#ft liberty

[heswrongshesright]

Mike Glover Arrest Update, Change of Command at Fort Liberty, and Special Ops Fails - HWSR Ep 40

In Episode 40, 'Mike Glover Arrest Update, Change of Command at Fort Liberty, and Special Ops Fails' of the He's Wrong She's Right Podcast, join Andrew and Nona from Horr and POG Productions as they dive into a whirlwind of military stories, from an awkward change of command ceremony at the JFK Special Warfare School to a Colonel shooting an alleged spy on his property. An update on the Mike Glover Domestic Violence case as well with the trial schedule for June 11th, 2024. They also share some humorous personal anecdotes and discuss operational security (OPSEC) blunders. Get ready for a blend of serious discussions and lighthearted humor!

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[girldriveroscar]

oscorge (oscar/george) thesis is two girls who get hot and sweaty playing padel tgthr then scissor panties on in the locker rooms

[violentlydefending]

happy raiden kills a president day!! [x]

[piopon]

Team horsetress 2

[dragongodryss]

Diary of Fiore's youngest Guildmaster

[orcelito]

I think one of the best things about writing Vash the Stampede is I can just do whatever the fuck I want. There are very few limits to his physical capability. He's got superhuman strength, weird as fuck flexibility, impossibly precise dexterity, and the Devil's Own Luck

Add in the incredibly variable & minimally defined plant powers and there is just... so fucking much I can do

Many times now I've ended up being like "would this even work??" Or "how would I explain this happening??" & it's just like. Fuck It. "Because Plants"

Because Plants is my favorite excuse. I enjoy this creative sandbox very much.

[desireandduty]

@skyhaunter sent "I can't find my shirt" from the morning after starters | Accepting

"I can't find my hoodie," he says, his voice muffled by the clothing hanging in his closet that he's rifling through. "Y'know the Aerosmith one?"

They're about to go on a double date with Dorra and Liam, and Padmé, who is already dressed, is perched on the end of Anakin's bed, scrolling through TikTok while he grabs his coat - or hoodie, in this case. But when he asks the question, she freezes and blushes bright red. The TikTok she'd been watching replays on her phone screen in the background as she sheepishly looks over at Anakin.

"I um... that's because I stole it. You let me borrow it last week when I got really cold, and I fell asleep in it and forgot to give it back to you in class the next morning." This is only the partial truth. She had actively chosen not to bring it with her to Calc II the next morning because she had liked sleeping in his hoodie way too much. It felt a little bit like falling asleep in his arms, something she had grown addicted to just from their first date, when they'd ended up dozing off on the couch together.

Lest he be annoyed with her for stealing his clothing, she adds: "I can go get it right now if you want to wear it tonight. I just... I like sleeping in it because it's so soft and cozy, and it smells like you...." She's giving him her very best impression of puppy dog eyes right now, hoping he won't actually decide he needs to have it back.

[b4dluck]

               ›        CLOSED  STARTER        /        @heroexxs  .

               "     two  in  the  morning  wasn’t  often  a  time  liberty  got  many  customers  in  the  store  ,  the  last  flux  of  people  barging  around  midnight  .  still  ,  there  was  always  one  or  two  of  them  who  needed  an  energy  drink  ,  ran  out  of  cigarettes  or  were  hungry  out  of  their  mind  after  a  blunt  .  hence  ,  when  the  bell  atop  the  entrance’s  door  rang  behind  their  back  ,  they  only  hummed  ,  a  delicate  yet  firm     "  one  moment  ,  please ,  "     mildly  shouted  from  the  back  of  the  store  .  they  took  their  time  to  pull  the  cigarettes  that  needed  to  be  restocked  and  appeared  at  the  front  a  minute  later  ,  and  the  moment  they  caught  sight  of  the  person  ,  they  wished  they  didn’t  make  her  wait  this  much .     "  oh  ,  wow  ,  uhm  …  h - hello ,  "     they  greeted  ,  clumsily  ,  crimson  tainting  their  caramel  skin  from  their  neck  to  the  top  of  their  cheekbones  .  chill  ,  lib  ,  she’s  probably  straight  or  something  ,  they  reminded  themself  ,  refusing  to  get  a  crush  on  someone  they  probably  would  never  see  again .       "  i—  uhm  ,  good  night  ,  hi  .  what  can  i  help  you  with ?  "

[bumblebeeappletree]

One of the most inspiring conservation stories in American history is playing out on, of all places, a live-fire training ground at Ft. Liberty Army base in North Carolina. There, an improbable alliance is giving a special bird—the endangered red-cockaded woodpecker (RCW)—a new lease on life. After a clash between U.S. Fish and Wildlife and the U.S. Army revealed that low-grade forest fires sparked by artillery and tracers inadvertently created excellent woodpecker habitat, the two sides joined forces to monitor and protect the birds on the base. Landowners on nearby properties are joining the effort—putting aside mutual suspicions and using fire to save the RCW and ignite a passion for wildlife.

[elifalvey]

LOCATION: The Jagged Yard.

WHEN: Late night, approximately a week after the Spring Extravaganza.

WHO: Elijah & Leon ( @leonwozniak ).

Now that they were a more consistent part of each other’s lives, it wasn’t unoften that Elijah glanced down at his phone to find a new message from Leon staring back at him. Usually sometime in the afternoon, shortly after Lucky Joe’s closed its doors, and usually in the form of a voice note — on account of it being easier to air his grievances of the day with his words instead of typing everything out, or something like that. Eli never minded them. He found entertainment in them, actually; it was amusing to hear about how some delinquent teenager who didn’t know whether he wanted plain or veggie cream cheese on his bagel pissed Le off so badly that he needed to take five, or the interesting stories of frequent customers that always seemed to come in with a new installment of gossip to share. On most days he’d offer a quip or two back — because there was only so much he could say after approximately five minutes and thirty-seven seconds of not just any rambling, but Leon rambling, which was an entirely different beast — and it’d start a friendly conversation, rinse and repeat. After the kayak race, however . . . when the voice note entailed too many vivid descriptions of an ‘outrageous French woman shitting on their coffee — and fuck’s sake everyone knows Lucky Joe’s isn’t around for the coffee’ . . . well, Elijah couldn’t think of much to say. Not a single thing, really. Once the note was over, and the only thing that was running through his mind was Kaya, he simply put his phone down instead of responding with anything at all. Which was unusual, sure, but what else was he supposed to do? Laugh, as if he had the capacity to find it funny? No, no, he couldn’t do that. The problem came about when putting his phone down for a little while led to days without conjuring up any sort of reply. There’d been notes that came after that he couldn’t even bring himself to open, much less listen to. And he knew, deep down, ignoring one of his closest friends was shitty, but that didn’t necessarily stop him. Everyone thought he was chock-full of shitty decisions, anyway, what was one more? It wasn’t until he peered up through his lashes as he was tucked away in a booth at the Jagged Yard to find the very man he’d been unintentionally-intentionally avoiding standing right in front of him that the weight of his guilt started to hit him. He didn’t offer a hello, nor did he offer an apology. Rather, he quietly admitted, “I meant to text you back.”

[entrepy]

[  SING  ]  for  your  muse  to  sing  to  my  muse  /  song  or  lullaby   ( so about that singer au with bucky and sharon .... ) / @whitesuited .

The writing session goes well into the night. Somewhere around two in the morning they’ve wandered so far off topic, Bucky’s old touring stories are starting to come out and Bucky’s on the right side of his high to let them. The room is full of nostalgia, people pulled from places of Sharon’s past coming together to help fill her next album. Bucky hadn’t realised how many of those people overlapped with people of his own past. It makes sense that their first session had derailed so drastically with so much to catch up on — but they were better for it. He was better for it. 

It was good seeing Sharon again. They’d only reconnected a few months ago — one of Bucky’s works catching Sharon’s attention ( or maybe it was her manager’s — he still didn’t know ) which went onto become a single that would feature in the album she was now working on. He wasn’t sure whether she remembered the last time they’d met — a good decade or so ago, when they’d both been young in the world, and the industry. Before Bucky’s fall from fame, and Sharon’s rise to it. 

Around three, the room begins to empty. Excuses muttered about calling it a night, early mornings the next day, Gabe’s pregnant fiancé calling him with midnight applesauce cravings . . . Leaving Bucky and Sharon alone surrounded by half empty bottles and thinning smoke. The solitude doesn’t really hit until the door closes behind Gabe with a soft click, and the room previously filled with laughter and singing turns silent. He hasn’t been alone in a room with Sharon since  . . . their last opening act together over a decade ago. He thinks about those couple of weeks on the road from time to time — one of those unresolved moments in life that have neither beginning or ending, question or answer. There was a song Sharon had released a few years later that made Bucky think perhaps she had felt the same way — but he’d told himself that it couldn’t possibly have been about him. He’d watched Sharon’s career take off in the headlines on the side-lines; it didn’t make sense that she had her sights on the rear-view mirror like he did.

The air tenses a little with just the two of them left. They’d ended up on the couch together, but without Brian on the other end of it, Sharon’s shoulder leaning against his, her hair fanning over his chest, felt more intimate than it had been two minutes ago. It doesn’t feel wrong — though the glance they share is a little shy and maybe awkward and it takes Bucky back ten years to when they were both barely twenty dancing around each other backstage and finding reasons to get into each other’s space. He gives a little laugh — ‘ Come here, ’ he murmurs quietly, taking one last sip of his whiskey before placing the glass on the floor. He lifts his left arm up onto the back of the couch so the prosthesis is out of the way and slinks deeper into the couch, more horizontal and more comfortable for Sharon to lay against. 

It was almost four and they’ve been at it for hours. Bucky has no intention of mustering up the energy to go home — at least not right away. There’s no one waiting for him there anyway, and here . . . Well, here there is Sharon. The quiet rumble of the last melody they’d been working on hums in his throat. He closes his eyes against the dim gold lighting that reaches the corner of the room the couch was in, breathing against the subtle scent of Sharon’s shampoo that has survived the musk of smoke, her hair tickling his cheek. They hadn’t worked out all the lyrics to the melody they were working with — Bucky still fiddling around with chords and none of them in much of an agreeable mood. The words had been left in the air, but they come to Bucky now as he lays, eyes closed, drowning in nostalgia.  ‘ So you’re scared and alone . . . on the couch and you’re stoned . . . ’ He starts with a soft laugh, but there isn’t anything particularly funny — just disbelief that he was taking a leap he’d shied away from 10 years ago. He sings so quietly his voice catches here and there, scratchy yet soothing, scatting through the time he takes to think, to pick the words like apples from trees. ‘ You’re longing to feel . . . nothing that’s real. You kept me on the li-ne, never closer to be-ing mine . . . Remember the last light fading, remember the end . . . Remember the way I look at you . . . the way you looked at me . . . then. ’ 

His breathing is even but his heart races, eyes half opening to the world again, not really able to make out Sharon’s face from this angle. Out of a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment for having gotten too raw he goes back to humming, fingertips fidgeting discreetly in Sharon’s hair. If he was lucky — she would have fallen asleep five minutes ago.    

[blueberrytruth]

americans don't know how tall anything is all they know is how to measure large structures against the statue of liberty

[cerubean]

liberty lee's messy room ft. her lizards

[forsworned]

Something good can work ft. Keegan P. Russ

cw: noncon themes, pnv sex, afab reader

There is a strange feeling that twists in your stomach as you approach Keegan's room. The door is left ajar, and you push it open, allowing yourself in to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, cleaning his gun. His balaclava is off and laid out on his nightstand, worn and distressed from use. He glances up at you for a moment; his rifle is completely disassembled, and he's taken the liberty to maintain his equipment.

"Hey, kid." His voice sends a frisson up your spine. You freeze in place, eyeing his physique. His navy loose-fitted tee lightly outlines his toned body, and his tactical pants are tight and baggy in all the right places as he manspreads. Bore brush in hand, his taut fingers, stained black with carbon residue, work meticulously to clean out the chamber.

He looks up at you again, noticing your unchanged form and expression. "What's on your mind, kid?" He sets down the bristle and grabs a microfiber towel to clean his hands.

Your eyes flicker to meet his wintry hues, and the lump in your throat starts to dissolve. "Can I ask you something?"

He notices the change in your usual demeanor and nods. "’Course."

You step closer to him, and he watches you intently. Your gaze is intense, as if you're staring into his soul. The words that fall from your mouth make his heart drop.

"Would you fuck me if I asked you to?"

The military prepared Keegan for many things, but this was not one of them. A beautiful woman, his teammate, asking if he would fuck her? No, the Marine Corps did not train him for such circumstances.

He only observes as you close the space between you two. You place your hand gently on his sturdy shoulder, sliding it to cup his face.

"It's not exactly appropriate," he murmurs, but he doesn't shy away from your touch. It stirs feelings he suppressed when you first joined years ago.

His hand finds its way to your hip as you straddle him, pressing against his growing erection. "But?"

You inch closer, pushing your chest against his, hovering over his pale pink lips. Keegan can hear the blood pumping straight to his dick, silently transfixed on your next move.

"Uh huh," you brush your lips against his mouth, and his hand fists at the fabric of your pants.

"[Name]..." he breathes out, letting his head hit the headboard to create some space between you, but your fingers make quick work of his belt, swiftly unzipping it with ease.

He doesn't exactly protest, merely squirms under your touch as you play with his exposed happy trail.

"I think you'll like it," you swallow thickly with anticipation. The situation is wrong, but he can't find it in himself to stop you. The way your hand feels as it slips under the waistband of his briefs is tantalizing. The pleasant tingly feeling of blood surging to his dick at your euphoric touches, the way you thumb over the precum creaming out of his tip, makes his thick brows scrunch in pleasure.

You take a moment to lower your lips to the swollen, red tip, lapping up his arousal. A strangled huff escapes him, and your lashes flutter as you peer up at him, laying your tongue flat on his shaft before standing up to undo your own trousers and letting them fall to the ground.

His Adam's apple oscillates as he fixates on the sway of your hips when you approach him and take your place on his lap once again. His glacial eyes, now darkened, fall on your glistening pussy, which is mere millimeters away from his cock. He no longer hesitates when he reaches out to touch your sopping folds.

"Yeah, you definitely don't need any prep..."

You suck in your bottom lip but push away his hand. "I'm ready enough," you state, hovering over him and wanting nothing more than to let him sink into you.

You lean over the edge of the bed and retrieve the condom from your side pocket. Keegan slightly narrows his eyes at you. "Christ, you were that ready?"

"Always." You tear the condom foil with your teeth before rolling it onto his dick. He bucks his hips at your touch. You grin down at him, relishing in how pliant he is for you. Licking your lips, you align yourself with him, and his eyes alternate between looking at your pretty face and your pretty pussy.

"Fuck, your pussy is..." His voice melts into a moan as he throws his head back, bottoming out into you. You dig your nails into his tanned flesh.

"So what?" You demand an answer from him as you relentlessly rock your hips against him. The real feeling is unmatched, your imagination could never conjure up the sight of his mouth hanging open and his death grip on your hips as you grind on him. The exhilarating feeling of dominating your CO is unparalleled.

"So—fuck, [name]." He shudders, involuntarily bucking his hips as he thrusts into you. It’s nothing but primal instinct at this point as you both drive into each other, using one another for the gratification that has been bubbling in your lower bellies—a fire that has been burning for too long.

"...so pretty." He chokes out, but before he can say another word, he feels his orgasm approaching. "Gonna—cum."

"Me too." You cry out, bouncing on his dick. He didn't even need to rub your clit to make you climax because the girth and length of his dick were hitting your A-spot so deliciously, so perfectly. You reach your peak, and soon you feel a wave of pleasure overcome you. Your pulsating walls push Keegan over the edge, and he rides the tides of rapture alongside you.

Your spine arches involuntarily as you both cling to one another, gyrating your hips until your fulfillment reaches its peak. A shaky breath escapes his lips as you lift yourself off him, not bothering to remove the condom filled with his cum. You reach for your trousers and underwear, slipping them back on with ease, and tidy yourself in his full-length mirror.

As you turn to him, you notice he hasn't moved a single inch. He's lying there, chest heaving, as he eyes you up and down. You pad over to him, place a tender kiss on his forehead, and smile. "Thanks, Keegs."

With that, you happily tread out of his door, closing it behind you and ensuring you hear the click before you leave. He listens for the sound of your footsteps as they fade until he hears nothing but the buzz of the AC. To say he’s bewildered is an understatement.

He lets out a labored breath, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.

"Anytime..."

[hirayalore]

— PART 01, PART 02.

the one where the thought of someone liking you romantically has never crossed your mind, much less being liked by your own crush, sirius black, who proves to you that all your doubts are nonsense.

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

rating: PG-15

content: fluff, kinda idiots to lovers; ft. gryffindor!reader

warning/s: mentions of being insecure, low self-esteem

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ reposted from my other account !

You’ve already accepted it long ago that you were always going to be invisible.

It had its perks really. It gave you enough liberty to not be the center of attention during classes and be on your own whenever you had free time to catch up with some assignments.

Plus, it’s not like you were completely invisible. You still had friends and was well-liked in your Hogwarts house. They saw you as the shy, timid girl that would smile all the time if approached, voice always gentle and soft that no one ever felt like they were a bother each time they talked to you, regardless of how busy you were.

Speaking of being busy, you were currently inside the library with two of your close friends, Martha and Iris.

Unlike you, the both of them were what others defined as the ‘it girls’ of your year, as a lot admired them and wanted to be in their circle. They were approached not only because it was the last resort or they looked friendly to have decent answers, but because being given attention by either of the girls was treated as such a big privilege.

“Iris,” Martha whispered from her seat in front of you, “Sirius Black has been staring at you for ages.”

At the sound of his name, Iris, who was seated on your right, also subtly glanced at her right to peer at the table next to you three. The occupants of the said table were indeed Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew; the four of them were in the same house as you, which was Gryffindor.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Martha scolded Iris when she was looking too long. “He might catch you and think you’re interested in him as well.”

“Well, I mean, Black does have a face that is a pleasure to look at,” Iris defended, and that was when you finally lifted your head up from your book, listening more to their conversation.

“Does that mean you like him, Iris?” Martha smirked and Iris shook her head.

“Of course not! I’m just saying he’s handsome.”

“Everybody with eyes says that.”

“That’s because it’s true, no denying it.”

“But Lupin is quite handsome too, you know,” Martha added. “Shame he’s a bit quiet. I tried talking to him in Potions once, but he didn’t seem like he was in a good mood.”

“He’s nice,” you finally said something, “I think he’s similar to me.”

“Introverted and shy?” Martha guessed, laughing with Iris. It wasn’t in a bad manner, just two friends who wanted to tease you for your known similar quietness.

You sighed, nodding and playing along. “The worst combination, really.”

The both of them laughed again, along with you this time, as hushed as you could.

“Is he still staring, Martha?” Iris asked after a few seconds, and Martha stole a quick look over the other table.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Curiously, you decided to do the same as Martha, wanting to see if Sirius Black was really staring at Iris.

It has been a common occurrence for the past week for Sirius to seemingly always be caught in the same vicinity as Iris or looking at her, that was why it has also been a common topic recently for Martha to bring up Sirius’ apparent crush on Iris. You were starting to believe her, frankly, as you’ve always been a witness whenever Iris told Martha of her catching Sirius looking or the four boys always laughing like they were teasing each other whenever you three were around as well.

You couldn’t blame him for fancying her. Iris was gorgeous, intelligent, and someone you could deeply depend on. You didn’t want to compare yourself to others, but you thought that if you were Sirius, no doubt the obvious choice would be going for someone like Iris who’d go well with a handsome man like him. You could already imagine how the school would label them as the star couple of your batch, rooting for them as much as you were aware a lot liked James Potter and Lily Evans together.

Though the moment you twisted your head slightly to his direction to see, to check if he was making his crush on her apparent, his eyes immediately connected to yours, and then a smile made its way to his face. It looked a little mischievous, but still friendly nonetheless.

You faced away instantly, not aware of what to do once more. That has been happening frequently too, wherein you accidentally locked eyes with Sirius as he was looking over to Iris.

Maybe it was just another mistake (like what you were telling yourself on the previous four times this happened). Maybe his gaze just flickered to yours at the exact time you chose to look at him. You weren’t sure why you were making such a big deal out of it, but truth be told, you’ve been harboring a little (and secret) crush on Sirius ever since you saw him playing for Gryffindor at the Quidditch Match last academic year. You just didn’t tell anyone because for starters, you were still sort of in the state of denial; two, you thought it was embarrassing for someone like you to like someone like him; and three, you were pretty sure he liked Iris.

“____, are you alright?” Iris placed a hand on your forehead all of the sudden. “You’re really red in the face.”

“I — I am?” You put your own hand against your cheeks and felt them burning up.

“Are you okay?” asked Martha upon noticing your sudden flustered state thanks to Iris.

“Oh. Um, I’m alright.”

“You sure?” asked Iris.

You glanced back at Sirius and saw him still staring at you. However, he was no longer smiling but looked concerned.

“Yeah, yes.” You told the two. “But, uh, I think it’s getting rather hot in the library. I better go and cool down..” You began to gather your books and kept your parchments, ink, and quill inside your bag in a clumsy and fast manner. “I, um, I’ll go ahead to the common room and continue doing my essay there. I’ll see you girls later.”

Without waiting for a response, you literally dashed away and didn’t stop with your fast-paced walking until you were far enough from the library, stopping by a corridor that didn’t have any students hanging around the place. You took it as a good sign to lean against the wall, catching your breath and feeling ridiculous for running away like that when you only made eye contact with Sirius. It wasn’t like he did anything major for you to react that way. It was just a simple look and smile and now you were here, your heart beating so fast that it seemed like it wanted to jump out of your ribcage.

You sighed. You shouldn’t be treating this as some sort of problem. So, with another loud exhale, you pressed your things tighter against your body and turned back towards the corridor that would lead to the Gryffindor tower, only to collide with a fellow student which almost made you fall if it weren’t for their two strong hands holding your elbows to keep you on your feet.

“Sorry,” you muttered, not bothering to glance up at the person, wanting to just rush to the common room as soon as possible, but the person holding you didn’t let go of you until you lifted your chin up and met the same pair of eyes you caught gazing at you in the library.

“What’s the hurry, love?” Sirius asked, genuinely curious with a small smile on his face. His fingers were still wrapped around you. They had moved to your forearm yet a bit more loose, as if they were just there in case you were to fall again. “You feeling alright?”

“Me?” you repeated.

“Yeah, who else?”

“Oh. I’m… I’m fine.”

You and Sirius weren’t exactly friends for his question to come out as normal. Perhaps he was just engaging in small talk to get rid of the awkwardness of the situation.

“That’s good. I thought something bad happened. You just ran out of the library a few minutes ago, and it seemed like there was some kind of emergency,” he said.

“There was no emergency. I just wanted to move fast.”

“Move fast?”

“Yes.” You knew you sounded funny, but you paid no attention to it. “Uh, anyhow, sorry again for the run in. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

You were beginning to make a run for it again, but Sirius’ grip was back on one of your forearms before you could do so. “Wait,” he said, “I actually followed you here. I wanted to talk to you.”

You froze. He sounded serious yet not at the same time. Did that make sense? Nonetheless, you began to ask, “Talk to me? What about?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask something. Delaying it, honestly. I think you even noticed me thinking about it while we were in the library.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“Well, maybe Martha did. I think she certainly noticed something.”

“Martha?”

“She would always catch me in the act, I suppose. And earlier, dhe probably caught me staring again, didn’t she? Then she told you?”

It dawned on you right then and there what was happening. This scenario had happened a lot, of course, wherein a guy who was attracted to either Martha or Iris (in this case, the latter) was going to ask you if you could put a good word for them and boost them up to your close friend. You always immediately declined their request, to be frank, never willing to be some kind of messenger between two people who could have a conversation on their own.

“Oh,” was all you said, trying to mask your disappointment.

“I’m usually not like this, I assure you,” Sirius carried on speaking. “I mean, no shame at being nervous and all, but I think it’s safe to say that I usually carry myself better than this.”

He was right. Sirius never looked not confident. He had this elegant yet commanding aura about him, a quality that you were sure stemmed from him being a Black and a pureblood. Though Sirius wasn’t like those arrogant purebloods who saw themselves as royalty just because of their blood status, he was still superior in terms of his wits, skills, and looks.

“That said, I was just wondering, ____,” he started, “if you would —”

Your mind started to zone out from that point as well. You abruptly just kept on thinking about how you were politely going to decline him, planning to say that he should just ask Iris himself if he wants to have a date with her or perhaps ask Martha instead if he really couldn’t do the first move. The only words that managed to register in your brain were Hogsmeade and this weekend. 

“What do you think?” he finished, and you flickered your eyes to his, dazed.

“Uh,” you pressed your mouth together, “um, I think it depends on Iris.”

“Iris?”

“Yes.”

He appeared confused. “Why Iris?”

“What do you mean ‘why Iris’?”

“I’m just confused on why it depends on Iris. Does she stop you from making wrong decisions?” He joked.

You didn’t laugh. You were confused as he was. “Obviously it depends on Iris because she’s the person you’re going with. She has to be okay with going to Hogsmeade with you this weekend for it to happen.”

Sirius stared at you. What you replied to him definitely didn’t help him become less puzzled about your answer prior.

“Darling,” he was smiling now, and you were watching his expression change from confusion to realization in an instant, “it seems you have it messed up. I’m not hoping to go out with Iris this weekend to Hogsmeade. I’m hoping to go out with you.”

“Me?” you repeated, surprised.

“Yes, you silly girl.” He looked endeared; a hint of mischievousness crawling up his features too. “Why would I go to you if I wanted to ask her?”

“I… I thought you went to me as a way to persuade her.”

“I didn’t.”

“Most guys do. No offense taken, honestly. I think it’s because I look friendly.”

“But I didn’t, ____. You’re still not listening to me.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time grasping all of this.”

“Am I being too straightforward?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just that I never thought you’d ask me out.”

“Seems a little too sudden?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm, or perhaps, you’re just unbelievably oblivious.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I’m not oblivious.”

“You are. If you weren’t, I’m sure you would have seen this coming.”

“Why would I?”

“Last game, do you remember? I literally pointed at you after I made a score.” He played as a Gryffindor Chaser, and upon the mention of it, you did remember him doing that — just in an altered version of what he was sharing now.

“No, you didn’t. You did that to Iris,” you said.

“Why do you keep bringing Iris into this?”

“Because she’s the person you like!”

“Says who? You?”

“Yes?”

“Such a reliable source, I might say,” he sarcastically said, and you could feel yourself burning up again. “You’re more convinced with your own thoughts than you are to me, which I may add, is the person who fancies you.”

He fancies me, you repeated inside your head over and over again, not entirely believing him still, although your heart seemed to be betraying you by continuously thumping fast.

“Is this some kind of prank?” you asked then, voice more quiet and unsure. You knew that he and his friends like to play jokes on people, all for the sake of having a good laugh about it.

“What? No, no, of course not,” he clarified right away, his hands tightening on your forearms. “It’s not like that. I’m not that sick, ____, I would never fake this.”

“Oh, I’m… I don’t know — I told you, it just feels sudden. How could you like me?”

Sirius softened at your question. “Because, pretty girl,” he started with an endearment, walking closer to you which you unconsciously stepped away from, your back touching the corridor wall, “there’s something about you that pulls me in. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I want to get to know you more to discover what it is. But I do like how you’re kind and how your mind works. It’s very fascinating.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. And if you’ll accept my offer to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, I’ll be glad to talk about it more,” he said. “That is, if you do go with me, but if not, then I guess you’ll just have to live with the mystery.” There was that familiar playfulness he had a reputation of.

Slowly, a smile was making its way on your lips. “This weekend, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He grinned. “We can go to the Three Broomsticks, or even at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop if that’s what you like.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re okay with the latter.”

“I’ll be okay with going anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

You gave him a skeptical look, though regardless, nodded. “Okay. I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend.”

His grin became wider. “It’s a date, love.” He proceeded on getting your books and bag from you, a gesture you were too surprised to stop. “Where are you headed? I’ll accompany you before my Quidditch practices.”

“Just the common room.”

He let you lead the way, starting a new conversation as you walked with him. It was a new experience for sure, even though having someone you were beside with being ogled at wasn’t a new event to you, it still felt unreal to be walking with Sirius and have him carry your things.

When the both of you entered the common room, a lot of eyes turned to your direction, intrigued and shocked.

No doubt this was going to be the talk of the Gryffindor house for the next few weeks.

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[starpixiie]

For @orange-artist ‘s dtiys!!!! Ft. their god-tier god au ASL bros!!

Original here

I loved making this!! I admit I took a few creative liberties- like Sabo with silver hair bc I thought it looked neat, especially since his brothers get cool hair changes in their god forms hehe- But these designs are so fun 💪

Individuals under the cut :)