#its been a while since i last played the game but i get the urge to draw them from time to time

[finelinefae]

the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours. 

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis. 

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying. 

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path. 

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all. 

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there. 

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best. 

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle. 

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed. 

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for. 

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans. 

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him. 

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out. 

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said. 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them. 

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?” 

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on. 

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot. 

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles. 

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him. 

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.” 

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.” 

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards. 

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish. 

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy. 

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway. 

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face. 

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water. 

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.” 

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts. 

. . . 

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis. 

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes. 

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with. 

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match. 

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better. 

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents. 

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated. 

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them. 

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again. 

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone. 

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?” 

“No,” Harry lied. 

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone. 

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere. 

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . . 

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school. 

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her. 

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to. 

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him. 

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?” 

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was. 

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her. 

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly. 

“What?” 

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at. 

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation. 

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry. 

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,” 

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.” 

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned. 

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained. 

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,�� Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?” 

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face. 

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,” 

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing. 

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’. 

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further. 

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him. 

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her. 

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured. 

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N. 

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

. . . 

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them. 

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities. 

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible. 

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision. 

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him. 

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken. 

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?” 

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.” 

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him. 

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.” 

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him. 

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others. 

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet. 

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled. 

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down. 

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him. 

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam. 

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly,  "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers. 

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . . 

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend.  He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time. 

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder. 

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned. 

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her. 

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,” 

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,” 

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,” 

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked. 

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one. 

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard. 

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed. 

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.” 

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?" 

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back. 

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead. 

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted. 

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to. 

[crimsonterror577]

Once the puppeteer, now the puppet. A Drone-Tessa concept I've been thinking about. Hopefully the 6 people who followed me after the 1st drone-Tessa post like this lol. If anyone here has any thoughts or feedback on this, tell me, I'd be glad to hear it!

A day in the Elliott manor,

It had been some time since Tessa had awoken. Or Cyn rather, as the Solver declared her name to be. Tessa couldn’t tell how much time went by in the ruins of Earth. The clocks hadn’t been working since Tessa awakened. And ever since the Absolute Solver broke Earth to pieces, the Elliott manor didn’t have a fluent day schedule. With each day having an sporadic length, sometimes lasting hours, minutes, or seemingly forever. Even during the night, light was still reflected onto the Elliott manor’s surface, but the other pieces of Earth. Ensuring there wasn’t any end to Cyn’s playing.

Tessa couldn’t tell whether she could call the planet Earth, anymore. The Solver turned Earth into a debris field, with its minor pieces orbiting its largest piece, which contained the Elliott manor, now Cyn’s liar.

“No, ‘the stage’ is a better name,” Tessa thought, while laying on her knees, scrubbing a rug with a sponge. “For a pointless house of living dolls.”

It was quiet in the Elliott manor. Cyn usually spent her time torturing someone, though not always Tessa. Cyn also played with possessed puppets on far-off galaxies, and now she was sitting dormant in Tessa’s old room, playing her game of cat and mouse with mankind. In the meantime, Cyn always ordered Tessa around the manor, cleaning it pointlessly. 

The first thing Cyn ordered of Tessa, upon her awakening, was to clean the blood leftover from the Gala event. Which Tessa did, cleaning the room roof to floor, yet the blood mixed very well with carpets, dragging Tessa to a stalemate.

“Dammit, If she hates blood so much, why’d she flood the back woods with it?” Tessa exclaimed silently, while looking up. “I suppose this must’ve been how she thought when I was free.”

Tessa sighed, and looked to her right, where her eyes caught a portrait of her old self, with her drones, all assembled together alongside her parents. 

“Ah, when I was free…” Tessa thought out loud.

Tessa looked at J's face, and smiled, thinking back to the laughter they once sang, and how eager they seemed to help her when her parents had seemingly left her.

“It was all an act,” Tessa thought, her smile frowning, as she turned back to the blood soaked carpet. “Just a mask.”

Tessa began scrubbing the carpet with renewed vigor.

“Mother was right, none of them really cared after all,” Tessa thought, remembering the emotionless look in J’s eyes when her builder got struck down. “Took my family, my home, even my whole name. Mother wasn’t even this cruel.”

Tessa’s scrubbing slowed.

“I really was just made to be someone’s fool, wasn’t I?” Tessa thought. “First pushed around by the parents, and now by an eldritch horror.”

Tessa stopped scrubbing, before slamming her fist down on the carpet.

“What am I thinking? I am still an Elliott, no matter what Cyn says,” Tessa thought. “And Elliott’s don’t quit.”

Tess’s face grew angry.

“Some day, I will get out of here. I have to,” Tessa thought, slamming the sponge repeatedly into the stained rug. “And when I do, I’ll burn this stupid blonde wig, I’ll call myself by my real name…” 

Tessa gave one last knock on the floor.

“And I will kill every last one of those 4 traitors,” Tessa thought.

Tessa’s momentum slowed to a halt, her eyes closed in contemplation. Finally, Tessa let out a sarcastic laugh, as she begrudgingly lifted herself up, and sat up against a wall, trying to breathe, yet her own metallic body failed to draw in air. Letting out a few shallow laughs, she felt an urge to cry, yet no tiers greeted her metallic face. Finally, Tessa sighed, and slouched back.

“But how?” Tessa said quietly.

[tiredcowboyy]

the return of the two kings

It takes 1500 years for it to finally happen and its not in the way merlin thought it would. He thought Arthur would return, but when a man that looks exactly like arthur sits beside merlin in his political science class, well merlin realises that reincarnation wasn’t completely off the table.

Merlin introduces himself on the 3rd class, the first two spent of him subtly studying arthur, his face, his mannerisms, trying to figure out if it was really him, though when he heard the voice and name any doubt was swept away.

From that point on they quickly grew as friends. Merlin wasnt really sure what to do, he was told arthur would return when the world needed him, but nothing about if he was reborn again with no memories of his past reign whatsoever.

It stresses merlin out for a while, he constantly was on edge for any world changing dangers, however after a while he just accepted that maybe there was no reason. Arthur was just born again and he should appreciate that.

They quickly grew close, becoming the best of friends and eventually roommates and merlin couldnt have been happier, content with have the blonde back in his life.

Until one day he gets this urge to walk near the lake of avalon again, something hes not felt like doing since he found arthur again. But he does, distantly thinking it was around this time of year he had lost his king all those years ago. So he goes, the sun still rising as he begins his usual route around the lake. He takes it in, smiling at how much life has changed since he last took this walk.

He was distracted so you cant blame him for how much he was caught off guard, really that wasnt his fault.

“Merlin?”

Despite what anyone who saw would say Merlin did not let out a scream.

He spins around and comes face to face with his best friend, his roommate, his destiny walking out of the lake soaking wet.

“Arthur? What are you doing here? And why are you in the lake? I-“

He pauses, the air ripped out of his lungs as he realises what hes actually looking at. Something was different. Something was wrong. Because this arthur wasnt wearing his usual jeans and jumper, his hair wasn’t slightly too long because hes been too busy with work to get it cut, he wasnt making some joke about merlins poor coffee making skills.

He was wearing chainmail and armour, a sword in his hand one that merlin hadnt seen since that day.

This wasnt the same arthur he left at home this morning, the same arthur who was too busy watching last nights football on catchup to make fun of merlin burning his toast, the same arthur who he has lived with for 6 years and thought was his arthur.

No, this was the same arthur that he held in his arms as he thanked him and took his final breath.

Merlin doesnt know what kind of sick game the world is playing on him but that doesnt matter,

Because now theres two Arthur Pendragons gracing this earth and merlin doesn’t think hes quite as cut out for this destiny thing as he thought he was.

[diaries4life100]

Hi! Either Garroth x reader or Laurance x reader smut please!

Anything for you Anon! I did this gender neutral since you hadn't recommended a specified gender so I hope that is okay! Also sorry for the wait, I appreciate your patience.

A Lovely Wakeup Call

Pairing: Garroth x GNReader

WARNINGS: Smut, morning sex, riding, creampie (but its gender neutral so no descriptions of genitalia), some angst but mostly fluff

MINORS DNI!! THIS POST IS 18+ below the cut

There was something so calming waking up next to your lover, his face stuffed into pillow as sleep still kept him away, drool slipping past his parted lips and creating a wet patch on his pillow.

That was Garroth for you. He constantly worked so hard to the point of exhaustion, it finally taking him into a long, deep sleep that almost seemed to last forever. It was cute really, seeing him so content and relaxed during his slumber, he was much softer this way. It gave a domestic feel to your relationship, and you adored it. And that was the truth. Honestly.

But for the past few weeks you've been itiching to be alone with him. Just not quite like this.

You hand reached up to his face, and you gently played with one of his loose curls of blond hair. You moved it across his forehead, tickling his skin and then his nose. His face scrunched up and his hand came up to scratch his face. He was still deeply asleep, but you giggled as his body continued to move. Sometimes, on the rare occasion, he would be quite restless in bed.

Once he settled, you scooched closer, your lips grazing the apples of his cheeks. You left a light peck against his flushed skin before slowly moving towards his nose, kissing the tip of it, and then moving down to his other cheek.

Slowly, you made a little map across his face with your kisses. A few times he would stir and you'd ridgedly pause, fearing that you had been caught in the mischievious act. But then he would settle, grunting softly before becoming content against the pillow once more. It was a fun little game, and soon you found yourself poking at his skin while counting the hundreds of tiny freckles across his face and neck.

This wasn't how you intented your morning to go. When you had woken up about an hour ago, earlier than even the sun, you were determined to get up and make yourself useful in the kitchen. When was the last time Garroth had a warm meal from home? Surely not in a long while. You wanted to do something special for him, but your selfish urges just kept getting in the way.

This game that you played on his skin was far different than what was playing on repeat in your mind. You wanted him. You needed him. And this was your chance. All you had to do was find the heart to shake him awake and give him someting far better than what his dreams could offer him.

Your finger stopped its trailing at the edge of his chin. You pressed down slightly, enjoying the slight scratching of his stubble against your skin. Just below that area, between the crevice of his jaw and neck, was a sensitive spot that you knew of very well. Surely that would wake him up even in the deepest of slumbers?

You grabbed his jaw and tilted it back just slightly. You let out a soft breath, leaning in close before closing your lips around the area and sucking a quick hickey underneath his chin.

His body jolted and a strong hand immediately grasped your hip. He gasped and as you leaned back, you could see his eyes staring up at you wide open and revealing the pretty ocean blue color of his iris'.

You grinned, feeling a flush crawl onto your face. You knew you would get caught, but it didn't stop the shy feeling of it flowing through your body.

"Good morning," you said softly, staring down at him. The quick movement of his chest rising and falling caught your eye, and you placed a reassuring hand against him. "Did I frighten you?"

"Only a little," he said, voice gruff and rumbly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be...but what were you doing exactly?" He began to sit up, pulling you with him. He scratched his head, shaking the wild locks of his hair as if it would make it any less of a mess.

"Just a new trick I learned." You shrugged, wiggling down onto his lap.

"I see." He looked you up and down before grabbing the back of your head. "You've been up for a while."

"Huh? How can you tell?" You asked, tilting your head.

"You're quick to respond. Usually your words are incomprehensible when you first wake, its all mumbles and groans." He smiled softly, and you slapped his chest.

"Don't go doing that now, you tease! You don't hear me complaining about how you are in the mornings."

He chuckled, his hand curling into your hair and then pulling you down for a kiss. You knew he was just trying to shut you up, he liked to have his mornings quiet and relaxed and you couldn't blame him. Life as the head guard of Phoenix Drop wasn't easy--or quiet--work for that matter.

You gripped onto his sleep shirt, groaning slightly into the kiss. You felt yourself opening your mouth to him, and with a soft lick against his lips, he hummed amusedly before pulling away. The move shocked you, and you stared up at him completely baffeled.

"Hey..."

"You're eager, aren't you?" His hands slid down your body, finding a resting place on your hips. "I've barely been awake for five minutes."

"And you've been sleeping since you got home," you pouted, scooching further up his lap and sitting down against his crotch. You could feel the slight rise in the area. "I've missed you."

"And I miss you," he said, rubbing your sides with care. His warm fingers slipped up your shirt and he gently caressed the skin. "I'm just...surprised is all."

You hummed, curious to what he meant. "What do you mean?"

"You're not usually the one who initiates."

"Garroth," you said firmly, using your hands to push him back against the bed. "You've been gone for days. I barely see you. And I...I really, really want you."

His hands moving quickly out of your shirt at that, and you whined a little, missing the contact. But you are soon pleasantly surprised when he grabbed your hips and lifted you up with ease. He slipped off your underwear, tossing it across the room and then settled you back onto his lap.

You sqeaked and before you can even say a word he grabbed your face and pulled you down for a long kiss. His tongue parted your lips, and you're overwhelemed by the sensation of his heat meeting yours, your moans and his grunts filling the air. You leaned into him, hand drifting down to pull at his own undergarment as your body began to tingle with need.

Garroth had always been a little rough in bed. He was a pent up man with probably just as much stress on him as our lord. You knew what you were getting into when you got together with him but...for some reason you wanted to go slower today, to enjoy his touch and his body. He was your lover, he meant everything to you, and you wanted this to last as long as possible before he left. The second he leaves this house, he is no longer yours but instead the Lord of Phoenix Drop's loyal and trusted guard. You could say you were feeling possesive today.

You gave him one more agressive nibble against his lips before slowly guiding him into a more relaxed pace. He was quick to understand your intentions, and he broke the kiss to instead place small pecks along your neck and collar bone.

"Slow?" He whispered, hips bucking up to grind against you.

"Slow."

You moaned softly as you move together, not quiet there but certainly getting close. You pushed back, sitting up straight on top of him and getting a good look of your lover.

His face is flushed bright red, lips swollen and eyes filled with wonder and awe. His chest heaved and rub against his face softly. Lovingly. You wished you could do this everyday, you wished that this could last longer. But you saw the sunlight filtering through the curtains and you knew. Your precious time together was running out.

"Let me do it," you said, reaching between you two to grab his hard cock. You sat up, lining it up with your warmth and then slowly sinking down.

You both moaned, and he grasped at your hips tightly. It was always a bit of a stretch, his cock thick and veiny and leaving you with a satifsfying burn. But it never hurt, he always ensured that.

Once you were finally sat on top of him, his dick as deep as it can go, you began to move.

Your pace was slow and you enjoyed the soft sensation of him moving inside of you. You lifted up until it was just his tip inside of you, before slowly grinding back down onto his cock.

Garroth chocked as you squeezed tightly around him, your own personal revenge for his teasing from earlier and you largly grinned. But a moment later he quikly slapped your ass as you moved up, and you yelped, giving him a glare.

"What?" He said, running his hands into your shirt and reaching up to pinch and pull at your nipples. You bit your lip, holding back from crying out in pleasure.

"You're s-so mean," you sputtered as his cock rubbed against that sensitive spot inside, a loud moan following after as he grabbed your hips and grinded up against it.

He groaned softly and it sent tingles all throughout you. Your insides squeezed around him and you felt him pulse, his hips jutting up just slightly to meet with you. But you patted his chest, silently insisting that you wanted to do this. That this was his treat more than it was yours.

You panted, sweat building against your brow as your stomach tightened. Your pace began to go faster, and despite your best efforts to keep this slow, you couldn't stop yourself from chasing that irresistable high.

"Go on," Garroth cooed through a grunt, his hips beginning to thrust upward as yours began to faulter. "Go on, my love."

You tossed your head back, body beginning to tingle and shake as he sat up and held you close to his chest, holding down your ass against his dick as he contined to trust deep and hard.

A high pitched whine left your lips as you finally came, body pulsing as sweat dripped from your skin. Garroth sucked onto the side of your neck, bucking up into you one, two, three more times before you felt his warm cum fill you.

The air was filled with your combined panting and breathing, the sunlight lighting the room in a warm, golden glow. He would have to leave soon, and the thought--although common--left you feeling emotionally distraught.

You dug your face into the crevice of his shoulder, rubbing your tears into the soft frabric of his now sweat-stained shirt. He held you closer, and you whimpered as his now soft cock slipped out of you.

He wrapped his arms around the bottom of your thighs and with a grunt, he lifted you up and out of bed, bringing you to the washroom while you continued to cry into his shoulder. He sat you down next to the empty sink and shuffled down the hall, probably putting on pants and going out to gather a bucket of water from the well outside.

You wiped your face with your arm, and when you turned to look in the mirror, you were met with the sad version of yourself rather than the blissed out one you were hoping to see.

When he returned he was carrying a bucked of water with a clean cloth floating inside. He helped clean you up, gently wiping away sweat and the remnants of your activities.

Once he was finished he gave you a kiss on each of your cheeks, on your forehead, the tip of your nose and finally your lips. It was a quick peck, but as he pulled away with a small smile on his face, you knew that he had something important he wanted to say.

"I love you, and that will never change. I know that I haven't been able to come around as often, but I wish to reassure you that my feelings for you have not--and will never--change." He caressed your face softly, cupping your cheek in his palm. "I am yours. And if you must drag me out of work so I can remind you of that fact, than so be it!"

You laughed, tears building up in your eyes again. "And I am yours, Garroth."

"I know, my love. I know."

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.1 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Basically, it's a rough night. Prompt: Time to use the last trick you've got This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 21: Fox On The Run

2:00 AM, 23rd of November, 1976

Moony’s claws dug deeper, and you emitted a cry, Prongs tensed as if he was preparing to gore the wolf. And that’s when it downed you: Werewolves don’t attack animals, and clearly, they didn’t attack animagus either. Finally, you smiled, recalling one last trick you had under your sleeve. 

The next couple of seconds went by too fast for you to process, but your actions had been almost instinctive, as if time had slowed down. You started shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller until you managed to free your shoulder from the wolf’s claws. Your skin turned into red furr, your nose grew into a snout, and once you had fully transformed into a fox –your animagus– you rolled around on the floor and scattered away towards Sirius’ direction, your fluffy tail waving behind you as you did. 

The wolf was confused at first, as if it didn’t comprehend what had happened as you nestled between the huge dog’s legs, he looked even bigger and more imposing to you now, since you were so small. Your arm, which had now become your leg, hurt massively as you ran his way, especially since you were now using it to walk. Sirius, or rather, Padfoot, had kept his eyes on you as you did and instantly placed himself over you in a protective stance. You were still pretty alert, now your own hair standing on end as you looked at the wolf, he was staring at you, and he looked pissed, as if the fact that you had gone and hide under the dog made him angry; because he did look angry. More so now than when you had used the stupefy charm on him, even more than when he howled at the moon after being hit by the whomping willow. 

In fact, you’d go as far as to say he was having fun hunting you, playing a sadistic game only he could enjoy, toying with his prey before ending with its life. But now, he was pissed. You could feel it, maybe in the way he breathed, or in the way it was growling at you, or perhaps it was because you were canine now, your senses enhanced potentially by your animagus form. The wolf bared his teeth, Padfoot flinched but held his stance, instinctively you leaned towards one of its pows, rubbing your snout softly, reassuringly. He seemed to feel better after that, leaning closer to you too while he still held his protective stance, so close you could feel the way he breathed. That only irked the wolf further.

Padfoot stared at the wolf attentively, and then he barked at you, you instantly knew what it meant, and you turned around and took off running. The wolf had jumped over Padofoot, but Prongs had been quicker, and he had gored him on the side. The wolf cried out in pain as it was pushed to one of the trees, the deer’s antlers had struck the same spot the Whomping Willow, causing its already broken rib to move around. You turned when you heard the wolf’s cries, he was still staring at you attentively, even as he struggled back to his feet. 

The dog turned back, barking at you again, stronger, more desperate, he wasn’t sure how much longer they’d manage to keep the wolf in check since it seemed absolutely result in his commitment to get to you. You stared at him still, like a deer trapped in headlights, and then you felt a nudge at your paw, it was Wormtail, urging you to move. One last look and Padfoot barked again, so you finally turned your head and ran. The small brown rat was falling behind, so you used your snout to grab it, careful not to hurt him, and kept running. 

The wolf had finally gotten up, and he had managed to pass through both Padfoot and Prongs, running straight in your direction. They were trailing behind, trying to keep up with the wolf, the deer did it first, catching up with him and pushing him with his body, trying to coerce him off track. But his efforts were futile, the wolf was deadset on getting to you. You ran as fast as your paws allowed you to, breath heavy as you skipped through branches and rocks. 

The wolf was catching up, and you were starting to run out of ideas, that was until you found a small creek, and a big holed-out rock on the other side of the stream. You Jumped straight to the water and almost dropped Wormy (still in your snout) from the hiss your body instantly emitted. The water wasn’t cold, it was freezing. You swam through the small stream, shivering as you felt your limbs start to go numb. At least your arm injury didn’t hurt as much. But the cold water, attempting to size your movements was much worse. Not even your thick fox fur was enough to keep you from trembling as you fought to reach the hole in the rock. 

Once you reached the other side, you went straight inside the rock. The hole was barely big enough for you to fit inside, so you had to squeeze in, crying out as the cold stone rubbed onto the gush the wolf’s claws had created when he had you pinned down on the ground. The cry caused Peter to fall from your snout, and he scrambled inside as fast as he could, looking at you pityingly as you continued trying to squeeze yourself inside. 

And then you felt it, a sharp pang, clawing at the end of your now wet tail, pulling the part of your tail that you hadn’t yet managed to get inside the rock and dragging you out, even as you struggled, claws digging on the wet ground. You turned, shivering as the wolf stared at you. There was bood staining his fur, just as much staining yours, where his claws had been mere minutes ago. The wolf was leaning down on you, looking at you angrily when prongs appeared out of nowhere, jumping over the stream and goring him on the side yet again. Padfoot was just above you, shielding you as you scurried back to the hole. 

This time around you pushed harder, taking the pain of the stone peeling your open wound with nothing more than tightened jaws. Somehow, you’d managed to squeeze in and walked as deep inside the rocky side as possible. Not that there was much space inside either. Wormtail was there, looking at you preoccupied, your wound was bleeding now, staining your entire leg with I. You looked at it, and let yourself fall on the ground. Safe, you thought, for the first time tonight. 

Peter dragged himself closer as you placed your snout over the cold rocks, wincing as the sharp pain from your arm returned with the movement. You were shivering, you realised, as you tried to wrap your tail around your body for warmth. The rat –Peter– got just close enough to place its small little hand over one of your paws, giving you a look that you could only interpret as pitiful, perhaps worried. The wolf was still outside, you could hear him growling and pacing. You could also listen to the hooves of the deer, hitting the floor every now and then, and even the faint sound of Padfoot’s breathing. He was still tense. Both animals watching the wolf pace around as if waiting for you to get out. Because you would have to get out at some point. 

You had already closed your eyes when you felt a desperate little hand over your snout. You opened your eyes lazily, and saw the rat again, looking preoccupied. Peter knew you weren’t supposed to fall asleep. Probably because of the amount of bIood that was stuck to your fur, already getting sticky and starting to dry. You shook your head and stared at it. And he started to do a little dance, attempting to entertain you. You stared at him for a while, and it worked, you were laughing in your head as the rat continued to tumble around. Whenever your eyes started to close again, Peter would gently tap on your snout, keeping you awake throughout the night. 

After a couple of hours had gone by, Peter finally allowed you to fall asleep, keeping a close eye on you to make sure your breathing wasn’t ragged or your heart beat too fast. Eventually, a low grunt woke you up, you squinted to find Wormtail sleeping, lying on his back with his mouth wide open, you looked to the side, there was a little light coming from the hole that led outside, so you leaned in and nudged the little rat with your snout, first it only stirred a little, still in deep sleep, and after the second nudge, he woke up, looking around panicked. You tilted your head to the side pointing at the opening, a bit of a worried expression showing on your fox features as another grunt came from the outside, this time accompanied by a wail. 

Peter knew those sounds well, Remus was turning back. He gave you a warning look and slowly walked outside, peering through the hole for a second before going back inside. Motioning for you to get out. When you peeked your head out, snout and eyes barely out of the hole. You saw Peter turn back, and James, who was already himself again, drop a cloak over a shivering mass on the floor. When you realised the wails and cries were actually coming from Remus you panicked, trying to fight your way out only to feel an extremely sharp pain over your arm. Now it was you who emitted a sharp high-pitched whimper. 

Then, out of nowhere, Sirius appeared in front of you, a soft look on his face as he placed his hands over your paws “Hey Starshine,” he said kindly “It’s ok,” he reassured “Remus is all right. We’re all okay, James and Peter are going to take him back to the shack before anybody notices he was out.” 

You struggled to get out again, only to whimper as the rock graced your injured arm. For some reason, it felt just as fresh as it did yesterday. 

“Easy there,” he said, “I’m gonna lift the rock and help you out, ok?” You nodded, Sirius took out his wand and performed a spell wordlessly, lifting the rock from its spot. Once the space was high enough, you stumbled out, limping as you walked closer to him. You completely missed the horror in his expression when he realised the bIood clinging to the fur on your leg, but you were still trying to walk towards Remus, needing to make sure he was all right. Desperate to make sure he wasn’t hurt because of you.

“Wait luv!” you heard Sirius say as you scurried away towards the boy, using your snout to lift the cloak James had thrown over him, getting out as fast as you’d gotten in when you realised Remus had no clothes under the cloak, you should’ve known. Sirius shook his head with a bit of a diverted smile. And leaned in closer to lift the cloak off of Remus’ head. “He’s all right, see?” He told you as you used your head to nudge the passed-out boy. 

“It often happens when he’s had a rough night,” Added James, “And yesterday was pretty bad, you know.” 

You winced at that statement “But it wasn’t your fault sweetheart,” Sirius added, “Pads and Wormy will be taking Remus back now, I’ll stay with you, try and find a good reason to give when I take you to the infirmary.” Just like Sirius explained, both Peter and James lifted Remus’ arms over their shoulder and started dragging him through the forest. Finally, you leaned towards the small stream, and dipped your paw, attempting to wash the wound before turning back, since you knew it’d be easier. Sirius leaned over beside you, sitting over his shins as he placed a hand over your back, stroking gently before leaning over just a little and pouring water over your leg. You let him, Sirius’ hands over your animagus form felt just as nice as they felt over your human self. 

He accidentally let some cold water fall over your wound and you winced, “Sorry sweetheart.” He said as he continued, now carefully rubbing his thumb over your paw, making sure to unstick the thick clogs of fur the bIood had caused. “So… you did it as well,” he said “Turned into an animagus, just like us.” 

You just let your head fall on the ground comfortably, enjoying the way Sirius continued washing you up “And you ended up a vixen of all things,” he said with a laugh, “fitting.” 

Shut it Puppy, you thought as you turned to nudge his hand in protest, which just made him laugh more, in turn you gave him a small soft bite. 

“Hey! I didn’t bite you when you were helping me a couple of moons ago, huh?” He told you, and you remembered the way the big black dog had only placed his head over your lap and urged you to pet him; like Sirius sometimes did. I really should have known. 

“All right sweetheart, you’re done.” He said with a light scratch over your ear that had you almost melt. “I need you to turn back so I can get a closer at that shoulder.” 

You did not want to turn back, the bruises from last night would probably be a lot more noticeable in human form, but the sharp pain on your shoulder blade as you tried to pull back made you figure it really wasn’t an option at this point. 

So slowly, you went back to your human form, ending up in a sitting position just in front of Sirius. His face, which had looked diverted until that point, teasing and playing with the fox, turned into one of absolute dread when he realised the state your face was actually in. 

He placed both hands around it, which had you wince when his thumb accidentally brushed over a section Evan had grabbed onto a little too harshly earlier, “Sweetheart look at you.” 

“‘m fine,” you managed to muster, the pain on your parted lip stinging as your lips stretched to talk. 

Sirius sighed, his frown only deepening as he brushed his hand lightly over some of the bruises, small dots, forming the shape of thick fingers, a thicker one on your left side, two over your right cheek and the rest going down your neck, “Who was it?” he asked bitterly. 

You shrugged, “Evan,” you told him simply “I probably fought back too much.” 

Sirius rubbed your cheek softly, “He’ll pay for this,” he said darkly, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket dipping it in the cold stream, before bringing it to your face, cleaning off the dirt that had stuck to it when you fell to the ground due to Barty’s spell. “Just you wait, we’ll tell Dumbledore and–“ 

“–We can’t.” 

“What are you talking about? We can–“ 

“–Sirius. Why are we here and not at the infirmary?” You asked, grabbing onto his wrist, holding back a wince as a peeled part of your palm graced over his soft skin.

“Well, I have to tend your wounds because we can’t let people know you were out, let alone about Moony being the one to–“ 

“–Exactly,” you nodded “If we tell Dumbledore they will tell him it all happened in the Forbidden Forest, they can even say they held me down because I refused to listen when they told me not to walk inside–“ 

“–Dumbledore wouldn’t believe them.” 

“Either way it won’t matter,” you told him as you shook your head lightly, “If we were to tell him I’d have to explain why I was in the forest in the first place, and then he’ll find out I know about Remus and he’ll probably wonder how the hell I survived the night and I won’t be able to explain it without telling him I’m an illegal animagus and that my other illegal animagus friends helped me.” 

Sirius’ face fell, you were right, you couldn’t tell the teachers, “But Starshine, if you were looking at the same thing I’m looking at right now–“

You let a dry laugh out “–I look like shit, don’t I?” 

Sirius shook his head and leaned over to place a soft kiss on your temple “You look like you’re about to break apart. And I haven’t even seen your arm yet.” 

You turned towards it, wincing as you saw the way the fluff of the sweater had stuck to the dry bIood “That’s gonna hurt.” 

“Can I?” Sirius asked as he toyed with the hem of the sweater, you nodded, and he slowly lifted it off your body, you hissed as he started to slowly peel the last bit off, the fabric had actually stuck to the wound, so he was essentially reopening it as he tried to take the sweater off. 

“Why were you in the forest anyway? We told you it wasn’t safe.” You winced, you probably deserved that “I told you so” but it’s not like you liked it anyway, especially since the reason you were there had come from truly good intentions.

“I wanted to get Moonflower… ouch,” you complained as he removed a particularly stuck bit. 

“Moonflower? For the herbology project you were talking about with Moony?” 

You shook your head “That was a lie,” you admitted “It’s for a potion’s project. I accidentally met Damocles Belby a couple of weeks ago, he thinks a bit of Moonflower may aid him develop a potion that will help werewolves remember who they are once they transform… I– I was trying to help Remus.” 

“Ah…” he said in realisation “How did you find out about him? There’s no way Damocles knows.” 

“No, he’s clueless, he thinks I’m obsessed with werewolves…aaaaah Sirius!“ you trailed off, when he peeled a particularly stuck bit. 

“Sorry love,” he said, “we’re almost getting it completely unstuck.” 

You bit your lip to try and hold back a cry as he continued “I found out on the last moon,” you admitted, “did some research too.” 

“Is that why you were at the library that day?” You nodded “I knew you were off for some reason.” 

“…sorry.” 

“For coming to the forest?” 

“For lying,” you added “I should have told you when I found out… I didn’t want you to think I was butting in your already-established dynamics.” 

“You could only make things better by butting in Starshine, you were reckless last night though. I was barking and you just kept staring at Moony like you weren’t scared of him.” 

“I was worried, he had already been hit by the Whomping Willow because of me, and then Prongs was goring him, I– his cries Sirius…” 

The boy nodded, he knew exactly what that worry felt like, he had felt it before, several times for Remus. And last night, he felt it for you.  

“Remus is strong,” he reassured “He’ll be like new soon enough.” 

You sighed “I just hope I didn’t hurt him too much.” 

Sirius let out a breathy laugh, “Knowing him, he’s probably thinking the same thing right now. And he’ll probably be angry too. Why did you drop the wand?” 

“You saw that?” you asked with a gasp. By now Sirius had managed to remove the sweater and started to pull on the seams of your already tattered shirt sleeve to try and break it apart to remove it, to make it easier, and hopefully less painful for you. 

“Of course I did, James and I were thinking of a plan of action when you did that.” 

“Remus told me to use it against him. I wasn’t planning to hurt him, no matter what.” 

“That was dumb.” 

“You would’ve done the same.” 

“Yeah, but I’m the reckless one in the relationship.” 

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, wincing when his hands brushed against the cut “You sure about that?” 

He finally ripped the shirt off, which had you digging your nails into your leg to hold back a cry, your entire arm was bare, the sharp marks of the claws visible, along with deeply scraped sections caused by the harsh way you had squeezed yourself inside the rock. Sirius was the one to wince this time, not even sure how to approach the tattered skin, the worst part was that it still looked way too fresh, “Maybe we’re both the reckless ones in the relationship.” 

He dipped his handkerchief in the water again and washed it out lightly before letting it saturate in water again and squeezing it over your wound, you hissed when the cold water first landed upon your warm skin, but then you sighed, it was numbing and that felt nice, you then laughed breathily “We’d need someone like Remus to join our relationship to keep us in check,” you joked. 

“Remus would just let us be reckless and watch.” 

“Nah, he’s got a bit of common sense, he’d stop us before it got too dangerous,” you countered. 

“Yeah, probably, but only when it’s really dangerous,” Sirius agreed, now lightly cleaning the wound.

He moved his wand closer and placed it just above it, whispering something, but only half the wound got better, the scratches healed, but the section where Moony’s claws had dug into was still open. Sirius frowned and tried again. 

“It’s not working.” 

You looked at the side, and remembered your notes again “Dittany…” you added. 

“What?” Sirius asked with a frown. 

“Silver and dittany, that helps with werewolf wounds,” you added “…read it in a book.” 

“I’ll get some and–” he said, you placed your hand over his forearm, pulling him. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you said, almost in a whisper, you hated being so clingy, but after the night you’d had, the last thing you wanted was to be alone again.  

Sirius’ expression softened, “We can’t go in the castle with you like this,” he told you “and we can’t use Honey Duke’s passage either, they’re already open…” There’s a secret passage at Honeydukes? you thought, “…maybe I can send a message to James so he brings over the cloak or we could do some spell to…” 

“Take me as a fox,” you suggested. 

“What?” Sirius asked, confused. 

“Take me as a fox, tell Pomfrey you found me in the forest when you went out flying in the morning, and that I was hurt. While she’s distracted, get some dittany from her supplies and then we can find somewhere else to use it. Foxes are common enough in this region for them to believe you.” 

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to take you to Kettleburn?” 

“If you were actually helping a fox, would you take them to him?” He shook his head, “Exactly, the plan will work.” 

He seemed to think about it for a second and then nodded, “All right, let’s go then, little vixen.” You rolled your eyes but turned back into a fox. He seemed hesitant at first, not knowing exactly how to pick you up before placing his hand under your belly and pulling you up, almost like you would hold a cat. “Is that alright luv?” You rubbed your head over his chest, as an answer. “Great, I’m gonna start walking to the castle, if you feel any sort of pain, wave our tail.” 

Sirius started to walk then, still cradling you in his hands, he kept whispering things at you as he continued walking through the Forbidden Forest, “We’re about to reach the grounds,” he informed “We’ll be there soon, just hang on,” he told you, when you finally reached the edge of the forest you dug your head deeper on Sirius’ chest. He was warm, and the way he was holding you made you feel at peace, safe, safer than you’d felt the entire night, safer than the rock. 

Eventually, the two reached the castle, and he walked in through the side gates, walking in and carrying you along with him, people were looking at him weird. You heard a couple of younger girls say things like “Awwww…” and “Look at Sirius, he cares for animals, that’s so hot.”

You wondered if he was used to girls acting like that all the time, of course he is, this is Sirius we’re talking about, he probably basks on the attention.  

You half dug your head deeper into him when you heard them, which just had him chuckle slightly, “What is it Starshine? You jealous?” You nibbled on his shirt in response but whined when you realised the movement had been too harsh, straining your arm and therefore causing you pain.

Sirius frowned then, looking at you with worry and picking up the pace “‘m sorry love,” he mumbled. 

Even if people kept staring at him, no one dared to approach him, not until you were already a couple of halls away from the library and Lily pretty much stopped him dеad in his tracks “Where is she?” she asked, panic edging on her voice. Sirius looked over her shoulder, he wanted to just skip past her to get the dittany, but she wouldn’t budge. “Sirius!” 

“She’s ok,” he said, “We’re taking care of her.”

“We who? I saw Peter and James earlier, and you’re here running to the infirmary with a fox!”

“She needs help!” he said, still trying to avoid the redhead. 

“I don’t care if your fox is a girl Sirius! You either tell me where she is or I swear–“ 

You nudged the boy with your snout, nodding slightly. He understood, you were giving him permission, “She’s here.” 

“Where?” she asked looking around, “Does she have the cloak?” 

Sirius shook his head, capturing Lily’s attention again “Here,” he said, moving you up just slightly, you hissed from the strain in your arm “Sorry love,” he whispered. 

“You turned her into a fox?!” Lily said with a gasp, straight up covering her mouth from shock. 

“She kind of did it herself,” Sirius explained. 

“Wait does that mean she’s an a–“ 

“–Evans! If you keep shouting the entire school will know, now help me get some dittany.” 

She looked shocked, and terrified all at the same time “Did he… did he bite her?” She stammered.

Sirius shook his head,  “He scratched her, but it’s not healing.” 

She took a deep breath, calming herself down “Ok, you take her in, I’ll raid the cupboard for some dittany and silver essence, and maybe some Mugwort, or comfrey root, whichever I find first. If you can, sneak out some beeswax,  do it. She does not keep it in the cupboard. And Sirius, one last thing. We need to be fast. Werewolf scratches are harder to heal the more time goes by without treatment.” 

Sirius nodded, you were impressed by the way Lily had taken control of the situation, but mostly by how willing she was to break the rules and steal ingredients from the school in order to help you. Your mood, however, dropped to the ground the moment you heard Remus’ wails as you entered the infirmary. Your hair stood on end and you attempted to wiggle out of Sirius’ grasp but he grabbed on to you tighter, planting his own feet on the floor. You turned to him exasperated as you continued to wiggle, but he knew Madam Pomfrey was busy with Remus, so he went to the other side and started looking for the beeswax. 

You managed to escape his grasp and limped your way to the curtains separating the room. Leaning close to a corner and only dipping your head inside, Remus had half of his body covered by the white sheets, the rest of him was in full view, and you finally saw how much damage you had done to him.  His wails were because Madam Pomfrey was accommodating some of his ribs in place with her hands. You winced, almost pulling back completely just from the way it creaked. 

He had a few scratches and a slightly deep cut, probably from Prong’s strong antlers. But the worst part was probably how bruised he was, there were bruises going down his back, already turning a dark purple from when you had used stupefy and his left side, where the Willow had struck, was even worse.

You winced when he cried again, you wanted to reach out for him, but you knew you could not let Pomfrey see you, so you stayed there, watching quietly. At some point, Pomfrey turned Remus around and he spotted you, you gave him a look, but he just dropped his gaze, avoiding you entirely while clenching his jaw, to avoid crying in front of you. You were about to lose all prudence left and jump all the way inside when you felt Sirius pull you back again, holding you just like before. You didn’t try to fight him this time, allowing him to drag you outside the infirmary, both trailing behind Lily. 

He caught up with her after a few long strides. “Where are we going?” he asked in a low tone. 

“Common room, she’ll stay with me, in your room so Mary and Marlene don’t notice, you’ll have to get to class.” 

Sirius shook his head “No way in hell I’m leaving her,” that made you feel at ease, nuzzling into him a little. 

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea you stay, you’ve been missing a lot of classes lately.” 

“Don’t care about classes,” he insisted. 

“Sirius, it’s not about that, we don’t want to raise more suspicion, don’t you get it?” 

“She asked me not to leave her,” he admitted, almost reluctantly, as if he knew how hard it had been for you to ask. 

Lily sighed, “We’ll talk about it later.” 

Eventually, the two of them arrived at the common room, Sirius taking the lead and opening his room, letting Lily walk in. “Do you have a mortar?” she asked as she started taking things out from her pockets and placing them on a trunk. 

Sirius had already walked all the way to his bed and gently laid you down there, “There should be one on  James’ dresser,” he said pointing at it without really turning to look. “All right love, we’re here, you can turn back.” 

You hesitated for a second, looking at Lily before finally turning back, you were sitting on your shins when you turned so you had to accommodate yourself, to sit properly. Sirius was sitting just on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a bit of a worried expression. He was not expecting the first time he had you on his bed to be like this. 

Lily, who was a little surprised at how neat James’ stuff had been arranged, found the mortar in about half a minute, turning to look at you and almost letting it completely fall on the ground after that, her expression turning into one of absolute worry now “Look at what those stupid boys did to you luv,” she said as she fastly approached. 

“Should’ve seen the other guy,” you joked. Even if the other guys were pretty much perfectly fine, probably. Lily sighed in response, and walked to the trunk, right in front of her, grabbing some of the ingredients she had gathered, and started to crunch them inside the mortar. “How did you find out?” you asked, you had been curious about that since she stopped Sirius in the hall, in fact, you were still a little confused of how Sirius, James and Peter had found you. 

“Severus,” she said bitterly. 

“He tried to warn us, we didn’t care to listen to what he wanted to say and he went to Lily instead.” 

“He told me Barty had locked you up in the Shrieking Shack, he already knew the place was Remus’ hideout. And he also knew it was full moon.” 

“He knew about Remus?” You asked shocked. 

“Found out last year, it was my fault,” Sirius admitted, dropping his face as shame filled his delicate features. In fact, it had taken a good deal of time and effort for the two of them to make up after that time, “We should’ve listened to him, perhaps we would’ve gotten there earlier.” 

You shook your head “Severus could’ve been setting up a trap for you, it was wiser to ignore him,” you responded simply, “Stupid slime head, didn’t do anything when they were locking me up in the Shack, had it not been because Remus hadn’t turn yet, and because he gave me his wand–” 

“–You used his wand?” Lily asked, turning to you a little amused. You nodded in response, “She’s never been too keen on working when I’ve tried.” 

“Yeah, his wand’s picky,” added Sirius, “it’s wonky when James and Peter try to use it too.” 

“Not with you?” Lily asked, looking at Sirius, still shaking her hand furiously to crumble the ingredients into a paste. 

“No, I thought I was the only one,” he admitted, turning to you. 

“Looks like Remus’ wand likes us very much,” you said with a shrug and winced when you felt the sharp pain again, at this point, it was becoming as painful as it was annoying. 

“It’s ready,” Lily said, standing up from the floor and walking towards the bed, Sirius moved slightly to the side, and you tilted your head so your hair wouldn’t fall on the wound as she applied it. But Lily didn’t place the mixture yet. And she instead looked at your shirt, tattered, broken and a little dirty, “I– I think it’d be best if you took the shirt off entirely,” she said, “to work on the wound better and make sure it doesn’t get infected or anything like that.” 

“Oh, right,” you said as you went for the hem of the shirt. As you attempted to take the shirt off with one hand, Lily gave Sirius a look, who turned slightly red before he turned around, eyes facing the wall. 

“Here, lemme help,” Lily said, as she helped you pull the shirt off. The moonflower that you had hidden during the night, fell to the bed. You gasped, a huge smile appearing on your face.

Lily looked at it with a frown, “Why did you–“ she started, not quite understanding why you were so happy

In the end, the whole ordeal hadn’t been for nothing, the Moonflower survived! “–I thought I’d lost her, or perhaps she had been crushed when Moony… Either way, it doesn’t matter, this is great!” 

She looked at you, still confused,  “But… why do you need Moonflower?” 

You gave her another smile “I’ll tell you all about it! I promise, but for now, would you mind taking it to Damocles Belby when you go back to classes? He needs it.” 

Lily nodded and took the flower in her hands before carefully sitting it down on the side table.  Finally, she placed her hand on your cheek, gently moving her hands to have a good look at your face as she directed where she wanted you to tilt it towards, “I’ll bring you something for those bruises too, luv…” 

“I see why you wanted me gone,” Sirius said in a tone you knew all too well, “you wanted to have my girlfriend all to yourself.” 

“Well, she did say I’m a great kisser,” Lily added as she finished pulling the shirt over your head, leaving you in a simple sports bra… Sirius turned his head around to look at her, completely surprised by her teasing, but she threw your shirt straight as his face “Don’t turn you perv!” 

“She’s my girlfriend!” Sirius said, turning back and slowly taking the shirt off his face, it smelled like you.

“Yeah, that doesn’t make you less of a perv,” she retorted, and finally leaned in closer to you, looking at you attentively “This might hurt,” she warned, to which you nodded. If it didn’t you’d be more surprised. 

She brought her hand to the paste and took a good amount in between her fingers, bringing it straight to the sharp claw lines on your arm. Your breath hitched in your throat and your jaw clenched with the contact, you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. 

“Sorry,” she said as she noticed your stance “It won’t take too long, I promise,” Lily was being honest, she took another bunch of the paste, and swiftly went over the other opening, working light and fast as you held your breath. She did it one more time and then she was done “There we go,” she told you with a smile “You’re done.” 

You let a deep breath out and used your hands to wipe some of the tears that had stubbornly fallen from your face, “Thanks,” you told her as you sniffed “for helping me, even if you had to steal ingredients from the infirmary.” 

“That’s what friends are for,” she told you with a wink as she wiped her fingers on the mortar. “You should probably rest. I can keep the girls out of our room for the day if you–“

“–She can stay here,” Sirius interrupted, “The boys won’t mind.” He was still looking at the wall. 

“Will you be comfortable?” she asked with a little frown. 

You nodded, “I’ll just steal one of their sweaters when it’s time to go back,” you added, “since my shirt is all tattered now.” 

“I can bring you some clothes later,” she responded “So you can take off those,” she said, looking at your mud-stained jeans. 

“I can borrow her some pyjamas for now,” Sirius added. 

Lily nodded, “I’ll come back in a couple of hours to check up on it,” she said pointing at your arm “I’m sure I can whip something up in potions to help with the pain too. Sirius, keep a close eye on her, if she falls asleep, monitor her temperature. It doesn’t look infected but it’s always a possibility.” Sirius nodded, which got Lily to nod herself, bobbing her head up and down almost nervously as he gave one last look at you, “take care, Luv,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder before turning to pick the mortar up and walking to the bathroom to do some cleanup, giving you one last look before looking at the clock and rushing out. 

You sighed as you saw her red hair disappear, you wondered how it was possible you’d gotten so lucky that you got to have Lily Evans as your close friend. Eventually, you let yourself fall on the bed, carefully keeping your arm over your stomach as you did. Sirius stood up from the bed and walked towards his dresser, pulling out the same pyjama pants you’d seen him wear when James had brought you to their room before the quidditch match. 

“These ones might fit,” he said, handing them over. 

“Thanks,” you said as you went to unbutton your pants, managing to do it without much fuzz and then going for the zipper, struggling just a little then. Sirius turned around when he realised he was actually looking at the colour of your undies now. That made you raise an eyebrow “Sirius, you’ve seen me in a swimsuit,” you said as you struggled to take the pants off with one hand. 

“That was two years ago,” he said, sitting down on the bed with his back towards you, “you’ve changed.” 

“Not that much,” you retorted, finally getting the pants halfway down your tights. 

Sirius shook his head “Very much,” he insisted, while he cleared his throat “your, erm… proportions are different.” 

You laughed at that, it was always surprising to see Sirius’ shyer side. Eventually, you managed to take them completely off.  “And you’ve touched too.” 

He nodded “Yeah, in broom closets and forbidden sections, that’s how I know you’ve changed a lot. But you know what those have in common? They’re dark.” You laughed again, pulling the pyjama pants up and standing on the bed to press a soft kiss to the boy’s neck, which had him perk up from surprise “Lily said you should rest.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, leaning into him “I’m resting.” 

Sirius let out a diverted huff in response, “Aren’t you tired?” 

“Very,” you admitted “but you’re warm… and comfortable.” 

Sirius smiled, shaking his head as he did. Most of the time he felt like the needy one, leaning into you, asking you to play with his hair, or even reaching for your hand, it was nice to know you enjoyed the contact as much as he did. Even nicer that you’d ask for it. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to lay down on the bed?” he asked, finally tilting his head to look at you, cheek squeezed a little on his shoulder, the soft skin of your neck completely visible. He almost hated how thrilled the sight made him feel, knowing full well –since he could see the bruises still– the reason you didn’t have a shirt was because you were hurt and scratched and all banged up, on what had probably been the worst night of your life. 

You smiled, looking up at the boy, prettiest boy in the world, you thought, before nodding and leaning back, slowly moving in the bed till you accommodated yourself. “You want a blanket?” he asked, turning his head just a little. You nodded and he opened one of the drawers from his side table, pulling out a fluffy red blanket and carefully placing it on top of you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, and he sat on the bed again. You looked at him, as if you wanted to ask him something. 

“What is it, Starshine?” You made a small frown, Sirius couldn’t think of anything other than how adorable it looked, “Whatever you want, just tell me.” 

You looked to the side “Would you mind cuddling?” you ended up asking, mushing the words together from how fast you had actually spoken. 

Sirius smiled, and leaned closer to you, levelling himself to lay his head on the pillow beside yours “You can cuddle me whenever you want,” he responded simply. 

You instantly leaned into him, a contented sigh escaping your lips “You’re really warm,” you whispered as you hugged him, leaning on your good arm and letting the one with the wound and paste lay over his torso. Sirius adjusted himself, accommodating his arm under your head and bringing you even closer to him. 

“Comfortable?” 

You nodded, way too much, “Yes.”

He smiled, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, at some point he started rubbing soft circles to your back, soothing you to sleep. 

Sirius and Vix after the bad moon

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A/N: Some people are so going to be really happy about this chapter. We've had theories about this for weeks, and guys, you're all Sherlock Holmes, brilliant!

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[onskepa]

Syawn: Three heads, one face

Helloooooooo! Gosh its been a good while since the last update for this series! But here it is! Another beautiful chapter! Enjoy~!!

Syawn series

----------------------

Tuk, lo’ak and kiri were running like their life depended on it. Each holding a precious cargo. Their hearts pounding, sweat dripping, tired to the bone. They pass their friends and relatives to reach their destination. Only they can know. Yes, only them. 

“Come on! Hurry!” kiri urges her siblings. 

They all climb to a home, trying to get there as fast as possible without dropping their package. 

When they reached inside, the three siblings took a sigh of relief. 

“What are you three doing?” a voice asks them. 

The sully siblings look up to see syawn who was staring down at them. 

“Syawn! We need your help!” tuk practically shouts. Syawn tilts her head. 

“Help on what?” she asks. 

Kiri, lo’ak and tuk help up their cargo. 

“We can't tell who is who!” lo’ak whines as they were holding syawn’s triplet babies. All three smilings and cooed at seeing their mother. 

Neteyam and syawn knew from the start they would have a little problem with their children. Being triplets meant having the same face. And having the same face would confuse people. Confused people will go to them for figure out who is who. The cycle repeats.

“It shouldn't be that hard to see the difference” syawn mutters as she and neteyam bathes their babies. Being their parents, of course they know who is who.

“We are their parents, my love, it is our duty and instinct to know. For others who only see them for a short time, it is difficult” neteyam answers. He gives a light tickle to lu’lafyon who giggles happily.

Syawn puts flower nectar on their hairs gently.

“What if we use different colors for their loin cloths?” she suggests.

Neteyam thinks about it for a moment, “alright, seems like a good idea”.

Usually they would use different shades of purple for their loin clothes, it was easy. Have the triplets match while also making the shades different enough. Neteyam liked it, syawn thought it would be cute.

“Bah!” lu’law was splashing the water joyfully as her brothers copy her.

“You dont think this problem will continue in the years to come, would it?” syawn asks.

“Who knows, but if that were to happen, no doubt these little ones will take full advantage”

If only neteyam knew just how correct he was. 

“Lu’law get back here!” 

“I'm not lu’law, I'm lu'tstunwi!” 

“Lu’lafyon! You too!” 

“But im lu’law!” 

“No you arent! Im lu’law!”

The triplets all snicker mischievously as they hang from the high branches. They look down at their grandparents and aunts and uncles. Their relatives are already annoyed by their antics. 

“Just wait until your parents hear about this!” lo’ak shouts. 

“Don't be a downer uncle loki!” one of the triplets said. 

Tuk was trying her very best to differentiate the three siblings, but its really hard. 

They have the exact same stripes, same features, same height, same voice, down to the same top and loin cloth. Literal copies of three. And the lululu’s abuse that power. 

“Yeah!” the other triplet agrees. 

Neytiri hisses, “I will pull you three from your ears if I have to!” she threatens. 

“How grangran? You have two hands!” one of the triplets stuck their tongue out. 

“Jake! You handle this!” her patience was so low at this point. 

Jake sighed heavily, he was getting way too old for this. “Kids, come on, we played this game a million times over. Dont you ever get tired of playing guess who?” 

The triplets all shook their heads, “its fun grandpa!” 

“Yeah! It never gets old!” 

“Its too much fun!” 

Kiri was pinching the bridge of her nose, “look guys, we really need you to get down. We have the ceremony happening tonight and you three pulling pranks on the people are holding everyone down” she explains. 

The triplets groan in unison, “why do we have to attend?” 

“Yeah! Its got nothing to do with us!” 

“We rather watch the ikrans hatch!” 

“Because we said so” 

The triplets turned their heads to see their father staring down at them. 

“Down, now” 

And obediently they did without any more complaints. 

The rest of the sully family watch the interaction with slight amazement. 

“Sorry, they are starting to get a bit cocky at their game” syawn says as she walks up to her family. 

“OWOWOWOWOWOW!” her children complain as neteyam pulls their tails. Syawn looks at them disapprovingly. 

“We talked about this” she begins with her stern voice. 

“But maaaaaa! We got bored!” 

“Yeah! We only wanted to play!” 

“Yeah! And its boring doing all this stuff” 

Neteyam yanked their tails again, but not too harshly. 

“Boring or not, tonight is very important to everyone. Especially for your grandparents. Now look at them, you have them tangled up in your game and taking their time away from their duties. Same with your aunts and uncle” she lectures. 

The triplets hang their heads low, trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Apologize” neteyam growls a bit. 

“Sorry….” they muttered. Feeling a bit guilty but not really. 

“Say it like you mean it” neteyam scolds. 

“Sorry!” they said again, this time more sincere. Syawn hums in satisfaction. 

“And next time, dont waste people's time”

“Bro….what if, instead of three, there were six of us?” lu’lafyon says out of nowhere. He lays on the grass staring up at the sky with his siblings. Lu’law made a face, trying to imagine it. Lu’tstunwi made a disapproving expression. 

“Six? I can barely share with you two” he remarks, earning two slaps on his head. 

“No but think about it! More of us!” lu’lafyon goes on. 

“Wouldn't that hurt mom? Dad said she was really tired and exhausted when she birthed us” lu’law points out. Her brother hum in thought. 

“True….also our family can barely tolerate us. If there were 6, now that would be a village of its own” lu’tstunwi adds. 

Trying to imagine three more of themselves seemed fun but also hard. What would their life be like? How would they influence each other and those around them? Most of all, how will their parents take care of 6 kids? 

“True….and everyone would be annoyed awhole lot quicker” lu’law says. 

They continue to stare up at the sky, watching ikrans fly around. 

“What if….one of us, or all three of us will also have triplets?” lu’law questions. They havent passed their iknimaya yet, but sometimes they think of what adult life would be like. Watching and observing their parents, grandparents and other adults in the village, it seemed like a lot of fun. 

“Who knows….” lu’tstunwi mutters. 

“But…will the person who we fall in love will want triplets?” this time lu’lafyon questions. 

Tough questions they kept on asking, with answers that may or may not be answered. 

It was sunset, syawn was making a new top as neteyam cleans a bit around their home. He took notice of her craft. Stopping what he was doing, he sits down to join her. 

“Trying for a new look my love?” he asks as he pulls her ino his arms. Syawn shakes her head. 

“No, this is for lu’law” she answers. He looks around to notices something. 

“Just for lu’law?” he wonders. 

“Yes, I was thinking, lu’law is the only girl, so I figured making this top will help in figuring out who is who. And dont worry, I plan to make different loin clothes for out sons as well” syawn answers. 

Neteyam took a moment to understand her reasons. 

Logically speaking, it will help tremendously for everyone to see the difference and finally know which triplet is who. 

But at the same time….

“Do the children know of your idea?” he asks. 

Syawn chuckles a bit nervously, “I was hoping this would be a surprise…” 

Putting her work down, she turns to face her husband, “I know we started this habit of theirs. Matching their clothes, and colors. But I worry that one day someone will say something or people won't take their fun lightly. They are getting older and they will have to find an identity of their own. I figured I would give them a push….tell me net, am I in the wrong?” 

Neteyam strokes his wife’s face, taking in her motherly worry. 

“I say…we let them. Yes it will annoy everyone but remember syawn. They are a walking miracle, they know how unique their life is. If they enjoy being one face, why ruin that? They are still young and exploring life. Lets give them more time” he answers. 

Syawn smiles softly, laying her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

“I can always count on you for these choices” 

“Ichi!” 

“Ni!” 

“Kevin!” 

The triplets named their ikrans. 

Jake rolled his eyes so damn hard. Of course they would name their ikrans after that three headed dragon. 

They passed their important stage of their iknimaya. Taming an ikran. Everyone was so proud to see them succeed. Syawn was ready to cry, by either how scared she was or how happy she is. 

“Mom! Dad! We did it!” the triplets cried out in glee. 

“Take your first flight! Go go!” neteyam shouts. Nodding, one by one the siblings take a leap from the cliff with their ikrans. 

For the triplets, it felt amazing. To feel so connected to their new friends. Going high, making sharp angles. A new sense of freedom was felt. 

“C’mon, lets see what we can pull off!” lu’lafyon shouts, already making a steep dive. His siblings following his move. Some tricks were done wonderfully, others in close call. But the final trick, that was going to take some practice. 

“Oh you have got to…” neteyam muttered. High in the sky, coming straight down at them looked like an actual three headed dragon. 

“MOM!! DAD!! LOOK LOOK LOOK!” lu’tstunwi shouts, his and his siblings ikrans were layed on top of one another, not touching but really close. Flying in the same speed as they make an illusion of king ghidorah. 

“They truly are three of a kind” syawn chuckles. Impressed how they managed to pull something like that so quickly. 

“Yes and I feel three separate heart attacks” neteyam mutters as he continues to look at his children. For sure, they will be a force to be reckoned with. 

Here is a looooooooong over due chapter! It was short but sweet! I still wanna add more chapters to this series! What else should I do? Im open for suggestions!

But until then, see ya!

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[srjlvr]

,, stages of confession ‘‘

PAIRING . . . highschool-student!Jay X highschool-student!femReader !

GENRE . . . brother’s bsf trope! , fluff , angst(?) , maybe even crack but maybe just a tiny bit.

WC . . . 2.2k+ !!

SYNOPSIS . . . there are many stages of confession, especially when your crush is your brother’s best friend.

WARNINGS . . . not really a warning but heeseung as your older sibling , one year age gap(idk if its really a warning) , insecurities !

STAGE ONE — denial.

“i’m not having a crush okay, he’s heeseung’s best friend, there’s no way!” — if there’s one thing you learnt about yourself in the last few years, is that you’re a good liar, but it really depends on who you’re asking.

“you keep repeating the same sentence each time i ask you about it, i know you good enough to know that you’re always doing it when you’re lying” your best friend riki, would say otherwise.

“okay so maybe a tiny crush, it’s nothing big, he’s my brother’s best friend, let’s not forget that” you rolled your eyes, “so? it’s the perfect plot! brother’s best friend has always been my fav”

“my life’s not a movie you know” “oh it is, ever since jay entered your life, the camera started rolling”

you rolled your eyes again and playfully punched the guy.

you’ve known jay ever since you were little, he’s older than you by one year, and younger than your brother by one year as well.

jay met your brother in the neighborhood, and ever since then they became literally inseparable.

“jay, this is my sibling, y/n” a month after jay and heeseung —the long lost twins— met, heeseung finally introduced you to jay.

jay was focused on you, you were so pretty in his eyes, you totally made him fighting the urge to learn more about you.

“it’s nice to meet you” he smiled warmly at you, “its nice to meet you too” you replied happily.

those were the first and almost last words you two exchanged. there’s only “hey”s and “bye”s whenever jay’s coming around but nothing more and nothing less.

as you grew old, you started seeing each other more at school, you’d just return smiles and stares but again, nothing more and nothing less.

whenever jay would come over, you’d spend your time staring at him from the kitchen, while he was in the living room, playing some video games with heeseung.

“listen, heeseung is finishing school this year, which means you and jay finally get to talk without it being so awkward!” riki smirked at you.

“i can barely even say hey to him anymore” you sniffed, “oh come on i see the way you two are looking at each other whenever you meet in the hallway, it’s obvious that he’s crushing on you as well”

STAGE TWO — accepting.

the other day, you were walking to riki’s locker, crossing your hands and looking at him seriously.

“okay fine maybe i do have a huge crush on him” you sighed while looking at cheerful riki, “tell me something i don’t know”

“but i’ve also accepted the fact that it can never happen between us” you added, “exact—wait what no!” riki sighed, “of course it can”

“heeseung would never let us date” you sighed, “let’s not forget about the fact that he’s not interested in me, i mean look at his classmates, everyone’s so pretty and around his age”

riki rolled his eyes and smacked you, “you HAVE to see the way he looks at you whenever you’re not watching him, it’s like he has heart eyes or something like that”

“i think you’re a bit exaggerating” “i’ll hide a camera in my sweater and prove to you who’s the one exaggerating”

“what do you think i should do?” jay asked sunghoon, one of his friends and classmates. “i mean, heeseung never said anything about his sibling being off limits, but i dont think he’d like the idea of you two dating”

“i think it’s worth a shot” he shrugged, “heeseung is leaving school this year and will probably go to college, this is my chance”

jay has already accepted his huge crush on you, from time to time he would steal glances of you, so intrigued by your beauty.

whenever jay’s coming over to your house, he’d spend every second in trying to get closer to you, including going to the kitchen to fill up more than ten cups just because you were spending your time in the kitchen and he thought it’d be a great opportunity to talk with you.

it didn’t work out though, just as you said before, things are just awkward between you two.

jay can’t stop thinking about how pretty you are, and your bubbly personality is what makes him more curious about you. he watches you from afar, playfully punching your friend, riki and then laughing your ass off with him, it’s something that made him envy riki, he wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that.

STAGE THREE — trying.

another year passed and heeseung is finally out of the picture, so what’s stopping you from talking to him now?

it was fear, the fear of not being enough for him, the fear of being different and weirder than the others, the fear that he’ll laugh at you the second he hears you talking and so on.

“you should at least try,” riki said, at the verge of begging, “it won’t hurt”

“what am i supposed to say? ‘oh hey! now that heeseung’s outta the picture we can kiss!’?” riki giggled, “no, i think you’ll know what to say when you’ll see him”

“i’m going to try,” jay said to sunghoon, “it won’t hurt”

sunghoon nodded and pat jay’s shoulder, “i wish you well dude, try not to die in the hands of heeseung okay”

STAGE FOUR — meeting up as if its the first time.

you were taking some books out from your locker when jay suddenly showed up.

“hey!” he said kindly, “oh, hey jay!” you replied with a smile.

“heeseung is not here now” he added, “right”

“so i’ve been meaning to ask if you’d like to get to know each other better, it’d be less awkward between us each time i come over to your house” he chuckled.

“oh gosh yes finally,” you sighed in relief, “i thought i was the only one who felt awkward”

jay shook his hand, “no no, its totally mutual”

“so i was thinking about going to the park after school, just to talk about whatever” “i would love that” you smiled warmly at him.

“great! can i get your phone number?” he suddenly asked, “so i could contact you when i finish school”

“oh yeah right” you held him out your phone and he put his number in it, “done! i’ll see you later” he smiled and walked away.

“dude!” a second after jay walked away a figure jumped on you causing you to fall. “you got jay’s phone number AND you’re going to the park with him later? i’m so proud of you”

you glared at the figure, “oh im gonna beat you up you better start praying nishimura riki!”

“wait wait wait,” he froze before you could hit him, “can you at least tell me what happened?”

you did end up telling him what was the conversation about, and he obviously couldn’t stop teasing you about it.

“i told you and i said what i said” he stick out his tongue, “remember me when you get together”

“i’m fighting the urge to beat you up on daily basis i need therapy” you sighed.

school ended and you texted jay that he should wait by the lockers and then you both could go out together, he texted you right away with an okay.

as you walked out of the classroom, you could already see him leaning on the locker next to yours, patiently waiting for you.

you smiled and walked up to him, “hey again” he said, “hey, i kept you waiting too long?”

“no not at all! i’ve just finished some things i had to do” you nodded and put your books in your locker, “let’s go now shall we?”

“i think heeseung would kill me if he saw us together” jay chuckled as you two kept walking around the park, “i can talk some sense in him” you rolled your eyes.

“your brother loves you a lot, he wouldn’t stop talking about you” he smiled, “i could say the same about you, it’s always ‘jay jay and jay’ whenever we gossip” you rolled your eyes.

“but that’s what made me curious about you” you added and he nodded, “i’m glad to know my feelings are mutual”

you two spent the rest of the afternoon together, even going to a local cafe just to get comfy and eat some snacks together.

“thanks for today, i really hope we can do this more” he smiled, “i really hope so too, i had fun today”

he nodded and watched you walking up to your door, “i’ll text you later!”

STAGE FIVE — confronting.

“hey!” heeseung popped out of the living room and hugged you tightly.

your relationship with your brother couldn’t be better than what it is, you’re each other’s best friend and know every little secret about each other.

“hey” you replied, “you’re back late” he pointed out.

“yeah” you replied and hesitated, “i was actually with jay”

“really?” he said excitedly and hugged you.

“are you okay?” you asked him, now you’re the concerned one.

“yn please, it was obvious that the moment i leave school, you two would open up and talk” he said, “i had to watch you two stealing glances every now and then”

“i don’t understand” you said.

“you’ve never asked or talked about wether it’s okay if you and jay would hang out or not, i’m obviously a fan of you two” he chuckled.

“god you acted like you’re mad all the time!” you complained, heeseung laughed and pat your head, “it’s your mind that makes you think like that, i was actually the happiest when i first noticed your tiny crush on him”

“you didn’t even have to tell me you’re crushing” he shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “how do you even know im- you know what? im just gonna go shower” you said and ran to your room.

heeseung sent u off and then smirked, he took out his phone to call his friend, “jay you were right, she just told me you went to hang out together” he giggled.

“really? what did she say…?” jay asked curiously, “you’d have to find out”

a few days ago, jay went up to heeseung and confessed to him about his crush on you. “heeseung, i need to tell you something”

“i know and im already excited” heeseung smiled warmly. jay looked at him confused, “how do you-“ “you were about to tell me that you’re crushing over my sibling right? it was pretty obvious”

“i waited patiently for the day to come” he chuckled, “how did you even find o-“ jay’s eyes widened a bit, “i’m not blind, i noticed your stares and awkward tension, come on it was so obvious”

jay just grinned and went up to hug the older one, “since when did you become so-“ “thank you heeseung, it means a lot”

“i’ll be waiting for your confession, better do it soon or i’ll be the one to reveal it”

“please don’t” jay smiled.

STAGE SIX — waiting for the right time.

“well? it’s been a month and i havent heard anything from y/n except your hang outs” heeseung rolled his eyes.

“im waiting for the perfect time, i don’t want to rush it” jay shrugged.

“this is the perfect time! you’ve spent together a lot more than you think” heeseung pointed out.

“you’re right but-“ “i’m not going to force you, but you should do something before it’ll be too late”

“too late for what?” you came behind jay and smiled, “we were just talking about the fact that finals are soon and i didn’t even start studying” jay rolled his eyes.

“oh, same here” you said disappointed. “hey y/n, let’s go watch a movie!” he suggested.

“sure, let me go and get ready” you smiled and went up to your room.

“i’m gonna do it now” he grinned and heeseung crossed his fingers as a good luck.

STAGE SEVEN — confessing.

as you and jay sat on your seats, you noticed him taking a few deep breaths.

“are you oka-“ “y/n, i actually have to tell you something”

you nodded and waited for him to continue.

“i like you, a lot actually” he smiled, “ever since i first saw you, you caught my eye and i couldn’t stop falling for you, you never fail to keep me intrigued about anything the involves you and-“

“i would really like to take you out, on a date, and officially call you mine” as soon as he finished, the movie started rolling. “you don’t have to answer right away, take your time if it feels too rushed for you”

he then turned his head to the screen as you kept staring at him.

soon, the movie ended and you don’t remember even watching it, you were so deep in thoughts and excitement.

the jay park, likes me? you thought and your cheeks started to automatically blush.

as jay was about to get up from his seat, you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“i would love to go out with you on a date, and i would love to be called yours” you let your mouth speak without even thinking.

jay smiled immediately and dragged you into a hug.

“oh god im so glad-“ “FINALLY!!”

you heard claps and shouts from behind you. you took a glance and saw riki and heeseung standing right behind you with small tears in their eyes.

“i never thought i’d be able to watch you two get together before my college starts” heeseung wiped his happy tears.

“i told you!” riki smirked and shrank as you glared at him as if you’re going to kill him.

jay then got closer to you and whispered in your ear, “me and you tomorrow, at 8pm, i’ll come to pick you up”

© — 2023, srjlvr. pls don’t copy/translate any of my works without permission ! | reblogs and comments are very appreciated !

[squirmfesting]

There's a thing I noticed regarding majorbeans and well you post a lot of majorbeans so I thought I share my thoughts with you. In retrospective it is extremely funny how similar scott and joel pov of their respective wins are with Scott being more passive and tactical about everything, staying with the same allies (Pearl, Cleo) until quite literally it would be against the rules for him to stay, getting harassed (traps, destroying his house.) by others but not getting revenge etc. and Joel deciding to ignore Etho continues backstabbing, playing tactical with wildcard, ignoring everyone destroying and laughing at his car (not rly ignoring more like deciding to not do anything about aka get revenge), staying with the same allies and not backstabbing them (Gem, Grian) etc etc. also funny how both of their second allies (Cleo, Grian) joined them after they had issues with their team (betrayed, dead) Getting to the interesting part Scott is known by the community as someone who gets people to hunt him and very often that results to his hunters getting killed (very often that happens to be Joel). BUT this time Scott has decided in finale of wildlife to hunt Joel since he was the last yellow. I find it incredibly interesting that at least in finale of wildlife they switched places Scott being the hunter and Joel being hunted and also the fact that bringing Joel to red life meant the end of Scott wildlife. If I were smarter and less half asleep I could probably write something about how lastlife and wildlife winners parallel each other and how playing similar to Scott lead Joel to victory but I think you get the point anyway

sorry for mistakes english isn't my first language also yes this could've been simply a post in majorbeans tag but I am a coward when it comes to posting online for some reason. also I would love to hear your thoughts about this those stupid bugs have plagued my mind for a while now... it would be sooo funny if they teamed up next season.

oh my god i knew they mirrored each other but u pointing out the switchup in wildlife makes me insane .... i didnt even notice at first AUGH !!! also i feel u anon im a bit fearful posting my interpretation of the two and how i see them bc this fandom can be rly toxic for having ur own point of view for different characters 💔 but ill indulge just for u :3

i kinda see scott as this guy who has expectations set up for himself . he has to stick to his morals even in the most intense situations , he has built trust w others and tries his best to lookout for those on his team . however there are bits and pieces that slip out where hes like "maybe i can be the drama . as a treat" but most of the time he doesnt unless its at a point where all hell has broken loose . what more harm could be done? overall hes got a moral code . he has to live up to that and keep up this facade despite sometimes fighting the urge to become insane like the rest . its a killing game after all . with joel i see him like you said a wildcard . he gives into his emotions when hes panicking or when hes enraged and just throws out all logic out the window . of course he has his moments but for the most part his bloodlust is his downfall . one of the aspects i like abt majorbeans is i see scott being tempted by joel , despite joel always going after him and trying to kill him . he sees joel behave the way he does , his power and his freedom and despite it being an utterly wreckless display , he just sees him having fun and giving into the desire to just Kill . and joel absolutely hates that scott is as observant and strategic about his way of survival . hates the fact that he can keep a level head through all of this , hates that even though he isnt as strong as him , keeps getting away with living ! there r more stuff in my head and i cant rly word this properly im in the middle of a fortnite match w a friend so its all off the top off my head but if anyone would like something more coherent i can write out a draft for my full thoughts . but to wrap it up .. those aspects i think keep pulling them back to each other .. they both want a taste of what they have .. but their rivalry (mostly one sided if im being honest dont throw tomatoes at me) is what stops them from being an unstoppable force lol . the day they team up for a season is the day i can peacefully pass away . I NEED TO SEE THEM TEAM UP !!!!! these two have been plaguing my mind for months .. but yea those r my thoughts not super coherent but i hope it gets the idea across .

[lucky-clover-gazette]

The Ballad of Maysilee Donner

Chapter 1/2 | 4,320 words | Contains Spoilers for SOTR

When Maysilee Donner turned twelve years old, her grandmother told her a secret that could someday save her life. Four years later, she finds herself in a position to use it. Or: She shows off that locket and quotes that song for a reason. Snow notices.

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Maysilee Donner would die with dignity, or die trying. 

Haymitch was not going to reveal his plan. Whatever it was, she was either too unimportant or too risky to involve. She respected his discretion, although she resented her own incompetence. If she could have no role in his grand tableau against the Capitol, that meant her inevitable death would be in vain. Purposeless. And Maysilee Donner, much like Haymitch and his girl back home, preferred her pretty with a purpose. 

“Was it because of your poster?” she asked Haymitch, watching him carefully as he ate the last of the sardines. The gamemakers, too, must not have been a part of his grand plan. Hence the hesitation to attack them—which had nearly gotten Maysilee killed, a fate only narrowly avoided thanks to that girl from 4 with the atrocious pin curls.

“I wish I could say it was,” Haymitch told her, “but no. I don’t think it was like that. I don’t know what it was. Just programmed to be walked over, I guess. You nailed it.” 

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Any person who taunted the President of the nation with a dead girl in front of his adoring fans was far from a doormat. But she also knew that she’d hurt his feelings by lashing out, and that wasn’t how she wanted things between them to end. “No, what I said wasn’t fair. You’ve done your part. With Louella in the chariot. Getting a one in training. And, I suspect, whatever it is you’ve been up to that you’re so cagey about.” 

Avoiding Haymitch’s gaze, Maysilee dampened a handkerchief and cleaned herself up. She could tolerate blood on her hands well enough, but fish smell? Absolutely not. 

At this point in the game, she knew that she had one final card to play. Haymitch wasn’t the only one between them with a powerful secret, and she had carried hers since the ripe age of twelve. She’d been considering its use since the Games began, but had temporarily set it aside when she’d found Haymitch again. 

How probable would it be, for either of them to win against Silka? Wyatt would not have liked their odds, but then again, Wyatt was also dead. And Maysilee knew that she would soon follow, if she hesitated any further to leverage the truth. She was clever, but the fight with Silka would be too straightforward for tricks. And she was pretty sure Silka hated her extra for making so many objectively correct observations about her district’s awful color theming. Dying at the hands of a girl in snot green would be a tragedy within itself. 

No, Maysilee would not allow that. And, besides—if she did stay and somehow manage to survive a fight with the remaining tributes, it would still be down to her and Haymitch. Possibly her, Haymitch, and Wellie, but a victory for Wellie would ultimately be a victory for them both. And while the final Newcomer and Maysilee could not win the Hunger Games as a pair, there was still a small chance they could both survive.

It went like this: Maysilee knew a secret nobody else did, except for her father and her sister and the Covey folks back in District 12. This secret meant a whole lot to a person in a very high place. If she alerted this person to the secret, she was fairly certain she’d be untouchable—at least, until she gave the answers this person desired. In other words, her secret might just get her out of the arena, clearing the way for Haymitch or Wellie to win. She was pretty sure she was the first tribute in history with that privilege, and it was not one she took lightly. As she’d told her mentors and fellow tributes, she did not want to beg. 

But there were things more important than her pride. With Maysilee out of the way, one of the remaining Newcomers could make it. Haymitch wouldn’t need to worry about protecting her anymore, he wouldn’t do anything foolish like risking his life for her sake. He was the most likely Newcomer to win, fair and square, and fulfill his promise of painting their own poster. He would be entitled, by law, to a life in their home district. He’d gain a celebrity status that would make them virtually untouchable, even to President Snow himself.

For Maysilee, it would not be nearly as simple. Even if she played her cards right, there was a strong likelihood she’d still be dead by the end of the day. She could only promise herself she’d die with dignity, even if she survived the arena in shame. 

“You know,” Maysilee drawled, “if we’d started picking off the Gamemakers before we got in here, we might’ve stood a chance.” 

There was no point in talking around it now, considering what she was about to do. Might as well make Haymitch look like less of a threat to national security by comparison on her way out. 

He didn’t respond, which was smart. Instead he just started scraping slime off his pants. And soon enough, they were back to the hedges. 

Maysilee found herself tracing a spiderweb on the bush. It wasn’t the most natural way to start a conversation, but good enough. 

“Look at the craftsmanship,” she told Haymitch. “Best weavers on the planet.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Surprised to see you touching that.” 

“Oh, I love anything silk.” Maysilee rubbed the threads against her fingers, the feeling almost soothing. “Soft as silk, like my grandmother’s skin.” 

She knew what her father would think, watching her pop open the locket around her neck. Her sister, too. And Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber. And that Lenore Dove, whose loose lips had at least managed to keep one thing quiet. 

But she also knew what her grandmother would have wanted. And so she did it anyway. 

“Here she is,” Maysilee told Haymitch, allowing him to see the photograph of her grandmother. It had been taken right before she’d given Maysilee the necklace, before her first reaping. Along with it, she’d been told a story. One that they’d both hoped she would take to her grave. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

She was beautiful. Olive skin, dark hair, a spiderweb of wrinkles. She had not passed down her coloring to Maysilee, but had made up for it in confidence and flair. 

“She is,” agreed Haymitch. “She was a kind lady. Used to sneak me candies sometimes.” 

She’d often told people that she was not made of sugar. Demonstrably untrue, at least on her good days. The ones where she’d been satisfied to stay still, to follow the rules she had set for herself so many years ago. But the older she got, the more often she forgot about those rules. It had been distressing for Maysilee to watch her father fret, but she’d also appreciated the rare times her grandmother sang those old songs or wore that old dress. 

She laughed at the thought of it all, despite the sadness it carried. Another thing her grandmother had taught her to do.

“You weren’t the only one,” she told Haymitch. “She got chewed out for that.” She cupped the locket in her hands, satisfied that it had been sufficiently displayed. “No one ever loved me more. I always hoped I’d look like her one day. Never going to see myself grow old, I guess.” 

“Maybe,” said Haymitch, and he had no idea how right he was. 

Maysilee performed a resigned sigh. “Oh, no. Not after today.” She bit her lip. “She used to say, if I was afraid, ‘It’s okay, Maysilee. Nothing they can take from you was ever worth keeping.’” 

Her heart pounded against her chest. That was it. That had to be it. 

“I know that song,” Haymitch said, although Maysilee was hardly listening. “Lenore Dove sings it.” 

She forced herself to smile, to feign ignorance, as dread bloomed in her chest. What had she just done? “It’s a song?” she asked, almost teasingly. She wanted to throw up those sardines. “Well, your gal’s full of surprises. Guess she got the jump on us all.” At least Maysilee hadn’t been the first secret-keeper to sing. 

“Doing what?” Haymitch asked. 

“Doing nothing,” Maysilee responded, snapping the locket shut. There was nothing more to say. Either this would work, or it wouldn’t. Either way, she’d done what her grandmother had asked of her, to potentially save herself and hopefully Haymitch too. There was a sort of private dignity in that. 

Maysilee got to her feet, willing her legs not to shake. “Let’s visit your hedge, Mr. Abernathy.” 

XXXXX

Ten minutes later, they had reached the end of the road. More than enough time for Maysilee’s performance to reach their intended target. 

She joined Haymitch at the cliff’s edge and stared down into the canyon. “That’s all there is to the arena, Haymitch,” she said. “Let’s go back.” 

As suspected, he seemed reluctant to leave. She didn’t blame him. “No. I’m staying here.” 

Maysilee allowed a long pause. “All right,” she eventually sighed, “there’s only five of us left. May as well say goodbye now anyway. I don’t want it to come down to you and me.” 

Her words were true, for all the lies between them.

“Okay,” Haymitch said.

She began to walk towards the hedge but froze at the sound of the canon. Her head turned to find Haymitch, still alive. Good . 

Maysilee swallowed hard. “Four of us now.” 

She felt lost. Not because she was lost—no, she had decisively sealed her own fate—but because she knew she would face that fate alone. And she had no idea what she was doing. 

“You sure you want to split up?” Haymitch asked. 

Of course not , Maysilee thought. 

“The only thing I’m sure about right now is I don’t want anyone to steal our potatoes,” she said instead. “I’ll get them. Then we’ll weigh our options, all right?” 

Haymitch lifted his hands in defeat. “Well, if you’re going to drag to potatoes into it, how can I say no?” 

Maysilee wanted to say more to Haymitch, to assure him that he would be the victor and change the world for them both. She wanted to tell him that she loved him as a brother and a friend, and that she was sorry for calling him names as a child. And, most selfishly of all, she wanted to tell him that she was very afraid of the things that were about to happen, as if that was anything new.

There was no undoing what she’d done. The fewer honest words they exchanged, the better their odds would be. Wyatt, if he were still alive, surely would have agreed. 

Maysilee Donner held her head high as she passed through the hedge, leaving Haymitch to his own devices. 

XXXXX

It did not take long for them to find her. She made her way back through the hedges and a heavily armored Peacekeeper already waited. 

“They’re not watching, are they?” Maysilee asked, looking up at the sky. 

The answer was a puncture in her neck. 

XXXXX

She was alive. Maysilee Donner was alive, in a hospital bed, hooked up to more sophisticated machinery than District 12 could ever offer. She wasn’t permanently damaged by the Games, but she had been malnourished, and could tell that the nutrition from this medical arrangement had done her good. But she could also tell, unfortunately, that this entire setup was primarily intended to keep her restrained. 

The room was small and white. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d been taken from the arena. The only clue came in the form of a small TV, placed where she would have no choice but to see it. 

As if someone was watching and waiting for her to awaken (which they probably were), the TV screen came to life. And Maysilee Donner, very much alive, watched herself die. 

Maysilee felt no relief at the sight of some teenage girl with her hair and features skewered through the neck. She’d hoped for an off-camera death, made believable by Plutarch Heavensbee’s card stacking, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d considered the possibility of a body double since the moment she understood Lou Lou’s existence. Not just for her, but for every one of the tributes. With the amount of incompetence she’d witnessed in the Games’s management, it would have been an unbelievable oversight not to create such insurance for everyone else in the arena. 

Watching herself die onscreen, Maysilee wondered just how many tributes throughout the years had been like Lou Lou and Not-Maysilee, pale imitations of victims to the reaping. Children from the districts, killed twice over for good measure. 

Wll, whoever Not-Maysilee had been, she no longer was. Just another life lost, thanks to Maysilee’s continued survival. More blood on her hands. She wondered if her grandmother had anticipated this side effect to her granddaughter’s survival. She probably had, as someone who’d survived the arena herself. 

Look—there was Haymitch. Comforting Not-Maysilee, holding her hand as she died. Maysilee wondered what else happened between them, in those final moments, that the Capitol had chosen not to show. She wondered if he’d even noticed the slight differences between herself and her clone, in the midst of tears and blood and terror. She’d forgive him if he had, after sixteen years of being mistaken for Merrilee. No amount of necklaces were ever capable of separating the two, and Maysilee had worn a lot of necklaces. 

And then, with a pit in her stomach, Maysilee wondered what exactly she was about to watch next. 

Haymitch caring for Wellie. Silka killing Wellie. Haymitch fighting Silka. If Maysilee had the energy to shout, she would have during that battle. Haymitch had to destroy that bootlicking bitch, but his intestines were literally falling out and he was just running away… 

They were back at the edge of the arena, where Maysilee and Haymitch had truly said goodbye. Silka threw the axe and Maysilee knew that was it. She squeezed her eyes shut, and— 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE VICTOR OF THE 50TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES… HAYMITCH ABERNATHY!” 

Maysilee could barely react before the drugs took her out again. 

XXXXX

When she woke again, she had only an Avox for company. A speechless servant, permanently disfigured for unknown offenses against the Capitol. As she was finally disconnected from the medical appartus, Maysilee wondered if she herself was about to join their ranks. 

“How long has it been?” she asked the woman supporting her by the arm. Her expression revealed nothing as she helped her stand. 

Maysilee looked down at herself and realized that she no longer wore her black clothing from the Games. Just a white hospital gown, simple undergarments, and her necklaces. She touched them reflexively, only to realize—

“It’s missing,” she cried, ice piercing her heart. “My locket, it’s gone!” 

The Avox did not respond, nor did she seem to particularly care. Which was fair enough.

Maysilee was led towards one of the room’s white walls, from which the outline of a door emerged. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that she was finally leaving this place. Mostly, she just wanted to hide. 

Her Avox escort walked her into what appeared to be a doctor’s office, minus an actual doctor. The only thing of note was a neat pile of white clothing on the examination chair.

Maysilee looked from the chair to the Avox beside her. She wore white clothing, too. They all did. 

She would have thrown up, if it were even possible in her current state. She knew that she was shaking like a leaf. Maysilee Donner was bold, but she was still human, and becoming an Avox was a fate worse than death. 

Clearly, her grandmother had miscalculated. She would not have wanted this for Maysilee. 

She would have been better off inside the arena. 

Maysilee’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a means of suicide. There was far more dignity in ending her own life than living as a voiceless slave. Maybe the Avox would even let her get away with it. Maybe she could kill them both. 

She felt a firm hand on her arm and forced herself to meet the Avox’s eyes. She shook her head slightly and nodded towards the clothes again. 

Maysilee approached the examination chair and immediately noticed the difference in material. While the Avox wore some kind of synthetic fabric, the folded garment was made of pure silk. 

Gingerly, she pinched a corner of fabric to lift it up. A white dress unfolded before her, dangling like a flag. It was definitely the nicest piece of clothing she had ever touched, and admittedly beautiful. Before the games, she would have been delighted to wear something so fine. But after wearing all black for so many days in the arena, the idea of pure white clothing made her feel exposed. 

Which, Maysilee supposed, was probably the point. 

“What the hell…” she muttered, holding the dress up to her own body. It seemed specifically tailored to her own measurements, which the Capitol did have… 

She looked down and saw the shoes, which had been hidden beneath the pile of clothing. Also white, also fine. Flat and ribboned like dancing slippers. 

Whatever this outfit was intended to signify, Maysilee had a sneaking suspicion it was no less deranged than the Avox’s condition. But it left her with a voice, and could possibly lead to answers. And while she was still certain that she would die today, in these clothes she would at least die pretty. 

Maysilee hesitated at the thought. Was it truly dignified to die in clothing courtesy of the enemy? What kind of poster would that make? 

As if answering her question, the monitor on the medical apparatus came to life. It showed a young man in a golden cage, resembling the one that had once held Maysilee’s pet canary. No, that wasn’t a young man at all—it was a teenage boy. Haymitch, all cleaned up, wearing a sharp suit and entertaining the people of the Capitol. She was watching his public humiliation at a party thrown in his honor. 

But he was alive. Haymitch had won the Hunger Games and survived. Despite everything he had done to throw a wrench in the works, he had lived another day to throw more. Clearly the Capitol had done this out of cruelty rather than mercy, but did it even matter? He was alive . His story was not over. Like Maysilee’s grandmother had always said: It’s not over ‘til the mockingjay sings.

Maysilee had been spared, too. Whatever happened next, she decided to at least go out singing. 

She kind of wished she’d held onto that pin. 

Maysilee put on the costume and it fit like a glove. The silk felt wonderful against her skin, reminding her of the times she’d played dress-up with her grandmother’s old clothes as a young girl. Never outside of the house, though. Never in front of guests. Lenore Dove could dress however she liked, but Maysilee had an appearance to maintain. One that included neither the distinctly Covey fashion of a disappeared teenage girl, nor any difference from her twin sister whatsoever.

 She longed to see Merrilee now, and her mother and father. After the reaping, she’d only been able to tell them goodbye before she was whisked away. They would never know that she’d survived the games, if only for a few days longer than expected. They would either recieve the body of an imposter in 12 or her real body dressed in white silk. 

At least Maysilee, unlike Haymitch, had no sweetheart to mourn her. Living in the districts, a girl of her sensibilities would never be allowed the dignity of a public romance. The Capitol, and by extension the Peacekeepers, saw people in the districts as commodified animals—meant to work, breed, and die. Any sort of love divesting from those purposes would be viewed as sedition. 

Maysilee shook her head and turned to the Avox, whose own act of sedition had undoubtedly resulted in her current state. “All right,” she told her, and hoped it would be enough. 

Two Peacekeepers entered the room shortly thereafter, and Maysilee winced at the things she’d said about their siblings in arms during the Games. Hell, she’d murdered a Peacekeeper in cold blood. But these two didn’t seem angry at all—just surprised. Maysilee realized that they had most likely watched an edited version of the Games, where she had not been pictured killing or insulting Peacekeepers but had been shown tragically dying. 

She wanted to say something clever but couldn’t get herself to speak. So she just allowed the Peacekeepers to lead her into an ornately decorated hallway, so unlike the clinical prison where she’d been held. 

She was still in the Capitol, clearly. And even for the Capitol, this place was prime. She tried to find any sort of identifying objects as she passed several closed doors, paintings of people on the wall or family relics on display, but she could only conclude that this mansion had been decorated by the world’s most soulless interior designer. Even the nicest houses in 12 were not nearly so elaborate, but they still had more personality and style in one square foot than this place had in one seemingly endless hallway. 

Finally, they stopped her at a door just like the rest. Her heart pounded as they opened it for her, revealing… 

A garden? 

No, not a garden. Not a normal one, anyway. The room—because it was a room—reminded her of the arena, simulating the appearance and conditions of the outdoors while still feeling so very false. Real nature could never be controlled like this—Maysilee should know, because she typically complained about nature whenever she found herself within it. She liked flowers well enough, of course, and thought the Meadow back in 12 was pretty, but given the choice between getting a bug bite and not getting a bug bite the answer had always seemed obvious to her. 

Of course, that had been before the arena, where she’d been given no choice in the matter and the controlled environment had been built to torture and kill her. 

Maysilee took a moment to orient herself before stepping forward. There was a fake blue sky with fluffy white clouds, clean stone paving over patches of real grass, and emerald-green bushes as far as the eye could see. She wondered if there was some kind of visual effect that made the space appear endless, or if just really was. 

On the green bushes were blooms of various colors—red, pink, yellow, purple, blue. It only took her a moment to identify them as roses, thanks to their distinctive shape and the strong scent of their perfume. The latter reminded Maysilee of her own perfume, which had once filled the bottle-pendant she ended up using for poison in the Hunger Games. She’d always liked the smell of roses, and had been genuinely sad to empty the container in favor of more practical uses. 

Despite everything, the roses brought Maysilee a slight feeling of comfort. Something she very much needed, considering the person seated at the garden table nearby. 

“Shut the door, please,” President Snow told the two peacekeepers, reminding Maysilee that there was in fact a regular hallway just behind her. They did as requested and led Maysilee to the small metal table without prompting. 

She looked down at the empty chair, positioned directly across from President Snow. Sitting down meant that she would have to face him, so she kept standing and examined the strange combination of items on the table instead.

Two bowls of strawberry ice cream and a carafe of black coffee, milk on the side. Bite-sized homages to Maysilee’s various picnics from the games: cornbread with peaches, rolls with nut butter and banana, olives skewered on golden toothpicks. An artless handful of greasy sardines. A goblet of grape juice. Hot pepper cherry taffy, cream cheese cinnamon balls, and lavender suckers. A white bag that she recognized from her family’s candy shop, containing what appeared to be blood-red gumdrops. And Maysilee’s locket, arranged in the center of it all. 

It was the charcuterie board from hell—a place Maysilee only vaguely recognized from old songs, but knew for sure would be President Snow’s final destination. 

“Help yourselves to a gumdrop, gentlemen,” Snow told the Peacekeepers behind Maysilee. She watched their expressions carefully, grateful for any excuse to ignore her host. They looked… panicked, at least for a second. Almost like they were about to run.

A million thoughts ran through Maysilee’s head as the two Peacekeepers met each other’s eyes and nodded. Maysilee knew damn well by now that President Snow enjoyed sweetening his poison, but would he really kill two of his own men? They hadn’t even done anything wrong! They’d been loyal and unquestioning enough to escort a girl they believed to be dead to the President of the nation, and they hadn’t even missed a beat. 

Maybe that was what the Peacekeepers had decided, too, when they leaned down and plucked gumdrops from the bag. Maysilee dared to peek at the President, who was watching the Peacekeepers intently. It gave her a moment to study him undetected, to take in his plastic-looking face and swollen lips and hair that was so blonde that it might as well have been white. 

She knew what was coming before she heard the choking. Maysilee Donner squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the Peacekeepers behind her struggle, gurgle, and collapse. 

What felt like minutes passed in silence. 

She knew she could not close her eyes forever. 

Maysilee Donner looked down at the seated old man and met his disaffected gaze. 

“Nobody knows I’m alive?” she asked, her voice still dry from days of disuse. 

President Snow smiled pleasantly as he motioned to her seat. 

“Not anymore.”

[stfreekeddie]

Traitorous || An Emperor Geta Fanfic

《21+ || Sexual themes, violence, mentions of abuse》

His stress had somehow been at its lowest since taking courtship with the woman who caught his eye at the last gathering held by himself and his brother. Geta was absolutely taken with Sadie, every moment with her feeling like it was a gift from the gods. A personal offering to his weary soul. Each one making him yearn more and more for the day he could put a ring on her finger. To make her the Empress. The mother of his children. His wife. God, the very thought made his head spin unlike any aged wine could. He would gladly get drunk on her instead.

"Geta!" Sadie's voice carried like a songbird, a sound he always welcomed like a breeze on a particular sweltering day. The rich brown irises of his flitting to take in her approaching figure while he sat upon his throne, "Yes, my lily." The smile in his greeting was undeniable, "What is it that you need?"

Meeting his question with a smirk, her ladyship took to gently lowering herself upon his lap - now sat on the knee of her Emperor while his hand found placement on her hip then splaying over the small of her back, "I request your.. services. Privately." Her tone shifted to a conspiratorial whisper upon the last word. Privately. Geta knew all too well what that meant for him. So did the stir in his manhood, making him silently grateful that his robes and silks did well enough to disguise his crotch.

A soft chuckle and rough clearing of his throat left him, as if trying to reset his mind back from the sudden tumble it took i to vulgar territory, "My lily." He began, her hand being taken into his with a press of his lips to her knuckles, "As much as I would enjoy.." He paused, lowering to a whisper, "Ravishing you. I must attend to my duties at this time. But I assure you, later, I will be all yours." His smile holding so much promise. Both loving and suggestive.

Though a moment of disappointment washed over her, there was an empire that needed to be ran and how could she argue with such a thing? "Very well, but I do hope you realize I hold you to your promises, beloved." Sadie's words held a smirk to them, edged in bold flirtation, "I don't want the bed to be empty for too long."

God, she set every fiber of his being ablaze.

"I promise with the gods as my witness, my lily." His tone hushed between them, lips hovering hers to push the already shaky boundaries between them. This game of back and forth they played so poetically. So fluidly.

Sadie could read the subtly of his body, the shifts of his hips and the way he seemed to carefully shuffle his robes. With her lips moving to his ear, she whispered, "Are you getting hard, beloved?" Brazen was an understatement. It was enough to make his steady breathing hitch, the knowledge that she was aware of his predicament.

"It is your fault, you devilish woman." He whispered through grit teeth, his words having no real bite as he knew these exchanges well, "When I get my hands on you-"

"You'll what?" She urged, her grin nothing short of torturous.

"If I said it here, the gods may smite me for such lecherous words." Geta replied, his tone remaining hushed. His eyes, on the other hand, spoke volumes in the way they raked down her body. Hugged by silks and fine fabric, cinched in a way that was nearly sinful. But may the gods damn him if he didn't want to rid her body of their earthly materials. Bare her to his eyes like a rabbit to a starving wolf. The bob of his Adam's apple signaling his swallow in attempt to restrain himself. Something that took herculean strength. A strength he had little of to spare.

Tilting her head ever so slightly, blue eyes flickering over his face, Sadie's chuckle was breathy, "Then I shall wait until you whisper them in my ear while you brace above me.." She breathed out. Her lips feather light over his before getting to her feet. The whine he let out, just faint enough for no one else but here to hear, it was indicative of the way he craved her. Body, mind and soul.

Finally, the hours of tasks at the hands of the Emperors were done and Geta wasted no time in striding through the halls of the palace directly to his private chambers. There, he flung the grand doors open, causing Sadie's attention to snap immediately to him. The grin on his lips, smolder in his deep brown hues, he had been lingering on this very scenario from the moment she perched upon his knee.

"My precious lily~"

A growl left in the undertone of his words, baring down on her in what seemed like seconds with arms pulling her flush to his broad chest, "I believe I owe you a satisfying moment alone." He stayed hushed, alluring and dominant.

"And trust me when I say, the very heavens know my name when you tell them who your god is.."

[milkemim]

Day 7: Christmas Cards

WC: 908

Link to all chapters

---------------------

December 7th. The first week of Christmas went by in a flash. Since today was a Saturday, both Veneziano and Romano got to sleep in a little. Their beds were warm and soft, unlike the weather outside. Unlike [Name’s] bed. Or their whole house.

Slipping on their coat and shoes, shivering, they head out the door. The heating inside stopped working overnight and no matter how many layers they put on or how many warm drinks they drank, nothing eased the freezing feeling. The repairman wouldn’t be coming anytime soon either. So, they decided to pay the two brothers a visit.

Both the brothers wake up to the ring of their doorbell. Veneziano groggily gets up after a little and walks downstairs, to see Romano already at the door, yelling at [Name] for something. “[Name]! What’s going on, why are you here eso early?” He smiles and walks up to the door as well, “And come inside, don’t let the cold in!” He urges.

[Name] steps aside Romano and he closes the door behind. “Hi, Veneziano! The heaters aren’t working at my place and since you guys live near, I thought I’d spend the afternoon here, at least until it’s fixed. If that’s fine, that is.” They explain.

Romano sighs, “I guess it’s fine since you’re already here anyway.” He crosses his arms and looks down.

“Yay! Welcome to our house, [Name]! It’s been so long since I saw you!” Veneziano cheers and hugs [Name] quickly, already wide awake, partly because of the cold that found its way inside while the door was open.

“Yes, yes, thank you! I can make you guys breakfast, since I came at such an early hour. I haven’t had any yet, anyway.” [Name] says.

“I’m going back to bed. Wake me up when It’s done.” Romano walks back to his bedroom. He was still cranky from waking up so early after staying up so late.

“I’ll help you!” Veneziano happily offers and leads [Name] to the kitchen. He was always happy around them, as he was with most people. “Let’s make cornetti and valdostana! Oh, and brioche!”

Making everything on Veneziano’s from nearly scratch took roughly 2 hours. Thankfully it was the weekend, so no one was late to work. The two also made a lot more than just enough to feed three people, so they could heat some up during the following week in a rush.

After Veneziano went to wake Romano up, all three of them enjoyed a warm breakfast with coffee. It woke up Romano enough to be somewhat sociable and officially start the day. [Name] offered to do the dishes while the two brothers got dressed and ready.

The day was pretty ordinary. The three played video games in the living room for the most part. Afternoon came quickly and everyone was pretty tired of the console by now, so what would be a better idea than to make Christmas cards for their loved ones?

It was originally just a joke from Romano, but Veneziano quickly agreed to it. “I am NOT making Christmas cards!” He quickly backpedaled.

“Come on, Romano, it’ll be fun! And I’m sure Spain would love to hear from you! When was the last time you saw him?” Veneziano annoyingly latched onto his arm. “And It’s not like you actually have anything better to do!”

[Name] watched as the two argued with a small smile. “Let’s not force him, Veneziano… But it would be nice if he joined us.” They gently pulled Veneziano away from his brother.

“Fine. This better not take too long.” Romano sighs and reluctantly agreed and slid down from the couch to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table with Veneziano and [Name].

Veneziano got the arts and crafts basket out. There were assortments of stickers, colored paper, glitter glues and various supplies. Veneziano also puts Christmas music on from his phone, which Romano was not a fan of.

“Turn that off! It’s barely been a week of December!” He tries to grab Veneziano’s phone, but he holds it away from him.

“No way! It’s Christmas!”

“Not nearly!”

[Name] laughs at their antics and takes a red piece of paper and crinkle-cut scissors. “Let’s not fight! No one wants to go on Santa’s naughty list last minute, right?” They say as they start cutting a smaller part from the paper’s corner.

“Romano is already on the naughty list!” Veneziano pouts.

“Hey! Let’s just make these damn cards.”

Everyone works in silence for a moment. The only noise in the living room is the quiet Christmas music coming from Veneziano’s phone and the sound of making cards.

“I’m going to make matching cards for Germany and Japan!” Veneziano suddenly exclaims.

“Of course you are…” Romano mumbles.

“Don’t be so bitter. I’ll make a card for you too, but it needs to be made in secret!”

“Shut up.” Romano rolls his eyes.

“Who are you making a card for, [Name]?” Veneziano asks, turning to them.

“Secret~” They wink.

Unbeknownst to the three of them, they were being watched. By grandpa Rome and Germania!

“Look at my two little grandsons! Aren’t they so cute?” Rome happily smiles, hidden behind the doorway to the living room, even though they wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.

“First of all I don’t think they are little in the slightest, but yeah, yeah… Whatever you say.” Germania sighs and watches them with him.

[farolero-posting]

Spring Cleaning

Hey! Happy 7th anniversary to OneShot!

I wanted to make something special for this day, and I would say this is... a little messy, but I think it is fitting for this day. OneShot is a really cool game, and most importantly, a unique experience, and I wanted to capture a little of that.

Without further delay, enjoy!

Summary: Niko does some chores and gets distracted.

Words: 1,674

(Click below to see the full fic)

Today was seasonal cleaning day, and Niko… was getting a little exhausted by now.

The teenager picked up the folder with yellowed paper sticking out of it, located at the bottom of the messy pile in the room’s top shelf, huffing from the effort to get it out of the shelf. The folder was a bright orange color, and had a sticker of an owl on the cover, their favorite animal. The art had smooth round shapes, giving the animal a cartoony look. There was a messier version of the same drawing, made with black pencil, where some of the lines were drawn several times to ensure the graphite would stick, making small dents on the plastic.

Recognition flashed on the teen’s eyes. They had not looked at this folder for… quite some time, actually. There was a period where they had looked at its contents as many times as they could, using the contents to evoke the memories of that journey.

They opened the folder, and giggled at the first doodle that greeted them.

Why was a ram with “baa” in scary letters the one they put on top? Heheh, maybe their past self wanted to play a prank on them. The drawing had a date on it, like most others.

Exactly seven years ago, to be precise.

Niko’s eyes were wide open, and they had to resist the urge to jump out of their position, standing on their desk’s chair. They closed the folder, pressing it against their body, and crouched down at a slow but shaky pace, before sitting on the chair, with one leg pressed against their body, and the other stretched, reaching for the floor.

“I didn’t know this was all the way up there… It’s been so long!” was all they could mutter.

It felt like a lifetime ago… though, while that is true, they still have a long life ahead, don’t they? Seven years was indeed almost half of their life, but seven years is nothing compared to what they have ahead of them.

It was weird to think of it that way now.  Many things change over the years.

The first month, they had taken days to make a drawing for everything that was in their mind, scared of losing the memory. 

When they turned nine, they started telling their dreams to their mama, so they could both remember.

When they were ten they even wrote a little about their journey for a school project… trying not to mention the fact it was all based on a real story.

They were around twelve when they first felt… an empty dread, looking at these drawings. 

There was one page, at the bottom of the pile, that caught their attention. It was a drawing of the top room of the tower; it wasn’t lit up yet, however. They had gone out of their way to paint the borders in purple pencil, the page curling around the corners. 

At the time, they hadn’t known what to do. They were at the peak of the world, and yet they felt they were at the bottom, holding it all together.

And you were… well.

When they were young, you were everything. You were Niko’s one company through it all. They barely knew you, but they trusted you fully. 

The last time Niko looked at this particular drawing, a few years ago, their thoughts had been bitter. 

Maybe that’s why it had been so long since they looked at the folder.

You… They knew you were their guide, but you also made choices that felt unfair. 

Why did you present the choice? 

Why did you wait so long for that? 

What secrets did you keep from them? 

And why go through all of it, only to discover that you could undo it, later on?

Niko was grateful to be home, but… they didn’t understand you.

And you couldn’t answer them, either.

Because you’re not a god. 

And you’re not there anymore.

Back then, both you and Niko were told you had one chance on your mission. And so Niko had taken care of the lightbulb that represented the sun of this world, following your words. It was a long journey, but you listened to them, and kept them safe. However… even with their best efforts, there was no choice at the end that would save both Niko, and that decaying land.. 

So Niko placed that choice on you. If Niko had been older, maybe they would have questioned this more. They would have more ways to look at the situation, to weigh down their options, and maybe take longer to finally make a decision. Instead, in both more and less time than they expected, but certainly a wrong amount of time, you told them what path they had to take. And Niko, respecting the wishes of the world’s god, had done it.

Except you weren’t god. You were someone looking at them through a window, generating the world that had imprisoned them, but not belonging to it. When Niko was twelve, they had realized that whatever the first choice was, the impact on you would not have been as big as it was for them. 

They were angry back then… But now… 

Now they couldn’t hold it against you. They knew better… and funnily enough, they remember their youngest self knowing better, too.

Niko placed the drawing aside, and as they did that, another one slipped out of the folder. This one was a drawing of pancakes with syrup. They weren’t the hazelnut ones their mama made (and now Niko makes them for her, too!), but they remember they were delicious, with a hint of a flavor they couldn’t quite name. The teen wondered if it was a product of that world that only existed there. Now, their older self with a hobby for baking, wished they could know what it was.

They remembered going there, right before the tower. Niko had asked you if it was okay to make a stop for some food, and you had taken them to the cafe, where they had gotten those pancakes. They knew you listened to them, and not only that, that you wanted to comfort them too, in any limited way you could. 

The next drawing they got from the pile showed a view from the top of the Refuge, taken from one of the tallest buildings. Niko’s town was close to a river too, but it wasn’t as close as the ones flowing around the Refuge. It wasn’t glowing pink, either. Niko had been to a big city now too, but it wasn’t anything like the one in that world. The Refuge was a unique city, among thousands of them. 

They remember you said you lived in a city, and they could only imagine it was like the Refuge, for years. Now they recognized there were many more options for what a city or a town could look like.

The next drawings were of the friends Niko met. Though they wish their artistic skills did them more justice, they couldn’t help but look at them fondly for what they represented. What would be of those people now? Do Calamus and Alula still live in the ruins? Is the robot lady —the drawing says her name is Silver— still in the Barrens? Did the Mr. Lamplighter get to sleep more with the Sun back? They smiled, thinking of the possibilities. 

Niko stumbled upon a drawing of the computers that made up the World Machine, and took it out to hold it closer, the glow in their eyes slightly reflecting on the paper. They remember drawing the screens with a ruler, to make sure it looked as good as a blueprint (but they know now that blueprints are more complicated than that). They also drew the Author’s children and themself on that page, holding the sun. It was them who reminded Niko what all the effort not to forget was for. 

And Niko would not have known of them without your help. Because you…, though you weren’t a god, you wanted to do something to save both Niko and everyone else. You cared enough to try to be more than just a guide, but someone who believed in a second chance as well. Someone convinced they were all worth it.

The last drawing on the pile was a journal with a yellow clover on the cover, along with the amber necklace, a glowing feather, and a six sided die. Niko never met the creator of that world in person. They simply had his letters, words of others and objects to remember him by. 

They understood why their mama gave them a hat passed down by her parents. They understood why she kept all their silly drawings.

And why hazelnut pancakes would be their favorite food forever, over any other kind of pancake.

They breathed in when they felt themself run out of air, and the shivering of their body almost made them burst into tears. You were a guide, a ghost and… a friend. And all they had of you was the memories of your voice.

Niko wondered if you missed them, if you would be happy to see them today. Niko didn’t narrate their thoughts aloud anymore, their life was also more hectic and complicated. They sometimes thought their younger self was a little silly. They were far from the child you knew.

But it was good to be there. To look at those old drawings, and get that same joy out of them. To enjoy the chances that were given to them, and know that, in some distant place, you are still with them, getting your own chances. 

Niko took a blank page from a stack on their desk and a pencil from their first drawer, and put something on it that reminded them of you, placing it on the top of the ram doodle. 

They hoped it would be the first thing they saw the next time they opened the folder. 

[papaziggy-devblog]

Could we get Harper SFW Alphabet?

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Harper is super affectionate! He shows it though physical contact (if you're ok with it), acts of service, and some light teasing

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Absolute gremlin. Playfull bullying. Throwing rocks at your window at 2am to come out and join him for some questionable shinanigans. He's all about being an absolute goof and having a good time. Though if you ever need anything he'd insist you don't hesitate to come to him, he'll help out a buddy however he can (Whether by legal means or not :) )

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Harper fucking LOVES to cuddle. He'll wrap his long ol arms around you and hold you as close as he can without hurting you. Nuzzling his face into your hair with the biggest, goofiest grin… Good luck getting away from him any time soon :)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) He likes the idea of having a family some day, but he won't raise a fuss or anything if you're not for that! He's an excellent cook since its one of his main hobbies, and he likes to keep things fairly tidy… He isn't very diligent about laundry though… putting it away neatly anyway, he more often than not has a pile of unfolded clean laundry frequently being transfered between his computer chair and his bed. He does keep the dirty ones in the hamper though

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) HAHAHAH Break up? HHAHAHAHA Thats funny :)))))))))))

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Harper already ready to get down on one knee the moment he gets you to like him back… fuck he's prolly ready before even that

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) He can be very gentle if thats what you prefer! He's a big guy but he knows how to be careful. Soft tender hugs, holding your hand in his, gentle kisses to the cheek. As far as emotionally, with you he's more than happy to open up and let you know just how much he adores you, going on and on about every little thing about you that makes him smile

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) He loves hugs! He'll take em any time he can get em. Hugging you close while cuddling… Hugging you from behind while you're working on something… Man could just be looking at you for a few seconds and he's just filled with the urge to wrap his arms around you~

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) Dawg already been saying it to you while watching you sleep for like the past year LMAOOOOO

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Ahah… Ahahahah…. Ahahahahahah.. You remember that guy you told Harper about who was hitting on you last night? It looks like they're now on fucking fire… shame really ( ovo)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) His kisses can range from soft and gentle to rough and firm depending on the mood. His lips are very soft n you kno he keeps those suckers moisturized He loves to kiss your thighs and neck, also leaving little nibbles as well uvu Personally he loves to be kissed on the cheek, lips, and on his scars… Just makes him feel all tingly inside |D

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Harper is pretty ok around kids, he def tolorates them better than he does older people, especially if they match his goofy gremlin energy. He's very much one to egg them on to be mischevious and if they're all going gremlin mode you'll 100% catch him playing and messing around with them, letting them hang off his arms, giving them piggy back rides, playing video games with them, ect. He'd also be very protective of em. He def has a soft spot for kids… And if they were his own then even more so

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Harper isn't the most early of risers, he's a lil slow to wake up and usually goes through 2 whole ass pots of coffee before he's even functioning, then even more throughout the day He also takes a little bit of time to get ready in the morning just tending to his teeth alone, he has a whole routine for them that takes up half an hour. And expect to be spending at least another half hour even before that just trying to convince him to let you go so you can get out of bed

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) If its not a date night or anything then usually chilling together, watching movies, playing games, doing whatever fun little activities you guys can come up with. Though he'd love to take you out frequently for nights on the town, shopping and taking you to nice resturants and events. He wants to spoil you day and night but he also knows the importance of down time uvu

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He'll start slow, trying to get you to warm up to him. But once you're official he'll gradually open up more and more… Though there are some things he'd rather you never find out :)))

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) At you? Rarely if ever. At everyone else? They're on thin ice just being in the same room as him… and even more so the same room as you :)))

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Harper memorizes everything he can about you. Every little bit of information he can get his grubby, oversized hands on he's already commited to memory and he knows more about you than even some of your closest friends thanks to all that good ol fashioned stalking he been doing uvu

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) When you both first reached the camp and he realized now he'd be able to openly interact with you without you easily being able to get away uvu

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Mega protective, the minute Harper even thinks something or someone is a danger to you he's immediately putting that big ol body of his between you and whoever/whatever it is. And if you were ever hurt? Whoever is responsible is going to be finding their subscription to breathing being cancelled real soon

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Oh the man is going all out on special events like those if you let him… Fancy dates, taking you to your favorite places, making you the absolute BEST food if not taking you out to wherever you wanted to eat. He'd make sure every date, anniversary, special event with him is one you'll never forget0 As for chores, he doesn't mind doin em, especially things like cooking :)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) He doesn't bother with small things like matching his socks. And he has a bad habit of picking at his fingertips especially when he's nervous

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Harper likes looking cleaned up but other than that his style and vibe is pretty chill. Not like grungy or anything but also not super fancy… I guess just slightly above average attention to it?

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Very much so, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to function much past taking care of his Nonna, and when she's gone he'd pretty much just… give up

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) He makes random noises when he's bored or focusing on something, half the time he doesn't even realize he's doign it. But sometimes he'll just look at you, freeze for a few seconds, and then make some silly noise before giving you a goofy laugh

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) He hates avacados. He also doesn't like things being super messy/dirty

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) He talks in his sleep sometimes… Sometimes its just random gibberish, others you could hold full, if not very strange, convorsations with him while he's sleeping

[littlejuicebox]

Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

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Chapter number: Six Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, canon adjacent behavior, angst, feelings realization, trauma, the slighest of smuts in this one Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "Two Ghosts" - Harry Styles Notes: Don't do drugs, kids. :) I probably need to make some edits, and I will, but I wanted this up before the weekend and it's been a crazy work week. I wrote two different versions of this chapter and settled on something somewhere in between. The next chapter will prob be the one you're all waiting for.

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Astarion was ripped out of his trance by the Shar-worshipper before dawn; the rude awakening left him thoroughly perturbed. Shadowheart hadn’t allowed the vampire more than a quick breakfast of squirrel before she hauled the entire group out of camp, snapping orders every step of the way.  Gods, he couldn’t wait until Wren was reinstated as group leader and the cleric could go back to being the ranger's unofficial second in command. The pale elf was certain this temporary change in leadership would cause a mutiny, led by him, if balance weren’t reinstated soon.

The bog was quiet when they began their journey toward the goblin camp; the last few fireflies bid their farewells with a twinkle of lights dotting the horizon. The pale elf brooded, lamenting the thought that the world was still asleep, and yet here they were, trudging through the mud to save some fool that got himself locked up in a goblin camp. Survival of the fittest would never win as long as the merry band of misfits insisted on being do-gooders... and the rogue was, much to his disappointment, always outvoted.

“Frankly, Shadowheart… it seems a waste of a lockpicking kit.” Astarion mumbled through a yawn, rubbing at his scarlet eyes, cursing himself for not going to bed sooner. The excitement of last night kept him up for longer than he'd intended; part of him had desired to crash back into Wren's tent and take her then and there. The other part sat frozen in place, unsure what his next move should be. She had taken the chess game he’d been playing and flipped the board, scattering its pieces about and leaving him at a loss. Over 200 years of life hadn’t quite prepared him for this.

Did he actually like this woman? Had she accidentally become more than a pawn in his chess game? If he went back into that tent, would he still just be toying with her... and what would come of that when they got to Baldur's Gate? Was he to introduce his new girlfriend to his vampire overlord and expect that they would be one big happy family? Gods, the entire thing was ridiculous, and the rogue knew he had more pressing matters at hand, like a damned parasite and an obsessed master, for instance... but all his thoughts contained the smell of strawberries and cinnamon. 'You really are an idiot spawn.'

“We spoke to Volo when we did our reconnaissance mission, while you were off playing bucket brigade with Karlach.” Shadowheart huffed, “If we can get him out alive, there is a chance he can restore Wren’s vision. He showed us a magic eye that he’d hidden from the goblins and he says he knows how to install it in Wren. Gale examined it; it’s legitimate.”

At this delicious piece of information, Astarion practically beamed. One step closer to getting his favorite companion back in action and ceasing the militant behavior of the shar-worshipper... this was the best news he'd had since he found himself able to walk in the sun. The pale elf dramatically draped his arm around Shadowheart and smiled. “Darling, I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss you.”

“Please don’t.” The cleric grumbled, shrugging away from the vampire's touch and rolling her eyes up at the heavens. She was probably praying to Shar to smite the vampire where he stood. Or, at least to smite him after the lock on Volo's prison cell was broken. "I truly believe I would rather kiss a goblin."

Astarion sighed, pouting at the cleric. Everyone lacked humor when Wren wasn't around; it was so dreadfully boring. “If you insist, dear... but you don't know what you're missing."

The vampire picked up the pace with renewed interest in the plan. His strides became longer, and suddenly he was ahead of the rest of the group, ready to throw himself into the action. Once Wren was back in the game, they could get out of the bog and back into doing his favorite thing... drawing blood. The rogue spun his dagger between deft fingers, practically giddy as the first rays of sunlight burst into the sky. "I suppose it is quite a beautiful day for a jailbreak."

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In the mid-morning, Wren stirred from her sleep to discover a barren camp; to her disappointment, she was greeted by an overly chipper Gale and a sulking Lae'zel. The archer’s heart sank when she realized she would have to spend another day out of action and withstand being babysat by the Gith woman…. again. She had originally intended to pass time with target practice, but after a flurry of misaligned arrows the ranger quickly called it quits, too frustrated with herself to continue. It was painful to suddenly be so poor at a skill that had once been as natural to her as breathing. As she haphazardly shoved arrows back into her quiver, the half-elf inwardly chastised herself for her own stupidity and irrationality causing her to lose an eye and throw off her aim. ‘Damn the Gur and damn my own stupidity.’

“Darling, I’m home!” The vampire called as he tore through the tree line, the exclamation directed perhaps toward no one in particular, perhaps toward Wren. He was nearly skipping as he made his way to the center of camp, the rogue's jovial mood an odd juxtaposition to the dots of crimson splattered across his face. He gravitated to the half-elf woman and took a deep breath of humid bog air as he pulled a final arrow from the target and handed it to her, eyes twinkling with post-battle excitement. “Oh, how I adore the smell of spilt blood in the morning… and have I got quite the surprise for you, little bird.”

“Have WE got quite the surprise for you.” Shadowheart interjected, rolling her eyes at the vampire as Lae’zel sauntered over from her tent to undo the straps of the cleric's armor. “Don’t think I’ll let you run away with all the credit, Astarion. You merely picked the lock.”

Wren's attention turned from her quiver to the silver-haired elf as she looked him over for injury. He was in too good a mood to be that badly wounded, but she'd grown so used to having knowledge of his status during battle that the flecks of blood on his person unnerved her. The lack of control she'd experienced over the past few days was infuriating. This, paired with the piss-poor target practice, had soured the ranger's state of mind; she was in no mood for surprises or games. Instead, Wren crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t say anything when you left this morning.”

“My sweet, forgive me and my poor manners but your beloved Shar-worshipper left no time for such social graces this morning." Astarion responded with a good-natured eye roll, not fully sure why the half-elf was upset with him, but assuming it was because he'd left her tent so abruptly last night. He'd been nearly as upset with himself at the time, truth be told. The rogue used a small pout of his lips as an all-encompassing apology, hoping to smooth the beautiful little bird's ruffled feathers; he didn't particularly enjoy the feeling of not being in her favor. But, he was in far too good a mood after a successful jailbreak and a few severed goblins to really let it ruin him and shrugged off her glare. She would forgive him in mere moments, once she understood the gift they’d brought.

Karlach and Wyll now entered the camp, escorting an eccentric man who appeared so out of place in the wilds that Wren chuckled on the spot, forgetting all about her brief quarrel with the rogue. Volo made his way up to the half-elf woman and introduced himself, all pomp and circumstance. The bard made some off-color joke about the Gur having taken "an eye for an eye" literally and Astarion bristled, tongue ready to lash Volo for the offense. He was interrupted by a burst of laughter and was shocked to discover the noise had come from Wren.

'What an unpredictable, dark and twisted woman...' The vampire mused as he turned his attentions and assisted his campmates with preparations. His hands meticulously smoothed at the blanket Wyll draped over an oblong boulder. Shadowheart began piling various tools and tinctures onto the rock, slapping the vampire's hands away as he reached out to examine a particularly interesting vial.

Volo was explaining the magical eye and the installation process to Wren as the camp bustled around them. The little bird listened intently, eyebrows furrowed in a look between confusion and trepidation. She considered everything for a moment before shrugging, "Hells, not like I can be blinded twice in the same eye."

Astarion examined the boulder's set up suspiciously before turning to Wren, clapping his hands together in an impatient chop-chop. “Well, come on then, darling. Let’s give it a go.”

As the sharp tool made its way towards her eye, Wren began to panic, and grasped desperately at the bard's wrist. Shadowheart offered a calm emotions spell and the half-elf accepted, releasing Volo's arm as visions of squirrels and red eyes crinkling in laughter flooded her mind, wrapping her in a blanket of comfort.

At the little bird's spell-drunk request, Astarion scooted closer to the boulder and held her limp, drugged, hand, his gaze completely averted. Karlach settled on a boulder nearby and gave Astarion a knowing look, pointedly mouthing "your girl" before cackling at the eyeful of daggers the rogue shot her way. Everyone else hung much further back, interested in the results but unwilling to come close to the scene.

Volo’s “surgery” was quite a grotesque affair. Shadowheart, always the miracle-worker, despite her claims otherwise, did everything she could with drugs and spells to reduce the pain. Wren barely registered a dull throb as the bard scooped her necrotic eye out of its socket with a slimy pop. To everyone’s disappointment, the blue-clad man made an unsuccessful attempt to extract the wriggling parasite before he placed the magic eye in Wren’s barren socket.

“Welcome to the one-eyed club!” Wyll cheered, raising a glass of wine to the half-elf as she sat up, clutching the side of her head.

“So?! Don't leave us all in suspense, what’s the verdict?” Astarion asked, an edge to his voice that Wren couldn’t quite identify.

The ranger sat silent for a moment, turning her head to look about the camp. Her expression was vacant as she examined her surroundings, switching her focus from the faces of her friends to the edges of the camp, where small yellow marigolds dotted the tree line. She could see everything with exceptional clarity and turned to beam at the vampire that had been watching her with bated breath. "I think it was a success."

Half a week’s worth of stress melted from Astarion's face and turned him back into the playful, silver-haired rake. He practically glowed. “Wonderful news, darling! I was really hoping we wouldn’t have to slaughter another man in the middle of our camp. The clean up last time was quite awful, you know.”

The camp was alight with happiness as soon as the procedure was declared a success; Volo was thanked profusely and invited to spend the night before heading his own way. Everyone began chattering all at once about the information they'd gathered, Halsin's location within the camp, and all the ideas they had for breaking him free.

Wren declared herself fit for battle with a few perfectly placed arrows on the target that had seen only misfires earlier that same day. Hours rushed by as the group busied itself with preparations, all focused on getting closer to finding a way to rid themselves of the parasite. Astarion left to hunt as the sun began to kiss the horizon goodnight, but Wren noticed, with some sort of childlike embarrassment, that he'd returned to sit by her and read in relative silence as she ate her dinner and prepared a few more arrows for her quiver.

-----

After everyone called it an early evening, Wren lay awake in her tent, walking the tightrope between wakefulness and sleep. Her mind began to wander, and soon it drifted to the lustful events from the night prior. The sound of Astarion’s gasp when she’d touched his ear had ignited a fire inside her, the feeling of his lips on hers stoking the flames. The grip he’d had on her forearm caused her still sore layers of bone and muscle to radiate stabs of pain down her nerves and quelled the passion between them almost instantly. Before Wren could assure the vampire she'd been okay, the moment fizzled out and he was gone, leaving her a hot mess that she’d had to handle herself. The ranger silently cursed her bruises and the missed opportunity as she drifted to sleep, the embers of that fire still glowing within her psyche.

The familiar croaking of frogs and chirping of cicadas welcomed the half-elf as she rustled out of her bedroll a mere hour later, drenched in sweat. Had she experienced a nightmare or a memory? She couldn’t be sure. Much of the time after she'd married Kol was covered in a fuzzy film; the memories were a blur the woman couldn't ever pull from the fog. The flashes from her sleep, all violent jolts of lightening and screaming, left a pit in her stomach and a sudden, urgent need to escape the confines of her tent. The pre-battle jitters were surely getting to the ranger... she just needed to relax.

The little bird dug through her pack and pulled out both a pipe and small sachet of fragrant herbs she’d snatched from the Druid Grove. Seconds later she was stoking the final embers of the campfire, coaxing it back into a small flame. The stillness of camp and the hushed snores of her companions provided an odd sort of comfort; just a few puffs and she would head right back to bed.

Wren packed the pipe with the herbal mix, whispering a small thanks to Halsin and a promise to break him out of the goblin camp as a thank you. She lit the contents of the bowl and lifted the stem of the pipe to her lips, dragging a long, deep inhale of smoke into her lungs. Hazy rings of gray floated through the air as she exhaled and looked up towards the star-speckled sky.

“Couldn't sleep?"

His voice startled her; she’d nearly dropped the pipe. Wren was always remarkably quiet in her approach, but Astarion had her beat... he was silent. Deadly. She spun to look at the vampire; one eye that familiar shade of honey and one eye a shocking blue-green. His eyebrow arched, amusement playing at the edges of his mouth as he sauntered over to her. "I didn’t peg you as a smoker, little bird.”

Another drag off the pipe and the ranger shrugged as the comforting rush of warmth floated through her, the intoxicants flooding her system. “I’m entitled to a little fun before I march into a deathmatch, aren’t I? Blame Halsin and Nettie for leaving it out… or thank them, I suppose.”

Wren proffered the pipe to the rogue with a small wiggle. He took it from his female companion and inhaled as he sat down next to her, gaze focused on the night sky. The silence between them spread, warm and comfortable, a direct parallel to the sensation spreading throughout their psyches as the druidic herbs worked their magic. The half-elf turned to the vampire, head cocked as she analyzed his profile. She eyed, with some small measure of adoration, the straight bridge of his nose that turned into a perfect point, the soft curls that weaved around pointed ears, and the nasolabial folds that framed his near-perfect lips.

“Like what you see, darling?” The rogue taunted, a cocky smirk playing across his lips as he took another drag from the pipe and turned to meet her eyes with a lifted brow. He passed the pipe into waiting hands, locked into the spell of her gaze as she analyzed him through half-drooped lids, pupils blown wide.

“What color were your eyes before they changed?” Wren responded, her voice soft, almost sleepy.

“I… well, I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Astarion murmured, brows knitted together as he searched his memories; he hadn't thought about it in 200 years, and no one else had ever asked such a question. His heart dropped. The pale-elf shook his head and scoffed in frustration; his lips pulled back in a sneer. “I don’t know what my face looks like at all. I haven't seen my reflection since I was turned."

The ranger stared at him, part of her admiring, part of her pitying, but all of her fully doped. In truth, Astarion’s face looked like it had been carved out of marble by the gods. But the little bird knew from all his stories that the people he’d lured to Cazador had always seen the vampire as attractive. That had been his entire identity for over 200 years and his greatest weapon.

Wren knew she could tell her companion that he was beautiful... it was the objective truth. But her gut made her think that wasn’t the answer he truly wanted to hear. It was too one-dimensional, predictable, and easy; he would never ask, but he wanted something else. All pretense melted away as the glow of the medicinals lit her up inside and her freckled hand reached out to run a thin pointer finger down the bridge of Astarion's nose. The vampire snapped his head to look at her, face tensed, lip still slightly sneered, almost offended, mouth open to chastise her before she interrupted him, one finger covering his lips.

“You have a very straight nose bridge,” she murmured, before moving her finger to cross his upper lip. “Your top lip is just slightly larger than your bottom lip, and they both seem to be perpetually stuck in a smirk.”

Astarion relaxed, still confused but no longer offended, as her finger grazed along his face, tracing the contours of a visage he could no longer see. She continued to trace along his face, examining him intently. He tilted his chin up slightly, suddenly quite flattered by the amount of attention she bestowed upon him and, unbeknownst to himself, yearning for her touch. Wren brushed her hand along the elf's eyebrows and then over his eyes, causing his lids to flutter as she grazed against white eyelashes.

“Your hair is a beautiful silver-gray, like moonlight. Your eyes are a shade of deep crimson... like the wine you adore so much. And they are rather round when you aren’t busy glaring at or judging someone; they can be quite soft and portray all manner of emotions. I think they may be my favorite part of your face.” She murmured, pausing for just a moment before continuing, almost coy. “Save, perhaps…” She dragged her hand through his curls and then daintily pulled her finger up the helix of his ear, tracing the pointed pinna with the gentlest of touches. "Save perhaps this part right here."

She’d stolen Astarion's breath away with ease as her finger grazed against his ear. The pale elf felt that familiar flush of desire rise up again, spurred on by the fresh blood from his evening hunt. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, letting Wren trace circles along his ear. Their sensitivity had been enhanced by the powerful herbs running through his system and he basked in the thrilling sensation her touch sent through him.

“Darling, I’m not quite sure you know what that does to me.” He murmured, his voice just above a whisper but laced with excitement. His eyes snapped open when he heard Wren’s response, her lips skimming his ear, hot breath tickling him on the exhale.

“Oh, I do.” She whispered just before enveloping his ear in her mouth and shocking a gasp from the rogue, so similar to the one he'd uttered last night that it set her body aflame. “And I’m not as fragile as you think I am, either.”

At that tempting invitation, Astarion turned and crashed his lips into hers once more, desperate to drown in the familiar taste. Strawberries and smoke rings flooded his senses. Wren eagerly responded to his advances, her lips parting to welcome his tongue as he delved into her mouth, fraught with the desire to explore its depths. His hand found her hip, where he grasped as the kiss deepened, unleashing the tides of their mutual arousal.

Astarion broke away from the half-elf's lips and trailed kisses down her neck, just behind her ear, extracting a low, satisfied purr from the ranger. His hand walked the distance from her hip up to her chest before cupping the underside of her breast with long, pale fingers. The thin material of her chemise aided the rogue in finding the centrally located nub on her pert breasts. He teased Wren's nipple between thin, dexterous fingers and pulled a keening sound from her lips, the sound so deliciously tempting that his entire mind fixed itself on forcing that noise from her once more.

"Little bird..." The pale elf whispered, voice all gravel and lust as he continued his ministrations and the gentle kisses he placed along her neck, teeth just grazing his favorite spot where her pulse fluttered with excitement. "I could devour you right here and now, but perhaps we should make our way to your tent."

Wren pulled the rogue into another kiss before grabbing his hand and practically running to her tent, both of them half-stumbling in their intoxicated state. What further surprises did the two of them have in store for one another? The night was still young, and had much to tell.

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - 7th Year

Rated: 18+

Warnings:  cursing, being overworked, exiling yourself from your friends. 

Author’s Note: it has come to my attention while re-playing the game that I’ve been spelling Garreth wrong, in my defense autocorrect also thinks its “Gareth” so I feel like I should have a pass.

Little Bird Masterlist

I took my sweet time getting ready that morning, brushing my hair and teeth meticulously before putting on my robes and leaving for breakfast. I’d hoped that by dragging my feet the dining hall would be mostly empty and I could just swipe a few things before going to class. 

Of course - I was not that lucky, Sebastian was standing outside of the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

When he sees me talk out the door he stands up straight, moving his bag filled with his school supplies to his other shoulder. “I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”

“Running late.” I mumble, not completely over the fight we’d had the evening before. 

Sebastian easily keeps up with me as we walk down the stairs, “I needed to apologize.” He says and I blush, “I was the one who set the Undercroft on fire.” I sigh, embarrassed by my outburst. 

“I deserved it. I had been pushing you too hard and I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, grabbing my arm so we stop walking down the stairs and he can turn to face me. “I’m sorry, Bird.” He says and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I hate when we fight.”

Fighting seems to be the only thing I’m good at lately. 

I want to give in, just squeeze him around the middle as tightly as I can and say it’s all water under the bridge, but his face last night, the pure fear in his features was burned into my brain. I’d never forget it. 

“Sebastian.” I sigh and pull back. “I just. I’m running late, okay?”

“No.”

“What?” 

“I said no, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay until I’ve made up with my best friend.” God he’s so fucking stubborn. 

“We’ve made up, Seb. We’re fine. I just really am running late today.” I lie. “I told Professor Weasley I would meet her before lessons started today and I’m afraid won’t make it in time.” 

“O-Oh.” He says, not really able to argue with that, even though I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it. I don’t often lie to him, and it’s making me feel a little sick.

“Maybe we can have lunch? Or do a dinner with the little beasties, yeah? Ominis hasn’t been bothered by the Nifflers in some time. I think we could go for a laugh.” He suggests, pulling at threads.

“Yeah.” I give a half hearted smile. “Maybe we’ll do dinner.” With that as my farewell I turn and start taking the stairs as quickly as I can without breaking out into a full run, and head to a floo flame. 

To make myself into less of a liar I do go toward Professor Weasley’s classroom. Ever since Fig had died my fifth year, she’d become my confidant. She’d been a tremendous help my sixth year when I was stressed out about school, about trying to rebuild my friendships after everything. 

I slip into her classroom and move to the back, knocking on the door. No one was waiting in the room so I assume she didn’t have a class this period. 

She calls for me to come in and I crack open the door, walking into her pristine office. She was always so put together in my eyes, well for someone who was practically running the school without the title of headmaster. “Good Morning, Professor.” I smile lightly at her and she gestures to the little sitting area sitting by a window. “How nice to see you, how has your term been so far?”

I felt the immediate urge to lie, to tell her that everything was alright, that my year was going beautifully. I didn’t want her to think I was failing, but at this point I wasn’t sure what much of an option I had. 

As soon as I opened my mouth the floodgates broke. I told her about me struggling in lessons, about not being able to contain my magic, or stop myself from fighting with my friends. My the end I had fully lost control of my emotions and I was just sobbing into the sleeve of my robes. 

“Oh deary.” She sighs and comes around to sit on the same couch as me, putting her hand around my shoulders and rubbing my arm comfortably. “And on top of all of it.” I sob. “I’ve got bloody boy problems.”

She lets out a laugh that breaks me from my train of thought. “I know it seems silly, given the rest of it, but really these boys are driving me mad.” I giggle a little, wiping the tears off my face, taking deep breaths to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they never get better.” Professor Weasley smiles. “I didn’t think so.” I sigh. 

“Does one of these mad boys happen to be my nephew?” 

I blush, answering her question for her. “I can tell him to leave you alone if you wish.” She smiles kindly and I shake my head. “No! No- I think he’s actually quite... charming.” God was this awkward to talk about with his aunt. “But-”

“The Sallow boy?” She asks and my mouth drops open, I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “How did you know that?!”

“As much as we try to act above it all the teachers do talk. We all thought you were...” She trails off and I shrug. “He doesn’t like me like that, and... he knows about my magic how I don’t always... act normally. It scares the Jesus out of him.” I sigh, “I can’t blame him.”

“I doubt that.” She sighs. I shake my head and stand up, looking at the time piece on her desk. I was already 5 minutes late for Charms. 

I wipe my face once more. “Thank you... for speaking with me.” I sigh, I don’t know fi I felt any better, but it was nice to get off my chest. 

The Professor waves her hand and a quill floats up, writing a note on a piece of parchment. “I don’t know how much I can help in the boy department, but let me know if you need help with any lessons, I’m always here. And I’m going to start looking for someone who might be able to help you with that ancient magic.” The note floats over to me and I grab it out of the air, just a pass for being late to class. 

I nod, thanking her once more before heading off to Charms. 

When I get to my class I slip the paper on the Professor’s desk and slip into my seat next to Ominis, Sebastian on his other side. I open my books and Sebastian leans over our friend. “You’ve been crying.”

I ignore him, now was neither the time nor place for this. “Bird talk to me.” He begs, leaning closer to Ominis. “Bird ple-”

“Sebastian I am trying to pay attention to this lesson can you PLEASE stop pretending I don’t exist.” Ominis groans, maybe a touch too loudly. 

“Sallow, Gaunt. Am I boring you?” The Professor asks, the entire class turning to look at us three. I try to hide my red, puffy face from the prying eyes. 

“No, sir.” The two answer at the same time. 

“Five points from Slytherin, more if you continue to ignore my lesson.” He scoffs and turns back to instructing the class. 

Thankfully, Sebastian drops it.

_________

taglist: @stuffyownswrld​ @findingtruenorth23 @flowered-bicycles @lumiiiiiiiiii

[wandringaesthetic]

Regarding Fantasian (Neo Dimension), the first game I beat in 2025

For anyone who doesn't already know, this is a JRPG notable mostly for two things:

1) Using high res photographs of physical dioramas to depict its locations, similar to the way prerendered backgrounds were used in the PlayStation 1 era

2) During development and up until a few weeks ago, this was going to be the last game Hironobu Sakaguchi (creator of Final Fantasy) directed before retiring. (He has since said "humans are greedy creatures, aren't they?" and is planning on doing yet one more.) As this was also going to be the last game for his studio Mistwalker, it was presumably also composer Nobuo Uematsu's last full game soundtrack.

The game was originally released in two parts in April and August 2021 .... Exclusively on Apple Arcade. Bizarre decision. I can only assume Apple bankrolled a large part of it.

I have played more JRPGs than I really want to talk about. I could be described as having a Final Fantasy problem. When Lost Odyssey came out I bought an Xbox 360 in order to play it. I am the core demographic for this game. Even a game so made for me, just for me, was not worth switching computer or phone operating systems for or buying an AppleTV for. No single game would be.

I imagine a lot of people felt the same way, because Fantasian released without much fanfare. I vaguely remember thinking "oh is that out now?" and seeking out reviews for it, which painted the game as mediocre. My decision not to chase it was correct, it seemed, but I still hoped it would eventually be available to me via a port. Or piracy.

I finally got my wish late last year, when it was ported to other platforms. (By none other than Square Enix, allegedly at the urging of my personal friend Naoki Yoshida, whom I have a chat with in Final Fantasy XIV every year. I could write a ton of commentary on this alleged conversation by itself but I'm trying to talk about the actual game)

For the first several hours Fantasian was charming, but there wasn't much else positive I had to say about it. The characters were endearing, as were those diorama backdrops, but there wasn't a lot to recommend about it terms of either story or gameplay. The battles had some potentially interesting positional mechanics that weren't used to much effect. Beyond that it was pretty bog standard. It was making me sad, actually. This was Sakaguchi and Uematsu's last game and I wanted it to be more. I wanted to love it. Instead, it made me meditate on when linearity is annoying and when it's not. I felt like the game kept interrupting me while I was trying to explore it. I decided that it's okay to be on a closed course, even a pretty small circuit, but the player should be the one in the driver's seat.

I stuck with it in part because my child seemed entranced by it, mostly by the flashbacks, which are presented via short stories accompanied by music and a few illustrations. This will seem familiar to anyone who has played Lost Odyssey. It's a low budget but maybe ingenious way to depict the fuzziness of a memory.

And then....

You fight what would have been the final boss of part 1 of the Apple release, the first really difficult boss of the game, and then... something happens. Several somethings. Suddenly, you get a skill tree, the boss fights become more difficult and strategic, with the positional mechanics and elemental weaknesses finally becoming important. You get limit breaks, with accompanying cool animations. Your party gets separated, and the plot of the second half chiefly concerns getting the gang back together. You have free reign of the world map. Each area has recommended levels, but you can tackle them in whatever order you'd like. Much of it is optional, though highly recommended if you want to actually beat the game. The central plot of worlds being caught between the conflict of gods gains some interesting philosophical observations and the game's quirky sense of humor takes center.

What I'm saying is, about thirty hours into the game, it goes from being okay I guess to being kind of sublime. It takes the structure of the latter half of Final Fantasy VI, the strategic turn based battles of Final Fantasy X, and the humor and adventure vibes of Final Fantasy IX, throws in a few of its own beautiful pieces and makes a lovely collage with them. For a while it is frustratingly good. Frustrating because it's tailor made for people who have played dozens of games in this genre but was released on a platform that almost none of them were going to play it on. Even if they did play it, the first installment was so mid that they might not have bothered to show up for the second. If new and casual players did by chance pick up the first installment of the game and enjoy it they might be turned off by the second half because it's so much more challenging and non linear. The normal mode on Neo Dimension is already pretty difficult and from what I understand the Hard Mode of Neo Dimension was the sole difficulty setting on the Apple release. What were they thinking? Who was it for??

Also, look at the cover:

It's so generic! If you had vaguely remembered something about the game with the beautiful dioramas would you think that this was it? you barely see that under what looks like pretty generic anime designs.

(they're imo a little more distinct in game, where they have a slight doll-like quality)

The lustre doesn't quite last til the end. The difficulty continues to increase, and because enemies of a lower level than your characters give very little experience and because by the last few areas of the game the only monsters with higher levels than your characters will be optional superbosses, level grinding either involves facing those optional superbosses or taking waaaaay too long grinding. (I did a mix.) This means a lot of the sidequests and optional content for unlocking abilities and weapons is not really optional.

Still, my experience with the middle of the game was positive enough that I would recommend it highly despite the lackluster beginning and the tedious end. It sucks that I've seen so few people talking about it. But gosh, it's not like I can't understand why. It's so uneven.