#anyway sorry I know this is two days later

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I��m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb… And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Can you do more blurbs on Sirius x potter reader?

Your work is amazing!!!

AN:Thank you so much!! I am slowly working my way through my requests and I am sorry this took so long!! The original series seems to end on a good note to me, so I am going with a new concept!

Rock 'n Roll

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader who learns a thing or two about rock 'n roll...

Summary: Sirius stays home with a hangover, but the reader is always there to lend a hand.

Wc: 2.5k

CW: Very suggestive, reader is uptown/very princess type, slight corruption if you squint.

The morning was quiet, the soft hum of birdsong drifting in through the open windows of the Potter manor. Sunlight filtered lazily through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns on the floor. Euphemia’s cheerful voice rang through the hallways as she corralled Fleamont and James into the livingroom for an early errand.

“Sirius, are you coming?” Euphemia called, pausing near the doorway of his room. James snickered behind her as Sirius groaned from inside.

“Think I’ll pass, Euphie,” Sirius mumbled, his voice sharp. “Got some… stuff to do.”

James barked a laugh. “Stuff? You mean nursing that hangover?”

“Don’t wait up,” Sirius muffled into his pillow, his voice hoarse, and Euphemia rolled her eyes fondly before ushering her other boys out.

Down the hall, you sat perched on the edge of your neatly made bed, your doe eyes flicking toward the empty corridor. Calling out a goodbye to your mother before waiting patiently for the front door to close. With your parents and James gone, an odd silence fell over the house.

An hour or so later, you made your way down the hall to Sirius’s room, a smirk tugging at your lips as you knocked lightly on the door. When there was no response, you pushed it open, stepping inside with practiced ease.

The room was chaos. Band posters plastered the walls, clashing with the faded floral wallpaper beneath them. Records and empty bottles littered the floor, and the faint scent of smoke and leather lingered in the air. Sirius was sprawled on the bed, his dark hair a tousled mess against the pillow, his eyes closed as he groaned softly at your intrusion.

“You smell like regret,” You hummed, walking over to his desk. Giving a small grimace at the incense ash that stained the wood polish. You huffed as you grabbed one of his torn record sleeves and dusted the ash aside. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous.”

Sirius cracked one eye open, squinting at you. “And what exactly makes you think I regret anything, Bambi?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” You mused, stepping further into the room and setting the glass of green liquid on his nightstand. “The Firewhiskey bottle on the bed? The ashtray overflowing with cigarettes? The fact that you didn’t even bother to make up a better excuse for my mother?”

Sirius laughed weakly, sitting up just enough to grab the glass. “Touché. What is this, anyway?”

“Hangover remedy,” You shrugged, crossing your arms. Ignoring how Sirius’s eyes swept over you, giving a low sarcastic scoff at you- wasn't new. Seemed to find it just the funniest thing that you kept to your best. Even behind closed doors “Drink it. You’ll thank me later.”

He eyed the liquid warily before taking a cautious sip, wincing at the taste. “Merlin, did you bottle swamp water?”

“Wish I thought of that.” You sighed and waved your hand, taking a better look at the poor past guest room. “It's known to cure even the most hopeless cases.”

He downed the rest, setting the glass aside with a wince. He gave a faint cough before leaning back on his elbows. “Hopeless, eh? I’d argue you don’t know the first thing about that.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” You shot back, wandering over to the guitar propped against the wall. The only semi pristine thing left untouched by stains. You picked it up, running your fingers over the strings experimentally. “Like wearing white heels after Labor Day.”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? You're more proper then your mother.”

You plucked an awkward chord, grimacing slightly at the sound. Walking back over to him you sat on the edge of his bed, plucking a painfully ugly tune.

Sirius curled up his lips and sat up further. “That sounds bloody awful.”

“What a gentleman you are.” You huffed before slowly smirking to yourself. Leaning against one of the bed posts. “How hard can it be? If you can do it, I can.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he reached out and plucked the guitar from your hands. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and for a moment, the air between you stilled, heavy- as if taunting you. 'You're in over your head’.

He cradled the instrument with the ease of someone who knew it inside out, leaning back casually against the headboard. “You’re all talk, Bambi.” He teased, strumming a quick, clean chord to emphasize his point. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him as he began to adjust the tuning with deft fingers, the familiar twang of strings filling the room. “I didn’t say I was a rockstar, Black. Just that I could figure it out.”

“Well, you’ve got a long way to go,” He shot back, tilting his head toward you with a playful smirk. “Come here. I’ll show you the basics.”

You hesitated for a moment before scooting closer, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him. Sirius shifted the guitar onto his lap and motioned for you to take it again. When you did, he leaned in, his arm brushing against yours as he reached over to adjust your grip.

“Alright, press here,” He murmured, his voice low as he guided your fingers to the correct position on the frets. His hand lingered over yours for a beat too long, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt far too intentional. “And strum with this hand. Not too hard, not too soft.”

You followed his instructions, managing to produce a passable chord this time. Sirius grinned, leaning back slightly to admire your work. “See? Not bad for a beginner.”

You shot him a triumphant look, sitting up straighter as you strummed the chord again. “Told you I could do it. I’m officially a rock ‘n roller.”

Sirius chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest. He tilted his head, his gray eyes shining with amusement as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a teasing murmur. “Do you even know what rock ‘n roll means, Bambi?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone- able to smell the cigarette smoke and bitter cheap beer on his breath. “Of course I do. It’s… music, rebellion, leather jackets-”

“Wrong.” He interrupted, his lips curving into a devilish grin. He reached out, his fingers brushing yours again as he took the guitar from you and set it aside. “Rock ‘n roll,” He continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, “means sex.”

Your jaw opened but no words left- shock taking over your features. You tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out softer than you intended. “Trust you to make it about that.”

Sirius’s grin widened as he leaned back against the headboard, his devil-may-care confidence only deepening the charge in the room.

“I think you’re just jealous,” You shot again, sitting up straighter and folding your arms. “All this talk of rebellion, and here I am, out-rocking you.”

Sirius snorted, his fingers raking through his tousled hair. “Jealous? Please. The day you out-rock me, Bambi, is the day I start drinking tea with my pinky up.”

“Proper suits you, Black.” You smirked, leaning forward and propping your elbows on your knees. Your perfume- a mix of lavender and something faintly citrus- drifting toward him. His eyes flicked to yours, just a moment too long for it to be casual. “Isn't that what all the girls tell you?”

Sirius smirked, leaning back further against the headboard, his hands casually resting on his thighs. The faint glow of sunlight through the curtains highlighted the sharp angles of his face, and the devilish gleam in his gray eyes was impossible to ignore.

“So,” he began, his voice low and teasing, “which poor bloke are you stringing along this week, Bambi?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not stringing anyone along.”

Sirius chuckled, the sound deep and warm in his chest. “Right, because it’s not like every guy you meet turns into a drooling idiot the second you smile at them.”

“Jealous, Black?” You quipped, arching an eyebrow.

“Hardly,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “Just concerned for their safety. You’ve got a way of leaving a trail of broken hearts, princess. Someone ought to warn them.”

You scoffed, brushing off his words, but the way his gaze lingered on you sent a spark of heat rushing to your cheeks. “I don’t leave broken hearts,” you muttered, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “They just… get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea, huh?” Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. His voice dropped slightly, his tone turning playful but pointed. “Tell me, Bambi, do they know about your habit of sneaking into my room and making yourself at home?”

You froze for a split second before narrowing your eyes at him. “This isn’t sneaking.”

“Right,” he drawled, his smirk growing. “Helping me recover from my ‘regret smell.’ How noble of you. But tell me- if James walked in here right now and saw you sitting on my bed, what do you think he’d do?”

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a roll of your eyes. “James wouldn’t care. He knows I can take care of myself.”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head. “You really believe that? James would lose his bloody mind if he found out his perfect little sister was in my bed. He’d probably hex me into next week.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Well, it’s a good thing he’s not here, then.”

Sirius’s grin turned wicked as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a low murmur. “Good thing, indeed. Because if he were, I’d have a lot of explaining to do.”

Your pulse quickened as his words hung in the air, the weight of them far heavier than the playful tone he tried to maintain. “Explain what?” You asked, your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded.

Sirius tilted his head, his gray eyes locking onto yours. “How I ended up here. With you. Pretending like it’s not driving me mad.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Sirius…”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again but not breaking eye contact. “Relax, Bambi. Just having a bit of fun. Besides, you’ve got enough admirers to keep you busy. Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

You scoffed, standing abruptly and brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “Honestly, Black, I don’t see how every girl at Hogwarts has been falling over themselves for you. You’re all talk, no substance. Bit overrated, if you ask me.”

Sirius grinned, completely unbothered by your jab. If anything, he looked more amused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back against the headboard, utterly relaxed. “Overrated, am I?” He asked, his voice low and teasing. “Careful, Bambi. Comments like that could hurt a bloke’s feelings.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, pacing a few steps away and running your fingers along the fraying edge of a poster on his wall. “You thrive on it. The attention, the rumors, the… theatrics.” You turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. “You’re practically a walking soap opera.”

Sirius let out a low laugh, sitting up straighter and running a hand through his dark hair. “And here I thought you were above paying me so much attention. Sounds like someone’s been taking notes.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You shot back, but the slight twitch of his lips told you he wasn’t taking anything you said too seriously.

“Alright, Bambi,” Sirius drawled, pushing himself off the bed and closing the gap between you with a few lazy strides. He was now standing in front of you, towering just enough to make you aware of the space between you both. “Since you’re the expert, why don’t you show me how it’s done? What’s your idea of substance?”

You blinked up at him, momentarily thrown by how close he’d gotten. “I-” You started, but before you could finish, Sirius leaned in, grabbing the edge of his leather jacket that had been thrown over a chair just behind you. He slung it on with practiced ease, his movements fluid and deliberate as he adjusted the collar.

And then he smirked, reaching for the sunglasses on his desk and sliding them on with a casual flick of his wrist. He tilted his head, his grin wicked as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “What do you think?” He asked, his voice low and dripping with mock arrogance. “Still think I’m overrated, or have I won you over yet?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” Sirius countered, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer. His grin widened when you didn’t immediately step back. “Face it, Bambi. Even you aren’t immune to the Black charm.”

“Oh, please,” You muttered, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. “That ‘charm’ only works on girls too distracted by their own hormones to notice how insufferable you are.”

Sirius chuckled softly, closing the distance between you even more. Now, he was close- too close- and his voice dropped to a murmur, teasing and laced with something heavier. “You sure about that? Because you’re looking a little distracted yourself.”

Your eyes snapped to his, ready to fire back another retort, but the words died on your tongue when you realized how close his face was to yours. The smugness in his expression, the heat in his gaze, the slight curve of his lips- it all hit you at once, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Sirius tilted his head, his smirk softening as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “See, Bambi,” He murmured, his breath ghosting over your cheek, “the thing about rock ‘n roll is… you feel it.”

Before you could respond, Sirius moved in. What started as a cocky stunt- a light brush of his lips against yours, meant to prove some ridiculous point- shifted in an instant. The kiss deepened, Sirius’s hands moving to your waist as if he couldn’t help himself.

You froze for half a second, every nerve in your body firing at once, before your arms slipped up around his neck, pulling him closer. His smirk melted into something hotter, more desperate, as he backed you toward the bed, his hands never leaving you.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” You muttered against his lips, your voice breathless and shaky but still carrying some of its usual defiance.

“Of course not,” Sirius murmured back, his grin evident in his tone as he pushed you gently onto the mattress- flicking off his sunglasses to some pile on the floor. “Not a thing.”

And then his lips found yours again, and for once, neither of you bothered pretending.

[yandere-kokeshi]

hi! I'm pretty new to your account and saw ur yandere dad ghost works! I've got severe daddy issues lmao. Anyways, i was wondering if it was ok to request yandere dad ghost with a kid who has type 1 diabetes? feel free to add what you want and do research! it's just that i have type 1 diabetes as well huhu.

anyways, you dont have to amswer this ask if you dont want to do the req. hope you have a good day/afternoon/night!

— Yandere Dad! Ghost with his kiddo who has Type-1-Diabetes

Warnings: Yandere! Platonic behavior, teenager! Reader, details of chronic disease, needles/blood/and being in pain.

A/N: I hope this was well done! Even though I did hours of research, I can still be incorrect as I don’t personally have it. Please message me if anything is remotely incorrect. Hope you enjoy it!!!

Dad! Ghost is on board with your health—but equally worried. When learning about what diabetes can lead up to, especially in the long term alongside the heavy side effects, like developing permanent nerve damage, kidney issues, and heart disease, it really pushes his overbearing tendencies.

But with enough training, as in anything, he quickly gets a hang of it and begins to trust the process between the two of you on how to handle it better.

Your needs are immediately met. Once he realizes how your everyday schedule has to change to fit your now lifestyle, everything around you is refurbished to fit it better. The garage is cleared out for better use of any exercise equipment you may like, getting bicycles if you two didn’t have some and participating with you when exercising.

Whether that’s doing just-dance on the TV for an hour or two, taking turns on picking songs for competition or just taking a good slow-paced run beside you at the park, he enjoys it more than he’d like to admit.

As for your food intake, the kitchen is swiftly filled to the brim with healthier ingredients and constant fresh meals that are brought in by the garden. Even though he’s aware you can eat sugary food once in a while with the right amount, he still acts like the food police as if he has a “rule book” for you. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.

Always there for you from the get-go. From however it was diagnosed���since you were a toddler, or had it recently diagnosed, he’s there holding you if you require a moment to cry from the nausea or insufferable leg cramps. It shatters his heart to see you in pain, but a part of him is a bit guilty for being proud that despite your age, you still rely on him. Even if you’re still in the “adjusting phase,” he’s patient with you and the mood swings. He understands you best, no?

His affection to help you shines through his actions. Words aren’t always his best suit, especially when it comes to you being sensitive, so he always ensures that you later notice his gifts down the road. As in, like if you forget to do laundry, somehow he knows, already washing a basket full and including gifting you a new set of compression socks.

Dad! Ghost even goes out of his way to build you a hypo juice-box dispenser near your bed, letting you pick whatever flavor of juice to drink that week. Or planning your weekend full of fun dates, maybe even with the team, to a good restaurant.

When needing to check your blood sugar, taking medicine, or injecting insulin, he, admittedly, likes helping you to do it. It makes him feel needed. That you’re still his kid, even if you weren’t born from him.

Plus, it eases his anxiety—rolling the bottle or participating in watching the needle closely, encouraging you to talk to him when he begins pinching your insulin in.

If you’re dizzy about direct contact or around blood, he doesn’t mind engaging with the glucose stripes. Dad! Ghost doesn’t mind how hard you squeeze his shoulders, actually encouraging doing so, chuckling and making comments just how strong you are. As he finishes, praising you in between, he pulls out band-aids, smiling when you pick at the cartoon-themed ones.

In a dark part of your father’s mind, he is insecure and fairly guilty about you. He feels a form of fault, that somehow your chronic disease is his fault, even though it’s quite obvious it’s not. Simon feels helpless, looking at you with a frown when he sees you are in pain, and sadly, in truth, he has to get used to it—which is something that’s deeply hard for him. He holds your health above his head, often bashing himself mentally if he finds a deep bruise or even a small cut on you, afraid of what could happen to you, and the anxiety dreading, “what ifs?” swirling about his mind.

He knows you can push yourself too far sometimes—stressing about school, the due assignments, and much required doctor appointments to go to. He frequently eases things out for you, emailing the teachers, excusing the long assignments, and letting them know days before. He even lets you sleep in before driving you to school, allowing you to miss a day or two.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[allison3k0]

MR S UPDATE - Friday (BIG DAY OML) (Last day of school before the winter break)

I F*CKING HUGGED HIM TODAY.

Alright, so, today was chill cuz it was the last day of school before the winter break, and since I was done my animation project tomorrow, during animation (3rd period) I asked my anim teacher if I could go see Mr S cuz I had something to give him, and he let me go so I started going. My anim period is also Mr S' prep so it works out well to give him stuff without him being in a rush to leave or anything.

So I peaked my head into his room cuz he left the door open, and it was dark so I was wondered if he was there, and he was in fact there, so I saw him and said "Hey!" and he said "Hey!" and then I walked in with the mug with the candy canes and said "So, I have something for you" and set the mug down on the desk in front of him and he said "Thank you!" and then I set down the two packets of hot choco I brought him too, and he said "Thank you" again. He picked up the mug and looked at it and said "Oh my gosh, did you draw this?" and I said "Yeah, I drew it myself" and he said "Oh my gosh this is adorable" and I said "Thank you!" and then I said "I also have this" and put a crochet little duck made with grey yarn for the body and green yarn for the accents like the bill and feet and a little tuft of hair on top of its head (it reminded me of him for some reason), and he said "Oh my gosh, (as if he was surprised by the number of things) I didn't know you crochet, I'll have to make sure my dog doesn't get this" and I said "Yeah be careful your dog doesn't get it. Yeah, I don't crochet often, but I learned from my mom" and he said "Wow, thank you so much!" and I said "No problem" and then I was thinking about asking him for a hug but I kept hesitating and then I chickened out, and then he was saying stuff to end the convo like "Well, I hope you have a good break, a good holiday, and I'll see you in the new year." and I interrupted him saying "Wait, I'm coming in after school" and he said "Oh, you're coming in after school?" and I said "Yeah" and then he said "Oh okay" and then I said "I'll see you later then!" and he said "See you later!" and then I left to go back to class.

So then fourth period I was just daydreaming about how to get a hug from him, and what would happen after school, going through every possible scenario and how to word it when I ask for a hug cuz I'd much rather ask than assume he's okay with it and embarrass myself. That period dragged on foreverrrr and then I was finally able to go to my locker and then go see Mr S.

I went to his classroom after school as usual but he was talking with his EA so I was waiting til they were done to say hi, and I did, and they both said hi back. And Mr S said "Hi, how was the rest of your day?" and I said "Great, actually" and he said "Great actually?" and I said "Yeah, psych was really chill, we had a lesson but it was a chill lesson and we had a big class discussion in between too" and he seemed genuinely interested. And then his EA left and we said happy holidays and whatnot. Me and Mr S talked about his plans for the break, and he said "WE'RE going to (town name) to (continues)" like I'm sorry, who tf is WE? He was talking about his fam before that, so maybe he was referring to his fam? But maybe he was referring to a partner? Then he asked me about my plans and I mentioned how I'm going to see a movie tomorrow (still not sure if that's actually happening) but he asked who I'm going to see it with, so I told him "My friend E (Insert first name here, we'll call her Bestie E or E), the one that took me to her cousin's wedding" and he was like "Oh" but like... Why does it matter to him who I go with? Is he trying to figure out if I'm single? Cuz I am 😏.

But anyways, we continued talking a while until he started packing up and I started packing up so I wouldn't miss my chance to hug him while I had it, but holy sh he gets ready fast and he was at the door ready to lock it while it was open, and he was saying "Well, have a great break, don't work too much on school stuff" and I missed the rest cuz I was panicking inside cuz he was about to leave and I wasn't about to let that opportunity go, so I put down my backpack and purse and said "Wait, can I hug you?" in the most frail, barely audible, tiny, lowercase voice ever 😭 and he said "Sure, of course!" AND GAVE ME THE CUTEST MOST GENUINE SMILE I'VE EVER SEEN HIM HAVE. IT WAS LIKE A FACE OF ADMIRATION OR ADORATION. And omg the hug was so short it's so sad but when I first hugged him, I PUT MY ARMS AROUND HIM UNDER HIS ARMS AND HE PUT HIS ARMS AROUND MY SHOULDERS KIND OF- I JUST REALIZED I HUGGED HIS BODY LIKE I TOUCHED HIS BODY OMFG SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FOAMING AT THE MOUTH- Anyways, he was so nice and warm, AND FOR A SECOND I LAID MY HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER WHILE WE HUGGED, and then I felt the hug was gonna get awkward if it went any longer, but he didn't exactly pull away, I just kinda felt like it was time to let go so I did and the hug was over 😭 it was so short.

When it was over I said "I haven't had a hug in a while" and he said "Oh really?" and I said "Yeah, thank you" and he said "No problem!" with the cutest ahh smile I've ever seen on him before. And we were getting ready to part ways so I said "Alright, thank you so much" and he said "Of course!" and then I said "Bye! See you after the break!" and he said "Bye! Have a great break!" and then I left.

After I left, my hands were shaking so much and so were my knees and I could barely walk so I had to stand outside for a minute before leaving to go home.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

★ synopsis: unrequited love manifests itself as a beautiful disease

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first-person pov, university au, hanahaki disease, ANGST

★ word count: 2k

★ a/n: zayne my angsty king. who needs happy endings am i right??? (i'm so sorry)

Google Search: Why am I throwing up flowers??????

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. The flowers can now be surgically removed, but all feelings towards the beloved will dissipate.

I already knew what it was. Everyone does. From the first tulip petal I coughed out while working on my essay, to the bouquet that came up from my lungs, covered in blood, just days later.

It was progressing rapidly as the days went on, and everytime I took a breath my lungs would constrict; the vines curling around them, crushing my breathing ability, and my heart.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I’d go out with friends and attempt to go to class, but I felt embarrassed. Ashamed, even. I could feel their eyes on me, watching as I tried to smother my chokes in the middle of a lecture, only to have to dismiss myself to throw up a rose in the hallway.

It’s not like I could go through campus and see him, the one who gave me this. I ignored his calls, ignored his texts. Not that they came often anyways.

‘Are you okay?’

No, Zayne, do I look like I’m okay? I’m sitting in a pile of flower petals and my own blood on my bathroom floor.

Zayne. He was my childhood best friend, and growing up it always felt like I had to fight for an ounce of his attention. He was top of the class in highschool, popular with all the girls for being smart, stoic, and undeniably sexy. Not once did he entertain any of them, and it made them want him so much more. I was excited for college, thinking I could finally have him to myself, without feeling like I was sharing him with the whole school and his extra curriculars. I knew realistically he’d still lack the time for me, studying biology to go to med school, become a doctor, follow his dreams; and I would never be one to step in the way of that. I knew my place. I was just his best friend. I was aware there were boundaries I shouldn’t cross.

At least, until now.

I remember the moment it hit me.

After days, weeks of begging him, I had finally convinced the introverted, brooding nerd to go to a stupid frat party. For the laughs, I had said, follow the college stereotypes. ‘You only live once, Zayne!’ He humored me, I’ll be grateful for that. Giving it barely an hour (and a few free drinks), he quickly got sick of everything, inviting me outside. We sat outside on the driveway, the cool air a breath of freshness compared to the stuffy, sweat smell from inside.

A dumb rap song played inside, and Zayne looked over to me.

“Slow dance with me.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes, knowing it was the alcohol talking and not him. He’d regret this in the morning, and I’d get a stern talking to.

He stood, reaching his hand out, narrowing his eyes. I took his hand, figuring the least I could do was indulge in this moment. For once, his attention was fully on me.

I laughed as we swayed together, a muffled remix of a shitty rap song as our only background music. Looking up at him, I questioned when he had grown up so much. His once round, soft face with chubby baby cheeks had matured into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones I thought about grazing my hand over. Behind his eyes wasn’t a childish glint anymore, and I wondered how long ago that disappeared.

Pressing my face into his chest, I only felt us. One of his arms around my waist, the other holding my hand that was pressed against his shoulder. My free hand clutched his black jacket, like he would disappear into thin air, and my grasp was the only thing keeping him here.

To a passerby, it would’ve looked like a movie; two college kids dancing together outside of a frat party, holding onto each other like it’s the end of a world. In the movie, the two best friends would confess to each other the next day. The boy would rush to the girl's door, with a bouquet of flowers, gasping for air, saying “I love you, I love you, I love you, I never realized that I did.”

But only I realized. Only I realized I loved him.

Zayne never showed up on my doorstep the day after he walked me home that night. The only flowers I got were the ones that filled my lungs.

I refused to speak to him. I wasn’t mad at him, why would I be? It was my fault for forgetting my boundaries. For forgetting the rules. For thinking I had a chance since all the little highschool girls no longer followed him around like lost dogs. For once thinking that I was no longer his side character, for thinking maybe I could be his love interest in his story.

What would I say to him if we did speak? I couldn’t hide what was growing inside my chest. I couldn't hide my split lips from the thorns, or my scratchy voice. The dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, too busy catching up on work from missed classes and not getting a break from coughing or vomiting. Tell him I was sick? He’d scold me for not taking care of myself, that I need to rest and eat properly. I didn’t want to hear it, scolding me for something he caused. His concern would only grow when I would accidentally cough up a flower in front of him.

Would he ask who I loved? Or would he just look right through me and tell me I needed to get the surgery to fix all of this. ‘Nobody is worth that kind of illness’ He’d say bluntly.

I knew I couldn’t face him. Not knowing if he even cares, yet knowing that the way I look at his face is different from the way he looks at mine. How he sees his future with someone who isn’t me.

“What are you going to do?” I was hanging out with a friend from one of my classes, Tara. She was the only person I felt like I could confide in about all of this.

We were hanging out at one of the campus coffee shops when I told her. It was a good day for my lungs, after almost overdosing on decongestants and ibuprofen.

“I’m not sure.” Twirling my spoon in my cup, I avoided her eyes. “It’s not like I can get the surgery. I can’t afford it.”

She looked me up and down, and I felt as if she could see into my soul. She did, Tara was like that.

“Can your pockets not afford it, or can you not afford it?”

Tara was right. I could afford the surgery, my university healthcare covered the surgery since students caught the disease so often;

But my heart couldn’t afford it.

It had gotten so used to loving Zayne, it would feel empty without the compassion for him. I feared I may act differently, lacking all love for him. Would he even notice?

I quickly made up my mind, looking out the window - seeing the person I dreaded the most.

Zayne sat outside in a car on the other side of the street, and I could only tell it was him if I stared hard enough. He was holding the hands of a girl I had seen around campus. Zayne had briefly mentioned her a few times, talking about the assignments they’d work on together, and I never thought too much of it.

He brought their hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand, and each of her knuckles. His face was gentle, a look I had never seen on him before. She giggled, and I wondered what it would be like to be her. To have him stare at me with all the love in the world, to be able to feel his soft pink lips I had stared at so many times, wishing to just touch, to just feel. To be on the receiving side of his care, his compassion, no more blunt harsh responses and stern looks.

“Hey-”

I turned back to Tara, and coughed up a flower on the table, and I choked back a sob. Tears threatened to poor, but I couldn’t embarrass myself more than I had with the bloody peony in front of me. She came around the table and hugged me, and I mumbled through quivering lips, “Can you take me home please?”

That night the girl had made it official that she and Zayne were dating. All the pictures on social media, the hearts that their friends commented on each other's posts. A disgruntled feeling made my chest spasm, any time I’d post a picture of Zayne he’d make me take it down immediately.

The morning of my surgery, I got up and put on my favorite sweater Zayne had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

“I got it for you last month when you stared at it in the shop’s window.” He smiled when he saw my excitement, one of the rare moments I could see his lips turn upward.

On my walk to the bus stop, I saw him sitting there. Once he looked up and saw me, he stood.

“Where have you been?” Zayne looked at me and frowned. I suppressed the immediate urge to roll my eyes.

“I never see you around campus. You’re never in your usual spots, and I texted you. I was supposed to help you study. Are you still attending your classes?” Even after not seeing each other for weeks, he still found a way to shame me. His eyes hard, lips pressed together into a tight line, I wasn’t even sure he was happy to see me.

The bus pulled up.

“Are you going to take the bus?” I asked him, avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head, “No, I’m waiting for-”

“Yeah, okay. I have to go.”

“Wait,” I turned around to him. It had begun to snow, so the small flakes sparkled on his head in the early morning light like glitter. He always loved winter, the snow.

He stared at me for a few seconds before shaking his head, changing his mind.

I nodded. “I’ll see you, Zayne.” Saying his name felt like acid on my tongue.

Turning around without taking another look at him, I boarded the bus.

Two days later, when I finally came home from my surgery, the only difference I could tell at first was that my chest didn’t hurt anymore. I could finally breathe again without feeling like I was choking on air. The doctors gave me a bag of all the flowers that they collected out of me, and at first I refused to look at them.

Yet as soon as I got home, I felt compelled to sit on my floor and sort through them.

I made piles of each flower, twirling them in my fingers before placing them in their designated places. Some had long vines that I used to tie them together into a crown.

After I finished, I spotted a jacket under my bed. I pulled it out to see it was the black jacket he wore the night we danced together outside that stupid party.

I took a deep breath of it, wishing I would feel the same way I did that night;

But I felt nothing.

It was now just a jacket. He was now just Zayne.

I put it on, wrapping it tightly around my body. I nestled the flowers along my head like a crown of thorns.

Looking at the girl in the mirror, staring at her with her blood stained flower crown, I broke down.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[bubybubsters]

Fruit Skewers, Laced Drinks, and the Whole Shabang

A/n: @tsunami-of-tears I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!! ik crazy right! Anyway here’s your mix of angst, a lil bit of fun, and vague holiday spirit! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOL but it fine if u dont…

MERRY CHRISTMASSS or HAPPY SOLSTICE.

thank you @acotargiftexchange for hosting this lovely event.

word count: 2.1k

Eris POV

Most people don’t think of the spymaster of the Night Court as an avoidant person. In fact, when people do think of him it’s often when they’re committing a crime or sitting in shadows that look like they’re moving, or even seeing him on the street and finding him pretty.

Well Eris found the spymaster to be a very avoidant male. Yes, he was good looking and smart and the whole package. But Eris found he sucked and communicating. Not even in the normal way people sucked at communicating, in a way that he didn’t even try to talk about anything. All the spymaster did was kiss Eris’s weak spot until the heir gave in and stopped trying to make a half-decent conversation. 

Then again, Eris supposed one could defend Azriel’s actions. Considering their families, their past, the rejection of same sex relationships in the Autumn court, Beron, Morrigan, and every other little detail. 

However, none of that changed what had happened a few years ago at the solstice court meeting. The two of them had had a little too much to drink and got a little carried away. The night had ended with Azriel in Eris’s bed and the morning after the cold air from a very open balcony window had greeted Eris the moment he woke up. 

And still, a decade later, they hadn’t said a word about it. What they had done was fuck so much that Eris had found more new kinks he didn’t know about in ten years than he’d found in a century.

“What in the cauldren has you sighing every few seconds?” Eris blinked, his mother’s voice pulling him from his thoughts. Shit, he was still in the dining room eating dinner with his mother. Well, she was eating; his food was untouched.

“Sorry.” 

“What’s up with you?”

“Noth-.” He was cut off by a single raised brow that spoke volumes. “It's a romantic problem…”

His mother smiled. “With the shadowsinger, yes?”

Eris grunted in confirmation, choosing to not question how she knew about his so-called “relationship.”

“What��s wrong? Obvious problems excluded, of course.” Her words dragged a bitter smile to his lips as he thought of what he should say. He could tell her the truth and simultaneously put her in danger if anyone found out. Or he could lie. The fact that the choice he made came so easily concerned him to no end.

“He won’t talk unless it relates to court problems. All he wants to do when we’re alone is have sex.”

His mother grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day you complained about too much sex. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Eris grumbled something unintelligible and rolled his eyes.

“In all seriousness, find a time and place to talk. One where it’s too public to do anything but it’s just private enough to have a conversation. Also you need a reason he can’t leave. For example, if Rhysand assigned him to stay by your side and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. The best chance you’ll get to do this is at the annual solstice high lord meeting. Since everyone knows Beron won’t want to come considering it’s basically just a party… You’ll have to go in his stead and someone from each court will likely be watching you because nobody trusts the autumn court.“

Eris raised his hand, trying to stop the flow of information. “Perhaps, write it down?”

His mother chuckled. “Y’know I’m actually preparing you for your high lord duties. You really can’t be seen taking notes during a high lord meeting; it shows weakness.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Stop teasing, we both know Beron doesn’t remember shit. He just does whatever he wants.”

“Yes, but you wish to be a better High Lord than him. Can’t do that if you copy him.”

“Well since I’ll be such a better high lord than Beron, it won’t be considered weak to take notes.”

His mother shook her head, a smile dancing on her lips.“I’ll write it down, but you just need to trust yourself.”

Eris said nothing. He knew he couldn’t trust himself around Azriel. It always led to him giving into the spymaster’s whim.

Az POV

“OY AZRIELLL!!”

He barely refrained from groaning as Cassian pulled the curtains aside and sunlight came streaming in.

“Go away.”

“BUT TODAY’S THE PARTYYYY!! YOU AGREED TO LET FEYRE, NESTA, AND ELAIN DRESS YOU UP IF YOU LOST AT CHESS. AND YOU LOSTTTTT!!”

“Because you all cheated.”

“You never said we couldn’t!” Cassian is practically singing as he dances around Azriel’s bed, trying to prod him awake.

Azriel groaned. “I’ll be up in 30. Now get out.”

Cassian pouted but ultimately decided to leave before Azriel could change his mind and argue that he would have won if they hadn’t fed him too many bottles of Rhysand’s expensive wine and cheated. 

Fifteen minutes later, Azriel warily dragged himself from bed. Normally, he would be fine, in fact he could be a morning bird. But all the wine he’d drank last night seemed to have caused a pounding headache that he doubted would get better.

He took a quick shower and dressed in casual black clothes before heading out. On his way to the River House he grabbed a pastry and jumped off a random balcony.

Letting himself freefall, Azriel’s thoughts wandered to forbidden territory. Eris would be at the party tonight. The fireling’s scent was ingrained in Azriel’s mind- smoke and crisp autumn leaves. 

Azriel sighed. He knew Eris wanted to talk, it was devastatingly obvious. The hurt that flashed in those amber eyes whenever Azriel brushed him off seemed an ever prominent companion in his day to day life. But it just wouldn’t work. Eris was going to be High Lord and Azriel was… well Azriel.

“He’s here!”

His high lady’s voice floated through the air, effectively cutting his thoughts short. He landed and glowered at Cassian.

“The party is at 8 in the evening.”

“Yes and?”

“It does not take twelve hours to get me ready.

Feyre cut in, “Of course it doesn’t. But do you really think we have things prepared? This bet was last minute and made drunkenly at around two am.”

“All the more reason we should agree to not do it.”

“Nope! Just an excuse to go shopping.”

Azriel groaned but a slight smile played on his lips, maybe he could use this distraction from Eris.

Eris POV

At precisely 8pm Eris and his advisors winnowed to the dawn court. Ever since that High Lord meeting during the war, the dawn court had been all the high lords preferred spot to meet. Eris wasn’t sure why but it was fine with him, just as long as nobody was in his court. 

They were greeted by a female that showed them to a dimly lit ballroom. Most of the other High Lord’s were already mingling and Eris spotted Vivian, Mor and Feyre. Azriel’s probably here then. Good.

Eris sighed, dismissing his advisors and heading for the food table. Picking up a skewer of grapefruit and some unidentified berries, Eris dove in. One could argue the only reason he came to these parties was for the food. More often than not, his first thought was complaining about the autumn court food. It wasn’t bad, in fact, Eris loved the spices and bold flavors, but after a few centuries, you occasionally long for something else.

Something refreshing. 

A light touch to his thigh urged him to pause his munching and look down. One if Azriel’s shadows was curled around his leg, seemingly looking up at him with puppy eyes. 

Eris suppressed a smile and looked around to find the shadowsinger already watching him from a dark corner. He did a double take, blinking in disbelief at what he saw. Azriel, the feared spymaster of the night court was wearing a light blue t-shirt and loose, frilly, white pants. And he looked good. Eris hesitated, grabbed another fruit skewer and headed his way.

“Fireling,” Azriel greeted, plucking the extra fruit skewer from his hand.

Eris made a sound of protest, mouth stuffed with food. “Was mine.” 

“You look like a toddler given access to his favorite candy store at these parties.”

Eris frowned, waving his hand, trying to get his rebuttal across without opening his mouth.

Azriel chuckled, biting into the stolen skewer. He groaned in satisfaction, gobbling down the rest of the skewer before Eris could finish his.

“What in the world are you wearing?”

“It was a bet.” Azriel waved his stick where fruit was seconds before. “These are good.”

“Did all that food just disappear?”

“It was good.”

“You’ve never had them before? These parties have been going on for a decade.”

“I’m usually too distracted by you.”

Eris chokes on his last piece of fruit. “Huh?”

Azriels lips twitched, “That wasn’t very heir like.” He tutts, wagging a finger. “The rumors seem to be true, you’re gonna be overthrown by a brother.”

Eris raises a brow. “Firstly, you cannot be talking, have you seen yourself in those clothes? Besides wouldn’t you miss me, beloved spymaster of the feared Night Court?” He leaned closer, lips almost brushing Azriel’s ear. “After all, you do seem to have taken a particular liking to me. Or shall I say, a liking to fu-”

Azriel clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he hisses.

“Where else then?” Eris sticks his tongue out, liking the scarred hand covering his mouth. “All you wanna do is fuck whenever we’re alone. So why not speak here? Your shadows can ensure nobody hears us.”

Azriel frowns. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Eris raises a brow as if to say, do tell. “We should stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s never going to work out and we don’t seem to have any special connection. It’s also a hassle since we’re from different courts and it really would be convenient for both of us if we stopped. Besides, if you really need pleasure that badly, there are some wonderful places across Prythian that could serve one’s needs.

Eris gawked at Azriel. His jaw was practically on the floor in shock and his body had gone slack. Azriel, the guy who never talked and always convinced Eris to fuck was the one calling off this ‘situantionship.’ Adding that the one time he did talk was to inform Eris of good pleasure houses. Well, sorry mother, guess you wrote that down for nothing.

“Right, like you weren’t the one practically leaping on me every time. But by all means, go ahead, end us. It’s not like anyone else will ever understand you like I do. And of course we aren’t mates because why would the mother put someone like you with someone like me.” Eris finishes his last sentence off with a growl, teeth bared.

Azriel’s brows twitch, “What is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a future High Lord?”

Eris shakes his head, attempting to stop the sudden feeling of emptiness in his heart. He turned form the male and his bright clothes.

“Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.”

Az POV

Okay, so he might have messed up. He’d basically called Eris not special and not worth the hassle. He’d also said he knew a lot of good pleasure houses, which wasn’t a lie, he did. But the male he’d been fucking for the past decade probably didn’t want to hear that, even though they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Not that that was an excuse. All in all, Azriel regretted everything. Especially since the moment the red-haired heir had left, a beautiful, deafening, snap, echoed in his ears. 

The other side of the bond was foggy which made Azriel assume Eris had absolutely no idea. Great. That was not helpful in his current position. What was he supposed to do? Go up to Eris and say, ‘by the way, we’re mates! Sorry for saying we have no special connection, could we reconcile?’

Azriel sighed, deciding to get a drink. He approached a rose-gold cup with a pink-tinged liquid inside. After sniffing it, he downed the drink in one gulp. The liquid fogged his head, making it hard to think. But it tasted good. Like the pumpkin spice lattes that Eris would sometimes give him. He hummed, going to grab another cup.

He stopped, a sudden realization settling in. He had taken the first cup, nobody else had drank one all night. He knew because Thesan always said that once a drink was out, it was out.  Azriel slowly looked up. People were watching him, eyes drilling into his skull. Shit. What the fuck was that drink?

‘Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.’

Azriel’s head shot up. That was Eris’s voice, those were his words, his tone, his accent. It was Eris yet Eris wasn’t even in this room. 

What the fuck?

‘I’m done with you.’

Azriel hissed softly. This was bad. Hearing voices was a sure sign of 1. crazyiness, 2. in this case, a love potion, 3. being cursed. It was most likely the second option, which was definitely not ideal. 

A small crowd of onlookers gathered, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Azriel’s shadows surrounded him, almost laughing at their master. He couldn’t even blame them if they took Eris’s side in this matter. Sure, Eris had said some horrible things but at the end of the day, Azriel was the one to start the whole situation to begin with. 

So he closed his eyes, and let his shadows control wherever he goes, just as long as it’s out of this damn room. 

The only thing?

He didn’t expect to land right on top of a half-asleep Eris Vanserra.

dividers by @saradika

lol idk i like it- I tried to leave an open ending…

[thesaintofnevergettingitright]

ok no wait I'm so sorry I'm gonna be a party pooper, but this??? Kinda pissed me off??

Now don't get me wrong, I'm a firm bi!Jamie truther. 100% no doubt about it.

BUT

Jamie is not canonically bi. There was absolutely no indication of him being any flavor of queer on the show. But you know who is?? You know who ACTUALLY deserved a shoutout from Apple TV as the ~Ted Lasso Bisexual~

FUCKING KEELEY!

Like the *wink wink nudge nudge* about Jamie is cute in a Queer-baity way, but why the hell are they not making some noise for the actual bisexual on bisexual visibility day???

Give Keeley her flowers!! Now!!!

Maybe I'm being unreasonable, but I just feel like this is annoying at best, and erasure at worst.

[spaceratprodigy]

*gulp* deacon/iris "please just kiss me" intimacy ask........ NYE party- (i am shot)

@oldworldwidgets — [ intimacy prompts ]

It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars on our hearts

We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again

pose reference

[unproduciblesmackdown]

maybe bsol is that time jen tepper mentions when she was so upset about a review of a show of joe's that she broke a glass (&/or threw it out a window)

[aroaceleovaldez]

re:deadangelos, i’m speedrunning finishing the Grace Event arc right now so that i can get back to answering general questions and can answer the “how did solangelo get together” questions that i’ve been putting off for 6 years before TSATS comes out.

FOR THE RECORD just to have it on paper cause i Do Not Care whatever TSATS will say about it, i firmly believe Will & Nico spent several months being besties and generally actually getting to know each other and then an interlude period of “what are we” before they put a label on being boyfriends. Also Will technically “made the first move” (see: “what are we” interlude) just in general but also for the whole “boyfriends? boyfriends.” thing. Because look me in the eyes and tell me that the only reason Nico came out to Percy at the end of BoO wasn’t because he was half-incoherent at the time and that Nico “I’ll keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll Die” di Angelo would ever make the first move about anything.

[shantechni]

You don't know true pain until you start sleeping terribly and go to get some coffee to wake yourself up when you need to be awake, only to remember that you've developed an immunity to caffeine and realize that drinking anything intended to keep you awake won't do jack.

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[casualhedonists]

DATING IS SO HARD WTF

[presiding]

just saw that there's a monster in the hull update and realized i'd missed three of those........this + the audio are such treats giggling and kicking my feet about it fr. going to leave a comment on the fic itself but in the meantime needed to drop a letter on here to say i love the way you write billie--her loneliness, her thoughtfulness, distrust of yet attraction to emily and everything she represents........not to mention the way she's haunted by daud, the longing for a life she can't fathom and will never have !!! society if everyone gave billie the complexity she deserves. and your banter and prose are stunning as always lord everything abt this fic is so good. bringing wine to you on the deck to drink together about it in spirit and yes pun intended

🙏😭 thank you so so much I don't know what to say! that's amazingly kind of you ♥ its a genuine pleasure to like. double down on themes and nuance and less popular characters and just like. idk. trustfall into the fandom that there's people with taste like you, and you can invite them onto your metaphorical deck for wine and meaningful looks 🍷♥♥♥

re: billie - no one else in the dh universe comes close to whatever she has going on

hiding my thoughts about writing dh2 billie >

there's so much material to her!

i thought i'd never write for dishonored 2 (not derogatory - its my favourite game). its undoubtedly linear & doesn't have the mystery or grit of dh1 IMO.

but i saw lapin post that billie & emily comic, and i saw a few other people i respect mention billie/emily and it had me rotating them until the abjection/emily-monster thing clicked and then it was downhill from there

but there's more to think about - what billie has been doing with herself, how she feels about daud & the whalers at this point in her life, her relationship with sokolov (god.a separate rant), her history in karnaca & dunwall, emily's place in the empire and how that fits into billie's story, her lifelong revenge arc, and comparisons between jessamine & deirdre.

like. when you consider billie's perspective you realise how fucking badass she is for going back to dunwall. she not only did it scared she did it scared for her life. suicidal level flimsy disguise trapped in a tin can with your enemy. etc

PLEASE tell me if you ever decide to post that daud & billie fic you mentioned a while back :O

[front-facing-pokemon]

[inthedarkofficial]

Just found out my childhood best friend is engaged... logically this makes perfect sense considering she's only a few months younger than me, completely normal thing to happen, but considering she is and will always be either 8 or 15 in my head, this is fucking bizarre.