m not accepting Gale Turner’s invitation to the ball anytime soon. Bless him he may be Irish but he’s got two left feet.”

“Well I’ll have you know that during our dance lesson, Dear old Ronald had to get his lessons from Professor McGonagall herself. Had him touch her waist and everything.”

“Have some faith in your Professor. She was once a young woman once, and I’ll bet she was probably fairly pretty.”

“Oh no doubt. There’s actually an old portrait of her in our Common room.”

“Okay now don’t you start getting the weird fantasies there Georgie.”

“Great now my mind is forever stained with your accusations. I’d never do a thing like that!”

“Yeah sure whatever.” I let out a squeal as I was suddenly picked up and thrown over his shoulder. He spun us around and I exclaimed as I slammed my fists against his back, “GEORGE PUT ME DOWN YOU BIG OAF!!”

“Big Oaf, them is fighting words there Black.” He playfully tried to drop me but I let out a shriek as I clung onto him.

“George!” he chuckled before finally setting me down but he kept his hold around my waist and I (strangely) kept my arms at the side of his neck. You know I never really noticed this before but—George’s eyes really do seem to shine more in the light than Fred’s do. It’s like they go from dark brown to an almost chocolate-hazel color.

And—have his shoulders always been this broad before? Guess being a Beater in Quidditch has it’s advantages. And his lips they were—DEAR MERLIN WHAT AM I SAYING!? Pull up pull up pull up now Seeker!

“I uhh….I better get my things for Potions class. Can’t afford another detention with Snape.” I cleared my throat as I backed away from George and gathered my things. He knelt down and helped me and as we both reached for my journal and out fingers grazed each other’s, a sudden spark came over me.

A spark that had never happened before every time we’d hold hands. We looked at each other wide-eyed before I collected my journal and bid George a goodbye before racing down the hallway.

What the bloody hell was that?

The next few days were all about girls being asked out to the Yule Ball and seeing the never-ending failed attempts for both Harry and Ron to get dates. Those poor boys, they’re just thinking too hard. I was heading towards my dorm room when I took notice of my roommate Luna Lovegood going through her trunk but once again she had no shoes on.

“The Nargals again Luna?” she slowly peeked over her shoulder and slowly sat up.

“Fraid so. This time all of my shoes have gone missing.” She answered in that wispy, dazed tone of hers. It really was unfair that the school has deemed her ‘Looney Lovegood’, she just has her own way of seeing the world and shouldn’t be marred for it. I even hear Hermione sometimes refer to her as such which is shocking coming from her.

“Isn’t there like a trap you could set out or something to catch them. I’d like to have a word with those pesky creatures for forcing you to go barefoot all the time.”

“It’s alright. I’m used to it.” I went over to my bed and immediately collapsed into it as I let out a heavy sigh. “Something’s troubling you, you’re not as—vibrant as your aura usually is.”

“I don’t know, it’s so strange.” She suddenly appeared over me.

“Strange is an abstract word defined by many perspectives and intervals. You’re just as sane as I am.”

“I appreciate that thank you Luna.”

“My pleasure.” She gave me a soft smile before skipping off out of the dorm room to search for her missing shoes. She really was a sweet girl, people should just look past her ‘looney-ness’ and really get to know her. She does view the world in a way I never thought of before. Kinda reminds me of that one muggle book umm…..Alice in Wonderland, yeah that’s it.

Later that day I was in the Great Hall during Free Period trying to get caught up on some homework when I noticed something from my peripheral vision. I looked up and saw a paper-crane flying around my head before gracefully landing right in front of me. I looked around before opening it up and there written was:

Meet me by the Fountain after free period.

R.W

Ron? What could he want from me? I looked up towards the Gryffindor table and saw him giving me a pleading look. Bless him he truly was like a little brother to me so I gave him a nod and went back to my work.

Once Free Period was over, I went out to the fountain in the courtyard and waited. And waited, and waited until finally Ron came out with a package of some kind. He came over to me and I said to him.

“Next time Ron, don’t keep a girl waiting. It’s been 40min and you’re lucky I didn’t have any other classes today.”

“I know, I know I’m sorry. But I had to work up the courage to ask you something.” Oh no Ron don’t tell me you’re going to…..

“Okay….” I spoke hesitantly.

“I’m told you dabble in a bit of needle work and stitching.” Oh, oh thank Merlin! I was afraid I’d have to reject his offer to the Ball.

“I may dabble a bit of it yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I—don’t know if Fred or George told you, and I bloody hope none of them did, or worse Ginny. Can you do anything to fix this and make it appropriate?” he handed me the package and I set it in my lap. I opened the lid and was greeted with a—well it was definitely a sight.

“Wow.” I breathed.

“Please tell me you can do something with this and make it more modern? Mum can’t possible think this is still the 14th century!”

“Ron…..I can mix potions to the proper brew, be the fastest on a broom and even transform into a puma at will. But I can’t work miracles.” I held his dress robes up but he quickly forced me to put it back into the box.

“Bloody hell!” he squeaked.

“I’m sorry Ron. Maybe it—won’t be so bad.”

“So bad? Look at you at least you could wear the ugliest dress and still make it work on you. I’ll be marred as a fairy till I graduate if people see me wearing this at the Ball. I’m doomed.” He then walked away leaving me at the fountain.

“Poor boy.” I shook my head shamefully.

“Ahh he’ll bounce back.” I jumped and there sat George.

“Bloody hell George! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that!?”

“Ever since we were 11 our first week of classes. So did you have to reject our poor little brother to the ball?”

“No he asked me if there was any chance of mending his dress robes so that they’d be more ‘presentable’. According to him.” George laughed and I elbowed him in his ribs. “Don’t laugh at him.”

“I’m his older brother, it’s my job.”

“Well your job is cruel and demeaning.”

“It’s all in good fun (n/n).” he poked my cheek but I swatted his hand away. “Speaking of the Ball, whose the lucky man to have swept you away?”

“Ha-ha you’re hilarious George.” I said standing up and walking away. He quickly caught up to me and said.

“This isn’t a joke, surely someone has asked you already. If not then you’ve got a line of guys waiting for you.” He stood in front of me. Every time I’d move around him, he’d block me from leaving.

“You’re delusional did you know that? I mean really, a line of men waiting to ask me are you serious?”

“So just a few then?”

“George no one has asked me to the Ball.”

“Now you’re the one whose delusional.”

“No I’m not. Think about this for a second George Weasley. It’s been over a year since my father’s escape from Azkaban. No one knows where he’s at, and the ‘truth’ that was revealed is still kept in the dark. He’s not a ‘innocent man’ yet. So who in their right minds would ask the daughter of a mass murderer to the Yule Ball?” he finally allowed me to step around him.

“So what you’re just going to be alone?” I stopped in my tracks.

“Apparently so.” Before I could walk again, I bumped into George’s chest and looked up at him.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. That’s not going to happen.”

“What are you saying George?”

“I’m saying if you’ll go to the Ball with me?”

“If this is a pity date, don’t waste…..”

“It’s not pity. I solemnly swear!” he crossed his heart and holding up his other hand. The twins only ever did that to me when they showed their genuine vow to not play and tricks or lies. “The ball is on Christmas Eve and call it ‘family tradition’ or whatever but mum always said that no one should be alone on Christmas.”

Merlin’s beard. My heart was pounding harder in my chest than it ever has before (even more than my first Quidditch match). The look in his eyes showed his genuine pledge and I knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

“Ask me again if this is real, George Weasley.” He gave me a gentleman’s bow before looking up at me and said.

“(Y/n) Celeste Black, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?” my face started to flush as my pulse was rushing.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes is there an echo in here?” once again I was picked up into his arms and spun around the two of us laughing joyously. After a few spins he finally set me down but like a few days ago he kept his hands at my waist.

“I uhh—guess I’ll see you at the Ball then.”

“Yeah, yeah guess I will. Or you will.” I giggled softly at his pronoun mistake. As I left down the hall, that tingly spark returned and I couldn’t help but miss the feeling of his arms around me.

Days went by and I had joined up with Hermione and the two of us were currently out in Hogsmeade picking out our dresses for the ball. As I was going through the racks searching for the perfect dress Hermione said.

“I’m told that George asked you to the Yule Ball.”

“Yes, yes he did. Although I think we’re going just as friends. Just because you see a boy and a girl at a dance together, doesn’t mean they can’t go as friends.” Why did it sting to word it like that?

“Huh.”

“Huh? What do you mean huh?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just if I were to ever see you hooking up with anyone, it would be George.”

“What exactly are you getting on Granger?” I asked going over to her changing room door.

“You know exactly what I’m speaking of Black, why are you denying it? You know full well that most of the boys from Durmstrang had asked you to the Yule Ball and you’ve rejected every single one of them. Even Viktor’s right hand asked you out and you rejected his offer. But when George asks you, you say yes.”

“You’re full of it Granger.” I flung over another dress option for her.

“Am I?” she challenged.

“Are you done in there or not?” I asked impatiently as I stepped away from her door and she soon opened up and there she stood in her pink dress. “Wow. Forget the dress I flung at you, this—this is the one.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely, come here.” I dragged her over to the mirror and stood behind her. “Have your hair done up just right, give it some gentle curls, maybe a beautiful necklace.” She quirked her brow at me. “Your right no necklace. And people won’t keep their eyes off of you. Mainly Viktor.”

“It’s just a dance. I have no romantic feelings for Viktor, not like you and George.” I pinched her arm making her exclaim and walked off.

“We’re just friends Mione, have been for the past five years now.”

“Denial is the first step into accepting ones true feelings.” Hermione sung out before heading back into the changing room to get out of the dress and back into her normal clothes.

No. No I-I couldn’t be…..or could I? Lately things have felt a little—tense between George and I. Everytime he now wraps his arms around me, there’s this spark of electricity that hadn’t been there before. My pulse also seems to grow a little fast and my face seems to flush more when it’s just him compared to when Fred and I are alone.

I soon found my chosen dress and went inside the other changing room and tried it on for size. Once I got into it, I admired myself in the mirror and was amazed by how much the dress hugged my curves but also the way the actual design and color of it made it seem like the entire cosmos was detailed in this dress.

“Now that is a dress no one will tear their eyes away from.” Hermione said as she came back out with her dress tucked under her arm.

“You really think so?”

“Trust me, people do say you’re almost like a star in human form.” I rolled my eyes at the comment.

“I think you mean just because I love Astronomy so much, people believe I should be a star.”

“Which would be a terrible idea cause you’ve got a more twisted ego than both the Weasley twins combined.”

“Hey I resent that comment!”

“Remind me again whose idea it was to fill the Slytherin common room with glitter bombs?” I snickered remembering that prank back in my fourth year.

“You gotta admit, Malfoy was still finding glitter in that blonde head of his for two months.”

“As amusing as it was, it was still your twisted idea.”

“C’mon, let’s get these dresses bought before the next flood of girls comes crashing in.” I went back into my dressing room and changed back into my normal clothes then the two of us headed over to the cashier and paid for our dresses.

Finally the big night had arrived. I allowed Hermione into the Ravenclaw dressing room so that the two of us could get ready together. I helped her out with her hair and makeup and she placed on her dress while I was getting the last few touches of my makeup done.

That’s when my owl Arella came into my room squawking. I turned over to her and was surprised to see a box at her side.

“And what’s this Arella?” I walked over to her and untied the package from her talons and she adjusted her position before ruffling her feathers.

“What is it?” asked Hermione. I picked up the box and saw the letter tied underneath the black ribbon. It had my name written on it so I had opened it up and I recognized the writing format.

“It’s from my dad.” Hermione looked at me surprised and she asked.

“What did he say?”

“‘My Dearest (Y/n)’,” I read his letter aloud. “‘I know it’s that time of year again, with the Triwizard tournament I know that the time for the Yule Ball has come once again. I wish I could’ve been there in person to see just how beautiful you look right now, but the best I can do is give you these. Your mother once had these given to her at our first Yule Ball together, a gift she said that was tradition in her family for the father to bequeath his daughter. I hope with these you shine like the star I know you are. Have fun tonight but not too much fun, trust me I know how boys are at this age. Love dad.’” We both chuckled softly.

“He really does love you, doesn’t he?”

“I wish we hadn’t lost those 12 years.” I kissed the letter and held it close to my heart. I then set the letter down and unwrapped the ribbon from the box and opened it up to reveal about 12 tiny diamond-like beads.

“What are they?”

“I….don’t know. Wait there’s something in the box.” I pulled out a small rolled up note and unraveled it and written on it was a spell. “Luce Stellarum.” Suddenly the small diamonds began to glow and raise up from the box. They began to form around me and slowly they circled around me.

Each one that passed around me, what appeared to be stardust began to rain down upon me. After a few spins from these diamond studs, my dress almost seemed to come alive as starlight patterns now shined through the dress and the diamond beads came onto the dress. Some formed the Orion constellation around my right left. One made a stardust trail of a shooting star going at my left hip, and the rest seemed to spread themselves and land perfectly into my hair.

The stardust around me faded and I turned to Hermione and she was in pure awe.

“(Y/n) you look—”

“What? Please tell me that didn’t ruin the hard work I did.”

“No, no it—it enhanced it actually, come see.” She brought me over to the mirror and I was stunned at what I saw. The stars on my dress now began to twinkle and shine like the real stars in the sky. My hair also glistened with starlight as the darkness of my hair really made the beads now scattered throughout my hair twinkled and shined.

“Oh dad….mum. Thank you both.” I clenched my mother’s locket and tried to keep back the tears from ruining my makeup.

“Now George won’t be able to take his eyes off you ever again after tonight.”

“Oh shut up Hermione. Now let’s get going, the ball’s about to begin we don’t want to be late. Least of all you since you’re leading this thing.” I took her hand and we quickly raced out of my dorm room and toward the Great Hall.

*George’s POV*

I stood by the entrance of the Great Hall with Fred, Angelina, Lee and Katie waiting for (Y/n) to come down so we could all enter together.

“Where is she?” I asked nervously.

“She was with Hermione in her dorm getting ready. It’s more of a walk from the Ravenclaw dormitories than Gryffindor. She’ll be here.” Angelina assured me.

“Or she could’ve had cold feet and chickened out last minute.” Lee joked but both Katie and Angelina smacked his arm for that comment.

“She’ll be here Georgie, she wouldn’t bail on you without giving you heads notice. Especially after the way you’ve been treating her.” Fred said as he wrapped his arm around my neck.

“In what way?” he gave me a pointed look.

“Oh don’t you start being daft too. The two of you I swear.”

“What are you talking about Fred?”

“Ever since the Quidditch world cup tournament we saw before school started. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed how much cozier you two have gotten with each other.”

“You really are the loose-screw in this twin pair Freddie. We’re all just…..”

“She’s beautiful.” We heard Lee, Katie and Angelina chorus breathlessly. Fred and I then turned and I saw before me the most sacred thing my eyes would ever see.

(Y/n) Celeste Black walking down the stairs leading to the great hall. Her dress was a mixture of purple and black, almost like a nebula far out into space. Her dress was also covered in starlight diamonds that glowed every now and then, especially when the lights from the torches hit them just right. Her hair was done up beautifully and fell down into waves but what surprised me were the same Starlights that were on her dress, also seemed to be in her hair as well.

And she was—she…..she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Even more beautiful than she normally was.

She soon came up to us and even though her mouth was moving, I couldn’t hear anything. I was just encompassed by just the mere sight of her. As our group began complementing her dress and her appearance, I began to notice things about her than I never thought of before.

Like did her eyes always seem to sparkle like that? They almost seemed to resemble—no resembling is too good of a word uhh—they outshined the sparkle of real sapphire jewels. And the way her hair framed around her face, it gave her this ethereal deity like aura, and Merlin her smile……words couldn’t describe just how I felt about her smile.

It's her smile that I’ve always loved about her and I’d always want to do anything in this world to let her keep it. She’s suffered so much in her life that she deserves all the happiness in the world, and I hope to one day be the man to give that to her.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa Georgie where is all this sentimental mush coming from? It—no. What Fred was hinting couldn’t be true….or could it?

“Oi Georgie boy, best stop gawking at her and give your girl a complement less she think you find her repulsing.” Freddie whispered as he smacked me in the back of my head. I shoved him off of me and walked up to her.

“H—uhm….(Y/n) you-y-you look…..” my throat felt dry and my palms began to sweat. “You look beautiful.” I managed to croak out after clearing my throat. Oh please tell me I didn’t sound like a git.

“Thanks George, you look rather dashing yourself.” We both smiled softly at each other as our eyes remained locked onto each other’s.

“Ahh I see the last of your group has at last arrived. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Jordan, you three can escort Ms. Johnson, Ms. Bell and Ms. Black into the Great Hall.” Professor McGonagall said.

“Well then you two, shall we get a move on?” Fred asked as he and Angelina hooked arms and walked into the Great Hall. Lee and Katie followed just behind them and I cleared my throat as I extended my arm.

“Shall we, milady?”

“Indeed kind sir.” She wrapped her arm around mine and once again that tingle that’s been happening since the Quidditch world cup came back over me. I guided her in and how is it that even with the magical snow falling down from above, she seemed to become even more ethereal than she was just outside in the hallway?

We joined up with Fred and Lee amongst the crowd and soon the band began playing as the four champions now walked through the crowd toward the dance floor to lead the first waltz.

“Doesn’t Hermione look beautiful?” I heard (Y/n) ask through the crowd’s applause.

“Yeah….beautiful.” but my eyes weren’t even looking toward Granger.

*My POV*

Once the four champions began the first waltz, it was Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall who were the first in the crowd to start waltzing. But by bit more couples of both students and staff began to fill the dance floor. I turned to George and asked him.

“Shall we?”

“I thought that was supposed to be my line?” he asked teasingly.

“Who says we both can’t share it?” he extended his hand and I took it and he lead me out into the dance floor. The second I felt his hand touch my waist, I gasped softly and felt him pull me slightly closer. My right hand intertwined with his left and placing my left hand around his shoulder he then lead me into the waltz with the others.

Even as the entire student body were now on the dance floor dancing in unison, my eyes couldn’t turn away from George.

“Who would’ve thought George Weasley was a phenomenal dancer?” I couldn’t help but praise.

“Trust me,” he picked me up by my waist in another lift before setting me back down, “I’m full of surprises.”

As the night went on, the waltzing had now turned into a real dance as we were all crowded together now dancing freely as the rock band played their set. George and I stuck together in the crazed mosh-pit of students and screaming fangirls, jumping up and down to the beat. Him occasionally spinning me around and at times we couldn’t help but join the screaming crowd as we both would howl in rejoice.

After the current song was done playing, we all cheered and I decided I needed a break off my feet. George guided me to our table where the girls and Fred and Lee had taken their seat about four songs ago.

“You two truly are the party animals.” Commented Lee.

“What can I say, when there’s a good beat, I just gotta move my feet.” I said. “Although I am feeling a bit parched.”

“We were just about to get some drinks and refreshments, we can bring you guys something back.” Angelina said.

“Oh you guys don’t have to do all that.”

“Really we insist, besides you’re the brave one. Dancing and lasting longer than us in heels.” Katie said shoving my shoulder as she stood up and our group of friends left leaving George and I alone.

“She’s wrong you know.”

“About what?” asked George.

“The heels. My feet have been killing me the past half hour or so.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Stubbornness. Plus I’m not lying about what I said when it comes to dancing. Besides I’ve gotten worse things stuck between my paws as a puma. Thorns and twigs I can live with, but high heels they’re murderer.” I unhooked one of my heels but before I could get the other one, George suddenly knelt down in front of me.

“May I?” I was breathless. My heart skipped a beat and my voice was caught up in my throat so I only gave him a soft nod. He undid the strap and slowly removed my left heel.

His calloused fingers wrapped around my ankle sent shivers through my entire body. But when I felt his thumbs starting to lightly rub into my skin I slightly jumped and said.

“George Weasley I swear if you’re trying to tickle my feet.”

“No tickling, I solemnly swear.” He quickly crossed his heart just like he did back when he asked me to the ball. “I was however going to give your feet a light massage before the blisters started setting in though.”

“I’ve been dancing in heels for more than an hour and a half, my feet are probably even more sweatier than after a Quidditch match.” I internally groaned. Why the bloody hell did I just say that out loud? And in front of George of all people.

“I can always go to the loo to wash up afterward. But if you don’t want it, all you have to do is just say so.” We stared at each other and I swear if I stare another second into those eyes, my heart just might burst out of my chest.

“Well if…..I mean, I—if you want to. But don’t think I’m trying to push you into doing it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I think you were. Believe me I’ve seen you when you get pushy.” I playfully glared at him but it quickly went away the second George began massaging my left foot first. His thumbs doing slow circles just below my toes while his fingers dug into the balls of my foot and rubbed them.

It took every ounce within me to not moan but Godric above did his hands feel good! No, no, no! Get your mind out of the gutters! This is your best friend you keep imagining in these types of situations. And yet—why does this feel right?

*George’s POV*

Normally I’d never do this, especially since after I was a kid and mum would force us to help great Aunt Tessy’s sponge bathe her cuticles and boils on her feet. I still get nightmares just thinking about it, but for (Y/n). Helping her heal her feet from possible blisters and sores she’d feel in the morning, it was worth it.

Although I could swear I thought I heard a moan from her. I also noticed briefly how she’d bite down on her lip occasionally whenever I’d get a sensitive spot.

No, no, no! George stop this! (Y/n) is your best friend! You can’t think of her that way…..or can I?

*My POV*

After massaging my left foot, he then patted his knee asking for my right and he got to work massaging that one next. By the time he was done, the others began to arrive with our refreshments. Some drinks and small bits of sandwiches. As he said, he excused himself to the loo to wash his hands and Angelina asked me.

“What was all that about?”

“Yeah, what did you two crazy kids do while we were away?” teased Fred.

“Nothing happened mum and dad.” I mocked. “He’s just going to the loo to freshen up a bit. Is that a crime?”

“At least he waited till we got back.” Piped Katie before she ate a chocolate covered biscuit. I drank my water before taking a bite of my sandwich. “So is everyone having a decent Yule Ball?”

“I’d say it’s more than decent.” Said Lee.

“I would agree to that.” Added Katie as she and Lee gave each other love-sick puppy dog eyes. Katie softly giggling as they took each other’s hands.

“Well congrats you two.” I applauded.

“Now if only another certain pair of lovebirds would grow a pair and buck up the courage to talk.” Fred muttered.

“What was that Fred?” I challenged.

“Nothing, nothing.” I shrugged as he didn’t look me in the eye.

The hour droned closer to midnight and soon the ball would be over. At this point our group had dispersed. Lee had to turn in early because he needed his rest for his announcements at the next challenge of the tournament tomorrow so he and Katie left to retire for the night. Fred and Angelina went off to go snog somewhere after having a couple of spiked drinks that some of the Durmstrang boys brought from their home country.

Leaving George and I the only ones behind. Pretty much everyone was either out in the hallways, had retired for the night, or out snogging somewhere. Very few people remained in the Great Hall save for a few couples who were now slow dancing to one of the band’s slow ballads.

“What do you say Black? One last dance before midnight?” asked George.

“I’d say that’s not a bad idea.” I accepted. We took each other’s hands and we walked back out onto the dance floor. George pulled me as close as possible to him and I reached up and put my arms around his neck while his hands held my waist.

As we slow danced to the ballad, neither of us spoke a word to the other but we kept our eyes on each other as we slowly danced around the dance floor with the few couples that remained dancing. I guess I must’ve had some hidden Gryffindor courage hidden within me because I worked up the courage to gently set my head over George’s chest.

At first I felt him tense up and I almost retreated back but I soon felt him place his hand behind my head while his free hand took my right hand and held it right up to his shoulder. His head soon rested just on top of mine and the hand that once held my head was now wrapped around my back keeping me close.

I heard his heartbeat through his suit and even though the smell of sweat still lingered in the air, I could still smell George’s natural scent of cinnamon and apple. The world seemed to melt away as all that remained was George’s arms wrapped around me, his head on top of mine and his heartbeat ringing in my ear.

Soon the gong from the clock tower rang out Midnight and the Ball was officially over.

“Happy Christmas (Y/n).” whispered George. I looked up at him and whispered back.

“Happy Christmas Georgie.”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” He then lead me out of the Great Hall and we walked up the stairs and toward the direction of the entry to the Ravenclaw common room. We stood by the raven statue and I alone heard the riddle.

‘Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?’

“A non-being can never have been.” I responded back. The wings of the raven soon folded inward and the door soon opened. I turned to George and we hugged each other one last time. “Thank you, for such a magical night. You were right, I would’ve been miserable if I had been left alone tonight.”

“Glad I could get through to you and change your mind.” I smiled and booped his nose before entering the doors. I turned back towards George and sighed lovingly before the doors closed behind me and I was already overcome with a longing to go back into his arms.

I walked past the common room and headed up towards my dorm room and when I entered, Luna lay upside down on her bed reading her book with her spectacles on.

“Hello (Y/n). Fun time?” I walked over to my bed and collapsed onto it once more sighing longingly. “The Thestrals missed you tonight.”

“I’ll be sure to bring them extra meat when we go see them together.” My mind kept going back to George. His eyes, his smile, even his long ginger hair. “Luna, if I tell you something will you promise not to say this to anyone?”

“Who would I tell?” she asked sitting right side up and pulling her specs on top of her head. I cringed internally, right no one does talk to her.

“Tonight was the perfect night. And not because of the dancing, or getting dressed up and feeling radiant. No tonight was perfect……because of George Fabian Weasley. But I just don’t understand what it was that I’ve been feeling of him lately. I mean we’ve known each other since we crossed paths on the Hogwarts express our first year. And been best friends ever since. But now—actually I guess since the Quidditch world cup tournament we saw just before the school year started I’ve been having these—feelings for him. Like thousands of fairies are tickling around in my stomach. My pulse and heart seem to feel like I had just gotten done with a quidditch match, and my face flushes everytime we’re alone together. People are starting to call it out but surely it can’t be……could I truly be falling in love with my best friend? Is it mad of me to do such a thing?”

“As I’ve told you before, you’re just as sane as I am. I may not know much in the sense of romantic love but from what I’ve seen there is a strong connection. A red thread tied between the two of you just waiting to be seen.”

“But even if I do love him, how can you be sure he might feel the same? It would hurt twice as much of he didn’t and I’d have to lose him because of it.”

“A red thread between two souls is a symbol of soulmates. Spirits and hearts destined to be together. My mum always said, the ones we love always have a way of finding us in the end.” I turned to look at her. She placed her spectacles on her desk and covered herself up. “Goodnight (Y/n).”

“G’night Luna.” I picked up my wand and used my magic to clean myself up and get ready for bed. I buried myself under the covers and thought back to these past few months.

Could it really be true? This whole time this past year, have I—really been falling in love with George Weasley?

*George’s POV*

I lay there on my bed staring up at the ceiling my mind thinking of nothing but (Y/n). Was I really falling in love with my best friend? Surely I can’t be, but then why can’t I stop thinking about her? And were those signs of hers tonight a sign that maybe just maybe she felt the same way too? I mean best friends can give each other foot massages, or go out and dance a slow dance, or even hold each other close, right?

Then why was my heart racing the entire time she had her head on my chest? And I hope and pray to Godric she didn’t hear just how fast it was beating. The last thing I’d ever want is to lose my best friend. And I can’t….not after all she’s lost already.

I turned to my side and shut my eyes hoping to get some sleep and just think about the next challenge of the tournament. After all Fred and I had big plans for it.

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