#he's never asked me something like that (i've been on the lookout for it) and this is a surprisingly.. easy? way to brush that off without

[skrunksthatwunk]

very funny that tonight is the night i dyked too close to the sun and at dinner my conservative grandpa asked me (sorta) if i was seeing anyone and then we get home and almost immediately start watching streets of fire to his enthusiasm when i kinda only remember that movie for the butch deuteragonist

[mydadleft471]

Envelop Me

Summary: Messmer begins to worry when he realizes he hasn't seen you at all today. Rushing to your chambers, he realizes that you're just on your period and need some comfort.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, per usual. Just my boi being soft and caring for a fem! reader on her period.

Messmer lovers, I've brought an appetizer!

This fic was requested by anonymous! The request was, "Consider: Messmer x reader on their period, he's like a very large heat pack". GENIUS IDEA. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it :D

My requests are indeed open! I'm going to get started on my next request as soon as I post this, so be on the lookout for a new fic in the next few days.

Anywho, please enjoy! Thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my works! Each and every one makes me wanna kick my feet and giggle fr.

Messmer was beginning to worry about you. Half the day had passed already and he hadn’t seen you out of your chambers. Normally, you’d make your way to him soon after you’d finished breakfast. Even if you planned on spending the day pouring over documents and books in his storehouse, you’d pay him a visit before departing. This was unusual behavior for you. Had he done something to upset you? Did you fall ill overnight? Surely not the latter; his servants would inform him right away of your state and would have taken you to the infirmary.

He decided that he couldn’t sit and wait on his throne for you anymore. He would come to your chambers himself and see what was preventing you from visiting him. Quickly making his way out of his dark chamber, he startles the Fire Knights standing guard outside his door. Taking the steps down two at a time and rushing through the hallways towards your quarters, he notices one of your usual servants standing worried outside your door. Noticing his presence, she bows and steps aside for him to enter.

“Has she come out of her chambers today?” Messmer tries to keep his voice even despite the uncertainty coursing through his veins like fire.

She shakes her head. “No, my Lord. I brought breakfast to her, per usual, and she only ate a little. I asked if she required assistance getting dressed, but she dismissed me and told me she wished to spend the day in bed.”

“And why was this not reported to me?” His eye narrows and the servant shrinks into herself. She looks like she wishes she could dissipate into thin air.

“Sincerest apologies, my Lord. I figured she simply wished to remain alone today. I asked if she was feeling ill, and she said that she was just very tired.”

He sighs. Sometimes, you would prefer to stay in bed all day, but you would come to Messmer’s chambers and you two would laze around together. He cannot recall a time where you would prefer to be alone. 

He sighs. “I understand. I will see what bothers her so.”

The servant bows and scurries off, leaving him alone before your door. Never before has he been so afraid to see you. With shaking hands, he raps on your door three times. He hears a faint shuffling of sheets coming from within the room.

“Yes?” He takes immense comfort in the fact that you are responding.

“Beloved, may I come in? I wish to see thee.”

He hears your voice quiver. “I am afraid I don’t feel very well today. I’m not sure I would make good company, My Lord.” 

“Whatever is the matter? Dost thou require a healer?” His snakes wrap themselves tighter around his frame, also worried for your wellbeing. They nose at your door, eager to see you.

“No, my love. I’m okay.” Your words come out strained, and his anxiety increases tenfold.

“I wish to see thee with my own eyes to ensure thy good health. Please, my beloved.” He would get on his knees and beg for you to let him in if he had to. He would do anything to know you were alright.

There is a beat of silence before you respond. “Come in.”

He opens the door so fast he almost twists the door off its hinges. He enters swiftly and closes the door, striding over to your side in hurried steps that echo off the marble floors. Messmer’s snakes incline themselves forward and it almost seems like they’re racing him to get to you first. When he arrives at your bedside, the sight he sees makes his heart drop.

You are wrapped in your sheets and comforter with sweat adorning your forehead. You wince in pain and he notices that you are curled in on yourself. You look at him with tired eyes and give him a small smile. His snakes flick their tongues into the air and they taste a hint of blood. Your blood. Messmer erupts in fury and his mind races a mile a minute. His serpents coil and hiss, looking around the room wildly for your attacker.

“What has happened? Who hast dared to hurt thee?!” He roars, summoning his spear. “Tell me now, beloved, and I will ensure they never cause thee pain again.” His voice bounces off the walls of your chamber and he is sure the entire keep can hear him, but he cannot bring himself to care.

You reach weakly for his hand and he immediately takes it, clutching it tightly. You feel the heat radiating off of him. You know you need to calm him down, and soon, lest he burn your favorite blanket to ash.

“No one has hurt me, my love. I’m alright.”

“My serpents smelled thy blood in the air. Who hast hurt thee so?” 

“Messmer, I’m on my period. Nobody hurt me.” You wince in pain once again.

He can’t believe he didn’t realize that sooner. In his defense, he thought someone had hurt his sweet consort.

“I see.” He gingerly sits down on the bed beside your crumpled form, still holding your hand. “I apologize if I frightened thee.” 

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You… do know what a period is, yes?”

He raises his brow. “Thou thinkest me a child?”

“No, not at all, I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, lightning licks up your spine and radiates throughout your back. You curl in on yourself tighter and breathe heavily.

Messmer’s eye flicks wildly over your covered body. “What wouldst thou have me do? I refuse to stand idly by while thou suffers.”

“Can you come lay with me, please? I just want you to hold me.” Your sweet request has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Wordlessly, he walks over to the other side of the large bed and climbs in. He doesn’t want to ask you to move when you are clearly in so much pain. He shuffles over to you and pulls the blanket up to cover you both. He hovers next to you, unsure of how to hold you. He’s terrified of hurting you on accident.

You roll over and scoot closer to him, your body protesting the sudden movement. You lay your head on his chest and try to get comfortable on your side.

“How dost thou feel now?” He strokes your hair tentatively.

“A little better.” You continue to shift against him.

He sighs and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. It’s loving and tender. “Wouldst thou be comfortable laying on top of me?”

“I think so.”

He gently lifts your body until you are completely sprawled out on top of him on your stomach with your head in the middle of his chest. He places a large hand on your back and you feel immediate relief. Between the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his hand on your back, your muscles slowly begin to relax.

“You’re so warm…” You mumble into his chest.

“Dost thou require me to move? Have I made thee too warm?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No. It feels wonderful.” You nuzzle your head into him and sigh, content. He smiles and places a light kiss to the top of your head. His serpents nip at the blanket and pull it over you, then carefully wind over your shoulders and lie down.

“Why didst thou not send for me?” He traces small circles into your lower back. “I grew worried at your absence.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I wouldn’t be good company like this.”

“So thou would rather toil in isolation?”

“That’s very funny coming from you, my love.”

He rolls his eye. “Perhaps I am not the best example to live by when one is in such pain, but I wish to be of comfort, just as thou has been for me. I wish to care for thee, my beloved.”

You lean your head up to look at him and press a kiss to his lips. His cheeks redden from the simple gesture, as they always do. “You care for me plenty.”

“I am glad thou thinkest so.”

You shake your head and smile at him. “I know so. I refuse to hear anymore doubts from you.”

“Thou’rt demanding indeed, but I shall not stand against thy wishes, my Lady.”

You chuckle at him. “I also refuse to get up for another few hours.”

“Being late for dinner does not sound like thee.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mention of dinner, and Messmer laughs. 

“How much of the day did I spend wallowing away in misery?”

“About half. Dinner is not far away.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

A comfortable silence encompasses you both and all you can hear are your shared breaths. Messmer lazily flicks his wrist and your fireplace sparks to life. The flames hum and sway side-to-side, dancing. The black tendrils delicately wind their way up and around the flame in almost hypnotizing movements. You’ve always found Messmer’s fire to be beautiful.

You could stay here forever, wrapped in silk sheets and cozy blankets with your lover. His dominant hand caresses your back with feather-light touches and it lulls you into a drowsy haze. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Messmer?” Your voice is serene and quiet.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think we could have dinner in bed? I don’t want to get up.”

He laughs genuinely, a sound you’ve grown to love. It makes you smile to see him happy and carefree. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“You might have to wake me.”

“Though it pains me to disturb thy slumber, I shall, just for thee. Now, rest.” He brings his other hand to your hair and runs his nails across your scalp, making you shiver and relax even further into him.

“You spoil me.” 

“I know.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

[pascalissmoked]

Bitter Taste

-> next part | series masterlist

Summary: In an AU where joel never met Ellie, he shows up one day to his brother’s town, unannounced, unwanted. Though he keeps to himself, you seem to have caught his attention.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Blood, gunviolence, stalking, creepy!joel, kidnapping, stalker!joel, AU!joel, age gap (reader is in her early 20s and joel in his late 50s)

A/N: I wanna write something darker this time. Let me know if you want part 2 to this oneshot!

You felt it run down your hands, thick and slow, red like the pulp of summer cherries.

The Jackson summer heat had gotten to your head and melted what little joy the cherry preserve on your biscuit had left. You let the sticky mess drip down your fingers, past your wrists, down to the elbow. A small red puddle formed on the old wooden picnic table. It looked like a heart. A mangled, beat-up one. Fitting.

Someone was playing an old record of Linda Ronstadt through the loudspeakers. The kind of music that stuck to your ribs like warm soup. The clinking of plates and the chatter of the crowd at the community kitchen blended into a comforting hum. Dina, never one to run out of things to say, was deep into her third story about a fight that broke out during patrol rotations.

“Whole damn thing started over a pair of boots,” she huffed.

It was the first week after final assessments for new recruits. Dina had insisted you celebrate at the mess hall’s picnic area. Jesse and Ellie had argued you should go out on a longer patrol near the lookout tower—make it a camping trip. But Dina wouldn’t budge.

“I didn’t survive clickers and math evaluations to eat jerky on a log,” she’d said.

You couldn’t even be mad. The shade was kind, the food was warm, and Dina’s ranting was familiar comfort.

“I heard the Tipsy Bison’s got live music tonight,” Ellie said, strumming lightly on a half-strung guitar. She wasn’t even trying to be subtle about tuning it for attention.

“Didn’t peg you for a bar kind of girl, Ellie.” Jesse raised a brow, teasing.

“She’s not,” Dina grinned. “But she heard about the new guy.”

That caught your attention.

“What new guy?” You asked

“You know Maria’s husband, Tommy?” Dina leaned forward like a coiled spring ready to explode gossip. “Apparently, Tommy's older brother showed up some time ago. Just wandered in from one of the outer settlements. Lookin’ to trade work for a roof. Tommy offered up his spare room behind the saloon.”

Joel had shown up three weeks ago, no fanfare, just a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a gaze that didn’t belong in a place like Jackson. It was too still, too unreadable. Like something terrible had settled in behind it and decided to stay.

"I've seen the guy around a few times, but I didn't know he was Tommy's brother." You whispered.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was low and deliberate. Like every word had been sifted through a meat grinder before coming out his mouth. And though he kept to himself mostly, helping Tommy with patrol schedules, tending bar, fixing up gear in the garage—his eyes always found you. Watching. Weighing.

"You know he was a contractor before all this?" Dina chimed in, biting into a melting popsicle that painted her lips the color of bruised plums. "A builder. Said he used to make homes for people. Now he tears 'em apart."

Jesse snorted. "What, he tell you that over dinner and a bottle of moonshine? He hasn’t said more than five words to any of us."

That wasn’t true. Not for you. Not after the next day.

It had started with a cut on your palm. A stupid slip of the knife while cleaning fish for the town kitchen. Blood welled up, hot and immediate, and someone called for Joel because he was closest. He didn’t say anything at first, just took your hand in his and wrapped it with that same blank expression he always wore. But something shifted in him when he touched you—like a wire pulled taut.

He’d looked at you, finally looked at you—not through you—and said, "You need to be more careful. There’s worse things out there than dull knives."

The way he said it chilled me. Like he knew those worse things personally. Like he was one of them.

Later, after dark, you were walking back from the library when you heard his voice behind me.

"You shouldn’t be out this late."

You turned and saw him half-lit under the amber glow of the watchtower light. He stepped out from the shadows like something conjured. There was no threat in his stance, not exactly. But you felt it anyway.

"You followin' me?" you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.

His greying hair reflected the moonlight as his eyes stayed dull. No sparkle, no light to be found there.

"Ain’t followin'," he said, that half-Texan drawl coating the words like molasses. "Just... keepin’ an eye out."

He walked me home that night, saying nothing else. But you didn’t sleep well. Couldn’t. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his.

Tonight, the mess hall was alive with music and chatter. A small celebration for a supply run that had gone smoother than expected. You stayed close to your friends, tried to ignore the weight of his gaze across the room. But you felt it, like pressure on the back of your neck.

When you stepped outside to get some air, he was already there, sitting on the edge of the porch, cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

"Didn't know you smoke," you said.

He shrugged. "Helps me think."

"You do a lot of thinking?"

"Lately, yeah. Mostly about you."

His words should’ve scared you. Maybe they did. But there was something hypnotic about the way he said it—like it wasn’t a confession, but a fact.

"You ever get the feelin'," he continued, flicking ash into the dirt, "like you’re not supposed to be somewhere, but you’re there anyway? Like the world made a mistake lettin' you in?"

You swallowed hard, unsure how to answer.

He stood, and for the first time, came close. Close enough that you could see the scar above his brow, the faded bloodstain on his collar. He smelled like oil and metal and something older. Something buried.

"Let me show you somethin'."

He led you out past the gates. Said he knew a spot, real quiet, where you could see the stars better. The guards didn’t stop us. No one questioned Joel Miller.

We veered off the main path, into the wheat fields just past the edge of the safe zone. The moon overhead cast everything in silver. You followed him wordlessly, trusting my gut. The trail wound into the woods, the branches arching overhead like ribs. The moonlight barely touched the ground. You walked, surrounded by nothing but stars and the swaying hush of stalks brushing your arms. And when you stopped, it was in a clearing surrounded by trees that looked like they’d seen too much.

"Beautiful, ain’t it?" he asked, but his voice was distant.

He turned to face you, his eyes darker now, unreadable.

“The sky’s something else here,” you whispered.

Joel looked up. “Reminds me of the world before.”

His hand brushed my jaw. You didn’t flinch. Not until you caught a flicker of something behind those tired eyes.

You turned to him, lips parted to say something, when you felt it—a crack like thunder.

Your body jolted before your brain caught up. Heat bloomed in your abdomen, hot and furious. You looked down and saw it—the bloom of red, dark as plum wine, spreading across your shirt.

Joel stepped closer, gun lowered now, his eyes unreadable.

"You weren’t gonna leave, were you?" he asked softly. "Tell Tommy? Run?"

You staggered, breath hitching, fingers pressing to the wound. The blood slipped between them, coating my skin, sticky and red as fruit.

He reached for me—not cruelly, but with something that looked like care. Something twisted and wrong.

"Didn’t wanna do it like this," he muttered. "But you’re smart. Smarter than most. And you looked at me like I wasn’t just a shadow walkin’ around. Made it hard."

The trees swayed gently above you two, the stars watching in silence.

And as your vision dimmed, you realized he hadn’t come here to bury you.

He’d come to keep you.

Alive.

With him.

Somewhere no one would ever find you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Don’t forget to check out my other work xx

PS: should i make a part two or not?

[covetyou]

baubles

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: ball fucking, ball sucking, balls, wall to wall all ball, BIV (ball in vagina), sex toys (the balldo [link to website] is real and it has haunted my dreams for 6 months - pic in this ask), there's some PIV too I guess. word count: too many and they're all balls 4.4k summary: Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.

A/N: I am NOT sorry. Not now, not ever. And, yes, I watched the instructional video on how to put it on, purely for Research Purposes. We don't talk about how long I've spent thinking about balls.

Happy Ball-idays, don't say I never got you anythin' nice.

...

Santa Joel-y, slip your ballsack right into me, oh gee.

I've been a fuckin' good girl,

Santa Joel-y, so stuff 'em up my chimney tonight.

...

It was your first Christmas in Texas and your first Christmas in a place that felt unseasonably warm for the time of year. That's what you tell yourself every night as you strip off completely before slinking into bed, at least.

Except, this night is different.

It's Christmas Eve.

And someone is in your house. You're sure of it.

A click of a button and you're on your feet, creeping to your bedroom door to listen out for the intruder. You almost didn't hear it, too preoccupied to be on the lookout for burglars on Christmas Eve.

There's a tell tale rustle, the stomp of feet. Whoever it is, they're not even trying to be quiet. You'd respect the brazenness of it all if someone hadn't broken into your damn house. You toy with calling the cops, maybe a neighbor, but you know it'll be too late by the time anyone gets here to do anything, so you make the stupid decision to head downstairs and confront the intruder alone.

Wrapping your flimsy bath robe around yourself, you grab the nearest makeshift weapon you can find (a broken umbrella you still hadn't thrown away) and click the door open, slinking out into the hallway and down the stairs.

If he hears you before you get down the stairs, he doesn't let on. But there, right in front of your Christmas tree is the unmistakable figure of a man. A big man. He's tall, and broad, and his silhouette is wrapped in something fluffy, making it look like there's a giant teddy bear standing in your living room.

You flick the light on, startling him, making him drop a heavy bag undoubtedly filled with your things onto the floor with a heavy thud.

"Oh, shit."

A single ornament rolls out of the bag and across the floor. You both stand frozen and silent, watching it move until it knocks against your bare toes. Only when it's stopped do you drag your eyes back up to look at the man who broke into your house.

Your umbrella clatters to the floor.

"What the...?"

The man before you is dressed as Santa, hat and all.

Only this man was not as old as you would expect for someone claiming to be Santa Claus. His beard is patchy, the scruff around his chin only speckled with gray. He has lines around his eyes, crinkled divots in his skin from so many years of laughter. The red coat pulled around his form is unbelted, falling open at the middle to reveal a white vest and the soft swell of his belly.

"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" you yell.

"Shh, quit your fuckin' hollerin'."

He takes a step toward you and you back into the wall, trying to keep your distance from the very Texan man who had broken into your house dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve.

And that's when you see behind him, to the glittering lights of your Christmas tree, and the branches covered in ornaments. Ornaments that did not belong to you. You'd bought the thing on sale at the grocery store just a week ago. When you put it up and plugged it in, grateful for the existence of pre-lit trees, you settled on the fact you wouldn't decorate it this year. Even so, it was beautiful as it was, and you enjoyed the soft glow of the lights in the evenings as you wound down after work. Now, that soft glow was accompanied by the twinkling reflections of the many ornaments hanging on it.

"Did you... did you decorate my tree?"

He looks at you like you're mad, and maybe you are. Maybe you came so hard on your vibrator upstairs that you passed out, and this is all a dream. A very vivid dream where you can smell the warm oaky scent of the man in front of you and feel the heat of him as he crowds you against the wall.

"What else do you think I've been doin'?" he says, as if it should be entirely obvious that he's been here decorating your tree all along.

"I don't know, maybe stealing my shit?"

He, once again, looks at you like you're stupid and gestures to his suit, red and velvety, draped around his body. It looks good on him, and does nothing to help the thick syrupy feeling still coursing through your veins. Having a man like him break into your house felt like one of lifes great injustices, but having him break in when you were mid-jerk off was purely inhumane. Other than point to the door and tell him to get out, there was nothing you could do but gape at him and hope he didn't notice you curl your toes as he looked at you.

He takes a step closer, heavy boot falling with a thud in front of you, and shrugs. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

Up this close, the smell of him goes straight to your head, your body seemingly ready and rearing to go at the slightest hint of something masculine in your presence. Your tongue suddenly feels too big and clumsy so, not trusting a single word that would come out of your mouth, you shake your head. You would actually, really, very much like the decorations to stay and the man who put them there.

Texas always felt hot to you, but something about this room was now super heating. You're keenly aware of the stickiness pooling between your thighs, and even more aware of the visible sheen of sweat on your head and the warmth in your cheeks. If he looked closely, he'd even be able to see glistening on your fingers, making you look glitter coated in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. You shift, trying to mask the buzzing in your veins at his eyes as they drag down your body.

You hadn't noticed the silky tie of your robe slowly loosen as you wiggled and fidgeted. You were too warm to notice when the fabric parted, gaping over your chest and giving him a perfect view of your tits. You were too busy staring into his deep brown eyes to notice him raise his hand.

You did, however, feel the moment his finger stroked a slow trail down the swell of your breast, puckering your nipple and making a shudder run through your spine.

"You're all unwrapped, darlin'," he whispers, just as you remember to breathe again. "S'gettin' a bit warm in here, huh?"

He absentmindedly discards his hat as his finger traces down your body, flicking the light back off behind you once his hat hits the floor. You know where he, and this, is heading, and you're not keen to stop it any time soon.

When his fingers stroke across your mound, you gasp. Your vibrator had made you sensitive, but you'd never had chance to finish the job, and now here he was threatening you with a good time. He cups you, completely engulfing your pussy in his broad hand, and slides it between your legs.

By now it's no secret you're already wet, your upper thighs already sticky with it. His fingers slide through with ease, the quirk of his eyebrow visible now his hat has been thrown to the side.

"Here I was thinkin' you were on the nice list. But this little thing right here tells me you're naughty as they come, darlin'. What you been doin' to yourself all alone up there in the dark?"

You're staring at him opened mouthed as he works is thick fingers over you, dragging slick over your already sensitive clit. You'd been moments away from coming when the noise from downstairs pulled you out of it, and now here he was working you back up and quickly.

"It's my house," you stutter. "Can do what I want." And right now you want to collapse into a heap on the floor with his fingers between your legs.

"That you can. You wanna go back up there and finish yourself off?"

Logically, you know your pre-orgasm desperation is clouding your judgement, that you should take him up on his offer to leave and put a stop to this, but there's something too enticing about him. You don't want to stop.

"Or do you maybe want a hand with your... Little problem?"

"Yeah," you're nodding, eyes so heavy now you want them to snap shut, but you can't resist looking at him in the glow of your Christmas lights. Red really suits him, and you swear you can see his cheeks get rosy in the dim lighting.

"S'good. Got some little problems here myself. But, seein' as you're already halfway there, seems only fair to get me to your level before we start anythin', don't you think?"

Biting your lip, you nod, taking a step closer to him. Tentatively, you reach out a hand and caress the front of his pants. They feel velvety soft, and you have no fucking clue how he doesn't look as sweaty as you feel.

"That's right. You feel that?"

You feel something grow beneath your palm. Big, thick, and heavy. You look down in stunned silence, seeing only the odd shadows cast by the Christmas tree lights sparkling over the front of his pants.

"Get on your knees and close your eyes."

You obey, wanting very much to stay on the nice list now that you know exactly what you want for Christmas. His belt jingles as he undoes the buckle, pulling it from his waist and discarding it on top of his bag. He can't resist giving his dick a quick squeeze over the fabric of his pants at the sight of your bare chest heaving in the twinkling light, before unzipping them and letting them fall down to his ankles. The fabric is so loose he can step out of them, easily tugging his booted feet from the legs.

It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend the entire time eyes closed, listening attentively, and gently rocking your hips, discreetly humping the air in a desperate attempt to find any kind of relief.

"Tsk, got an impatient one on our hands."

The same hand he'd been stroking your pussy with wraps around his cock, slowly dragging his sticky fingers up and down his rapidly hardening length. He wishes he'd told you to strip, or left the light on so he could see you more clearly, but something about your skin under the sparkling lights and the shadows cast between your legs is making him harder more quickly than ever. When his dick twitches in his hand at your deep sigh, he finally stops staring and speaks.

"Open your eyes."

You snap them open, eager to see what he has for you, and your eyes immediately turn the size of dinner plates.

His cock gorgeous, and even in the grip of his large hand it looks big. He's long, thick with a slight upward curve and a smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. You're fairly certain he trims it, keeping it well groomed and flush to his skin, making his cock appear even larger as it juts out infront of him.

But, despite the gloriousness of this mans cock, what you can't get over are his balls. They're heavy, and full, and getting tighter and tighter as his cock hardens under your gaze. You flick your eyes up to his face and he has a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

"Fuck," you say as you look back down at it, at them, and let out a shaky breath.

His whole body shakes with a laugh, jingling his bells, as you take in his length. Hand never leaving his cock, his gentle strokes become firmer, and he's guiding the tip toward your face a moment later.

"What should I call you?" you ask, realizing you don't even know his name yet, just as his tip touches to your lips. Exhilarating as it was to fuck a man who had broke into your house, you still wanted to know his name, and not even to press charges - you wanted to know what to scream when you came.

"Santa works just fine."

Pulling back, you scoff, "You want me to call you Santa Claus?"

"Fuck no! Do I look like a Claus to you? S'Joel."

"Santa Joel?"

"Fuck yeah darlin', now open up."

You stick out your tongue, waiting for his cock to slide along the spit slicked muscle. He drags his tip across it, letting you lick at his head before you capture his cock in your mouth, sucking it in and flicking your tongue lightly on his frenulum. The salty sweet taste of him makes you crave more, so you draw him further into your mouth, sliding up and down his cock as he stares down at you with an open mouth.

Dragging your hands up his bare thighs, you grab the base of his cock with one, steadying him as you suck. You tickle the other across his balls, looking up at him as he pulls in a sharp breath, before grabbing them and massaging them. His balls feel entirely smooth to the touch, and you have an irresistible urge to put them in your mouth.

Dragging your lips back from his cock, you lick broadly up the length of it again and again until you're dragging your tongue across his ballsack, slowly trailing up his cock to his tip, watching him all the while. Then you kiss his balls, humming in satisfaction as you finally press your lips to the soft skin.

The sight of you on your knees, making out with his balls is sending him stupid, and all he can do is stare down at you with a look of deep concentration on his face. If he's not careful, he's going to blow his load early, coming in your hand before he even gets to fuck you.

He watches you lightly drag your teeth over his delicate ball skin. He swears he sees your eyes flicker with something deserving of the naughty list when you hear his intake of breath, but he's too preoccupied by your tongue lathing across them to take much notice. You take it in turns with them, sucking each ball into your mouth as you slowly pump his cock in your fist, before releasing and working on the other. By the time you've had enough, his cock is dripping, smearing pre-cum over your hand as you jerk him.

Licking the drippy mess off of your hand, you look up at him, savouring the taste of his cum in your mouth.

"Please tell me you want to fuck me," you say, biting down on your swollen lips. You don't know what you'll do if he says no now, you know going back upstairs to your vibrator just won't cut it, even if you now have the fantasy of kissing Santa's balls to get off to.

"You kiddin' me, darlin'? Get up here."

Relief and desperation wash through you, and you climb off your aching knees, letting your robe fall from your arms.

"Couch?" you say, keeping a firm grip on his cock as you stroke up his chest. He pulls you toward him, holding the back of your neck as he kisses you, tasting his cum and balls on your tongue. His lips are impossibly soft, just like his balls, a stark contrast to the scratch of his beard.

Moving to the couch, you bend over, wiggling your bare ass for him. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and marvelling at the lights dancing over your jiggling backside. He shucks off his own coat now, leaving him in just his vest and boots, and hones in on the peek of your pussy from between your legs.

Sliding his length up and down your slit he groans, gripping your hip in his massive hand just as he notches at your entrance.

"Well, shit, that's nice," he says, sliding his tip into you.

You're inclined to agree - it had been a long time since anyone other than yourself had fucked you, and the red hot feeling of his hard cock in you felt better than you remembered. He rocks his hips a little, drenching his cock in you bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside your eager pussy. The solid beat of your heart throbs through your veins and straight to your core, making you clench around him as he begins to fuck you.

"You're gonna yank my dick clean off if you keep that up."

"Can't help it," you moan, "Feels so good." You let your eyes close, succumbing to the slow, steady, pleasure building in you.

Snapping his hips more firmly, he bottoms out in you over and over, pushing deep inside you with each thrust. You can feel his wet balls slap against you, rhythmically whacking into your clit, but it's not enough. You're so desperate to come you lick your fingers and reach between your legs, swiping your digits over your clit. His balls instead slap against your fingers and you can't resist trying to stroke them again.

The noises you're making are going straight to Joel's dick, and he knows he's going to blow his snowy load way before he's ready if you don't stop, so he pulls away from you. You protest as his cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and still desperate to come.

"Got a present for you," he pants from behind you.

"The ornaments?"

"Yeah. Got some real pretty baubles for you, darlin'. You'll like 'em. I promise."

He goes to his bag, long forgotten on the floor, and bends over it. You watch his soft ass and the swing of his dick and balls as he rummages around inside the sack, pulling out two things before standing up. When he doesn't immediately turn back around, clearly playing with his own cock, you start to worry that you're not satisfying him. But then he rounds on you and you see his cock and balls glisten wetly in the twinkling Christmas lights just as he throws a bottle at you. Lube.

Catching him opening another box, you gasp and draw your hand to your chest in mock shock.

"Is that not my present to open?" you say coyly, now trickling lube over your own pussy. You don't need it, but whatever he has in mind clearly calls for it.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I'm still waiting for the coming part."

He shoots you a admonishing look and you raise your hands in surrender, before snaking one back down to keep rubbing at your clit. You're about to go mad if you don't come soon, your clit is so sensitive, a firm nub between your legs now, and your pussy so puffy from so much stimulation. It's a wonder you have any blood left in your brain at all.

The object in the box is revealed, and you can do nothing but gape at it as Santa Joel proudly holds it up with a hand on his hip.

It looks like a torpedo cockring hybrid, and you have no fucking clue what it is.

"Get yourself comfy, gotta strap myself in."

Laying back on your couch - for all its flaws, an armless couch certainly had its benefits - you spread your legs and watch him with curiousity. You still can't work out what it is.

"What is -"

And then he stretches the silicone underneath his balls, pushing each ball into the cage with his thumbs before letting go. Oh.

Oh. "Oh."

You sit in stunned silence. He's turned his balls into a dick or, more accurately, a dildo. With the length of it and the girth of his balls, you can only imagine what it's going to feel like.

"If you don't fuck me with that in the next two seconds I'm gonna scream."

With the contraption strapped around his balls, pulling them down and taught, crouches over you, pushing your legs back so your pussy is pointing skyward like a sloppy wet landing pad for his balls.

He dunks the tip of the dildo into your pussy. It's cold and unfamiliar, not like the velvety warmth of his dick that stands straight ahead of you, taunting you with its glistening tip. If you could fold yourself in a pretzel you would, just to suck the head of his cock back into your mouth.

He pushes down, squatting over you with bare legs, sheathing the entire dildo into you. Another push and you feel the swell of his balls as they pop past your entrance and nestle themselves inside of you.

You gasp. The feeling is wholly unfamiliar, but still you feel yourself soaking him, slicking up his balls as they sit in your pussy.

"That hurtin'?"

"No. No, it's just I- I've never had someone's balls in me before."

"A first ball fuckin' for this little pussy," he says affectionately, stroking a thumb over your lips as they wrap themselves around his balls. His cock is protruding out of you now, like you're wearing a life like strap, and you really wish you could reach to taste where his tip threatens to drip onto you. Suddenly you understand the boys back in highschool and their failed attempts to suck their own dicks.

"They feel so big inside," you moan as he begins to gently shift above you. He pops out of you once, and pushes back in, and you throw your head back onto the soft sofa woth a moan. You have never felt anything like this. "Joel, please don't stop. Please keep fucking me with your balls."

"You got it darlin'," his voice is soft, in awe of you as you take his balls and the toy deep inside you. You feel incredible, and the wet slip of your walls on his ball skin shoots straight down his dick, and for a moment he thinks he's accidentally came too early. A quick look from your face, contorting with the fullness in your pussy, down to where his dick sticks outward, tells him otherwise. Thank fuck. He knows he has to get you off quickly. You were soaking his dick not too long ago, and before that his fingers, and before that your own sheets upstairs. You were ready, and he was nothing if not a giving man.

His thumb finds your clit, slippery from lube and your own slick, and he circles it, applying a firm pressure as he moves.

"Oh my god, that's it," you plead, opening your eyes to look at where he plays with you, balls still sunk deep.

You spur him on, rocking your hips as much as you can with your legs back, fucking yourself on his balls as he strokes your clit. You feel your pussy tense, little spasms warning you of what's to come, and you hold on tight to your own legs.

"That's it darlin'. Come on my balls. Squeeze 'em."

"F-fuuuck."

The swipe of his thumb sends you over, and you come hard on his balls with your head back and eyes squeezed shut. Your legs shake and you know he can feel how you twitch and spasm around his balls, drenching them as he dunks them in you, shallowly thrusting them as you tighten and grip him hard.

He's holding your legs back for you, looking you in the eye as he bends forward over your limp body when you open your eyes. The feral look on his face tells you he hasn't come yet, and you're desperate to see when he does.

"You been so nice I'm gonna give you an extra present. You ready?"

"Please Santa Joel, I've been so good this year," you say with a soft smirk.

He soon wipes the smirk off your face when he fucks down into you harder, practically bouncing off your ass as he slots his swollen balls into your pussy. They feel so big and heavy inside you, and even strapped down and pulled tight by the toy, you feel his balls tighten and try to draw up closer to his cock as he gets closer to coming.

"Come on me. Please. Come on me," you beg, staring between his cock and his face. Pre-cum had been steadily dripping onto you, splattering your belly, but you were hungry for more.

His fingers grip around his flushed head, stroking easily over the slicked surface. Pushing his balls deep, he bounces gently, loving the feel of his sensitive ball skin inside of your soaked hole.

"Here it comes, darlin'. Oh shit."

"Yeah, come on me. Come all over me Joel."

"Shit. Fuck."

You watch his slit as it seems to wink at you before ropes of come spurt out of the tip, shooting across your chest and neck, spattering your face and even your hair with his cum.

"Yes, yes, thank you," your eyes have snapped shut. You can feel the warm trickle of cum by your eyebrow, and you're not keen to feel the sting of semen in your eye.

For a little while he looks at you, fucked out by his balls and laying boneless on your couch. With a soft pop he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty without his balls in you. Your legs flop down and you listen to his deep breaths.

"Nothin' like a ballgasm," he pants.

Nothing like being ballfucked, you think, but the words are heavy in your mouth and you do nothing but moan, mumbling some nonsense.

"Mm... balls. They... mm. Yeah. Good."

"Too fucked out, huh?" he laughs, before swiping the cum from near your eye. "Make a Christmas wish," and he slips the finger into your waiting mouth.

He slides his finger from your mouth and you murmur a thank you as you make your wish, sighing and letting yourself relax completely for a moment.

When you tentatively open your eyes, wary of any errant drops of cum, he's gone, disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. You didn't hear the door, the window, anything. You certainly didn't hear him get dressed.

Feeling stupid, and like maybe it was all just a dream, you rush to the window. You don't expect to see anything, the man feeling too magical to have been real. But, there he is, walking down the street bare assed, his pants slung over his shoulder and his balls still swinging strapped into the toy.

No, you don't think you'll be forgetting your first Christmas in Texas any time soon at all.

next part

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[bigball-thefrog]

The Calm After The Storm: Law X Reader

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Hello hello, I'm back again with something else this week! Now that I'm finished with Dressrosa I can finally start writing for Law which I've been wanting to do for awhile so here, have this and I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings/Tags:

Spoilers for Dressrosa if you haven't finished it

Fluff

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Narrator POV

It was the day after the events that took place in Dressrosa. You, the Strawhats, Law and a few others were all hiding in Kyros' cottage, recovering and staying away from the Marines.

The you thankfully didn't receive any major injuries so you could move after a few hours. Which helped since the cottage was a bit cramped and noisy. The cottage was situated in the middle of a large and beautiful flower field. Making the excuse of watching out for marines, you left the cottage and wondered around the field, you found a nice shady spot on the edge of the field and sat down to watch the clouds. A calm breeze hit your face and you closed your eyes, everything was perfect, Doflamingo was in jail, the citizens of Dressrosa were happy again with their old king, the marines hadn't found you... Everything right now, was just right. Until you heard footsteps coming close to you. You readied your Haki/devilfruit/weapon in case it was the marines attacking. Luckily when you looked up you saw that it was just Law walking towards you with a small limp.

You instantly relaxed and lowered your guard again. Law made it next to you and sat down. "Glad to see you moving around" you said as you leaned back against a tree. Law was slightly hunched over a bit as he spoke, "Mm... I knew you weren't really sitting out here for lookout and decided to steal your idea of coming out here for quiet." you chuckled have looked back at him. Your eyes wondered around his figure and landed on the bullet wounds where Doflamingo shot him. Your hand instinctively reached out to feel around him but Law moved back and raised an eyebrow at you. You lowered your hand and mumbled out an apology, Law relaxed again but still kept his eyes on you. You raised your hand again, "May I?" Law debated but sighed and agreed. Your hand reached out and began to gently trace the edges of the bullet wounds. Feather soft touches, gently grazing around the wounds but never over them. Law's body instinctively twitched a few times but you felt him relaxed when he let out a quiet groan and leaned back against the tree behind you two. "I don't know how you can walk after injuries like this, I know that little fairy princess helped but it must still hurt a lot..." you said and finally took your hand away. Law looked back at you, a small smirk tugged at his lips, "It's not the worst pain I've been through. If you have enough emotional pain it numbs the physical pain." "Well you're stronger than me, I probably would've still be stuck in bed if I went what you went through yesterday" you chuckled and Law's smirked widened.

You both fell into a comfortable silence for a but until Law spoke up, "Do ou mind if I take a nap here?" He asked. You nodded and said 'of course' since this was a perfect place to rest. What you didn't expect was for Law to move closer to you, take off his hat and lay his head down on your lap. You were very surprised but didn't move him. Law's eyes closed and just watched as he began to relax and sleep on your lap. You sat back and relaxed in the moment. Everything was calm... Everything was peaceful... Everything was perfect... You ran your hand over the grass and a flower got caught between your fingers. You carefully picked it and examined it, a small white flower, how cute, then your eyes landed on Law and an even cuter idea came into your head. You gently placed the flower in Law's hair close to his ear, Law almost instantly noticed this and looked back at you. "What are you doing?" He asked as he narrowed his eyes at you, "Oh, I'm just playing with your hair.... If it's okay with you...?" You said as you tried to maintain eye contact and not look at the flower in his hair. Law seemed to believe your lie and simply nodded before laying his head back onto your lap. Seeing he believed you, a smirk grew on your face as another idea grew in your mind.

Flower after flower, you kept picking them and carefully placing them in his hair. Small ones, bugger ones, and each time Law thought you were just playing with his hair. Pretty soon, his hair just looked like a bouquet of flowers, you gently ran your hand over them which caused Law to stir. He sat back up and rubbed his eyes, "We should probably get back before they fund us..." He said and reached out to put his hat back on. Not wanting the flowers to fall out you quickly grabbed it and put it on yourself, Law raised an eyebrow and you awkwardly smiled, "I think it looks better on me! Ehehe...." Law scowled slightly and mumbled something under his breath before getting up and walking back to the cottage.

You breathed a sigh of relief and took a minute to calm your giggles before going back yourself. Once you got close enough you heard echoes of laughter coming from the cottage and Law standing frozen by the door. You quickly hurried up and saw Law looking distressed while everyone in the cottage laughed at him because of the flowers in his hair, eventually when everyone calmed down Robin handed him a compact mirror and Law opened it to see all the flowers in his hair. His distraught turned to anger as he quickly shook all the flowers out his hair then slowly turned towards you. You gulped and took off running back to the field but it didn't help when Law used his Devilfruit to teleport right in front of you and grabbed your arm. You screeched and froze, Law then let go of your arm but grabbed your face and squished your cheeks tightly. He looked like he was about to kill you so you just started sputtering out apologies but he remained quiet as he reached out and took his hat off your head. "You're lucky you're cute..." He muttered so only you two could hear before squeezing your cheeks again then letting go. He put his hat on and looked back at your now confused look, scoffed and walked back. You stood there bewildered and your heart racing, you just got away with pranking him and he even called you cute! Your cheeks heated up and you looked back at Law, a small smirk tugged at his lips as he went back inside after leaving you flustered.

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If I don't have any requests by next week then I'll post the last part of my Slasher Lucci X Reader but don't be afraid to request because I'll still happily write it! See you all next week

Kelly🐸

[wasteddmoondust]

the universe || sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader 1.2k words, soulmate au, angst (i tried, really), happy ending, some language from this request! :) a/n: AHH i hope you really like this, i haven't written this much before but i think it was a good challenge!

Sirius feels like he shouldn't have looked. But he stares at the four little paw prints tattooed on your left shoulder blade, identical to the one he has.

But that was the thing with soulmates, wasn't it? One can never control how it happens, they just do. It was already written. He was meant to see this, and he's meant to do something about it.

There's a sinking feeling in his chest. He's not sure if he wants to do something about it.

Sirius doesn't believe in soulmates. At least that's what he wants himself to think.

It's too much commitment, he usually says to himself. Why can't I choose who I want to be with?

I've been following rules my whole life. What does the universe know about me and who I'm meant to be with? For the rest of my life? Who would want to be with me that long?

I'm not a good enough person, let alone for Y/N.

Who would even want to love someone like me?

That's usually where the thinking stops.

So he decides for himself. Going out to parties to pick and choose which girls to make out with. No strings attached, just his physical desires to be satisfied.

He knows it's massed up, even more so when you're at said parties, keeping a lookout for someone with your matching tattoo. And so Sirius keeps his shoulder covered. You don't know he's your soulmate, and a part of his never wants you to.

Unfortunately, you're good friends, and he doesn't want you getting hurt over the fact he doesn't want a soulmate.

By the time he's done sticking his tongue down another girl's throat, he usually hears that you've decided to call it an early night.

It all comes crashing down one New Year's Day.

It's the adrenaline of counting down in the very crowded room, and the feeling of someone grabbing him to be their New Year's kiss. Everyone welcomes the start of a new era with a cheer.

The party goes well into the night before Sirius decides to finally crash in his room. He immediately falls asleep as his head hits the pillow.

He wakes up with the usual hangover headache, but nothing a bowl of ice water can't fix. A quick shower and a carton of juice later, he checks his phone for his missed notifications.

Moony: wake up, get to the hospital now. Moony: Sirius where are you??? Moony: we're outside room 402 when you get here. Prongs: Y/N's sick again, we're heading home Prongs: she won't stop throwing up idk what to do Prongs: we're going to the emergency room Prongs: call me when you see this Lilypad: James and i are going to the hospital with Y/N, call us when you see this Lilypad: Sirius if you do not wake the fuck up right now i will actually come for your throat.

Sirius doesn't think he's gotten ready so quickly in his life. To be fair, he was still in his pyjamas, just adding his leather jacket and running out of the door with his keys, wallet and phone in hand.

When he arrives, he sees his three friends outside of the room you're in.

"What happened?" he asks, panting from all the running.

"They don't for sure know yet," Remus says, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

Lily is sitting on the chair, her hair is tied messily in a ponytail. "They think it's soul-repelling."

Sirius furrows his brows, "What does that mean?"

"My parents talked about it once," James says from his seat next to Lily. "They used to talk about stories of people who constantly reject the soul bond they had with their soulmate, which would cause the other person to be very sick. Or in worse cases, die."

Lily visibly hates the way James says it, and he knows it. He tries to comfort her by holding her hand, their matching flower tattoos on their hands side-by-side.

"...But she doesn't know her soulmate yet?" Sirius asks carefully, trying to sound normal.

James shrugs. "She may not, but they say the way her body is reacting means her soulmates knows it's her."

Sirius feels his breath knock out, his heart pounding, realising what he's done. He's been rejecting their bond the entire time. All the while he thought he was doing himself a favour, he made her suffer for his selfish needs.

The ache in his heart is undeniable. He grabs the fabric that covers his heart and feels his breath get heavier.

"Sirius?" Remus calls, noticing his actions.

"It's- it's my fault..." Sirius feels tears start to prick at his eyes.

"What?"

"It was me," he starts to remove his jacket and shirt, showing the tattoo on his shoulder for the first time. "It's me-" his voice cracks. He turns to the door, "I need to get in there."

"Woah wait- Sirius!"

But he bursts through the door to the ward. He runs in and the first thing he notices is you staring at him, paler than he's ever seen you before. You have eyebags and you're heaving, as if you'd just thrown up before he came in.

The nurse next to you speaks up, "Sir, you can't be in here yet-"

"I'm sorry!" he yells, grabbing your hand and bending over the bed. He buries his face in your chest.

"Sirius?" you whisper, confused, but you finally see the print on his shoulder. "Oh."

"I've known for the longest time and that was so selfish of me. And it's still so selfish of me to want you still," tears are fully flowing down his cheeks now. "I've realised I cannot lose you. But would you allow me to be selfish one more time and ask for you to forgive me?"

If anything, you're too stunned to speak. One minute you were throwing your guts up and suddenly your best friend is crying in front of you and he's also your soulmate.

But at the same time, you start to feel your body be at ease. The nausea is already starting to subside. His warm hand in your cold one feels nice. Like two puzzle pieces finding each other.

You cough, feeling your throat finally clear. You look down, and SIrius is still crying, his question still hangs in the air. He waits for your answer.

"I hope you know you have a lot of making up to do after this," you say softly, smiling.

He heaves the biggest sigh of relief. He leans towards your hands and kisses them. "Of course, anything for you. Oh thank god."

You chuckle. "I'm so glad it's you, actually. I had a feeling."

He looks up at you, "Really? How'd you know?"

You shrug. "Just a feeling I guess. Probably a soulmate thing."

He smiles, the universe has his back, he thinks. "Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Sirius I just threw up, I'm not letting you taste whatever is in my mouth right now," you say. "But the rest of my face is available."

He opts to kiss your cheek instead. And something in him clicks. It feels normal, it feels right.

Yeah, the universe definitely knew what they were doing.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (see full series list here)

1994

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

That's what Harry had written in his note to you and Sirius — and also in notes to Ron and Hermione too.

The pair of you had been livid, of course — "this is what happens when he's left alone with those people!" — and three days later, you stand on the doorstep to Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging with a group of other Order members.

"Alohomora," you say, pushing the door open. You make your way into the hallway, all the lights turned off.

Tonks lets out a whistle at a stack of antique decorative plates on a table beside her. "Wow, look at these plates, they're proper fancy! Just look — "

She immediately drops it with a crash.

"Oops," she says, repairing it with a wave of her wand.

You make your way up the stairs, unlocking the door with your wand while the others wait at the bottom of the stairs. Harry slowly emerges from the room, poking his head out the door, wand clutched tightly in his hand.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody growls.

Harry doesn't lower his wand. "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry still doesn't move, clearly wary of your party.

"It's alright, Harry," you say gently. "We've come to take you away."

"P-professor?" he says disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks says. "Lumos."

The tip of Tonks's wand flares, illuminating the hall with light. You beam at the sight of your godson, already looking older than when you last seen him.

You stride forward and wrap him in a tight hug, beaming. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you too..."

"Ooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks says excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley Shacklebolt says from the back. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Dedalus Diggle wheezes. "Lily's eyes."

Moody squints suspiciously at Harry, his magical eye pointed towards him searchingly. "Are you quite sure it's him? It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater personating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your patronus take?" Remus asks.

"A stag," Harry answers nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye."

Harry descends the stairs, still looking a bit confused, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he goes.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roars immediately. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttock, you know!"

"Who do you know that's lost a buttock?" Tonks asks curiously

"Never you mind, just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" he barks, hobbling off to the kitchen. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..."

Wow, how many times did you hear that during your training?

"And I saw that," Moody adds irritably as you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

Remus holds out his hand and shakes Harry's. "How are you?"

"Fine..." Harry replies, looking as though he's still in shock at what's going on.

"I'm — you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbles.

"Lucky, ha!" Tonks exclaims, grinning. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or so they think."

She winks at you and you smile back, remembering the side-splitting laughter that had infected you as the two of you cooked up that idea a few nights previous.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" Harry asks. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus says. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asks hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, not the Burrow." You follow Moody into the kitchen, the group of Order members walking in after you. "Too risky. We're set up headquarters somewhere else, somewhere undetectable."

Moody sits at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, taking in the many electrical appliances in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Remus tells, pointing toward him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And this is Nymphadora — "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks says with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finishes, glancing at Tonks.

She folds her arms. "So would you if your fool of a mother called you Nymphadora."

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus continues. "Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle — "

"We've met before," squeaks Diggle, dropping his top hat excitedly.

" — Emmeline Vance — Sturgis Podmore — and Hestia Jones."

Harry nods awkwardly at each of them in turn.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you," Remus says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody says darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus explains, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks says as she looks around the kitchen with heat interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Uh — yeah," says Harry, turning to you. "What's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol — ?"

Several of the witches and wizards make odd hissing noises and Moody growls, "Shut up!"

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody explains, looking around him warily with his magical eye.

"We can talk about it once we're back at headquarters," you say.

"How're we getting there?"

"Brooms," Remus replies. "Only way. You're too young to apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"She says you're a good flier," Kingsley says, gesturing to you.

"He's excellent," you reply proudly, smiling at Harry.

Remus glances down at his watch. "You better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks says brightly, following Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

Remus pulls an envelope and piece of parchment out of his pocket, bending over the kitchen table to start scribbling something down. You walk around the room, looking at different photos of the Dursleys.

Baby Dudley, with a proud Petunia and Vernon standing over him; Petunia and Vernon on their wedding day; several more photos of Dudley growing up — there's an obvious absence of Harry. If a stranger were to walk into this room without knowing anything about the Dursleys beforehand, they would never know Harry even exists.

"What a strange device!" Podmore exclaims, curiously opening and closing the kitchen microwave while Kingsley stands behind him. He waves you over. "What does it do?"

Because of your Muggle father, you are often questioned on Muggle items and customs — though usually by Arthur Weasley.

"It cooks food," you reply. "It's called a microwave."

"A microwave..." Kingsley repeats thoughtfully, opening the door and peering inside with immense interest.

Nearby, Hestia laughs at a potato peeler that she came across in one of the drawers. You give her a look, confused as to what could possibly be so humourous about a potato peeler, but she just continues to snicker and giggle as she turns it over in her hands.

"Excellent," Remus says when Harry and Tonks return, Harry's trunk bobbing along in the air behind them. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a note telling your aunt and uncle not to worry — "

"They won't," says Harry.

"That you're safe — "

"That'll just depress them."

" — and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Remus smiles but doesn't answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody says gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

Harry's brows knit nervously. "You need to what?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody replies, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "

He raps Harry hard on the top of his head and Harry's body takes on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like some sort of human chameleon.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks says appreciatively, and Harry looks down in surprise, spinning in place as he surveys his new look.

"Come on," Moody says, moving towards the back door and unlocking it with his wand.

You all step out onto the Dursleys' impeccably well-kept lawn. It looks practically untouched — a contender for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition indeed.

"Clear night," Moody grumbles, peering up into the dark sky above. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barks at Harry, pointing his finger at him, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "

"Is that likely?" Harry asks apprehensively, but Moody ignores him. When he turns his worried eyes to yours you shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Moody's grimness.

" — the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," says Tonks as she straps Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growls. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "

"No one's going to die," you say calmly, receiving a doubtful grumble from Moody in the process.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus says sharply, pointing into the sky at the shower of bright red sparks flaring high above you.

You swing your leg over your broom — your dusty old Cleansweep Seven that you've had since you were fifteen and that has seen more of the inside of your garden shed than the open air — and wrap your hands around the flaking handle. You're a pretty average flier — nothing compared to James, of course...but who could ever compare to him?

"Second signal, let's go!" Remus says loudly, as this time green sparks explode into the air far above you.

You kick off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushes into you as you rise higher into the air, the houses and buildings of Little Whinging becoming smaller and smaller as your group ascends. Looking up, the sky is vast and clear, revealing the billions of gleaming stars twinkling above. You can't help the small rush of giddiness that sparks in you at the sight of it.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouts over the wind, and your circling group follows Tonks as she swerves, Harry close behind. "We need more height...give it another quarter of a mile!"

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" calls Moody.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouts angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

You're glad to hear this, your fingers turning numb around the handle of your broom in the chill.

You alter your course every now and then according to Moody's instructions, you and the rest of the guard circling Harry and Tonks as you move.

"We ought to double back for a bit, to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouts.

"Don't be mad! We're nearly there now!" You yell, recognising the streets hurtling past below. "If we keep going off course, we won't have to worry about being followed because Harry'll have died from hypothermia by then!"

"Time to start the descent!" Remus orders. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

You dive, flying lower and lower until you touch down on a quiet street with several less-than-welcoming houses lining it.

"Where are we?" Harry asks.

"In a minute," Remus says quietly, looking at Moody expectantly as he rummages around in his cloak.

"Got it," he mutters, pulling out Dumbledore's trusty Deluminator and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp goes out with a pop. Moody clicks the Deluminator again and one by one each lamp on the street distinguishes, leaving the faint glow of lit rooms behind curtains the only source of light on the street.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explains to Harry, pocketing the Deluminator once more. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

Together, your group makes it towards houses Number 11 and Number 13. Even though he's been Disillusioned, you can still see Harry's form shivering with the cold, and you make a slow sweeping motion down the length of his body with your wand, muttering a quiet warming spell under your breath. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Remus tuts quietly under his breath. "No spell for the rest of us, then?"

You smile. "You're not my godson."

Even in the dark, you can see him rolling his eyes at you.

"Here," Moody says, thrusting a piece of paper towards Harry. "Read quickly and memorise."

"What's the Order of the — ?"

"Not here, boy!" Moody snarls immediately, his eyes wide. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

He snatches the parchment out of Harry's hand and lights it on fire, dropping it to the ground, the edges curling in the flame.

"But where's — ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus says quietly.

After a moment, the run-down door of the Black house emerges in the space between 11 and 13, followed soon by grimy walls and windows.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growls, prodding Harry in the back.

You tap the door with your wand. Loud metallic clicks and squeaks sound behind the door before it creaks open, revealing the darkened hallway beyond. "Get in quick, Harry. But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

You shuffle into the hallway behind Harry, casting a wary eye to the curtained portrait at the end of the hall, waiting for Moody to finish returning the light to the streetlamps before closing the door behind him.

"Here." Moody raps Harry hard over the head with his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm and returning Harry to his usual, visible state. Probably could've been a bit more gentle with it, but whatever.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light around here," Moody says quietly. With a soft hissing noise, the old-fashioned gas lamps flicker to life, illuminating the depressingly drab hallway you're standing in.

Hurried footsteps alert you to Mrs Weasley's entrance, emerging from the basement door with a smile on her face as she makes her way toward you.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispers, pulling Harry into a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turns to you and the rest of the Order members and whispers urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

Everyone starts to make their way through the door, and Harry moves to follow Remus when you gently hold him back, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. Order members only. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, and then we'll all have dinner," Mrs Weasley whispers to him. "And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you — ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

You give Harry and Mrs Weasley a wave before heading down into the basement, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping into your usual spot beside Sirius at the table while Dumbledore speaks to Remus and Moody about Harry. You listen as Dumbledore outlines plans and guard duty: looks like you're on tomorrow night. Brilliant.

Snape sits across from you, and when your eyes meet he gives you a near-imperceptible head shake. Nothing on Wormtail yet. Then his eyes shift to hatred as he wrinkles his nose at Sirius beside you, and you notice that your husband is currently pretending to scratch his nose with just his middle finger extended, directly in Snape's eyeline.

Of course.

When the meeting is finally over, most of the Order members file out of the kitchen and upstairs, speaking in hushed voices as they enter the hall. You pull one of the scrolls of parchment from the middle of the table into your hands, skimming your eyes over a plan of the Department of Mysteries, exits and entrances marked in red.

Just then, you hear a clatter and a great, thankfully muffled, screeching starts from the hall. You sigh, rubbing your temples, and move to stand up and deal with your darling mother-in-law when Sirius gently pushes you back into your chair, standing up.

"I'll handle it."

Bill and Mr Weasley sit close by, heads pressed together as they mull over parchment and documents. After a minute or two, the screaming stops and Sirius reopens the door, Harry following close behind with Remus and the rest of the kids.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat and Mr Weasley jumps to his feet, hurrying over to give Harry's hand a shake. "Harry! Good to see you!"

Bill starts to try and roll up the scrolls and you move to help him, handing him the plan of the Department of Mysteries.

"Journey all right, Harry?" he asks. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Tonks says, striding over to help you and immediately knocking over a candle, sending the wax spilling onto the parchment. "Oh, no — sorry — "

"Here," you say, waving your wand and muttering a spell to repair the parchment. In the light your wand casts, you spy Harry trying to catch a glimpse of what's written on the parchment.

Mrs Weasley sees him too, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly, snatching up the scrolls and shoving them into Bill's arms. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings."

She sweeps off towards a dresser to start unloading dinner plates and you grab a cloth and wipe down the table for dinner.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius says, retaking his usual spot at the table. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus, who has been snoring away at the end of the table, stirs and jolts awake. "Someone say m' name? I agree with Sirius..."

He raises his hand in the air as though voting, and you snort.

"Meeting's over, Dung," you say with a smile, giving his back a poke as you pass by with more plates. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" He peers at Harry before his face lights in recognition. "Blimey, so 'e 'as! Yeah...you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbles in his pockets and produces his trusty black pipe, lighting the tip with his wand and taking a long pull from it. A cloud of green smoke thickens the air around him instantly.

"Owe you an apology," he grunts.

"For the last time, Mundungus," calls Mrs Weasley in frustration, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right, sorry, Molly."

He stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, with slight reluctance.

Soon, a series of heavy knives are chopping meat and vegetables on their own, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirs a cauldron dangling over the fire. Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry are talking at the table, and from the few snippets you overhear you can tell Sirius is complaining about being stuck inside with nothing to do — which you don't blame him for.

"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry says bracingly.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning's going — "

"What cleaning?" Harry asks.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius replies, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in years — "

"Sirius?" Mundungus pipes up, eyes focused on a silver goblet in his hands, examining it with immense interest. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he answers, surveying the goblet with obvious distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," Mundungus mutters thoughtfully, scrubbing the crest with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieks.

Fred and George have bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, to hurtle through the air towards the table. Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus leap away, just in time to avoid the pot of stew that skids the length of the table before stopping at the end, the flagon of butterbeer that falls with a crash and spills over the surface, dripping onto the floor, and the sharp knife that slips from the breadboard and sticks in the table where Sirius' hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs Weasley screams, face red with fury. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred says, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Harry and Sirius are laughing, and you turn your face away to hide your laughter from the furious Mrs Weasley. Mundungus struggles to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath.

"Boys," Mr Weasley steps in, lifting the stew pot back into the middle of the table. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age — "

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley snaps at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table while you clean away the mess from the previous with your wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy — "

She stops dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband. Mentions of Percy are not particularly welcomed in the house at the moment, after Percy and Mr Weasley had an especially heated argument and Percy chose his job at the Ministry over his own family.

"Let's eat," Bill says quickly.

For a few minutes, there is silence in the room but for the scraping of plates and cutlery and the creak of chairs as everyone settles down for the meal. You sit beside Sirius, who smiles and pulls your chair closer to his as you eat.

He tugs on the sleeve of your jumper, rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this, it suits you. You look very pretty."

You scoff, giving him a smile. "Of course you like it, Sirius, it's yours. Anyways, I'm thinking of going back home soon just to collect a few things," you say. "Is there anything you want? I am seriously missing my telescope here — "

A loud burst of laughter drowns out the rest of your words, as Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus roll around in their chairs.

"...and then," chokes Mundungus, tears running down his face, "and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'Dung, where did ya get all them toads from? 'Cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back off me for twice what 'e paid in the first place — "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley says sharply.

"Beg pardon, Molly," he answers at once, wiping his face and winking at Harry. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em off Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong — "

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seemed to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley says coldly, before shooting a particularly nasty look at Sirius and standing up to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for dessert.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mundungus is certainly not the most law-abiding man, but he has his uses.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius says quietly to Harry.

"How come he's in the Order?"

"He's useful," Sirius mutters. "Knows all the crooks — "

"Well, he would, seeing as he is one himself," you add, taking a sip from your wine.

Sirius nods. "He's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Several helpings of crumble later, the air in the room moves to a relaxed laziness as you finish telling the story of Remus's first time getting drunk at Hogwarts to Tonks, who giggles and laughs while Remus shakes his head and becomes increasingly interested in his goblet. Sirius's hand rests on your hip, idly drawing circles with his finger.

"I don't — uh — I don't remember that," Remus says, cheeks crimson as he glances at Tonks to see her reaction.

You hum, smiling at him. "Well, I certainly do. "

Tonks smiles appreciatively at Remus, yawning loudly.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley says, yawning too.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius says, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The change in the atmosphere is rapid: Mrs Weasley sits bolt upright, her fists clenched; Remus lowers his goblet warily, eyes meeting yours.

"I did!" Harry says indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

"And they're quite right," Mrs Weasley says firmly. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George interrupts loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" says Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"You're too young, you're not in the Order," Fred says in a high-pitched imitation of his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's been doing," Sirius says calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs Weasley says sharply, a dangerous look on her face. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" His tone is polite, but you spot the familiar tense in his jaw and know that this calmness won't last long.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley replies stonily.

Everyone else in the room is dead silent, their eyes flitting between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as though watching a tennis match. You meet Remus's eyes across the table, subtly shaking your head.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," says Sirius. "But he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley snaps. "He's only fifteen — "

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs Weasley's voice rises, her fists trembling with anger. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!" Sirius says impatiently.

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius stares back at Mrs Weasley, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. His voice is ice. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs Weasley says hotly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" says Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius demands, his voice rising.

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly — "

"Enough, both of you,” you say loudly, stopping the two. You inhale deeply. "Harry deserves to know a certain amount. He has been left in the dark for a month, and I have no doubt that he's used this time to come up with a few interesting theories of what's been going on. Don't you think he deserves to know what is true, from us, rather than a muddled version from...others?"

You don't doubt that a few of Fred and George's Extendable Ears have survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

Mrs Weasley looks back at you, breathing deeply. "Well..." she looks around the table for support, but receives none. "Well...I can see that I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius says quietly.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley snaps back fiercely. Great, just when you thought the argument had come to an end. "Who else has he got?"

You pause, hoping you misheard her.

"He's got us!" Sirius snaps back, gesturing between you and him.

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Immediately, you feel your anger flare and you glare daggers back at her. "It's not like he had a choice, Molly!" You snap defensively. "How could you say something like that — "

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus says sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Sirius, who had begun to rise from his chair, sinks slowly back into his seat, face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continues calmly. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry says at once.

Mrs Weasley looks at him for a moment, swallowing harshly. "Very well. Ginny — Hermione — Ron — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

Instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George cry together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouts.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wails.

"NO!" shouts Mrs Weasley, her chest heaving as she stands. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr Weasley says wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — alright, fine, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron says heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" He adds uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"'Course I will."

Ron and Hermione beam.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

You hear Ginny stomping and raging at her mother all the way up the stairs, awakening Walburga's portrait when she reaches the hall. You sigh, hurrying off to force the curtains shut over the crazy woman with immense effort. You return, shutting the door to the stairs behind you, and fall back into your seat with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?" Sirius speaks.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," Harry asks immediately, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," says Sirius. "Not as far as we know, anyway...and we do know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus adds.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asks.

"He doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," you answer. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't quite come off the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Remus says with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry questions, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius says. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters were supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," says Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" Bill says incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix the day Voldemort returned," says Sirius.

"So what's the Order been doing?" asks Harry, looking around the table at everyone.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius answers.

"How do you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," says Remus, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," says Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," you say.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill tells. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry is still in denial," you say with a sigh. "You saw Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry — he hasn't changed his mind at all. He's completely refusing to believe it."

"But why?" Harry asks desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," says Mr Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him," you say.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry says incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," says Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't," Mr Weasley speaks, adjusting his spectacles. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

Remus clears his throat. "Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry says angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius says bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"Ignorance is bliss," you say sardonically.

"You see the problem," Remus says. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's 'rumourmongering', so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" says Harry, looking around the table. "You're letting people know he's back?"

You smile humourlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius says grimly.

"And people don't exactly find the wife of said criminal the most trustworthy either," you say bleakly, shrugging.

"I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Remus tells. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius explains, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a few people though," Mr Weasley says optimistically. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you is putting the news out that Voldemort is back — " Harry begins, but Sirius stops him.

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore is in so much trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus explains. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill chimes in, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr Weasley says shortly. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asks quickly.

You exchange a glance with Sirius before he says, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."

Harry stays looking confused, and Sirius continues, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ? "

"That's enough."

From the shadows beside the door, Mrs Weasley stands, her expression furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you."

"You can't boss us — " Fred begins.

"Watch me," she snarls, before turning her unapproving gaze on Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Why not?" Harry says. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight — "

"No."

This time, it's not Mrs Weasley who speaks, it's Remus.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he says.

"Wizards who have left school," you add quickly, seeing the twins open their mouths. You sigh, pushing your chair away from the table, patting Sirius's arm softly. "Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough. I think it's time everyone got some rest."

He gives a half-shrug but doesn't argue, waiting as Mrs Weasley leads her children and Harry upstairs to their bedrooms.

Later, you yawn around your toothbrush, facing the mirror in the dimly-lit ensuite off Sirius's bedroom.

"She can't seriously think leaving Harry in the dark about all this is the better option," Sirius muses testily, idly fiddling with your jewellery on the nightstand as he talks. "He's not a child. He's deserves to know what's going on."

"I agree."

"And the way she brought up James — as if I can't tell the difference between my best friend and my godson," he continues in frustration. "I know he's not James, of course I know that — "

You spit into the sink, pulling the tap to rinse it out. "She didn't know James. She doesn't know how difficult it is to stop yourself from looking at Harry and seeing him. How hard it is to not look for him and Lily in everything."

"No," Sirius says after a moment. "She doesn't."

You run your hands down your face, sighing. "I can't believe she said that thing about you in Azkaban. I can't believe she would stoop that low, as if you had any fucking choice to be in there."

"She hates me," he says. "Do you see the looks she gives me?"

"She doesn't hate you," you tell him wearily, flicking off the light and closing the bathroom door behind you. You lean against the doorframe, folding your arms. "She's scared and worried about Harry, that's all. She's stressed."

"She's not the only one."

"No, she's not," you say softly, making your way over to where he sits on the bed, gently taking his face in your hands. "Look, forget about it now. What's done is done, there's no use dwelling on it now."

He sighs, leaning into your touch with a small sigh. "You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I try."

He kisses your knuckles one by one, then presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "And clever."

You hum, watching as his lips slowly travel up your arm, arriving at your neck, where he lingers for several moments to kiss every inch of exposed skin he can reach. "And beautiful."

He pulls you toward him so you're straddling his legs, and he grins. "So very beautiful indeed."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-seven here!

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated

absolutely massive thank you to my taglist lovelies <3 :

@mothraantics @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @devoid-swanky @carpe000diem @mooonyxoxo @hyperspeedo @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel @murielisacertifieddilf @penelopied @imgondeletedis @jennifer0305

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 89)

Another Day, another adventure out to find another pod to salvage.

This one was much further away, instead of a one day journey, this would at least be a three, traveling under the cover of night and resting during the day. It was a flipped schedule for most drones, but even Thad and Lizzy had gotten used to it at this point- so the rest of the engineers could too.

Tera was swaddled up tight against her mother's chest so that she wouldn't get cold, normally she would be left in the bunker during an excursion like this, but everyone she could've been left with had joined them. V was flying ahead, scouting for any infected and clearing the way for the forklift. N was next to her, one hand a rifle and the other wrapped tightly in her own like her own personal bodyguard.

Lizzy and Thad both were on lookout, keeping their eyes peeled for any infected V might have missed, and Khan was in front, on top of the forklift directing people better than she ever would.

He'd been decently hands off so far, letting her plan and direct while he looked over her blueprints for any errors and delt with stuff internally, but now, with such long journeys and Uzi inching closer to her ‘supposed’ due date. He didn't want his daughter being overwhelmed.

Honestly? Uzi was relieved, as much as she appreciated the amount of trust her dad was putting in her now. She wasn't sure if she was ready to be leading a squad of drones by herself. She didn't want to be held responsible if something went horribly wrong…

“It's kinda weird to be traveling in a big caravan like this.” N started a conversation, probably because the tense silence was starting to put him on edge. “And on foot, it's like one of those ‘finding the promised land’ movies.”

Uzi smiled, she could always count on N to keep the moment lighthearted.

“We kinda are… what kind of planet would you want- if you could choose?” Uzi asks, squeezing his hand gently for some silent reassurance.

“Something not snowy. The temperature is nice for cooling off but I am so sick of snow…” He replied, and Uzi couldn't help but agree. “No more snow. Maybe a desert?”

“And die as soon as we land? Our systems couldn't handle that.” N laughed. “Maybe…a big ocean?”

“We're metal. And not entirely waterproof. You just enjoyed Subnautica too much.” Uzi teased and N chuckled at himself, “Hey that game is good! You're the one who showed it to me.”

Uzi thought again for a moment. “A big forest… with lots of greenery. Maybe a jungle?” She suggested. “I've never actually seen living plantlife, man that's kinda sad.” She added after a moment.

“Oh! Y-yeah I guess you haven't… “ He realized, almost kicking himself.

Whenever he thought of Uzi, he always thought that she was always there with him, even on Earth. Which wasn't actually the case of course, Uzi definitely wasn't at the manor… but he always felt she was. Maybe it was because some of his memories were of her as a crow and those were bleeding into his actual memories.

But no, she'd never been off Copper-9, and she'd only seen organic life through pictures or a screen. She'd never had the feeling of grass tickling her casing, or the petals of flowers between her fingers.

Just cold steel and ice.

“Then yeah, I hope there's lots of plants, and it's so green you'll get sick of it.” He laughs, kissing her on the forehead as he pulls her in gently. And she laughs in such a content way… it's like feeling the sun on his silicone again.

“Halt!” He hears Khan shout, and the moment is broken. He can feel the bitter wind once more, hear the howling of it overhead, and the deep shuddering groans of urban decay. The ground is a muddy slurry from all the movement … and it's cold; leeching away any heat from his feet into the ground.

With a small squeeze onto his girlfriends hand, he flies up to see what was the matter, and it becomes immediately obvious the second he can see over the forklift.

A gigantic black tendril is blocking the road, laying inert- though still breathing, V was pushing people back to avoid the snaking webbing of flesh already beginning to grow around it.

N lands next to Khan on top of the forklift, and he looks… distressed.

“I know you've shown me pictures and holograms. But this is… something else.” Khan is trembling slightly, joints clicking as they tapped together.

“This one looks new… it's not moving yet. V and I can probably burn it away so we can get past it.” He puts a hand on Khans shoulder as a way to steady the man. And he takes a deep breath.

“I'll back up the caravan. Give you some room.” Khan agreed, before sticking his hand out to motion people to back up.

“You know, it took me awhile… but I know why Uzi chose you…” Khan started, looking nervous, N lifted his brow.

“You're… stable. You're reliable. You love with every ounce of yourself. And I… she didn't have that before, unfortunately.” He stopped himself from going into self-pity, shaking off that feeling to continue;

“You have a good head on your shoulders son. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get it. Better now then never I suppose.” He laughed softly and the caravan stopped moving backwards. N smiled, his wings coming out with a flourish.

“Thank you. Mr- Ah, Khan. Thank you Khan.”

Khan smiled brightly at that.

“Now go kick some tentacle ass! Don't want you back down here until it's a burning stump!”

N laughed. “Sir yes Sir!” as he flew off, his hands being replaced with duel flamethrowers. V hovers up next to him, her arms crossed.

“What's the plan boss?” She asks, a brow raised.

“Burn it enough so that the caravan can get through… might have to burn the ground too. Can't risk people coming into contact with it.” He replied, before blinking. “D-Did you just call me boss?”

V turned away for a moment, probably to hide her fluster. Before coming up right to his visor and flicking it lightly. “Don't read too much into it, idiot.”

“Okay, Okay!” He laughed, before they both made their way down with their respective flamethrowers, aiming it down at the gross fleshy tendril.

At the same time, they unleashed a plume of hot flame. The tentacle reacted violently, thrashing wildly as a loud screech ripped through the air from… somewhere. The ground itself rumbled, as if it were alive - and writhing in pain.

After a moment, the rumbling stopped and the screech faded back into howling wind, as an extra measure, both dissasembly drones burned the ground the tentacle was sitting on until it was charred.

“Think that's good?” N asked his pseudo-sister. And she nodded, testing it herself by walking across it. “Seems good, tell Khan he can start moving again.”

He flew up and gave a thumbs up. After a moment, the group began to move forward again. He spotted Lizzy climbing onto the roof of a car to see better.

Thad doing the same closer to the back.

“You think this is actually going to work?” V asks suddenly. A distant look on her face as she watches over the group walking underneath them.

“What? Building a ship?” He cocks his head and she nods. “It's a long shot, isn't it?” He agrees, his own concern shining through for a moment. “But I think if anyone can do it it's Uzi, you know?”

“And can you imagine? A whole new life. No more murder… or corpse spires, or… weird masses of tentacles.”

V smiles, but it looks slightly pained.

“You still sound like you did at the manor. We talked about running away together if you remember.”

He was hit with it, suddenly.

She was leaning against him, in a rare moment of peace. His arms wrapped around her as she nuzzled into his shoulder. He kissed her head and she giggled; light and airy, content to be in the moment.

“If we could go anywhere, where would you want to go?” He asked, a soft blush on his face, white, like his eyelights.

“We can't… we're not human.”

“Humor me?”

She sighed, “Um… out in the country, I think. Away from people.” She replied, her glasses were perched on her face, she was so cute…

“Maybe we can one day. You and Me.” He suggested, smiling fondly down.

“Are you suggesting we run away N?” She smirked, he loved that little smirk, the little fire that was inside her burning bright for just a moment…

“Yeah… kinda, can you imagine? A whole new life… no more masters. No more cleaning wine stains off the upholstery…”

“Or doing Mrs. Elliots gross hair…” V adds, making him laugh. “Oh god! I know! Why is it so greasy?!”

He blinks, smiling.

“I'm surprised you even remember that.”

And V laughs. “Of course I do! You said Mrs. Elliot’s head was greasy!” It's a different kind of laugh now, it doesn't make him feel the same way, but it's still pleasant.

“I was agreeing with you! You said it first!” He defended, laughing along with her.

Those times were so strange to think about now… like he lived two totally different lived. His feelings for V were familial now, weirdly strengthened but anything romantic being erased to time.

“That's weird to think about now.” He admits. “I feel like you're… my sister almost.”

She snorts. “Oh same. Every time I think about the manor I cringe a little… I don't regret it obviously… but it's just weird.”

“… I remember you being so nervous the first time we kissed…” He said slowly. And she exploded in yellow blush.

“Agh! I was actually trembling. For some reason I thought kissing was biting someone's mouth.”

N genuinely cackled at that.

“Are you serious?! That… that explains so much actually. You bit my lip.”

If anything her blush grew even worse.

“Aaaand I wish you didn't remember that…”

His eyes trailed down to Lizzy, and then back up to V. A teasing smile playing on his face.

“I'm sure your practice with Liz was better.” Came tumbling out of his mouth, and his ex-girlfriend turned ‘sister’ froze up, tail kinking up as they floated there.

“You… little shit.” She said, surprised and exasperated that he said that. “You so did not just say that!”

And suddenly she was chasing him, both ripping through the air as he laughed, even though she was clearly embarrassed, she was smiling.

He decided he liked this dynamic much better.

Next ->

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

What do you think has been the most telling lyric from each of Taylor's albums? Not necessarily the best summary of the album, but the most honest blurt out.

Like I'd say "We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time" is a great line to summarise Red, but the most telling lyric imo would be something like "I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it"

Anon, this is SUCH a good question!!! I love it!!! I loved it so much I've been thinking about it all day since I first saw the ask this morning! This is totally my jam but it definitely required some thought, which was hard to do between work and the plague eating away at my brain right now.

Debut: "And you're tied together with a smile, but you're coming undone."

Fearless: "'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you're gonna believe them." Not just when you're fifteen.

Speak Now: "Wish I'd never grown up."

Red: I completely agree with "I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it." If we're including the vault tracks in hindsight, I think "will you still want me when I'm nothing new?" may be a close second.

1989: "The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing." I think "If they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once" is also a close second.

Reputation: "It was the great escape, the prison break, the light of freedom on my face / But you weren't thinking and I was just drinking," although I concede that that one is slightly fictionalized. So if we're going with more overtly diaristic lines... "And I know I make the same mistakes every time / Bridges burn, I never learn / At least I did one thing right."

Lover: "And I cut off my nose just to spite my face / Then I hate my reflection for years and years."

Folklore: "Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down."

Evermore: "And I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death / And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be forevermore." I've actually got a few other considerations for evermore but it's going to be too long and in the weeds.

Midnights: This one was really tough because there are a few excellent options but I think, "You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking" might take it, although "When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room" is a close runner-up.

TTPD: This one I think is impossible to nail down lol. I'm going to ultimately say "I dreamed about it in the dark the night I felt like I might die." Because I think that's probably the most all-encompassing of the album as a whole and the experiences she had. But "She thought about how he said since she was so wise beyond her years everything had been above board, she wasn't sure" I think almost tops it because I think it recontextualizes not just the events of TTPD but sooooooo much of her discography in a way that feels like a watershed moment in her understanding of herself. Also "Don't want money, just someone who wants my company" because it also explains a lot.

This was awesome anon! Thank you!

[wanderingchronicle]

I promised @penguin--person this treatie as a bribe so here's some fucked up aroace teens. also @wilting-fl0wer content of your cringefail mentally ill boy

CW: internalised aro/acephobia, teen anguish, Decisions Are Being Made.

More OC cringefail under da cut

Miles finds her, because he always does. One minute she's huddled in what she thought was a pretty good hiding spot behind the kitchens, the next minute Miles is just there, a slightly hunched figure in a blue-grey hoodie.

He says nothing, just sits down next to her. Miles is more sociable than people realise — he only speaks when he has something to say, which is seldom, but she can sense his attention.

"Miles," she says eventually, "have you ever kissed anyone?"

There is a thoughtful pause next to her. "No, why?"

Anne bites her lip, hard. "Me neither," she says, "I mean, it's like…is it really a big deal that I've never kissed anyone? People act like I've missed out."

Miles stretches out first one leg, then the other. He used to be shorter than her, but a year ago he suddenly shot up, his face longer and more angular — thick straight brows, high cheekbones, and a deeper voice alongside broader shoulders and longer limbs. Next to him, short and pudgy and chubby-cheeked, Anne still feels like a baby.

"Is this about Besk and Malware?" Miles asks, elbowing her gently.

Anne hates Malware, which is unfair because the only thing he's ever done wrong is date her best friend. Besk wants to spend every moment she's not studying with her shiny new boyfriend, and she doesn't think of Anne at all. Malware is nice, but Anne despises him, because she and Besk have been friends for years but all Besk ever talks about is Malware, Malware, Malware.

"Yeah," Anne sighs, "I just — what's the point in having friends if I barely see them because they're all busy kissing someone? It can't be that great, can it?"

Miles huffs a laugh. "How would I know? I think if I'm missing out on anything, it can't be much."

Anne smiles, just a little. Miles has just started acting as a night lookout because of his enhancement, and for all that most people dismiss him as unfriendly, he does seem to actually like people. It's just that he doesn't like noise, or crowds, or being touched. He does value them, and want to protect them, but from a distance.

But Miles will sit with her in the creche and fold clean laundry, and he'll send her things he finds in the holoarchive he thinks she would like. Sometimes if he's in a good mood she'll find him sitting at the compound's battered piano or in a corner with a guitar, singing in a soft and raspy tenor. He's funny, or at least he makes her laugh often.

If she was in love with anyone, Miles would be a sensible option. He's a little bit like the hero of a romantic holonovel — he's smart and aloof with a well-hidden soft side, and the long hair makes him look like some sort of prince exiled to the woods. It it was anyone, it would have to be him. If she can feel this thing everyone else seems to be feeling, it would be for Miles.

Anne says the stupid thing before she can think too hard about it: "Miles, would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Miles looks startled and a little worried. "I — why?"

"I just want to know what it's like," she tells him, chewing her lip, "and I trust you. Is that — is that okay?"

For a minute, she's convinced that he's going to say what the fuck, Ante, why would you ask that, what is wrong with you, and she will have fucked it up and the one person who she thinks might get it will be gone.

Because the expression on Miles' face when people start talking about who they think is cute is the same one she stops herself making. Because Miles recoils from the idea of someone asking him out, the same way she wants to but she doesn't want to upset anyone. It's not their fault. She's the one that's wrong. But if it's her and Miles, then they're wrong together.

"Okay," he says, "just don't be weird."

Anne has no idea how she isn't already being weird. She just asked her friend if she could kiss him, because she both hopes he is broken the way she is broken, and hopes that some magic will be wrought and she won't have to be wrong anymore.

She sits up on her heels and puts her hand on his face, the same way she's seen in the movies. That part's nice, actually — Miles' face is warm, and he scrunches his nose at her in a way that makes her giggle a little helplessly.

"Ante," Miles sighs, "either do it or don't. Sheesh."

Before she can coward out, Anne leans forward and presses her lips to his, and braces herself for revelation.

Nothing earthshattering happens at all. Kissing is just…fine. It's not disgusting, but it's also it's just…not that great either. Somehow, she wasn't expecting to feel nothing. Revulsion or horror, or the sudden realisation she wants it if it's Miles. But it's just fine. Not awful, nothing special. It's maybe two, three seconds that fail utterly to change her life.

"That's what all the fuss is about?" Miles asks, frowning. Stars, but that's exactly how she feels.

Anne claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the hysterical giggles that bubble involuntarily out of her chest, and says "I know! I mean — it was just okay? I don't think I want to do it again." "Me neither," Miles grimaces, and she's never felt so relieved, "we are agreed. Kissing's not all that. Do you want to go get a hot drink and watch a holoshow?"

Of course she does. Stars, she's not alone. If she's broken, if there's something wrong with her, it's wrong with Miles too. What a relief, to know that if she can't feel it for Miles then she can't feel it at all. What a relief, to know that even if Besk doesn't want to hang out anymore that she won't be alone and that not everyone will leave her for the love of their life.

Anne won't be a stupid baby, on her own, unable to grow up. Because if Miles, with a plasrifle in his hands and the compound's safety on his shoulders, can feel the way she feels…

(But Miles is a child, too. A year and a half from now, in a hospital bed surrounded by the smell of burning meat and hair, she'll look at him and realise for the first time how breakable he truly is.)

…then she can live with her friends all vanishing in favour of a lover. She won't be on her own. It'll be her and Miles, and they'll be alone together.

[ronearoundblindly]

Okay, so, hear me out.

I know I've got a Beauty and the Beast AU coming for skinny!Steve, but @darsynia gave me/let me have this idea of a Cinderella AU with him, too, except he is the Cinderella character who gets transformed to live his dream for a day.

I present to you the setup of:

*All photos from Pinterest

Steven is the only child of an exiled prince, and due to happenstance of the aged Warrior King Phillips having no male heir of his own, Steve becomes true royalty overnight.

His cousins, Princesses Margaret and Sharon, angry at the circumstance of their demotions at court, offer no help to the young, small, and often sickly new king.

No one is allowed to see him until his coronation. The few knights and advisors who have laid eyes on Steve are sworn to secrecy, and though he has a mind for strategy, Steve is burdened by his appearance.

Given the coronation crown the night before the big ceremony, Steve stares deep into the massive yellow gem at its front and wishes to look like the "ruler they all want to see."

And he does.

He wears the heavy crown easily, he stands tall over most of the court, and he carries a heavy, steel sword at his hip for the first time ever without the blade dragging across the stone floor.

The court is elated. No one looks twice, not even the handful of men who knew, but that's the magic of the stone...

Steve meets a seemingly endless stream of people, but the most curious is the apprentice of King Phillips' military advisor, a young man he saw befriending a stray cat in the courtyard while everyone else ogled and angled for him. The apprentice's eyes...there's just something about them...

After a long celebration feast where he charmed the nobility with humility, practicality, and honor, Steve falls asleep small again, but certain he can win over the whole realm if he can simply be known for his actions, not his physique.

That becomes the plan; Steve will work behind the scenes, make the kingdom better for people high and low, and then he'll be loved and accepted for who he is. In the meantime, he, in his natural form, can act as a sort of messenger or page boy 'for King Steven' and move around freely. Why not? They all are on the lookout for a man standing two hands higher and broader than him.

One of his first visits is to his inherited military advisor. Of course, Steve doesn't expect the apprentice to live inside the family home, possibly somewhere on the estate maybe, but after a long ride to get there and a long discussion while sitting in the man's study, Steve asks if he might walk the garden before leaving.

He asks about the woman by the roses, and his advisor simply replies "that's my daughter."

Of course, he won't bother to introduce him. Steve's an untitled nobody like he's been his entire life thus far.

Steve might not have seen the resemblance, truly, if not for the exact movement of your finger to gently lift a wilting petal back into place.

It's the move the apprentice made when scratching beneath the cat's chin, and he'll never forget that smile.

"You," he blurts, startled at the otherwise drastic change in your appearance.

You jump back before composing yourself, shielding your eyes from the bright sun above as you look him over.

He's more alarmed by your curtsy than you are by him, watching you bow deeply where moments ago your father dismissed him offhand.

"Your Majesty," you say to the ground.

You...

You recognize him like this? How? How is that possible?

His wish was granted. They all saw a perfect soldier, but that's just the thing: you didn't want to be ruled by a perfect soldier.

You wanted a good man.

You, who secretly longs to offer more to your father and family than a bartering chip for marriage, same as his cousins, need the king to be a good man because then he'll understand this...

A/N: Ok, full disclosure, I might already be very protective of this one, so we'll see if I can bring myself to put it all out there. Anyway! Thank you for the gif, Brandy! It was a great opportunity to get this down.

Also, if it's just an idea/intro, do I include the taglist? Idk. I hate pinging y'all if it's not like a lot of content.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[marshmallowprotection]

What if...late evening walks with Saeray after dinner 🫣 and maybe even....holding hands......talking......

"I wasn't sure if we would ever have a moment like this," you sighed, holding Saeran's jacket around your shoulders as the breeze tickled your cheek. "What with how crazy things have been lately, I've been nervous we wouldn't be able to have a meal together outside of the office."

"Hey, what's so bad about meals in the office?" Saeran's smile was as brilliant as it always was as he laughed at your admission. "Sure, our meals consist of the food Jumin Han chooses for us, but I like it when you take me outside to the vending machines for our dessert. There are treats that I never would've known about had it not been for your handiwork!"

"Who knew I would get you hooked on gummy bears," you said.

Saeran sought out one of your hands, to which you gladly offered yours with gusto, and he looked at you with a keen eye. "Hey! Who wouldn't love them? They're squishy, chewy, and look like a friend when you hold them. Besides, they tasted so much better than the steak we had last week."

You could fall in love with him all over again when he looked at you like that. Those sweet, tender eyes that knew your heart just as well as you knew his.

He couldn't even dream of moments like this back in Mint Eye.

He could hardly keep his eyes open, much less talk to you, and that world felt so far away from the one you lived in now. You could do whatever you wanted, within reason, as long as you stayed far away from high-traffic areas where the public was on the lookout for him. His privacy was sacrificed for his freedom, but he didn't seem to be that upset about it.

He often said that it was because of you the world didn't seem as scary to confront, but you knew it was because he wanted to be a part of it all, even the parts that weren't always fun. Whether it be something like this walk in the park or a difficult day dodging left-field questions about his natural hair color.

You knew you would have more days like this in the future but you would have to focus on finding Saeyoung first. Even so, if you didn't enjoy the little things and smile along the way, it... wouldn't be a life well lived nor the lives you were charting out for yourself. Saeyoung wouldn't want you to be miserable every day on his account. He just wasn't that type of man.

Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight wasn't over yet.

You asked, "I know we have to head back to the hotel, but do you think we could spare a few extra minutes to enjoy ourselves here?"

"Oh, of course, my love. It's as if you read my mind. I was going to ask you the same thing!"

[poetic-pearls]

oh my angel

this is the 'first part' for this

pairing: jason grace x reader (friends?)

"jasons internal struggle as he is granted one wish by the gods for his loyalty"

[wc: 573]

"one wish." one wish?

"you can ask for anything." anything?

"i already know what you are thinking." what am i thinking?

"yes, we can grant you godhood. you have been the most loyal soldier. you are a good leader and people already respect you. this is a great foundation and think about the power you'll have." no, that wasn't it.

"you'll never have to fight a battle yourself again. loyal soldiers, like you have been, will be ready to do so." more soldiers, fighting battles for gods? for me?

"of course, this comes with a small, absolutely affordable, prize" what prize? oh. that.

i remember hearing about this, about them offering percy the same thing.

the reward for my loyalty? godhood.

the prize? loneliness? my mortality? the prospect of love?

a small prize for peace. to be finally able to breathe.

what do i have to lose? i've spent too much time fighting. and i have nothing. nothing to lose. a home that resembles military barracks. family, that i lost a long time ago. friends that i never got too close to.

except one. if you can even call her that anymore.

my one beacon of hope.

hope for a peaceful life. hope for love.

like an angel she appeared at spqr.

i remember the nights i spent thanking the gods for sending her. a task that, in the past, has not been an easy one. what could i have truly been thankful for? her arrival seemed to me to be a gift. as if aequitas remembered, oh right, this guy still exists.

choosing godhood would mean leaving her.

and what would eternity be without her?

what would a year, a month, be without her?

no. but what else will i choose?

percy chose to do the right thing. he asked for other demigods to have peace. to not feel lonely in a world that is constantly trying to kill them.

i should do the right thing too. i always do the right thing.

but is this what i want?

i probably shouldn't even be thinking about this.

but i'm the one that has the choice.

i am the one that is rewarded for his loyalty. the one that fought endlessly for the gods.

i did that.

so why shouldn't i be allowed to wish for something for myself?

i'm tired. so, so tired.

i don't want to keep fighting. i don't want to worry about my life ending.

or hers.

i want to grow old.

white hair, wrinkles, that old people smell that feels so peaceful and everything else that entails.

i want to feed birds, slow dance to jazz at midnight, read all the books i want and sleep ten hours a day.

i want to have children one day, to put them to bed without having to worry if i'll see them the next morning. i want my children to never go through the same things i did, i want my descendants to not be cursed by their ancestors' godly parent.

i want to go where i want when i want it, without constantly being on the lookout for possible threats.

i want to learn how to cook, how to let loose, how to love with all my being.

and i want to do all that with her.

percy chose to do the noble thing, but for once i will choose myself.

"no, that's not what i want at all”

note: this is so short and crappy but i got my wisdom teeth removed so this is all i got :(

[serickswrites]

Hello! Could you write a story where a supervillain becomes friends with a regular civilian. The civilian is insanely oblivious and doesn’t watch the news, so he just has no clue how massively deadly and dangerous the villain is. But the villain is just happy to have a genuine friend for once :) then maybe the civilian finds out or something?

Hello, friend! I absolutely can write this for you. This is such a sweet idea.

Supervillain had thought that they would be alone when they hiked to the top of the mountain overlooking City. They were wrong. A person sat at the lookout point, staring over the city.

Supervillain tried to exit quietly, not wanting to have another negative encounter with someone who knew who they were, but they dropped their metal water bottle. "Fuck," they muttered as it clanged on the ground. So much for a quiet, anonymous exit.

"JESUS!" The person said as they jumped. "You scared me!"

Unfortunately Supervillain was used to people reacting to them that way. They had been City's largest villain for many years. They couldn't go anywhere without scaring people. It had its uses. But mostly, it was lonely.

"I'm sorry, I'll just be going," Supervillain said quickly as they started to hurry away.

"No, it's ok! Wait. Do you want to join me?"

Supervillain froze. Join them?

The person started speaking again, "I wanted to climb this mountain with my friend. But they bailed. Actually I don't think we're friends anymore. It seems like they don't like me very much. Anyway, I would love for you to join me if that's ok." The words tumbled out of their mouth as they smiled at Supervillain.

"Are you sure?" Supervillain didn't know what to do.

"Positive! I'm Civilian by the way. What's your name?" Civilian held out their hand to Supervillain.

And this was the part where surely Civilian would run screaming. "Supervillain, my name is Supervillain."

Civilian smiled. "Nice to meet you, Supervillain."

Supervillain sat stiffly next to Civilian, listening to Civilian prattle away about various things about the mountain and City. Supervillain was flabbergasted that Civilian had run away screaming. Rather, it seemed like Civilian was happy to have Supervillain there.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Supervillain said, not used to having someone treat them with interest and kindness, "but you really don't know who I am?"

Civilian cocked their head. "Should I?"

"I'm on the news often, so probably," Supervillain said as they held their breath. This would be the moment. This was it.

Civilian shook their head. "I don't have a TV, so no."

Supervillain tried to not let the shock show on their face. This was...new. This person was genuinely nice to them. Interested in them. But had no idea who they were. It was...nice.

"Are you like super famous or something?"

Supervillain cringed internally. "Something like that."

"Oh cool! I've never met a celebrity before! What made you famous?"

Before Supervillain could open their mouth to reply, another hiker appeared at the trail mouth. "It's a beautiful day. Oh look there's--OH GOD EVERYONE RUN! SUPERVILLAIN IS HERE!" The hiker screamed down to the rest of their party. "RUN! CALL THE POLICE! CALL FOR HELP!"

Supervillain tried not to feel let down. So much for making a new friend. "Supervillain, why would they run from you and be afraid?" Civilian asked.

Supervillain looked away. "Because I have been terrorizing City for the better part of fifteen years. I'm...I'm the villain in the town."

Civilian nodded. "That's all? I thought it was something I should really worry about!"

"You're not afraid of me?"

Civilian shook their head again. "Are you here to hurt me? Kill me? Nope. Then I don't care. You look like you could use a friend. I know I definitely could."

[wrinkly-fucking-qtip]

“I kind of earned my space or whatever... just don't move your shit is all I'm saying.”

If I think about this scene longer than a minute I might just fucking McLoose it. You can count with half a finger the amount of times Ian has asked for help. You can count with two hands the amount of times Ian has avoided asking for help.

"Name a single time I've let you down."

I have always loved the Lip and Ian dynamic because of how perfectly flawed it is. There's a lot of comparison between Lip, Ian, Monica, and Frank, so let me raise you this situation. Remember how in s2 Monica wanted to do better by signing herself for more days at the psychward? Trying to get her psyche under control but Frank wanted to keep enabling her in the wrong ways? Telling her that she's alright, she doesn't need the help? Well, how about Ian reaching out to his brother for a helping hand, because he is feeling overwhelmed, needing help now more than ever, and Lip just basically denies him the help... in a somewhat patronizing way?

So it's like, two people that for different reasons, and different circumstances, are seeking that help or support, and the other person who claims to care outright attempts against it? Monica always did what she wanted, never really accepting her illness and ignoring the repercussions of it, and the effects it has on her family. And the few times she tried, Frank always intervened in heinous ways. Ian has been going through a difficult time, and the one time he asks for help, it is denied because his brother, who has claimed to never let him down, achieved a status, something that inflates his already overgrown ego. Nevermind that this is his brother, and he is visibly depressed.

Ian had goals of his own, always on the lookout to achieve. Lip didn't care about that for a while, and practically forced himself to care, only to throw it all away. And I'm sure he didn't outwardly intend for it to come across as that, but it did. Ian wanted to make something out of his life, but shit hit the roof and he didn't. And I'm glad he found a job as an EMT, he really needed that job. And he worked hard for it, he earned it. Lip fucked it all up.

This is not a Lip hate post though, he's in my top 5 favorite characters, I love that mother fucker, and I hate him as well, and his high moral that only pretends to give him BDE.

But yeah. Ian needed support. And I know that each of the Gallaghers had their own shit going on this season, I know, but there is already a recurring theme of Ian being entirely dismissed by his siblings, except for Debbie in s4 and her attempts to help him in s5. She did more than was expected of Fiona to do in those seasons, given that she is the legal guardian and all.

I am also not hating on Fiona, she is a fantastic character and stepped up for her family obviously. But by stepping up at such a young age with a lack of tools to maneuver herself through this chaos, good parenting is unobtainable.

It hurts me to see that he reached this point. All he ever fucking needed was support. S6 Ian, you have my heart and soul, and I wish you weren't hurting as much.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello! I have an absolute weakness for like protective men. Like I've been thinking too much about Tan being a protective hubby even when he is undercover. Like reader is on the job with him but he just can't help but step in even if it costs the mission. So ya know if you needed an excuse to write something like this (or just use this as an inspo for something unrelated) then have fun, but no pressure of course!!

Have a great day, you deserve it <3

hii!! oh yeah me too, real big thing for that. I had too many ideas and I feel like id break my brain trying to write this as a fic, so I’ll give you my thoughts if that’s okay? and I feel like you’re an anon that messaged in recently (I think it’s the last line) have a lovely day angel! hope you like it💌

TAN BEING PROTECTIVE IN THE FIELD.

— your marriage would get in the way during missions and it would often make you both forget the task at hand. far too concerned with the welfare and safety of the other and it would always come above the mission 

— he'd have to remind himself that when you're undercover, that you don't know each other. but he'd always find you within the crowd, keeping a keen eye on you. the second he thinks he spots something fishy, he's pushing his way over to you. but usually it's nothing to be worried about and he'd give up his disguise over nothing

— he'd much rather be safe than sorry when it comes to you

— he would find any excuse to be close to you when undercover. as close as he can get without compromising the assignment !!

— he'd arrange a signal with you or some kind of call or safe word 

— he's so concerned with you that he often forgets he needs to be on the lookout for himself. he's too occupied with you 

— he's strict about rules when you're in the field - never take a drink from someone (decline kindly as not to bring attention. or hold it but don't drink it) never leave the room without notifying one of the twins, never join a swarm of people (it's too easy for someone to give you something (like an injection, patch idk)) to trust your gut, don't be too proud to ask for help, have one of the twins in your eye line at all times

— he knows he comes across as paranoid, but it all comes from a good place. he's excessive, but when it comes to your safety, nothing is ever enough

— he forgets you know what you're doing and can protect and fight for yourself. he just cares too much and wants to be the one to help you, even though you can do it yourself