#do you have any idea how infuriating it is

[allbecauseoftheboys2]

Samuel sipped his beer and watched Angel and his mother yell at eachother in Cantonese. Samuel could never be entirely sure if they were actually fighting or just having an animated conversation, and he could only pick out some basic words. Whatever was happening, this was more interesting than the football game in the other room. Angel set a bowl of brussel sprouts on the counter with a thud. He gaped at something his mother said, and turned red. More shouting and gesturing. Angel's mother pointed at Samuel. Angel pulled a pie out of the oven. An oven mitt was thrown onto the counter. Angel's father's car pulled into the driveway; he had been out golfing with Samuel's brother. Angel's mother tsked, threw up her hands, and went outside to greet them. Angel harrumphed and drank a deep sip of wine. "My goodness, what was that all about?" Samuel asked after he had a sip. "My mother wanted to know why I'm not married yet," Angel grumbled. "To a woman?" "No, to you. She's fine with the gay thing, oddly. I think it's cause my sister's married with kids." Samuel raised an eyebrow. "What did she say earlier to offend you so much?" Angel folded his arms. "I told her that we were thinking of getting married, but like, we weren't sure yet. I can't quite explain to her, we're a different kind of couple." He gestured upward to the delicate gold chain around his neck. "And you know what she said to me?" "Mm?" Angel put a hand on his chest. "She had the AUDACITY to say that there used to be a parade of boys in my life, but since meeting you I have stopped sleeping with so many guys and moved in with you, so clearly I want to marry you. Sam, my mom called me a slut." Samuel laughed. "Oh sweetheart." "And sure, I did whore myself out at Folsom, but I thought I was being subtle with how many guys I mentioned having overnight..." Samuel gestured with an open palm. "Well, I mean, your mom has a point. If I domesticated a slut, it's my responsibility to house and feed them." "Domesticated?" Angel screeched. Samuel doubled over with laughter. Angel drank more of his wine. "I'm not a feral creature. Domesticated, my ass. Well. I am here making Thanksgiving dinner aren't I?" "You are. And you are doing a great job." Samuel set his glass down and embraced Angel from behind. "I'm teasing you, but I liked that you were slutty. You always knew what you wanted from other men, and got it. It impressed me." Angel leaned back against him. "Impressed huh. Are you're impressed a slut knows how to throw a Thanksgiving meal together?" "You always did like to be stuffed." Angel groaned. "Oh my god Samuel." But he couldn't suppress a giggle. "I'm sorry, I had to." "It was funny," Angel admitted. Samuel kissed his cheek. "I am pleased you are my slut now though, and that you want to live in my house and have Thanksgiving with me. I am grateful for you in my life." "Really?" "Yes. And I rather like the idea of marrying you." "You do?" "Yes." "Man, don't do that. You'd have my mom for a mother in a law," Angel said. Samuel shrugged. "I'll just have to learn how to yell in Cantonese then." "Did you understand any of that conversation we were having?" "No. I've realized that most of my knowledge of Cantonese comes from what you use in the bedroom." Angel blushed. Samuel whispered the words for "more", "harder", and "faster" in his ear, and he felt Angel's entire body go hot against his. "Oh Samuel, you stop that!" Angel hissed. "Don't tease me, especially since you know aren't letting me jerk off-" His family members came back in from putting the golf clubs away in the garage. Samuel gave him a pat on the ass. "Come on love, let's get dinner on the table. You can give me a language lesson later." "You are infuriating." Angel pointed a serving spoon at him. "You're lucky I like you." "Yeah so why aren't you married?" Angel's father asked. There was a beat of silence, and then another explosion of Cantonese. Samuel refilled Angel's glass of wine. _________________ Captions are fictional.

Roasted brussel sprouts with bacon

[moonlitstoriess]

The Shadows in the Sunlight- A Helion Series

Summary: Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court, is known for his charm, power, and control over light. However, when a mysterious female from a forgotten, shadowy court—a court thought to be destroyed long ago-emerges, everything he thought he knew is challenged.

See masterlist

The voice was unmistakable, threading through the stillness like a ghost from her past. Marielle froze, her shadows stilling as if they, too, recognized the presence now stepping into the clearing.

“You should know better than to hide from me,” the figure said, their tone low but laden with familiarity.

Her stomach twisted. That voice—it had been lifetimes since she’d last heard it, yet it carried the same mixture of authority and something softer, something she had once trusted. “I wasn’t hiding,” she said, her voice flat, though her shadows coiled protectively around her.

A soft laugh, almost mocking. “You were always a terrible liar.”

The figure moved closer, stepping into the faint moonlight that pierced the canopy. His face emerged from the shadows—ageless, sharp, and hauntingly familiar. Marielle’s breath caught in her throat.

“Kael,” she whispered, the name tasting both bitter and sweet on her tongue.

He stopped a few paces away, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “It’s been a while,” he said casually, as if they hadn’t parted on the worst of terms, as if centuries hadn’t stretched between them like a chasm.

Marielle’s nails bit into her palms as she struggled to maintain her composure. “What are you doing here?”

“What I’ve always done,” Kael replied, his gaze sweeping over her with a blend of curiosity and calculation. “Cleaning up the messes you leave behind.”

Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, his smirk faint but infuriating. “But that’s never stopped you from needing it.”

Kael took a step closer, his presence undeniable, the weight of years between them as heavy as the night itself. His dark eyes never left hers, and though his expression remained cool, there was something unreadable in the set of his jaw.

“You look like I just dragged you out of the grave,” Kael remarked, his voice darkly amused.

Marielle’s heart lurched, though she gave no sign of it. The past had been buried for a reason. “How are you even alive, Kael?” Her voice was sharp, like she could slice through the years that separated them. “Our people are dead. You were dead. I saw the ashes of everything we knew.”

His lips curled, a sardonic smile playing on his face. “I’m harder to kill than you think.”

Her breath caught. She could still feel the way she had watched him fall—the way the world had crumbled under their feet, how they’d failed. The ashes of their people were still in her mind, the bitter taste of defeat searing her memories.

“Then why?” she asked, her voice suddenly raw, betraying a hint of the pain she’d kept buried for so long. “Why didn’t you come back? Why did you leave me to carry the weight of it all?”

Kael’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments, and that flicker of vulnerability made her stomach tighten. He took another step forward, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. “I didn’t have a choice, Marielle. I tried—Gods, you have no idea how hard I tried to stay with you. But you... you were always too far ahead.”

Marielle wanted to lash out at him, to blame him for the years they had lost. But the words wouldn’t come. There was too much pain, too much history between them. “I had no choice,” she muttered, almost to herself. “We all had no choice.”

Kael’s expression darkened. “You think I wanted to leave you in that hell?”

“You left me!” she snapped, finally stepping into the space between them, her breath ragged and chest tight. “You and everyone else. I—” Her voice faltered, but she refused to let him see how close she was to breaking. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

His hand shot out before she could retreat, grabbing her wrist with a force that sent a jolt through her. Marielle’s heart raced, her shadows flaring, but something in the way his grip tightened kept her rooted in place.

“I never wanted this either,” Kael said, his voice strained now. “But here we are.” His thumb brushed over her pulse, a subtle, intimate gesture, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like they were back in another lifetime.

But then the shadows around her pulsed violently, a sharp reminder of the war they had fought, the lives they had lost. She pulled her wrist away, not trusting herself to feel any more than the cold rage building inside her.

“I’m not here for old wounds, Kael,” she said, her tone like steel. “I’m here for answers. So either give me something I can use, or get out of my way.”

Kael held her gaze for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let go of the tension between them. “Fine,” he said, voice low and steady. “But you won’t get any answers from me until you tell me what the hell you’re doing here. You think you can run from the Day Court forever? What makes you so sure they won’t track you down and drag you back?”

Marielle’s eyes narrowed, her shadows now whispering at the edges of her mind. “I’ll make them regret it.”

Kael studied her, his gaze never wavering, and for a moment, she wondered if he was looking at the female she had become, or the one she used to be—the one who had laughed in his arms under the stars, the one who had believed in something greater than survival.

“You always were stubborn,” Kael muttered, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Just like old times.”

Marielle’s pulse quickened at the familiar, bittersweet reminder of who they had been, but she shook her head, forcing herself to focus. “This isn’t about us, Kael. This is about surviving. And I will survive.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable—concern, perhaps, or something darker—but he said nothing more. Instead, he turned toward the shadows of the forest, as if weighing his next move.

“Stay out of my way,” she warned him.

Kael’s expression darkened once more, but there was something almost resigned in his voice as he spoke. “You won’t get far without me.”

The tension between them crackled in the silence, but Marielle refused to let it consume her. She had learned long ago that emotions, even the ones tied to people like Kael, were weaknesses. And she couldn’t afford to be weak, not now.

“Watch me,” she said, her voice cool as ice, her hand resting on the hilt of the dagger at her side. Her shadows flickered around her like restless spirits, obeying her every command.

Kael didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, she thought he might simply leave. But instead, he turned back to face her, his gaze unwavering, piercing. "You really think you can face all this alone? The Day Court is not the only threat you’re dealing with. You won’t last long without someone watching your back.”

Marielle scoffed, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "I survived before. I’ll survive again."

A dark chuckle escaped him, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Is that what you think? That running, hiding, and pretending everything is fine will save you? You think the shadows you hide in can protect you from everything?"

For a moment, her heart skipped a beat, the sharp sting of the past threatening to break through her carefully constructed walls. She didn’t respond, not immediately. Instead, she studied him, her expression guarded.

"You have no idea what I’ve been through," she said softly, her voice cold but tinged with an edge of something deeper—something fragile that she didn’t dare acknowledge. "None of you do."

Kael seemed to pick up on that, his lips pressing into a thin line as his brow furrowed slightly. "I don’t need to know everything, Marielle. But what I do know is that you can’t do this alone. Not anymore."

She took a step back, her eyes narrowing. "I’m not asking for your help, Kael."

His gaze darkened. "And I’m not offering it. But I’m not leaving, either. Not until I know what is going on here."

Marielle’s temper flared, the shadows around her rippling as she stepped closer, the space between them charged with a simmering heat. "You can’t just show up, Kael, after all these years, and expect me to trust you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the force of it held enough weight to make even Kael pause.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the air thick with unspoken words. Then Kael, ever the master of restraint, broke the silence with a sharp exhale. "Fine. No trust. But we need to figure this out together. Whether you like it or not."

Marielle glared at him, but deep down, she couldn’t deny the flicker of understanding. He had been right about one thing: she wasn’t going to survive this alone. She didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was there, gnawing at her, a bitter reminder of how far she had fallen. The question was, though... did she want Kael back in her life?

“No,” she said sharply, shaking her head as if to dispel the thought. “I don’t need you. Not anymore. You don’t get to decide how I fight this battle.”

Kael’s expression shifted—something unreadable flickered in his eyes. “I’m not deciding anything, Marielle. But don’t pretend that you’re the only one who’s lost everything. Don’t pretend I’m not trying to help you because I am.”

Marielle felt the weight of his words sink in, heavy and suffocating. But she refused to show it. She’d been alone for too long to let anyone back in. Especially Kael.

“This isn’t about you,” she said, her voice almost pleading. “This is about survival. And the Day Court—” Her voice cut off, the mention of them turning her stomach.

Kael was silent for a beat, then he stepped closer once again, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You’re not running from them, not forever. And you can’t do this alone.”

Marielle’s jaw clenched, but she refused to let her anger overtake her. “I’ll find a way.”

He shook his head, almost pityingly. "Not this time."

The tension in the air thickened again, like a brewing storm. Marielle held her ground, even though every instinct within her screamed to run, to escape, to push him away and leave the past buried.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Kael stepped back, his eyes flicking toward the darkened woods ahead.

"Your move," he muttered, his voice strained but resigned. "But don’t come crawling back when your little war ends up in the hands of the Day Court."

Marielle didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

As he walked away, a flicker of doubt gnawed at her insides. But she crushed it ruthlessly, unwilling to face the reality that, for all her defiance, she might actually need Kael more than she was willing to admit.

The high ceilings and glittering chandeliers seemed oppressive tonight, the air thick with unanswered questions. Helion paced before his desk, fingers trailing across an ancient tome spread open to a page filled with shadowed figures and forgotten histories.

When the knock came, it was sharp and precise.

“Enter,” Helion called, his voice steady, but his heart leaping with anticipation.

The door swung open, revealing Azriel. The shadowsinger stepped inside, his footsteps silent despite the polished marble floors. Shadows coiled lazily around his frame, more subdued than usual, though Helion thought they seemed restless in the glowing room.

“Azriel,” Helion greeted, motioning to a chair across from his desk. “I expected your High Lord to join you.”

“Rhysand thought it best I come alone.” Azriel’s voice was a low rumble, the kind that commanded attention without effort. He didn’t sit, instead moving to stand by the window, his gaze flickering to the horizon where the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

Helion chuckled. "Of course, what other reason would bring you here on a random evening? Surely not all the beautiful ladies we got here. I know your type is blond and very much not interested in you."

Azriel's gaze moved back to Helion, his voice laced in cool indifference as he said. "I never saw you with any other blonds either. Seems like Mor is the only one you like to fuck."

Helion smirked, unbothered by the Shadowsinger’s cold tone. “Ah, there it is. That infamous charm of yours. You’re here for answers, I assume?” He leaned back against the ornate desk in his study, crossing his arms in a casual stance. “Well, I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a loss. The cloaked female left as quickly as she came.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his hazel eyes narrowing. “You’re certain she didn’t leave any trace? A scent, a mark—anything?”

Helion’s humor faded, replaced by a rare seriousness. “Nothing. Not even a whisper. It’s as if she dissolved into the air. Whoever she is—or was—she didn’t want to be found.”

"Surely she couldn't have gone far given her injuries."

"Well, she is no where to be found soo..." Helion shrugged his shoulders.

Azriel was silent for a moment, his shadows muttering secrets only he could hear. Finally, he said, “She sought me out specifically. That means she knows who I am, and she knows something I don’t. A message like that... it’s not delivered lightly.”

Helion studied him, his amber eyes sharp despite the languid air he always carried. “She said they’re all dead. You wouldn’t happen to have a long list of enemies—or allies—with shadowy abilities, would you?”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No one alive, as far as I’m aware.”

Helion tilted his head, considering. “Then I suppose it’s time to start digging into the past. Yours and hers. Though, I must admit...” His gaze flicked to Azriel’s shifting shadows. “Her ability to vanish like that, to leave no trace, it feels... familiar. Doesn’t it?”

Azriel didn’t answer. Instead, his shadows spread out, weaving through the study as if searching for something unseen. “If she comes back,” he said finally, his voice a low command, “you will call me. Immediately.”

Helion smiled, but there was no mirth in it. “Oh, you’ll be the first to know, Shadowsinger. You might be the only one she’ll let close enough to find out the truth.”

Without another word, Azriel winnowed away, leaving Helion standing alone, the faint chill of his shadows still lingering in the room.

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as Marielle moved through the forest. Her steps were uneven, each one a reminder of the injuries she’d yet to heal. The shadows around her swirled and danced, eager to lend their strength, but even they seemed restless after the encounter in Helion’s court.

She leaned against the rough bark of a towering oak, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The cloak she wore, frayed and muddied from her escape, now hung limply at her sides. The luxurious warmth of the Day Court had felt alien, too bright, too open. This forest was more familiar, the shadows a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

“Azriel,” she whispered, testing the name on her tongue.

Her mind replayed the scene at the palace. She’d been careless, revealing herself in such a dramatic way. But there hadn’t been a choice. Time was slipping through her fingers like sand, and the hunt was narrowing. She needed answers, and the Shadowsinger was the only thread left to follow. For now.

But what if he didn’t come?

The thought made her chest tighten. No, he would come. Shadows like his—they weren’t born, they were made. Shaped by loss, by pain. He would understand what it meant to lose everything.

She pressed her hand to her side, wincing as her fingers came away slick with blood. The wound was deeper than she’d thought, and her strength was waning. She needed to move.

The shadows whispered their warnings, the wind carrying distant voices. Someone was searching for her. Perhaps Helion’s guards. Perhaps something far worse.

Marielle gritted her teeth and pushed off the tree, stumbling toward the cavern she’d spotted earlier. It wasn’t much—a shallow hollow in the hillside—but it would do for the night. As she settled into the darkness, she pulled her shadows closer, weaving them into a shield that made her almost invisible against the rock.

Her mind churned with fragmented memories. A court long destroyed. Faces she could no longer name. The weight of vengeance pressing down on her like a storm cloud.

She let her head rest against the cool stone, her body trembling with exhaustion. “I’ll find them,” she murmured to the shadows, her voice a vow. “I’ll stop them. Or die trying.”

The shadows seemed to tighten around her, a silent promise of their own.

For now, she would wait. Heal. And when the time came, she would meet Azriel face-to-face.

Not as a messenger.

But as a reckoning.

And hopefully, he would have some answers to her questions.

She awoke to a scent—something warm, earthy, and foreign. Her body ached, the dull pain of her injuries still lingering, but not as sharply as it had been. Her fingers brushed over her bandaged side, and she winced as she sat up, her mind still sluggish from the remnants of exhaustion.

The cavern around her was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a fire. Her eyes scanned the shadows, instinctively reaching for her weapons, but she froze when she saw him.

Kael.

His back was turned to her, tending to the fire, and the moment she blinked, he had already sensed her movement. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was waiting for her to speak.

"You're alive," she said, her voice sharp with disbelief. “I thought I made it clear before. We’re nothing now.”

Kael’s lips quirked, the barest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he turned toward her. “Funny, because your injuries said otherwise.” He stepped closer, and Marielle tensed, instinctively pulling herself away from him, though there was no real strength to it. She still felt weak from the last few days.

He knelt beside her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Marielle. I’m not here to reminisce.”

She glared at him, her jaw tightening. “How did you find me?”

Kael stood, his expression unreadable. He grabbed a small bowl from beside the fire and held it out to her. “Does it matter?”

She eyed the food, but her stomach twisted. The thought of eating anything he’d provided made her stomach churn. “You don’t get to play the hero now.”

"Eat," Kael said, his voice low and unwavering. “I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your life just to watch you starve.” He dropped the bowl in her lap with a force that made her flinch. “Eat. Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

She met his cold gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t joking.

For a moment, they locked eyes, neither of them willing to back down. Finally, Marielle sighed, resigned. She grabbed the bowl, eating in silence.

Kael settled down beside her, watching the fire with a detached look on his face. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, tension simmering just below the surface.

After a few moments of silence, Marielle broke it. “I thought you were dead,” she muttered, the bitterness creeping into her voice.

“You were supposed to think that,” Kael replied, his tone flat. “You’re not the only one who’s had to live in the shadows.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s it? No grand explanations? No dramatic, ‘I’ve been to hell and back?’”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stood and began pacing, the shadows around him shifting. “I’m not here to answer your questions. Just like you’re not here to answer mine.”

She flinched, though she tried not to show it. She had no intention of revealing anything—especially not about the devastation that had befallen her court.

“So, you’ve come to help me then?” she asked, the words dripping with skepticism. “Or is this another game of ‘Kael saves the day’?”

“Hardly,” he muttered, turning back toward her. “But I’m not about to let you run off and die on your own, either. We both want the same thing.”

She studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. “And what’s that?”

Kael didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered to the fire, his face hardening. “Revenge. For our people. For everything they took from us.”

Marielle’s heart twisted in her chest, but she didn’t show it. She knew exactly what he meant—the same thing she wanted, the same thing she had spent years preparing for.

“We’re not allies,” she said firmly, setting the bowl aside. “Not yet.”

Kael nodded, his expression unreadable. “Fine. But you’ll need me. You can’t do this alone.”

“And you think I need you?” Marielle’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Funny, I never thought you were the hero type.”

“I’m not,” Kael replied, his voice hard. “But I’m the only one who can help you get what you want. So, deal with it.”

They locked eyes for a long moment, each assessing the other, calculating the risks, the consequences. It was clear they both had their own motives, their own questions, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were both survivors, and right now, their goals aligned.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice cold. "But this doesn't mean we're friends."

"I didn't come here for friendship," Kael muttered, his shadowy figure moving closer. "Let's get one thing clear. We’re not allies either, not really. We’re just two people who want the same thing. And for now, that’s enough.”

Marielle didn’t answer, but the flicker of understanding between them spoke louder than any words could.

The training grounds were empty at this hour, lit only by the pale glow of the moon overhead. Helion’s fists connected with the worn leather of the punching bag, the repetitive rhythm of his strikes echoing through the open-air space. Sweat dripped from his brow, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

The palace had become too much—a cage of unanswered questions and unwanted responsibilities. Training was the only thing that made sense right now, the only way to silence the chaos in his mind.

Helion’s fists slammed harder into the bag, his muscles straining with every movement. The chain holding the bag creaked under the force, and the metallic sound rang out like a warning bell.

But it wasn’t enough. The physical release couldn’t quiet the gnawing unease in his chest. He threw one final punch, sending the bag swinging violently, before stepping back and wiping his hands down his face.

He hasn’t even seen her face. First, she appears in all her shadowy, mystical glory and leaves without a trace, then she collapses in the middle of his palace and when he carries her, her shadows still protect her face from his view. Those little rascals.

He had her twice. Twice. And yet, both times he managed to let her slip away.

Helion groaned. Why is he so attached to her now? Why is she constantly plaguing his mind to the point where he can’t even concentrate on anything else?! Not to mention the fact that he hasn’t even seen her face.

His breath fogged in the cold night air as he stilled, listening to the quiet around him. The palace loomed in the distance, its towering spires casting long shadows over the grounds. He felt the weight of it pressing on his shoulders, the responsibilities and expectations of a High Lord that never seemed to lessen.

Helion’s eyes drifted to the stars above, his hands still clenched at his sides. His mother used to tell him that the stars held answers, that they guided the path of those who looked for meaning in their chaos. But tonight, they were just distant lights, cold and unfeeling.

The sound of footsteps broke his focus.

Helion stiffened, turning toward the source. The training grounds were supposed to be empty at this hour, and most of the guards knew better than to interrupt him when he was out here.

“Helion.”

The voice was familiar, sharp and authoritative. It was one of his closest advisors, and Helion’s stomach sank at the tone. He recognized that edge—it meant something had happened.

“What is it?” Helion asked, his voice low and steady, though his instincts were already on high alert.

The advisor hesitated, a rare flicker of unease crossing his face. He held out a folded piece of parchment, its edges slightly singed, as though it had been delivered in a hurry.

“This arrived moments ago,” the advisor said quietly.

Helion’s eyes scanned the parchment, his blood running cold as he read the single line: “The Court of Shadows is ash, but the sun’s betrayal lit the flame.”

His breath caught in his throat. Helion read the words again, slower this time, as though trying to decipher some hidden meaning. The Court of Shadows had been a secretive, shadowy realm, one that many believed was wiped from existence long ago. But…what did this message mean? And who even sent it?

“How did this get here?” Helion demanded, his voice sharp.

The advisor hesitated again. “It appeared in flames, High Lord. No messenger, no trace of where it came from. Just… that.”

Helion’s hands tightened around the parchment as his mind raced. The strange female who has become a constant in his mind, Azriel’s some unknown involvement, and now this—pieces of a puzzle he didn’t yet understand. But one thing was clear: someone was trying to tell him something.

And they weren’t finished yet.

“Send word to the Spymaster,” Helion said, his voice cold and decisive. “I want to know everything about this—who sent it, what it means, and where it came from.”

The advisor nodded and left without another word, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Helion remained in the training grounds, his gaze fixed on the parchment in his hand. The words seemed to burn into his mind, their meaning becoming more confusing with each passing moment.

Helion’s jaw tightened as he turned his gaze back to the stars, a new resolve hardening within him.

Whoever was behind this, whatever game they were playing—he would find the answers. Even if it meant unraveling the darkest secrets of his world.

And Helion knew for a fact that if he got his hands on that female once again, he was not letting her go anytime soon.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @bravo-delta-eccho @rcarbo1 @cassie-at-college-blog

[carmen-berzattos]

Why is it that everytime I speak about my experience of the war in Iraq as a civilian and a CHILD, some veteran who served there absolutely must come and opine to me about it? Like shut up shut the fuck up no one cares what you think this isn't about you, have some fucking respect

[jackfrostimposter]

genuinely why is there so much misinformation about the guardians of childhood book series?

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[corfisers]

the thing about the dudebro discussion, the aita post, the willingness to just take at face value any accusations directed at a person you don't know, is that it's all so painfully transparent, it's so obvious that those conversations are happening at this scale specifically because it's about trans women. maybe it's just me, but you generally shouldn't be using certain terms for people unless you know that they are comfortable with them, and if you fucked up then apologize and move on (if we pretend for a second that the majority of dudebros weren't feign ignorance or just actively malicious to begin with). you should be aware that some things don't affect you the same way they affect other people, and you definitely shouldn't be giving those people potentially dangerous advice on topics that you personally aren't familiar with, this is the baseline, at least don't fucking put other people who were misled into trusting you in danger. and if an anon barges into your inbox with some wild accusations then you should stop and think "hey, why are you coming to me anonymously with no evidence to back any of this up, and in such a way that i have to reply to you publicly so more people get to see this" regardless of who it's directed at. like, those are all pretty simple things, or they should be at least, but because the targets are trans women and transmisogyny is so fucking rampant everyone has to bend over backwards to come up with excuses as to why treating trans women this way is perfectly normal and justified.

[perilegs]

what's the worst audio i can use for an edit? i was thinking of jerma singing ohh the treachery but i want options

[mirdaniaa]

Day 2 of migraine AND on my period AND mercury retrograde shadow period, these conditions are positively untenable

[ssaalexblake]

that this website decided to give me the fucking dash update while i am drunk is both hilarious and infuriating like did you Have to do this to me Right Now??????

[izzy-b-hands]

Everyone who worked on the Reagans (2020) owes me money for having watched this. Yes, I did it as a hate watch to make fun of the Reagans. Yes, it's free on Plex (I would never pay money to watch anything abt these fuckers lol.) Yes, they still owe me money for this.

It's...so bad. Comedic at moments they clearly did NOT intend to be funny jfadkjfdsakf, trying to make the audience feel So Bad for the poor Reagans; poor Nancy who has such a hard life she has to abuse her children and those she works with while insisting she deserves more money to do shit like decorate the white house (she asks for a million at one point like. girl. the house can't possibly need that much of a glow up, it's the fucking white house), poor Ron for *checks episode plot line notes* existing and making decisions that affect his own life and have consequences that he is aware of when he makes said decisions. I could go on; the urge to live blog this from where I am rn in watching it is So Strong but. I will not for the sake of anyone reading my blog fkldsjaflaj

Anyway, fuck the Reagans, and fuck this show for trying to gloss over all the fucked up shit they did to the US and her citizens, as well as to their children and the various other ppl around them.

[hayatheauthor]

20 Flirty Remarks to Build Romantic Tension Without Being Overbearing

Feeling stuck trying to give your characters a good flirty one-liner that doesn't sound cringe/overdone? Here are 20 ideas/dialogue prompts for you (that I may or may not have stolen from my own books): 

“I must warn you: you have a dangerous effect on my heart rate.” / "You have no idea what you're doing to my heart right now."

"If I said I wasn’t thinking about you, I’d be lying. And I’m a terrible liar."

"You know, I could get lost in those eyes, but I'd probably trip over my words trying to find my way back." (could also double as description/inner monologue).

“I can’t tell if you’re really charming or if I’m just easily charmed.”

“You have a knack for making me forget what I was going to say. It’s kind of impressive/infuriating.”

“I think you owe me a drink. When I saw you, I dropped mine.”

“I’ve been trying to find the perfect excuse to hang out, but I keep forgetting everything when I’m around you.”

“I bet you get away with a lot of trouble with that smile.”

“You must be a magician because every time you walk in, everyone else disappears.” (The right character could pull it off I swear)

"I’ve been trying to think of something clever to say, but all my brain can come up with is how much I want to (kiss) you."

"I saw that little glance—you’re not as sneaky as you think."

"How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?"

"You do this cute thing with your hands when you’re nervous, you know?"

“One more word, and I might just have to kiss you.”

"Finally, there's that pretty smile of yours. I've been waiting for it all day."

"You keep staring—should I be flattered?" / "Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you have a crush on me."

"Do you have any idea how fun it is to watch you try to keep a straight face?"

"I’m pretty sure you could charm the socks off anyone, but I’d like to keep mine on for now."

"If laughter is the best medicine, then I’m pretty sure you’re my favorite doctor."

"Is it bad that I kind of like the way you’re trying to mess with me?"

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! Instagram Tiktok

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight

a.n; I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OKAY? I HAVE HAD IT IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A YEAR ALREADY AND I NEED YA'LL TO RANT WITH ME ABOUT THISSSS<3 it's mostly enemies to lovers💕

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

"For the love of–... I'M COMING!"

It's Sunday morning. You have been expecting this day to wake up maybe mid-morning, with the gentle warm breeze coming from your open window; have an exquisite brunch that you have been planning and craving since Friday; maybe watch an episode or two of your favorite show before preparing a full spa day, with a long and refreshing bath included. That's how you have planned your Sunday to go.

But no… Apparently, someone's intention was to ruin the whole day for you while their knocks on your door were persistent and annoying at 6 freaking a.m.

You don't think about what you're wearing before stumbling towards the door, with the loud BANGS still sounding. You think of your poor neighbors next door and their newborn baby.

"This little shit," you protest, completely annoyed with this person knocking on your door like someone has died. "Someone better be dead or else…" You open the door in one strong pull and huff utterly annoyed when you encounter the person behind.

Vermillion eyes collide with yours, the intense hate and annoyance so palpable in the air it almost cuts you both.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He tchs, rolling his eyes at you. The bile travels up through your esophagus, and you want to spit at him.

"Save the greetings, if you know what a decent greeting means… Well, considering how well you just did it, I doubt you fuckin’ know…"

The muscle at your temple twitches so hard, you believe he is actually able to see it. That would explain his upcoming smirk.

"The fuck do you want?" You repeat, not even caring or taking the time to follow this banter with him. You would normally do it, come back at him with a snarky response that would probably hurt his ego and he would answer back making you even angrier, and yada yada, nothing new to this ‘hate x hate’ relationship you had with this man in front of you. But today is not a day you planned on dealing with Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki.

He looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the buttons on his all-black suit jacket you just now noticed he is wearing. Interesting; he never uses formal suits like this one if it isn't for a Hero Gala, and that was only once a year. Or that one time you remember he had to apologize to citizens through a TV interview with Deku because of a villain attack in Hokkaido they couldn't quite contain on time and caused a lot of material damage. You shake your head coming back to the present. Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki is standing right at your door, looking a bit nervous while playing with the buttons of his jacket, furrowing his eyebrows like he is angry even at the air he breathes.

You could have expected anything from this unpredictable man who infuriated you almost twenty-four hours a day, the seven days of the whole week. However, you were not expecting at all the words that come from his mouth after he looks up again and his eyes lock with yours.

"Fucking marry me."

Your eyes open wide. And the only thing you think of doing is punching him. And you do.

Your hands close in tight fists, and before saying anything, you punch his shoulder as strongly as you can with one. You know for sure your small and useless fist won't do any damage to this hulk of a man, but the meaning behind it it's what matters.

He simply looks at you in disbelief. "Ouch?" He smirks. He fucking smirks at you, and this time you punch his stomach, which does make him grunt and hover a bit in pain.

You attempt to close the door right at his face, but he suddenly pushes it with his hand and makes you waver a bit back, holding yourself on the door handle. He stands straight again, retrieving his hand from the door when he realizes he used more force than intended to prevent you from closing the door.

"I- umm- Shit, sorry, I didn't-..." 

You raise a hand to stop him from talking.

"Just fucking tell me what you want, so I can go back to bed and not see your ugly face for the rest of my day."

You watch in satisfaction how his face contours into full rage. And this time you smirk. 

"I fucking hate you…" He spits, and you bat your lashes at him while smiling.

"Ah, the feeling is mutual, baby."

Bakugou takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding himself on the door frame with strength. You're sure his hand shape will print on it, and you get more annoyed –if that's possible, but you have already learned that when Bakugou was involved, the anger was immeasurable– thinking that you will have to hire someone to fix that.

"I fucking hate you," he repeats through his teeth with his eyes still closed, but then he opens them, and his entire face changes into something you never expected to see. He looks at you, begging, "But I need you to marry me."

You look… perplexed. Again, never in your life have you ever come across the thought that those words would ever come from the man in front of you, much less towards you.

You open your mouth to say something, but the neighbor from the apartment in front of yours opens his door, standing there with his arms crossed and looking menacingly.

"Everything okay, Y/N?" His deep baritone voice asks. Bakugou turns his head and when he sees him, stands straight, head held high and you can imagine the type of defying expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. Men.

"Yes, Arisu, everything is fine. He's… a… friend," the word stung your tongue because you couldn't consider Bakugou that, even though you shared the same group of friends. But it wouldn't have been good having these two fight over something you still didn't understand what was happening; the thought of who of these two hulk men would win still was entertaining to think about. Your money was on Arisu, of course.

"Alrigh’," Arisu says, looking at Bakugou up and down before retrieving himself back into his apartment.

"The fuck this fucking extra-..." You stop Bakugou from turning and going towards Arisu by holding his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Stop it. Come inside," you demand, pulling him as he watches your hand around his bicep, "before any of my neighbors file a complaint against me thanks to your fucking loud mouth."

Bakugou grunts at your words as he lets you pull him inside. When you close the door and turn to him, you realize how big he looks in your small apartment, where there is barely space between the living room and the kitchen and two doors, one leads to your bedroom and the other to the bathroom. You want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks.

You take a deep breath, scratching your forehead to regain a bit of patience –which was non-existent whenever Bakugou was around.

"Okay, now, explain to me what the hell is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with me. More like what's wrong with you and this small thing you call apartment… When did you-..."

"Bakugou! I didn't invite you in for you to start insulting my living space!" You say more exasperated by every second he is in there. "Tell me what the hell happened to you! Why did you come here, almost tearing down the door of my place at 6 in the fucking morning, annoying even my neighbors, and then you fucking propose out of nowhere!"

His lips are held in a tight line as he watches you almost yell at him, hands opening and closing anxiously. There is silence for a couple of minutes before he says, "My father died."

You gasp, taking a step back. Wow. That's something you were not expecting at all. You get now why the black suit. And now that you look at him better, his eyes look glassy and reddish –probably thanks to how much he's holding himself back from showing any other emotion that isn't anger. And that's… sad.

Your arms immediately hug yourself, one hand settling over your chest. "I- I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he turns a bit to the left, facing the kitchen to avoid looking at you. "Fucker was a right pain in the ass."

You choke on the laugh that almost escapes you at his words, and after you clear your throat you murmur, "Sorry." He looks at you a bit amused, the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit at your reaction.

You sigh again after a few seconds of silence, "Bakugou, what does that have to do with you asking me to-...”

"My great-grandparents are-were the funders and CEOs of TCA Technologies Corp.," your eyes open wide at the name of the prestigious company that had been ground-breaking in the creation and use of robots, before being the number one seller of technology materials to support heroes. They were high class in society, civilians and heroes. "Yeah, that's the face every extra makes," he smirks when you stick your tongue out at him.

He then looks at you up and down and immediately looks away, clearing his throat in a clear gesture of shyness. You frown confused.

"Fucking go put some clothes on."

That's when you remember you had no pants, no bra, and an old shirt that barely covered your panties. Fuck. You almost run towards your room to get changed. All of this had to be a dream… or a nightmare.

Your Sunday was entirely ruined. You know that for sure.

After you change to decent, more covered clothing, leggings and a big shirt that almost reached your knees –it is Sunday, dammit, and the hell you are gonna dress up for Bakugou Katsuki– you walk again towards the living room where you left said asshole waiting for you there. He is now sitting on your couch, his suit jacket lying over the back of it. His elbows are resting over his knees, his hands holding his head. You have never encountered a tired Bakugou, yet here he is. Looking beaten and down.

He looks up at you when he hears you approach him; his eyes are more reddish than before, kind of like when you want to cry but don't let yourself do it. That made you feel bad for thinking about him as an asshole.

"What took you so long, short-legs? Whatever you wear, you'll still stink and look ugly on it."

Nope. He is and will always be a stupid asshole.

You roll your eyes grunting as you let yourself fall on the couch, as far away from him as you can on that three-people couch, crossing your legs under you.

"Spit it out, asshole. What's all this about?"

He sighs, "My father inherited it all after my grandfather died. His whole life had been that stupid company, his and my mother's. I don't give a fuck about it, but the old hack insists that I- ow!"

You pinch him on the shoulder this time, knowing very well that if you had punched him he wouldn't have felt anything. But pinching… he did feel that.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Don't call your mom like that, idiot!"

"Fucking piss off, you know shit! The old hack is an old hack, she deserves the title."

You shake your head in disagreement but decide to leave that topic there considering how affected he looks by it.

"The old hack said," he simply repeats that to spite you, and you really want to punch him, "that I need to step up and be fucking CEO of that bullshit, or…"

He looks at you, and you gulp, kind of understanding where this is going.

"Or get married." You finish the sentence, crossing your arms over your chest, "But why? Those two options are completely different from one another."

"The sky will fucking fall the day I understand any-fucking-thing that comes out of her mouth. She's nuts!" He protests, arms exaggerating his words as he opens them wide, evidently showing how much stress he has, before laying back on the couch, head resting over the back of it where his jacket is. He sighs long and deeply before talking again, "My great-grandmother had a strong Quirk, but she decided to stay at home instead of being a Hero. Those were other times, ya'know?"

"I know History of Heroes, Bakugou. I'm not stupid."

He looks at you again, this time genuinely surprised, "I, umm, thought you-..."

"Have you ever thought that despite not having a Quirk, I know about heroes?"

He tchs, "No wonder why you and shitty Deku are such shitty nerds."

You roll your eyes for the eleventh time that morning, "Get to the point, shitty asshole."

Bakugou scoffs, clearly holding back a retort to answer back, then he continues, "I'm the first in generations with a strong, hero-level Quirk. Most of my family had decided to live as civilians, building this stupid company from generation to generation."

"Oh, and you are the first actual Hero in the family. You are the first one to choose differently…"

He nods in response, "It almost gave my grandfather a heart attack. Ever since my Quirk woke up, I knew what I wanted," he looks back at you, and for the first time, you admit to yourself that you're curious of knowing what he wants, what goes through his head, so you nod allowing him to continue, "I want to be a Number One Hero. I want to kick villains' asses as much and as hard as I can for as long as my stupid aging bones allow me to."

The intensity in his eyes and conviction in every word he spoke made you feel his passion. And that was… new.

"But to be that, I can't afford to waste time in falling in love and all that bullshit…"

"Then say no to your mom and the company," you offer as a solution. He snorts letting his head fall back against the couch.

"You know shit…" He shakes his head, "There's a requirement in every hero company, it says that a familiar, or a spouse if the hero is married, has to validate your mental sanity alongside a doctor to keep working as a Hero."

"I… didn't know that."

"Of course not, short-legs. You're not a hero, why would you know?"

"So, if I… If we get married-..." he nods in confirmation even before you say the words. But he says them.

"The old hag won't have to validate my status as Hero anymore, and she won't have anything to hold me back from sending her and the company to hell."

You looked serious at him, "Bakugou, you and I don't like each other. You hate me and I hate you. And you want to put your Hero status in my hands by marrying me?" You say in disbelief, almost anxious about the whole meaning of this. You stand up and walk from one side to the other as you keep talking, "Why? Because your inner kid is in rebellious tantrum mode and does not want to take the responsibility to-..."

"Shut the fuck up! You. Know. Shit!" He also stood up, shortening the distance between you two in the small living room.

"Then tell me! Explain it to me! Cause to me you only sound like a spoiled brat who doesn't want his veggies for lunch."

He looks you right in the eye, hands almost trembling in fists beside his body, and then he drops the bomb.

"My mother killed my grandfather."

You recoil a step back, "What?"

He sighs, hands and fingers running through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I-... There is no proof, no solid proof about it. I just- I know it was her." Again, the conviction in his eyes made you believe him. "My mother wanted the money, the luxury life being with my dad could bring her. But my dad had a brother, an older brother."

"Had?"

Bakugou simply shakes his head, "The idiot got himself in between a shooting from two villain groups. He was shot only once, and it killed him. A fucking looser…" 

You try, you really tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You are the idiot," you say fighting back the chuckle.

He smiles back, "No, I got shot several times, I even got thrown at and through walls, and I'm very much fucking alive. I'm no weak ass looser as him."

You can't stop laughing, Bakugou definitely is an idiot.

He waits until you're done laughing before continuing, "Even then, my grandfather didn't think my dad was capable of handling the company and all it meant, so he was thinking about giving it to one of his nephews. That's when, I fuckin’ know, my mother took matters into her own hands. I'm an only child. If I say no…"

"The company has to go to another familiar..." Everything washes clear now in your head, “And your mom won't allow that to happen. So she’ll lie and say you aren’t sane enough to keep working as a hero,” Bakugou keeps nodding, confirming everything you’re saying.

“That way, I’m obligated to work at the company.”

Your hand travels from your forehead and brushes your hair back. “She wouldn’t that… She’s your mom, Bakugou...”

“Haven’t you heard a fucking thing I said? She fucking killed my grandfather so the company was legally inherited by my father! Therefore, she could hold all the rights, all the stupid money! My father was a fucking dimwit who believed every-fucking-thing my mother said. She controlled him as she pleased.”

You gasp as another realization hits you, “That’s why you are an asshole to her…”

“She can fool anyone, but not me.” He declares, standing tall and proud. “I have never played her game, and I fuckin’ never will.”

You hug yourself once more, taking some minutes to assimilate all the confessions he just dropped on you. Everything feels like a script of a freaking movie or something. And there are too many questions you want to ask. But there’s only one thing you mostly don’t understand and you need the answer to.

So you look back at him, head tilting up a bit due to the height difference between you, and ask, “Why me?”

Bakugou does not hesitate in his answer. 

“You’re strong, despite not having a Quirk. And smart. You don’t let anyone dictate what you can or cannot do,” he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, “You have never backed down from a discussion, with me or anyone else. You don’t let anybody step on you, holding tight to your convictions and beliefs.”

You visibly gulp, feeling a little warmth in your cheeks that makes you want to look elsewhere, but you don't. You hold the connection between your eyes like dear life. And he smiles, the left corner of his mouth raising a bit.

“You have a fuckin’ strong character, you won't even shy down from me,” you suddenly feel the back of his index finger caress the right side of your jaw, where lays an old scar he perfectly recognized.

It was the scar he accidentally left when you were younger, stupider. He had picked a fight with another newbie hero –another asshole in your opinion– who kept talking shit about his other newbie hero friends. Bakugou had snapped when the guy mocked the word “whore” towards you. You have tried to separate them, earning yourself a punch on the right side of your face by this same man that has touched the reminder of that old memory.

“But above all that…” It’s his turn to gulp, eyes going up and down through your face. Is he… Is he looking at your lips? “You are kind. You care about everyone. You always try to solve everything for everyone –that’s fuckin’ annoying actually.”

You open your mouth to swear at him, stupid asshole; but he doesn’t give you time to say anything. “What I’m trying to fuckin’ say is–” he takes a deep breath, “You are… good. A good person. And you… You understand m- us.”

Was he going to say ‘me’? By ‘us’, you know he means heroes.

Your parents had been heroes before they died. Unfortunately, you were born Quirkless, so the dream of following your parents' path was decided the same day you were welcomed into this world. You have already made peace with this idea, it didn’t hurt like it used to when you were young. Despite not having a Quirk, you specialized in Quirk and training analysis, which granted you a job that most Hero Agencies wanted you for. Hence also how now your group of friends involved all heroes.

However, one thing is working with them, working with Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. Pro Hero Dynamight, who was the biggest pain in your ass you have ever had since the day you met him. Another completely different is actually marrying the pain in your ass.

You sigh, “I don’t–...”

“What? You want me to fuckin’ beg? ‘Cause I fuckin’ will…” Bakugou takes a step back and literally kneels before you. You protest, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up, but he doesn’t let you move him even a millimeter. “What do you want? Whatever you want is yours. We can even sign a dam contract if you so want, I don’t fuckin’ care what it is. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

“This is not a fucking joke, Bakugou. You are asking me to marry you. What if I have a boyfriend? You didn’t even fucking ask!”

His eyes open wide, surprised. “Do you?”

You roll your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. “No! I don’t!”

“Then, what are you bitching about?”

You groan. “I’m bitching about the fact that I don’t know why would you put a whole big deal on me when we hate each other!”

“I trust you.”

It’s a short answer, his expression is even so neutral and sure that leaves you perplexed. Surprised at how easily he said those words.

“We don’t like each other…”

“I don’t need to like you to trust you, idiot.” It feels like he’s mocking you, but one look into his eyes and what he is saying actually feels right. He is completely sure of what he is saying. “I would even fuckin’ trust you with my life.”

He already does. Every day, at work.

Still, you can’t pass the opportunity to piss him off. “Wow. That’s deep, buddy.”

“Fuck you.”

Mission accomplished.

You laugh gently, looking at him still kneeling on the floor of your living room. The sight in itself is a miracle. A sight you won't get to see ever again from this man. But it’s not the image of his kneeling position that makes you take the decision.

It’s his eyes.

They are screaming, desperately begging for you to help him. And, damn it, he is right; you always are at the disposal of everyone when they need your help. Fuck! It is actually very annoying –but you will never admit that out loud, especially not to him.

You close your eyes, head tilting back, and take a long, deep breath.

You are so going to regret this.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Bakugou Katsuki immediately stands up and practically throws himself at you, his whole hulk of a body surrounding you in what you have never thought would ever happen between you two: a hug.

Are you though?

[seilon]

wow ok that’s the quickest I’ve ever had my application thrown out. super cool

[monstersflashlight]

do you have anything about some sort of reptile-based monster that involves hemipenes? i think it’s a very cool way to do double penetration with only one top

A/N: First part of this was one of the stories in the 10k followers event (find it here). Enjoy!

Lizard-brain: the research

Lizardman x fem!reader || double penetration, hemi-peens, tail play, light choking, exhibitionism, dirty talk (low key)

When he pulled out, you felt your holes twitching at the same time a mechanical voice said from the speakers: “You did well, researcher, very interesting data was recorded.” Shit, you forgot there were people watching and probably saw you get fucked within an inch of your life. All your coworkers just watched you getting double creampied by a giant lizard-man. Great.

You were allowed to go home after that, your boss telling you to go clean yourself and the next day you could go over the data with them. Your lizard mate wasn’t happy about it, but he complied knowing he could see you the next day. You felt many emotions when you left the place, not ready to name any of them, you only showered and went to sleep, your body sore in the best way possible.

You arrived to the facility next day, and the first thing your boss said was: “We need you to do it again,” you looked at them confused, what the fuck did they mean.

“What?” You asked, looking at the monitors in the wall to try catch a sight of your mate.

He explained some of the data they collected, but how it was still very early in the research to know for sure, that’s why they said: “We need more data, and you are his mate after all.” You looked at him with understanding, your scientific brain already working all the possible conclusions of all the data collected so far and how much more you could know if you kept it. But also...

“I need to talk to him about this,” you told them. You had feelings for a big monster, and he considered you his mate, there was a lot of possible ethical problems there.

“Oh yes, it talks. True.” They said, but like it didn’t matter at all.

That infuriated you, but you swallowed your complaints, trying to understand why you felt so protective over him. And then it clicked, mate bonds weren’t only one way, he felt the mate bond, but you felt it back. You cemented your bond with sex and now you felt tied to him the same way he was tied to you. That realization should have scared you, but only made your stomach flip with butterflies. You had a mate. And that came with a new goal in mind: demonstrate that lizard-people could go outside and live like equals to humans. That started with proving your mate bond was true and necessary, scientifically. And if that meant to be fucked in front of some researcher, so be it.

The talk with your mate went as well as expected. He was more than okay with the idea of fucking you again, but not so keen on the idea of other people being there. But the head researcher insisted it was important for somebody to be in the room with you to catalog fine movements and reactions that cameras couldn’t capture. You agreed with them on that, that’s the only reason you accepted (nothing to do with the fact that you might or might not have a bit of an exhibitionist kink).

And that’s why you were naked over a medical bed with your lizard-man mate over your body and a researcher standing a few meters away. Your pussy was already wet, needy and desperate to be filled to the brim again. Your lizard mate was looking at you intensely, caressing your body with one hand as he jerked his upper dick with the other. You knew this position meant big dick downstairs, and you were already anticipating the stretch.

He approached you and rubbed his small upper dick against your entrance. “Good job, keep going,” the researcher instructed. “Touch her pussy.”

Your lizard stopped and turned to look at them. “Don’t tell me what to do with my mate,” he growled, making the researcher step back and cover their mouth. “You are here because she wanted it, but I will kill you if you say more,” the danger in his tone indicated he wasn’t kidding. And it made your clit tingle.

You reached up to touch his face and redirect his attention to you, rolling your hips to feel his dick against your needy pussy. He pushed his dick slowly, breathing hard over you, his eyes never leaving yours. You could hear his tail thrashing behind him as you caressed his head with your short nails. He purred, making you giggle as he pushed his upper dick a bit further inside your pussy. The groan he got in response made him chuckle as you felt his claws probing your asshole.

“Are you going to be a good mate today, too?” His question was filled with hope, and you could only nod, trusting him and his magic precum to make it possible. Seeing as you woke up without any pain, you guessed the magic was more than great and would help you out this time around, too. “Such a good mate for me, your holes are so perfect,” he was talking to you but not really. He seemed far away, like your pussy was transporting him into another dimension.

He started rubbing his big dick against your asshole, and you instantly felt the calmness and relaxation of his precum, allowing him to push the tip inside. You cried out, way too big. There was no pain, but the stretch was noticeable as he kept going, and going, and going… By the time he was fully inside you were breathing hard and he had crazed eyes. It was intoxicating.

“How is he doing that?” The researcher asked out loud, stepping a bit closer and earning themselves a warning growl.

“Ssssshut up!” Your lizard mate hissed in their direction, his pace fluttering at the distraction.

“But I-” The researcher tried again.

You looked over at them, trying to move your hips to get your mate to move again. “I will fill a report later,” you told them between pants.

“But I-,” they insisted.

It was enough. “SHUT UP!” You yelled at them as your lizard man stopped moving completely to glare at you, surprised. “Shut the fuck up and I will answer the questions, but you won’t be able to get any responses if you don’t shut up and let my mate fuck me senseless,” you let out between your teeth.

Said mate liked your outburst very much, soon grabbing your face forcefully to look at you. He started fucking you with intent then, the combination of his dicks inside of you driving you insane in a matter of seconds. He reached you neck and squeezed, feeling the vibrations of your moans against his hand and increasing his thrusts to make you lose your mind.

You felt something different this time, the tip of his scaled tail reaching around his body to rub against your clit. The textured surface made you see stars and the universe as he played with you in every way, taking your pleasure to the next level. It was exhilarating, your mouth open and your head thrown back as he fucked you like a machine.

He lowered his body, whispering against your ear: “Come for me, my mate, let me feel your holes milking me.” And like a good girl, you exploded into a million pieces as he growled over you and painted your insides with his cum.

This time around he didn’t stop, though. He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, probably were. You forgot everything about research and people watching, you forgot everything about your boss and the world. You could only focus on his dicks inside of you and his tail rubbing your clit until you came so many times that you had to ask for mercy, which he sweetly complied. He kissed your forehead and pulled out, leaving you messy and exhausted.

Once again you found yourself creampied in front of all your colleagues. Your job was suddenly a lot more interesting than two days ago.

[ellecdc]

Part two of feisty slytherin reader where it’s just the boys being like kinda in love with reader and everything you can pick how reader responds

this ended up taking me way longer to complete than I thought it would! it also ended up way longer than usual. here's the lead up to our infamous poly!marauders x feisty!slytherin reader!!! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: head injury - not graphic or detailed but mentions blood.

“Okay Moony, if you’re going to help us win over Y/N, you should know she does not like dramatic public displays of appreciation.” James said sagely as he walked into their shared dorm room.

Remus spared Sirius a confused look from his seat in the chair, but from the way James was currently rubbing his arm Sirius had a pretty good idea of what just took place.

“Yeah, erm, I don’t think you have to worry about that with me, bubs. Thanks for the heads up though.” Remus added bemusedly.

“Let me guess.” Sirius taunted, rolling over onto his stomach so that he faced James. “The charmed roses following her around the halls wasn’t a hit?”

“No, but she did...” He sulked, pulling his uniform shirt off to expose a small albeit quite red welt on his upper arm.

“Awe, poor Jamie. Come here bubs.” Remus cooed at him, opening his arms to invite the boy into his lap. 

James obliged all too willingly and snuggled up to the werewolf like he was a small toddler and not a giant beefy man-baby. 

“Don’t mollify him when he’s out here botching our grand plans to woo the girl of our dreams.” Sirius said, causing Remus to roll his eyes and James to scoff indignantly.

“Well at least I’m working on it! What are you doing to woo her?” James retaliated.

Sirius offered him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.”

You had to get out of the castle. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you, ogling you like you were some kind of freakshow. 

You don’t know what kind of game those Gryffindor’s were trying to play, but you were not about to be the butt of whatever sodding joke this was.

Roses, really? Charmed to follow you around the castle as Potter smirked from the sidelines. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was?

       So, yeah. You walloped him. In the arm. With your fist. Hard. But what else were you supposed to do!? You’d confronted him and demanded that he end the charm and all he said was ‘you look so cute when your nose scrunches up like that’.

He and Black have always been a bother – seemingly having taken some kind of interest in you for whatever reason. Lupin had always been more reasonable; one would think that he’d have evened those two out during their relationship, but apparently that was an impossible task. You supposed it was because he was all but one man.

But lately, even he was starting to stare at you a little too long, smile a little too softly, find too many excuses to be in your vicinity. It was infuriating.

So, you were outside.

It was nice outside. 

Well, it was nice enough outside. 

You packed yourself some snacks in your book bag, two blankets and an extra jumper to go sit by the Black Lake. You figured you should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet out here on your own.

You unfolded one of the blankets to lay onto the ground before sitting on it and then laid the second blanket over your lap. You could hear other students on the grounds in the distance and the soothing sound of the water lapping gently against the shore. 

As luck would have it, a certain dog with long-black hair would set out to disrupt that.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the dog as it approached you calmly. You wondered for a moment if you should be scared before it stopped at the edge of your blanket to sit and tilt its head at you, his tongue falling out of his mouth haphazardly. 

He didn’t look too scary, ignoring his size.

You craned your neck to look around, checking if perhaps he was here with someone, but it appeared that you were, in fact, alone on this side of the lake.

You felt something cold and wet nudge your pinkie, and you turned to see that the dog had laid down beside you with his head between his paws, nose next to your hand.

“If I pet you, are you going to bite me?” You asked him. He answered by nudging your hand again and offering it a little lick.

“You better not have fleas.” You muttered as you scratched behind the dog’s ears. You would have sworn he had furrowed his eyebrows at your comment if dogs could do such a thing. You noticed then that the dog had startling silver-blue eyes. 

“Where are your people?” You asked, glad no one was around to see you conversing with a dog. He answered you by rolling over for belly rubs.

You scoffed out a laugh but acquiesced. “Fine, you can stay. But I came out here for peace and quiet, ‘kay?”

The dog seemed fine with that plan and let you read through two chapters of your book, only interrupting every paragraph or so for more pets. Eventually however, it grew too cold, and you decided to pack up.

Confirming your suspicions, the dog began to follow you towards the castle. You pretended like you hadn’t noticed or perhaps just didn’t care until you were near the greenhouses.

“For future reference, Black,” you said, turning to the dog who seemed to pause mid-step as you considered him. “I really am more of a cat person.” You smirked, turning to walk back to the castle alone.

“Here, let me get that for you.” James said, opening the door for you rather chivalrously in Sirius’ opinion.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Potter, I can open a door.” You muttered angrily, storming past him into the classroom.

James deflated a little as he followed you in, but perked up when Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was very sweet of you, Jamie.” He placated.

James gave him a half smile in response. “Thanks Moons.”

“I mean, what are we supposed to do? What bird doesn’t like dogs!?” Sirius grumbled, opting to ignore James’ whining. 

“Don’t call her a bird, Sirius.” Remus chided.

“Probably didn’t help you’re a big ol’ mangy mutt.” James muttered petulantly.

“Oi!” Sirius called. “That’s not what you say when Padfoot snuggles you to sleep.” 

James had the good graces to turn a little red at that.

Their conversation was interrupted (quite rudely if you asked Sirius) by Professor McGonagall as she began the instructions for today’s Transfiguration lesson: turning buttons into butterflies. 

Sirius stole a concerned glance towards James to see Remus doing the same; they were horrified to see a mischievous look adorning their boyfriend’s face.

“Prongs...” Sirius warned, whilst Remus whispered a “remember what we talked about.”

But they both knew it was too late; there was no stopping him once James set his mind to something. 

Sirius is quite sure it was the fourth butterfly that did you in; you seemed to consider the first a fluke, the second was annoying, the third made you suspicious, but by the fourth you’d had enough.

With little to no warning you turned and lobbed a large hard-covered tome at the group.

“I don’t know which of you tossers are behind this, but it reeks of Potter. So help me gods I will gut you and string you up to the rafters from your intestines if you don’t leave me alone!” You screeched. 

“But how else will you know I’m crazy about you?” James pouted, causing you to groan exasperatedly.

“If you’re looking for some cutesy princess who will swoon at your sodding roses and butterflies, then you’ve got the wrong witch.” You spat.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we have exactly the right witch.”

“I swear to Circe if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll sic Barty on you.” You threatened.

Sirius and James both scoffed whilst Remus smirked. 

“Please dollface, you insult me. I’m not afraid of Junior.” Sirius taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him menacingly before realization dawned on you. “Fine.” You said simply, giving Sirius a distinct uneasy feeling. “Perhaps I’ll tell Regulus.”

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t.” He seethed.

You smirked deviously. “Just try me, Black.” You sneered in response. 

Did...did Sirius have a degradation kink?

Sirius was ashamed to admit that he had to take a very cold shower after that.

You had been sitting in the library trying to work on your Potions essay. You had felt fairly safe here seeing as the Gryffindor’s (at least the most problematic ones) had been sanctioned from using the library during quiet study hours on account of their typical foolishness.

Except one.

“Mind if I sit here?” Lupin’s lilting voice sounded from your right side before he sat down without waiting for your response. 

“Why bother asking if you were just going to sit anyways?” You grumbled. 

“Well, it was the polite thing to do.” He said, turning to face you. You held his gaze (his gaze, your glare) until he finally sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You considered him for a moment. You couldn’t deny he was the least buffoonish out of the so-called Marauders though you’re not sure that amounted to much.

But he was quieter, kinder, softer around the edges. And he had been far more polite to you than his boyfriends.

“Are you going to flirt with me?”

One of Remus’ eyebrows (the one with the scar running through it, you noticed) raised expectantly as he considered you.

“Let me rephrase that.” You barked quickly, realizing your mistake perhaps a touch too late. “You may sit here, but if you flirt with me, I will stab you with my quill.” You punctuated your threat by blotting his hand which rested on the table with ink from the tip of your quill.

Remus smiled at the sight before returning his amber coloured gaze to yours. “Fair enough. I promise to try to restrain myself, but perhaps you ought to hold onto this hand for me just in case I slip up.” And he – the absolute sodding bastard – slid his left hand comfortably into your right.

You’d never seen someone make a move so assertively and smoothly before. There was nothing to say that any of this even affected Remus as he immediately turned his attention to his book. Was it hot in here? Your hand felt sweaty. Your throat felt tight. Your mouth was dry. Why didn’t you think to bring a bottle of water?!

“Erm,” you started, having to pause to clear your throat. “Just how am I supposed to get my work done with your hand in mine, Lupin?”

You had tried to sound threatening, but based off Remus’ smirk, you’d only managed to goad him further.

“You’re left-handed. Figure it out.” 

These boys were going to be the death of you if you didn’t end up killing them first.

“You held her hand!?” James screeched in their dorm room that night whilst Remus smirked to himself. Sirius would make fun of James for his dramatics if he wasn’t just a pissed off about this.

“I’ve been working at this the longest out of either of you, and she lets you hold her hand?” He continued.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to himself, “she doesn’t like James. But the werewolf? Really. No offence Moons because I absolutely get the appeal.”

James snapped his fingers as he had a eureka moment. “I’ve got it! Remus; bite me!”

“James!” Remus scolded. 

“It’s not fair.” James muttered as he fell onto his bed in defeat. “I’d be so good to her.”

Any ire from Sirius and Remus drained at that as they both moved to join their boyfriend on his bed.

“We know, bubs.” Remus conceded. 

“We just...have to give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, yeah? I mean, with Remus’ smooth moves, my undeniable charm, and your muscles? We’re unstoppable.” Sirius added, eliciting a smile from Remus and a gentle chuckle from James, though his usual light was diminished.

“We’ve just got to be patient, Jamie.” Remus concluded, causing James to groan.

“Patience.” He spat spitefully.

“A 'James ADHD Potter' special.” Sirius winked before kissing any further protests away from James’ lips.

“We’ve got Moony on our team now, bubs. We’re unstoppable.” He whispered, truly believing what he was saying.

If anyone could break through your hard candy-coating shell to reach the chocolate inside, it was certainly Remus Lupin.

You’d had the lovely idea of sitting outside on one of the few sunny days that Scotland got to see this time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same idea too.

A few Hufflepuffs were playing with a charmed muggle football, kicking it back and forth between the two of them and chasing after it when it opted to fuck off on its own. You didn’t understand the objective of the game, nor did you care to.

Remus and Peter Pettigrew sat on a bench not too far off playing a game of Wizarding Chess that, from where you were sitting, looked like Remus was winning.

You got so caught up in watching Lupin’s game with Pettigrew - in the way that the tendons in his wrist and hands flexed as he moved pieces across the board, and the way that his honey blonde curls fell in front of his eyes causing him to have to blow air upwards so he could see the board - that you noticed something flying at you far too late. 

“Look out!” One of the dumb Hufflepuff’s shouted far too late as their charmed football soared into the side of your head, knocking you clean over where your head cracked painfully against a root of the tree you were sitting under.

You scrunched your eyes tight and tried to will your heart to start beating again and your lungs to cooperate, every part of your body seeming to have tensed out of instinct to protect itself.

“L/N! L/N! Come on, dove, open your eyes.” You heard a voice above you.

Why was the voice so worried? How long were your eyes closed? A gentle hand grabbed your chin and wiggled your head back and forth, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Sod...off.” You gritted through your teeth.

The voice chuckled and wiggled your chin once more. “There she is. Open your eyes for me.”

You hated being told what to do but decided to comply anyways.

You probably should have kept your eyes close because the sight made you feel dizzy for a completely different reason.

Hovering above your frame was Remus Lupin; his knees on the ground beside your elbow, one hand gripping your chin and the other gently moving hair away from your face and head.

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile.

“Get away from me.” You grumbled as you moved to sit up. Though Lupin hissed in protest, he helped you sit up nonetheless. 

“Is...is she okay?” a timid voice spoke from somewhere behind Lupin’s shoulder causing his expression to darken considerably.

“You stupid wankers are so dead.” You spat as loudly as you could manage, though in your current state – that wasn’t very loud at all.

Your message was received loud and clear, however, as the two Hufflepuffs took off in fear.

“My sentiments exactly.” Lupin muttered as he turned back to you, jaw still tense.

You snorted indelicately as you brought a hand to your head. “Please, don’t tell me you actually care about me, Lupin.”

You hissed in pain as your hand came in contact with something warm and wet and slightly sticky. You pulled your hand back in front of you to inspect, only for Lupin to grab your hand rather harshly and wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

“Is it so impossible to believe that we could actually care for you?” He muttered quietly, eyes focused on your hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You watched as his curls bounced with each wipe of his hand against yours. You thought of his gentle hands brushing hair away from your wound moments before. You thought of him begging you to open your eyes. You thought of him being the first one at your side when you were hurt.

And you thought about Black finding ways to be with you even when you staunchly refused his company. You thought of him taking time out of his day to tell you how ‘smoking hot’ you looked that day, even though he said it every day before that, too.

And you thought about Potter who always held the door for you, saved you a seat even though you never accepted it, showered you in affection even though it was public and quite embarrassing. And you thought of the way he always had a smile to give you, even when you gave him no reason to smile at all. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine the three of them caring for anyone, quite frankly. Caring seemed to come second nature to those boys.

“No.” You admitted quietly. “It’s not impossible to believe that you could actually care. It’s just impossible to imagine why.”

He stopped rubbing at your hand and met your eye, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He opted for. “Pete, let the boys know where I’ve gone when they’re finished with practice?” Lupin called over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself, Lupin.” You grumbled as he helped you up by your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled back. “You’re not a delicate flower, we know.”

The two of you more or less muttered back and forth to each other the entire way to the infirmary, Lupin supporting more of your weight than he likely needed too but you didn’t feel the need (nor desire) to complain.

Madam Pomfrey was in the middle of looking after a first year Potions class who accidently set off an explosion of incorrectly brewed Cure for Boils which ultimately left each student (and Professor Slughorn) covered head to toe in painful boils.

“Mr. Lupin, if you could clean the wound for me. And Miss. L/N, drink the pain potion. Do not leave until I’ve had a chance to do a proper examination, okay?” She ordered as you positioned yourself more comfortably on the bed after she determined you weren’t about to die (or currently crying, as most of the first years were). 

You took the pain potion dutifully and placed it back on the table beside your bed before you startled at the sudden cold wet cloth on your head.

“You are not seriously doing this right now, are you?” You spat.

Remus’ eyebrows drew together as his hands continued on in their task. “You heard the matron; I’m supposed to clean it.”

“I can clean it myself, Lupin; I’ll conjure a mirror.” You argued, causing the scarred boy to scoff.

“I do what I’m told L/N, and quite frankly, the matron scares me more than you do.”

“I must be doing something wrong then.” You sighed, thinking you hadn’t said that loud enough to be heard, but a startled laugh escaped Lupin’s lips. 

“Why do you act so volatile?” He asked amusedly.

“It’s not an act.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Well, you call wrong, then, Lupin. I’m an arse and I find everyone exhausting. Deal with it.” You snarked sharply.

Lupin breathed a laugh through his nose. “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime, then.”

Rotten bastard and his smooth talk...

“WHERE IS SHE!?” a voice echoed through the corridor just outside the entrance to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey needn’t even look up from the boil she was currently draining of puss to know who she was about to scold.

“Mr. Potter, I will have you banned from this infirmary so fast if you raise your voice above so much as a whisper, do not try me. That goes for you too, Mr. Black.” She barked; eyes still focused on the first year’s arm in front of her.

Sure enough, a mop of curly hair, impossibly more wild than usual due to the flight on his broom, poked around the privacy curtains a second before it was joined by a fuming looking Sirius Black.

Potter’s eyes flew to where Remus’ hands were positioned on your head and your stomach lurched at what looked like tears pooling in Potter’s eyes.

“Potter...please, erm, please don’t cry?” You asked awkwardly, leaning away from Remus’ touch as you suddenly became very uncomfortable with this amount of attention.

“She’s alright, Jamie.” Remus sighed, pulling you back over to him gently by the shoulder and continuing his prodding at your wound.

“Who did it?” Sirius spat, arms crossed defensively across his chest and jaw tight as he stared hard at the wound on your head. You were horrified to admit to yourself that he was hot. You’d never really seen it before, how all the girls in your year (and other years) fawned over the long-haired boy.

But he was currently standing in front of you still adorned in his quidditch gear, hair pulled back into a low bun - though he had many fly-aways on account of his recent time in the air - his cheeks still dusted pink from the assertion, and he was currently fuming on your behalf.

Yeah...he was hot. 

“Easy.” Remus warned.

“Answer me!” Sirius spat back.

“Pads. I mean it, leave it.” Remus said with finality.

Your eyes darted nervously between the two boys currently staring each other down, but Potter’s eyes were still steadfast on you.

“Let me, Rem.” He finally said gently – the most gently you’d ever heard from the rambunctious boy as he gently moved Remus aside and took over.

“I’m okay, you know.” You offered, not liking how worked up these boys were currently over you.

“I know.” He agreed. “I just hate to see you hurt.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You pressed. James looked like you just asked him to calculate the distance between the galaxy of Andromeda and our solar system using the measurement of broomsticks.  

“I... I don’t want to see you hurt?”

“You want to see Snape hurt.” You countered, causing James’ face to harden.

“Snape’s a tosser.” He muttered darkly.

“I’m not any nicer than Snape.”

“See, Y/N. You’re so smart and lovely and perfect, but you are way off on that front.” James said through a laugh. “Snape is prejudiced, vindictive, and a racist blood supremist. You’re just combative.” He explained, punctuating the word combative with a gentle boop of your nose. 

You wanted to break his finger.

But that would be combative, and you would rather die than prove Potter right, so you opted to roll your eyes instead. 

“Did they even hang around to see if she fucking survived or did they just take off to avoid detention?” Sirius spat at Remus, not looking any calmer than he did when he arrived.

“They stayed.” You answered tiredly. “They took off afterwards, and not to avoid detention, but to avoid me.”

“And me.” Remus muttered quietly, looking dangerously close to going back out there to find them himself. 

“Did you threaten them?” Sirius asked severely, though you weren’t sure who exactly he had asked.

“Yes.” You and Lupin both answered exasperatedly. 

Sirius looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh. “Fine, but if I run into them, I’m hexing them into oblivion.”

“Not if I get to them first.” You growled.

Sirius’ face finally softened as he sat on the end of your bed and cautiously touched your ankle under the blankets.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

And you aren’t sure what did it. 

You weren’t sure if it was the softness you saw in Sirius that you were sure you could have never even imagined possible from a person, let alone someone related to the infamous Black family. Or if it was the eyebrows of Remus Lupin that were furrowed in concern as he dutifully watched his boyfriend finish plastering a bandage to your head, or if it was the unbelievable softness of James Potter’s touch ��� in complete contrast to his fast, rough, bouncing personality that you were usually subjected to.

But dammit, you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

You wiped it away quickly and nodded your head in yes.

You braced yourself for the teasing, the cooing, the dramatic displays of affection. But Sirius quickly stood and disappeared behind the curtains, James began pouring you a glass of water, and Remus reached into his bag for something.

Remus returned to you first, breaking off a square of chocolate for you. “It’ll help.”

You were too embarrassed to argue and took it, popping it into your mouth dutifully. 

“Here.” Sirius said as he appeared back at your bedside, handing you a vial. 

“What is it?” You asked, your voice taut with emotion.

Sirius’ eyes softened again as he offered you a sad smile. “Calming draught. You can’t have any more pain potion, but this might make you feel better.”

“And if not, maybe you can convince Moony to share more of his chocolate.” James commented with a soft smile.

You grimaced at the taste of the potion and chased it with the water James had poured for you.

“Thank you.” You admitted quietly, shame colouring your tone as you looked to your lap.

“None of that.” Remus said as he handed you another piece of chocolate.

You took it skeptically. “Why do they call you Moony?”

No one said anything for a moment, but you could tell that neither James nor Sirius were moving a muscle as they watched Remus who in turn watched you.

“Because of my lycanthropy.” He said plainly.

You looked at the various scars before you started to laugh. Sirius’ face drained of all colour while James visibly tensed.

“Of course you are. Remus Lupin. Named after a man raised by wolves and the lupus, or wolf constellation. Oh gods, it was predestined, clearly.”

“Are...are you laughing at me right now?” Remus asked incredulously.

“It’s a little funny...no?” You asked back.

He looked as if he were torn between laughing and crying. “I pour my heart out to you – my deepest darkest secret, and you laugh at me?” He asked again, some amusement colouring his features.

“I told you, I’m an arse.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Does it bother you?” Sirius asked cautiously from the end of your bed, face appearing impassive for all intents and purposes. 

“I don’t see why it should, it’s none of my business.”

“It could be.” Remus input.

“You don’t want me. I’m no good, Lupin.” You stressed, looking back down at your hands.

“Neither am I.” Sirius agreed.

“Me neither.” Remus added.

“I’m n-” James started.

“So what if the only one of us worthy of love and affection here is James?” Sirius said, cutting James off. “It’s not going to stop me from cherishing what I can get - deserved or not.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow, cringing at the effect the fast movement had on you and the pain that the movement elicited in your neck.

“Okay, what about this.” James conciliated. “You don’t have to agree to be with us, just give us a chance? The time of day? One Hogsmeade trip to let us fawn over you.”

You looked up at his deep brown eyes that felt so warm you wanted to make a home in them. Sirius, in all his bravado, looked pained as he waited for an answer, and Remus smiled encouragingly at you.

“Fine!” You acquiesced with a groan. “One Hogsmeade trip.”

Much to your chagrin, though not really at all, it ended up being way more than just one Hogsmeade trip.

Thank you to @unstablereader who gave us the library handholding prompt 🫶