#next prompt: owl

[candydos]

Thanks to Them

1080p HD: https://mega.nz/file/mhcmALRD#Jrv_ZupulD7_4e_rqU_fkaP46b3vH4BFbILvTvET5O0

(if that doesn’t work, try https://drive.google.com/file/d/1kRMQsB3X4GgaxPQpAJpYr7r_8eszPY4_/view?usp=sharing)

[owl127]

I second the alpha x alpha clexa fic! Your idea with nerdy Lexa and femme Clarke sounds great!

read on Ao3

(Next)

Like the tide, regret came in waves. First, the music. Whoever dared to call themselves the DJ of the party simply selected some random playlist and abandoned it to fester on the loudspeakers. Second, Anya had vanished the moment they stepped into the house, mumbling something about a girl, which meant Lexa would be coming home alone that night. And finally, just like being swallowed by a tide, Lexa regretted coming to this party when she choked on the cheap concoction of punch fruit mix and low shelf vodka. 

Regret, regret, regret. Coming to this party had been a mistake. She escaped to the backyard of the house hoping to find freedom from mediocre music and people. Ignoring a huddle of stoners that offered her a joint—no thank you; she had soccer practice early the next morning—she made her way to the back gate. Freedom was close. Suddenly too close, when the wooden gate opened from the outside straight at her face and Lexa fell backwards, ungracefully.

“Holy shit!” She heard someone call from above her. Lexa would love to yell at her perpetrator as soon as she could open her eyes, but then something warm filled her mouth.

“Fuck, you killed her, Clarke.”

“I didn’t kill her!” The voice was closer, and someone helped her sit up. Lexa opened her eyes, saw blue, and closed them again. She blinked hard, unfocused. “Here, put this under your nose,” the same voice instructed, gentle, and Lexa felt pressure under her nose. 

“Is she okay?”

“Hi. Can you hear us?” Lexa finally regained full consciousness and stared at maybe the one reason she would stay at a horrible party. 

“Hi,” Lexa mumbled from under the cloth on her nose. Everything hurt. Her nose, her cheek, her face. It was like the day she had hit her face against the goal post back in high school, but this time she didn’t score.

“What’s your name?” Her rescuing muse asked, her warm hand holding whatever was keeping Lexa’s nose from bleeding. 

“Lexa.” Lexa felt for all her teeth with her tongue. No gaps. That was good. “What happened?”

“She tried to kill you,” someone said from above them, and the muse flipped them off.

“It was an accident. O, get some of the beer ice for me?”

Lexa took a deep breath and tried to free her face from whatever was on it. 

“Let’s keep it there for a little more, okay? Until the bleeding stops. It doesn’t look bad, though. You’ll live.”

“Good.” Lexa tasted copper on her tongue. “I like to live.”

The laugher that erupted from her savior was melodic and low, like a touch of salt in a sweet cupcake. Lexa liked it. 

“Here.” The cloth, which Lexa noticed was a hoodie, was replaced by ice in a ziplock bag, and the coolness immediately soothed Lexa’s senses. “Hold that to your nose. Let’s take a look at it somewhere quieter.” Lexa accepted the hand and stood up, noticing the couple of inches she had on the girl. They walked back to the house, and her saving angel greeted the stoners with high fives, never letting Lexa’s hand go. 

“Benji’s locked downstairs, and there’s a bathroom there,” the girl said, as if any of those words made sense, guiding Lexa through the party crowd. Lexa focused on not tripping and holding the ice to her face; she failed at both. They made it to a door behind the stairs and, once it clicked shut, a merciful extra layer was between them and the loud music. 

Lexa plopped on the couch, hissing, and tried to touch her nose. 

“Wait, let me see.” Without distractions, Lexa could only look at the girl next to her. Her pink glitter eyeshadow was smudged, but her lips were still pristine cherry red. Delicate fingers touched Lexa with such care that she closed her eyes again. “Not broken. Just a bump,” she declared.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve done that once or twice. I’m Clarke, by the way. Sorry about the whole gate-at-your-face thing. We were out getting beer because the vodka bomb Bellamy made is disgusting.” 

“It is disgusting. I’m Lexa.”

“You told me.” The girl said easily, a satisfied grin on her face when her hands left Lexa’s numb cheek. “I asked you before to make sure you were not unconscious.”

“I’m conscious.”

“That you are.” Lexa tried and failed to not look at the exposed cleavage every time Clarke laughed. Maybe being hit in the face had its advantages, like meeting the cutest omega at the party. 

“Is this your party?” Lexa asked, twitching her nose to test it out. It burned, but less so, and Lexa wasn’t sure if that was because of the effect of the ice or the girl. 

“Gods, no!” Clarke laughed again and Lexa had become addicted to it. “Bellamy is my friend O’s brother, and this is his party. We tried to offer ideas, but he wanted to do it all himself. That’s why it sucks.”

“It kinda sucks.”

Clarke looked at something behind Lexa, her smile blossoming into something warm and inviting. “Oh, hey, Benji.” Lexa turned her head to see a black cat with two big white spots staring at them from atop the dryer. He purred when Clarke motioned for him to come and made his way to her lap. He ignored Lexa completely, jumping above her shoulder to land on Clarke’s jeans. “Such a good boy.” She petted him a couple of times, and he spread himself on her lap in a cute offering. “He hides here whenever there’s new people in the house.”

Lexa risked a touch to the cat’s fur, and if he didn’t like strangers, he was too absorbed in Clarke’s caress to notice. She couldn’t blame him. Her fingers grazed Clarke’s, and no one pulled away. Benji purred in cat heaven-bliss, his legs up in the air at the attention.

“He’s the cutest thing ever,” Clarke whispered, leaning down to kiss the cat’s head. Lexa’s mind, so unprepared for the boost in cleavage view and a hot girl leaning down on her lap, swallowed the aftertaste of blood and repeated,

“The Cutest thing ever.” Clarke looked up, the glitter on her eyeshadow quivering with a single raised eyebrow. That was a challenge Lexa took head on, so she completed, “and the cat is not too bad.”

Clarke laughed, quiet and rich, and tucked a stray blonde lock behind her ear. “You’re not concussed, are you?”

Lexa frowned, her hand touching Clarke’s palm above the endless purring. “I hope not. But maybe I am a little to have the guts to flirt with you.”

Clarke’s smile was wide and beautiful, a small dimple on her cheek sparkling with makeup. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. That’s on me for judging a book by the cover.” Her finger played with her hair again and Lexa saw a blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck. She wanted to kiss the pink taking over pale skin, sink her teeth and leave marks on mapped freckles. Was that a concussion or a crush?

Between them, the monochrome cat was satisfied with the attention and jumped on the ground, leaving their hands with no excuse on why they were still touching. Lexa knew it was her role to take action; she would lean in and kiss those beautiful lips, get all smudged in red lipstick, finally find out how soft that little spot under her jaw would feel and—

Clarke kissed her while Lexa planned her move. It was gentle, mindful of Lexa’s nose, and yet Clarke’s tongue was slow but purposeful, an insistent explorer of everything Lexa wanted to give. Lexa opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, swallowing the moan that escaped Clarke’s lips. She welcomed the hand on her hips, allowing herself to be pulled closer, until that wasn’t enough, and she bit under Clarke’s jaw, whispering, “Do you want to sit on my lap?”

The grin that spread on Clarke’s face was predatory. All teeth and dimples, ready to pounce. So she was that type of omega, okay. Lexa could roll with that. Clarke’s hands were gentle when she cradled the back of Lexa’s head, pulling it to reveal Lexa’s pulsing point on her neck. 

“You good? Your nose okay?” Clarke asked, breath heavy against Lexa’s lips, and Lexa would endure another gate to her face just to kiss this woman again. She nodded and gasped when Clarke sat fully on her lap. She was warm, warmer than her hands, all hot touches of tongue and hands. Clarke’s knees hit the back of the couch, her breasts on display as she moved her hair aside and leaned in for another kiss. They parted for air, breaths mingling, and Clarke rolled her hips and Lexa couldn’t suppress a moan.

“That wasn’t because of your nose, was it?” Clarke’s eyes spoke of want, but her words were laced with concern. Lexa smiled and kissed her, tongues meeting halfway. 

“No,” she reassured the woman on her lap, hooking her fingers on Clarke’s belt. “That was something else.”

Clarke rolled her hips again, and Lexa bit her lip not to gasp. “I wonder what?” Clarke teased, grinding her hips farther. Lexa had not predicted a handjob tonight, but sure, she also had not predicted being knocked out, but there she was. 

“Fuck,” Clarke hissed above her, and Lexa continued her diligent work on her ear. She sucked the earrings there, licked the reddening skin, then went for another kiss. She ignored the protest her nose made when Clarke pushed back, hunger in her gasps. “You kiss like you mean it,” Clarke confessed mid-kiss, her hands toying with Lexa’s button-up shirt. “Can I open this?” Lexa nodded and continued to kiss Clarke’s neck as her buttons fell open, one haphazardly after the other. Clarke’s hands toyed with the underside of her sports bra, painted nails pulling at the elastic. Lexa made a questioning noise in the back of her throat that Clarke interpreted correctly, her own blouse hitting the floor. Black lace and peaked nipples welcomed Lexa.

“You’re gorgeous,” Lexa whispered, her mouth closing on a nipple, and Clarke was the one making embarrassing sounds. Lexa hummed at the scrape of nails on her nape, pulling her head impossibly closer, and she obliged, the pain a minor distraction in her mind so overpowered by boobs. Lexa helped Clarke to start a rhythm, her hands on her backside pulling her back and forth, the heat between them growing. There was a particular grind where Clarke’s jeans met Lexa’s hardening member just right, and her hips moved to meet hers in sync. “Fuck, you’re making me hard,” Lexa confessed into blonde hair, her tongue licking under Clarke’s chin. Clarke hummed with the praise, her hips never stopping.

“Me too, babe.” She breathed hot on Lexa’s ear, leaving lipstick marks all over Lexa’s skin. 

Lexa didn’t process what Clarke said. Too preoccupied with damp lace under her tongue to fully comprehend what Clarke had said. Until she wasn’t. “Wait, what?”

Clarke didn’t stop their grinding, sucking a deep mark on Lexa’s neck. “What did you say?” Lexa repeated the question, moving one hand to Clarke’s lower back. Hazed, with pupils eating at the blue of her eyes, Clarke blinked, tilting her head to the side. 

“What?” Clarke asked, now confusion between her knitted eyebrows. “Is your nose okay?”

“I’m fine, but… are you—” Lexa didn’t have to form the question. All she had to do was look beyond the boobs—a herculean task with an almost half-naked Clarke on her lap—to see the bulge in her own pants. And the other one in Clarke’s. The sweet, sweet grinding had been — “You’re an alpha,” Lexa wheezed, eyes wide.

Unphased, Clarke tucked a stray braid back behind Lexa’s ear. “Yeah?”

“I… I did not know that.”

Clarke chuckled, the new bruise on her neck shining a light pink. “That’s the problem of assuming things about people, isn’t it?”

“But.” Lexa’s eyes fixed on her own erection and the matching one in Clarke’s pants. Clarke had a penis. A legitimate dick. Hard. Which had been grinding against Lexa’s own. “But I’ve never been with an alpha,” Lexa said, and finally looked up to find a tight smile. 

“If you’re going to be a jerk about it,” Clarke warned, “you better fucking leave now.”

“No, no, no, it’s not like that. It’s that I’ve never…” She bit her lip and watched as Clarke looked her up and down.

“It’s the first time you desire an alpha.” Clarke rolled her hips in emphasis. “The first time you get hard for one.”

Lexa couldn’t do anything but nod. This was… weird. No, different. Unprecedented. Not unpleasant; quite the contrary. Clarke was a cloud of perfume and painted nails and still looked damn heck proud of her status. Lexa admired that. She wanted that.

“I understand if you want to stop.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek. “But I’d really like to touch you. You look like you’d moan my name as you come.” There was that embarrassing noise in Lexa’s throat again. “Or,” Clarke continued atop her throne, running a single finger down Lexa’s chin. “You can go home and jerk off thinking about fucking me. So what do you say?” 

Anya would make so much fun of her if she knew. Or would she? Would anyone even care?

“Yes.” Lexa lifted her head to find Clarke’s lips, but she pulled back, a warm, so warm hand on Lexa’s chest. 

“Yes to what, Lexa? I need to hear you say it.”

Swallowing on nothing, Lexa focused on kiss-swollen lips. “I want you to touch me.” Lexa didn’t hear her own voice, not with blood rushing everywhere at once. Her ears popped, her heart throbbed desperately in her ribcage and pleasantly between her legs. Clarke’s lips were rough on hers, her always-warm hands strong when she lowered Lexa’s zipper. Had she always been so intense and only now Lexa associated this with being an alpha? Or being an alpha had nothing to do with it; was that just Clarke?

“Do you usually do this with other alphas?” Lexa said through gritted teeth, her hands digging into Clarke’s jeans. Clarke closed her fist around her and Lexa moaned, leaning her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s temple, lingering there for a moment. Lexa twitched in Clarke’s hand. “Lexa.” She coaxed Lexa out of hiding. With her free hand, she held Lexa’s chin, and the corners of her eyes lowered at whatever she saw in Lexa’s face. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting another alpha, Lexa.” Her dominant hand around Lexa moved, a slow up and down, almost a lazy stroke. Clarke did everything with precision, a hidden, meaningful grace. “It doesn’t make you less of an alpha, or a woman.” Following the cadence of Lexa’s gasps, Clarke sped up, spreading the dripping need along Lexa’s shaft. “Or me. I’m no less of an alpha for doing this.” Clarke looked down, and Lexa would never forget how fascinated she looked. 

“Come here.” Lexa leaned for a kiss and helped Clarke sit next to her instead. “Can you touch yourself while you touch me?” 

Clarke nodded enthusiastically at the proposal, her first graceless move the way she spread her legs and wiggled until the tight jeans were below her hips. Lexa loved that she had thin, lacy briefs that did nothing to hide her arousal. Lexa’s fingers clawed at Clarke’s thighs, and she hoped to leave marks, a visceral need taking over to have any kind of claim on her. 

If Clarke wasn’t an expert on this, no one else would be. She moved both hands in sync, watching for clues on Lexa’s face and bucking her hips at each stroke. Lexa mimicked her movements, their hips jumping in tandem, fingers digging into pale skin. Lexa tilted her head to bite Clarke’s shoulder.

Tongue on Clarke’s bruised skin, Lexa asked, “Can I?”

“What?” Clarke’s half-lidded eyes widened as Lexa’s right hand moved in her direction. Clarke was apparently left-handed, and Lexa was right-handed, a perfect combination as Lexa, for the first time in her life, held someone else’s hard, leaking cock.

“Fuck,” Lexa whined as Clarke sped up at her first touch. Clarke was thick, thicker than her, but Lexa did what usually worked for her, wrist twisting close to the knot and light at the head. Clarke moaned, tightening her grip on Lexa. Pre-come poured freely from Lexa’s head, coating Clarke’s hands, making the gliding smoother.

“Harder,” Clarke asked in a gasp, and Lexa struggled to keep her rhythm, liquid beading over Clarke’s broad head. “Yeah, babe, like that.”

Lexa bit her lip at the term of endearment. Part of her wanted to giggle at having another grown alpha calling her babe, but whatever was left of her functional brain melted at Clarke’s voice.

“I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.”

An image flashed in Lexa’s closed eyelids as vividly as a memory: Clarke, all soft curves and hard cock, on all fours, head buried in a pillow as Lexa fucked and fucked into her. “That’s it, babe, come for me.”

Lexa grunted, her hips missing the increasing pace. Fuck, she was going to come already. She could feel it building in her belly. She opened her eyes to see Clarke kicking off her pants and straddling her again. Clarke shifted closer, her proud erection an angry red, and Lexa salivated. “This is alright?” Lexa nodded, and moaned as Clarke’s hand closed around her again, but this time Clarke’s cock was touching hers, teasing the sensitive underside. It transfigured Lexa; her cock was longer, but Clarke topped in girth, and the knot forming at her base was impressive. They glided together, Clarke using her hand to stimulate them. 

“God,” Clarke moaned on top of Lexa, her breasts bouncing, her hips thrusting forward, and Lexa wondered if she would look like that while riding her.

“Clarke, Clarke, I’m going to—”

“Make a mess, babe.” There was an unmistakable alpha tone to Clarke’s voice, and it was that what pushed Lexa into sweet oblivion. She came with a long moan that died on Clarke’s neck, thrusting into Clarke’s hand with hard thrusts of her hips. She felt the splash of warm come on her belly, and then Clarke was joining her, a long, high-pitched moan leaving her lips as she continued to stroke them and scratch Lexa’s nape at the same time.

Indeed, they made a mess.

It took a long time for Lexa to open her eyes, her abs twitching in aftershocks, when Clarke finally released her. Her nose ached, but she kept it pressured against Clarke’s neck, enjoying the scent that became stronger there.

“You good?” Clarke asked, guiding Lexa to look up at her. Lexa smiled at the smudged lipstick. 

“Yeah.”

“You really look concussed now.”

“Worth it.”

Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek, lingering there. “Is it okay if I asked for your number? In case you don’t regret this alpha experience.”

“I don’t regret it,” Lexa said, nuzzling into Clarke’s neck. “I kind of want to do it again.”

“Hmm…” Clarke’s fingers grazed Lexa’s chin, lifting it for a short, sweet kiss. “There are other things we could do, too. Just saying.”

Lexa blinked slowly, the mental images taking life. Between them, her cock twitched, curious. Clarke kissed her, albeit softly. “But you really look like you need a break. Can I drive you home?”

Lexa realized that saying no to Clarke was extremely difficult.

And she was okay with that.

(Next)

[battymommastuff]

The Fire-Eater

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

*cough*

"Jesus Christ, you'd think they would dust up here once in a while." Jason rasps as he waves his hand in the air to clear the cloud of dust. Dick just rolled his eyes and lifted another box out of the way, causing another cloud of dust to poof into the air, "Where is this damn blanket anyway?" He asked, ripping open an old box to look for the blanket in question. Why? You, their adopted mother, is currently carrying their youngest sibling. The first, and only pregnancy of yours. Seeing that you aren't as young as you used to be, the pregnancy is a high risk. As per doctor's orders, you were to remain on bed rest now that you were close to your due date.

Before that, you'd been working on the nursery. Everything was perfect, but you were missing one thing. Bruce's baby blanket. A blanket you'd only ever seen in pictures, but knew that you wanted it for your future child. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be possible. All of your children were far too old for the blanket when they were adopted. Now you had your baby on the way, and you wanted that blanket. To prevent you from climbing up there yourself, your two oldest sons decided to.

"Some of the boxes are older than me." Dick joked as he held up a box of old photo albums. The date on the box was ten years before he was born. He set the box down, and kept shifting through the boxes. They were looking for a box with Bruce's birth year on it. All of his baby items were stored there. He moved another box then frowned when he saw one tucked in a far corner. It was opened, and he saw a black outfit lined with red sequins, an outfit he swore he's seen before...a circus outfit. What caught his eye next was a rolled up poster, "Hey, Jason." He called out while picking up the poster. Dick unrolled it slowly, then felt his heart sink to his stomach.

A poster for Haly's Circus. The Circus he was apart of before his biological parents died. He still remembered that day as if it just happened. On the poster was a woman eating fire. Her outfit, a black leotard with red sequins lining it. (H/C) hair, and (S/C) skin. Unless Bruce had a certain type, there was no way it couldn't be you. How? How was this possible? He remembered meeting you that night. You were dressed as if you just walked out of business meeting, and you were with Bruce. The date on the poster dated years before you ever met Bruce.

Dick set the poster down right as Jason approached him, still grumbling about all of the dust. He picked up a small book next. Opening it, he found pictures. Old pictures of you, and other members of the circus. You and Haly...you and his parents. You knew his parents? One picture was of you, his dad, his mom, and him as a newborn. You knew who he was before you ever met him? How come he never knew this? Why did you leave the circus? How did you end up marrying Bruce Wayne of all people?

"Holy shit, Mom never told us this." Jason said while holding up the torches and an old bottle of alcohol. What they saw in the bottom of the box made both of their spines tingle. A mask...a Court of the Owls mask. Dick knew the story, and he knew his lineage. He knew his potential fate, had he never been adopted. Why did you have a mask? All of these questions in his head, and he knew the one person who could answer them.

He shoved all the items back into the box, and stormed out of the attic with it. Dick wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He carried the box through the manor with Jason on his heels, while holding back his tears. He felt lied to? Betrayed? He didn't know, but he needed to know. He felt like you were an entirely new person now. Dick opened the door to your bedroom. You were watching as Stephanie painted your toenails, and Damian was lecturing you on your health.

"Oh! Did you-..." You cut off when you saw the box he was carrying. It'd been years, and you forgot about that box. Honestly, you thought you threw it out, "Dick..." Your oldest son walked over and slammed the box on the bed, causing your two other sons and Stephanie to glare at him.

"Start talking, Mom...right now."

[amiableness]

Love Letters

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n starts receiving love letters, and James doesn't handle it well, leading to him writing his own.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, kissing, that’s all I think

A/N 💌 Hope you all enjoy this! Would love to know what you think!

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Surprise washes over you as the envelope lands before you, swishing flaps of the owls' wings beginning to fade away.

"Oh." You murmur, your features forming into a puzzled expression as you peer down at the unfamiliar, striking red envelope. Like clockwork, a letter from your parents arrives every Monday, snug in its customary ivory envelope. Yet, today being Wednesday, the arrival of a letter is unexpected.

"It is Wednesday, isn't it?" Remus inquires from next to you, his expression reflecting your own confusion. Having been friends with the boys for years, they had grown accustomed to your letter every Monday—a tradition you always looked forward to.

"It is," You confirm, lifting the letter and turning it over, searching for any indication of its sender. There's nothing—just a blank exterior. "This isn't from my parents." You say softly, your tone laced with confusion and curiosity.

As you tear into the envelope, the rustle catches the attention of Sirius, his curiosity piqued.

"It's not Monday." Sirius remarks, his brow furrowed, prompting you to glance up at him. His words seem to have drawn the interest of both James and Peter, their gazes shifting towards you with a hint of confusion etched on their faces.

"It's not. But this isn't from my parents." You reply, pulling the letter out and enfolding it.

"Could it be a love letter?" Sirius quips, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He was teasing you more than anything, not really expecting it to be one.

Remus casts a quick glance in your direction, skimming over the letter's contents before barking out an amused laugh. The signature at the end gives him his answer.

"I think it is, mate." He grins, and you give him a playful glare. You had glimpsed the signature at the end, yet a nervous flutter danced within you as you hesitated to delve into the contents of the letter itself.

"What?" James interjects, his tone suddenly brimming with vulnerability. If he wasn't intrigued before, he certainly is now.

You're engrossed in your own thoughts, too preoccupied to discern the subtle panic in his voice. But the boys all glance towards James, aware of his feelings for you, but the unmistakable devastation across his face is evidence that he didn't write the letter. He's too absorbed in watching you examine the letter to notice the intensity of their stare.

"What does it say?" Peter leans forward curiously, dragging his gaze away from James. Remus and Sirius turn to watch you, eager to hear your response.

Breakfast seems to be forgotten between the five of you, everyone much too curious about the letter's contents.

When you don't respond promptly, Sirius calls out, "Read it." You shoot him a glance, silently urging him to be patient.

"I can't," You sigh, pushing the letters towards Remus and giving him a hopeful look. "Will you read it, Rem?"

Remus accepts the letter from you with a gentle smile, his fingers adjusting the paper's position before he begins to read it aloud. Your nerves flutter with anticipation as you await the contents of the letter, but the reassuring timbre of Remus' voice washes over you, helping to soothe how jittery you feel.

James straightens up, anticipation evident in his posture as he eagerly awaits the contents of the letter addressed to you.

Y/n,

I don't have the courage to tell you in person, though I wish I did. But I think you're incredibly beautiful, not just in appearance but in how you carry yourself and the kindness you exude. From the very moment I first saw you, I found myself unable to look away. There's something about you that's simply mesmerizing, captivating me in a way I never expected. And so, despite my nerves, I felt compelled to let you know.

Perhaps one day, when the timing is right, I'll find the courage to share these thoughts with you in person. Until then, please know I admire you deeply, even if I remain a mystery as of right now.

Forever Yours

Remus gently returns the letter to you, and you accept it, your eyes skimming over the unfamiliar handwriting. There's a fleeting trace of disappointment that washes through you. You had hoped to recognize the handwriting instantly, to attribute it to someone familiar.

To be honest, you had secretly hoped to find James Potter's messy handwriting etched into the paper.

Your crush on James had blossomed back in fifth year, and despite your best efforts, it seemed impossible to shake. Not that you truly wanted to let go of it. However, you were well aware of the necessity to do so. James had a string of admirers lining up for his attention, and he seemed to revel in the attention, enjoying his time flirting and charming those around him.

You were undeniably his best friend, a title you cherished, yet a significant part of you yearned for something more. Realistically, you understood that distancing yourself might be the key to getting over him. However, every attempt to create some distance seemed futile, as James inexplicably sought you out even more whenever you tried to pull away.

Your best strategy seemed to be simply completing your seventh year and allowing your feelings to gradually fade with the natural distance that would inevitably emerge between the two of you.

"Forever yours? Merlin, Y/n. You've got yourself an admirer!" Sirius calls out enthusiastically, while you chewed your bottom lip in thought. You were flattered, but it unnerved you a little to not know who was behind the letter.

Was it someone you knew yet weren't particularly close to? Perhaps it was an acquaintance you had exchanged words with in passing. Or, what if it was someone entirely unfamiliar to you, someone you had never spoken to before? The uncertainty gnawed at your thoughts, leaving you pondering the possibilities.

James felt as though a vice had tightened around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. His stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and jealousy, his heart heavy with the realization that someone else had feelings for you.

Panic surged within him, fueled by the nagging thought that this situation wouldn't be unfolding if he had mustered the courage to make a move on you years ago. Maybe, just maybe, you would've been his if he had taken that chance. The warmth that spread across his cheeks betrayed the intensity of his longing, a daydream of you being his that played out in his mind with unwavering persistence.

It wasn't as though he hadn't made attempts. He had tried to flirt with you, albeit subtly, but it seemed you either weren't interested or didn't quite grasp the signals he was sending your way.

Last year, the boys and you had planned to take a leisurely stroll around the grounds, a much-needed respite from the relentless torrent of homework. Remus, Sirius, and Peter conveniently vanished, each claiming urgent tasks they had just recalled, leaving you and James to explore the castle grounds on an unusually warm spring day. James knew their sudden disappearance was orchestrated, a subtle maneuver to encourage closeness between you. However, he didn't mind in the least; he was grateful for the opportunity to spend time alone with you.

His plan had been to flirt with you, gauging your reaction before subtly suggesting a date. However, to his surprise, you simply said thank you and seamlessly continued with your previous conversation, throwing his carefully laid plans into disarray. Despite this, there was no awkwardness between you; you were best friends. But James had never complimented you like this before, openly expressing how pretty you looked, how kind you were, and how much he admired you. If his compliments caught you off guard, you certainly didn't let it show.

James couldn't shake the lingering sense of uncertainty as the walk drew to a close. You had deftly sidestepped all his compliments, scarcely acknowledging his attempts at flirting. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that perhaps he stood no chance with you. Yet, his feelings remained steadfast, refusing to be extinguished. If he were truly honest with himself, he would admit that he had fallen irrevocably in love with you long ago.

"I'll catch up with you guys later." You called out, gathering your belongings and turning to leave. James watched you go, suddenly realizing that he had tuned out the rest of the conversation, too lost in his thoughts about you.

"Hey, mate, you alright?" Remus inquires, observing James sitting quietly, his gaze fixed in the direction you departed. When James takes a moment to respond, Sirius nudges him gently.

"Everything okay?" Sirius asks again, his eyes fixed on James as he sighs and finally turns back to the table.

James sighs, "I feel like I've lost her, and she isn't even mine."

"Hardly, mate. It was just one love letter." Sirius says, finding James a tad dramatic.

"But that's more than I've ever done for her. Fuck, I should've made a move ages ago." James rests his head in his hands, effectively blocking the light from his eyes.

"Then why don't you make a move?" Peter suggests, his tone tinged with a hint of exasperation. He finds the situation utterly ridiculous. It's crystal clear to him just how much you like James, and vice versa.

"Make a move?" James echoes, his expression incredulous as he gazes up at Peter, clearly bewildered by the suggestion.

"I don't get it. You flirt with every girl, but when it comes to Y/n, you freeze up at the mere thought of confessing your feelings for her." Peter points out, reaching for another piece of toast.

"I don't know what to do." James admits, his voice tinged with defeat and uncertainty.

"Try something romantic." Peter sighs, buttering his toast and casting an exasperated glance at James.

"He can barely talk to her about his feelings; how's he going to manage that?" Sirius interjects, earning a glare from James.

"Write her a love letter," Remus suggests, and all eyes turn to him. "She might receive another one tomorrow. Show her she has someone else who's interested."

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

It took James several days of inner turmoil before he finally decided to write his own letter. Enduring the heartfelt declarations of affection from another towards you had been an arduous task, leaving him consumed by jealousy and resentment. By the fifth day of listening to such sentiments, James knew he couldn't bear it any longer. It was then that he made the decision to pour his own feelings onto paper, hoping to write you a love letter that urged you to forget the others.

As the owls swoop in, James feels a wave of nausea wash over him. He had followed Remus' advice, and at this moment, he's strongly regretting it. He observes your reaction intently as two letters drop down in front of you this morning. You seem a little startled, picking up the red envelope and then the pink one. You flip both around, scanning for any words written across them. However, like yesterday, they remain blank.

"What a popular girl you are, love." Sirius grins, and you send him a mock, unamused look.

"Rem." You call, sending Remus a soft smile as you hold out the red envelope to him. James feels a pang of jealousy at the fact you didn't pick up his letter first.

Remus takes the envelope from you, breaking the seal before sliding out the letter and beginning to read it aloud.

Y/n,

I can hardly express the nerves that consume me as I watch you open my letters. I understand that knowing the sender would give it more meaning, and I hope that one day, I'll have the courage to reveal my identity to you without fear of disappointing you.

For now, I find solace in our shared classes. Your smile and laughter illuminate even the dreariest of days for me. Your beauty, both inside and out, is something I greatly admire.

Forever Yours

As you finish reading the letter, a thoughtful hum escapes your lips, catching the attention of all the boys. There's a distinct expression on your face, one that suggests you're unsure of how to react. Your lips are pursed, and you're staring down at your plate, lost in deep thought.

"You don't like it?" Peter inquires, and you shrug, uncertain of how to respond.

"I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. I mean, I don't know who it's from, but they seem to really like me," You mull over, your thoughts wandering. "Honestly, I think I'd prefer if someone just came out and admitted it was them."

Feeling confident the previous night, James had boldly hinted that the letter was from one of the Marauders. However, in the bright morning light, he finds himself plagued by regret over that decision. James suddenly feels the urge to snatch the pink envelope from your hands and shield it from your view, refusing to let you read its contents. However, he knows that would reveal his identity. On the other hand, when you eventually read his letter, the words may very well give him away.

But perhaps that's not such a bad thing. After all, you did mention that you would prefer someone to come forward and admit if it was them.

"Okay, Rem. Second letter?" You hold out the pink envelope, and James swallows nervously. His entire body feels tense with fear, especially when Remus locks eyes with him before opening the letter and preparing to read.

"Saved the best for last, did you?" Sirius teases, earning a subtle nudge from James. You simply look up at Sirius and shrug, muttering, "We'll see."

But as your eyes briefly meet James', there's a subtle shift in the air. In that fleeting moment of connection, you seem to detect something in the depths of his gaze. It's as if unspoken words hang between you, a silent understanding passing between the both of you.

Without a word spoken, your hand moves almost instinctively towards Remus, reaching out to grasp his wrist where the letter rests in his hand. It's a subtle gesture, but one that speaks volumes.

"Actually, I think I want to read this one by myself."

Remus looks a little puzzled, casting a glance from you to James, before eventually handing over the letter. You offer him a gentle thank you before lowering your gaze to the messy handwriting sprawled across the page. 

The boys observe you with bated breath, knowing exactly who this one is from. They all watch you with curious expressions on their faces. James, however, feels a knot forming in his stomach, convinced he's on the verge of feeling sick. Yet, amidst his unease, there's a faint sense of relief knowing that the boys won't overhear what he's written. The thought of their endless teasing is enough to make him shudder.

To my Y/n,

I am wholeheartedly convinced that I fell in love with you the second I saw you. When Remus introduced you to us, I couldn't breathe. It was as if everything in the world had stopped, leaving only you in focus. But then, as if by some miracle, you turned to me with a shy smile and uttered your name, and in that moment, I knew I was done for.

I've spent countless nights thinking of you, wondering if you felt even the slightest bit of what I feel for you. And as pathetic as it may seem, I've imagined what it would be like if we were together. How I'd spoil you with chocolate frogs, hold your hand through the hallways as we walk to class, and wrap my robes around you every time you complain of being cold. I want you to know that you're the only girl in the world to me.

But I can't show you that. And believe me, Y/n, I've tried to move on.

Yet, there is no one else who could even begin to compare to you. Not once has anyone come close. While I have flirted with other people, my mind always drifts back to you. No matter how hard I try to resist, it's what I think about when I'm talking to someone else. It's you that I measure every other person against. And they never compare.

No one ever will.

Throughout the years, you have become one of my closest friends. And while I wouldn't have it any other way, there is a part of me that is selfish, yearning for more with you.

I would do anything to ensure your happiness. Say the word, and I'll do anything for you.

Always Yours

You rise from your seat abruptly, a glimmer of tears in your eyes as you clench the letter tightly in your hand. James stands up, too, a mixture of fear and anticipation in his eyes. "Y/n, I—" He begins, but you're already walking away, and he's left to watch you go, his heart pounding with a tumult of emotions. He knows you've realized he wrote the letter; it was unmistakable from his reaction. The boys, wide-eyed and silent, watch the scene unfold, the weight of the moment palpable in the air.

"Fuck, fuck." He mumbles to himself, his mind racing with regret and anxiety. He moves to leave, determined to follow after you and attempt to repair the friendship he undoubtedly just shattered. However, as he turns, he notices you don't walk out of the Great Hall. Instead, you navigate around the Gryffindor table, heading in his direction. You don't stop until you're standing directly in front of James.

He watches you with wide eyes, his heart aching at the tears that line your lash line, knowing they are because of him. Only the boys and a couple of other Gryffindors are witnessing the intense exchange between the two of you; the rest of the Great Hall remains oblivious to the tension that hangs heavy in the air.

"Are you daft?"

"Y/n, I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

You don't let him finish. Instead, you push up onto your toes, lacing your fingers through James' hair at the nape of his neck, and pull him down to you in a searing kiss. James lets out a surprised moan, but swiftly reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. Kissing James ignites a fire under your skin and leaves your legs feeling like jelly. Grateful for his sturdy embrace, you lean into him, your trust in his strength a comforting anchor as the world spins around you. Never have you felt like this when being kissed, it was intoxicating.

The sudden eruption of whistles and hollers around you signals that everyone has witnessed the intimate moment between the two of you.

"Mister Potter! Miss L/N!” Professor McGonagall's appalled shock causes you to reluctantly pull away from James. While the consequences of your actions should concern you, the way James looks at you washes away any worries.

"C'mon! Let them have their moment!" Sirius calls out, his voice filled with playful defiance. You can't help but giggle, still pressed against James, feeling a surge of warmth and affection between the two of you.

"I've loved you for years." You mumur, a grin spreading across your face, your heart brimming with warmth and affection.

"Thank Merlin, because I'm madly in love with you." He whispers, his sincerity so palpable that it threatens to overwhelm you.

He could rest assured, knowing that you wouldn't be receiving any more love notes from anyone else but him.

[grimoirguestbook]

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

No

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

[monstersflashlight]

Hello ! How are you ?

I have a little request here. I'm curious if you have any ideas or prompts about an owl, harpy bf monster with their human s/o ? The harpy bf is a cute nerdy guy and the human s/o is whatever you can imagine.

Have a nice day !

Hi there! Sorry I didn't answer this sooner, I loooooove harpies. I had to look up what an owl harpy is but daaaang that's cute as fuck! Hope this little txt is worth the wait! <3

Owl-harpy boyfriend who stalks your hope from a near tree. He saw you passing by one day and was mesmerized by your beauty. He keeps looking at you as you sleep and thinks how good it would be to be closer to you. He ends up buying the house next door, too shy to say anything until one day the fence between your houses collapses. He introduces himself then, promising he will fix it.

By the time the fence is fixed and your backyards don't meet, you want to push it down again just to see him working on it over and over. He looks magnificient with his wings, talons and cute little beak. You are mesmerized by his form and beauty, and maybe you spend more time than not sleeping at night just so you can see him a bit more each day. Your sleep schedule completely fucked up because you have a big BIG crush on the owl-harpy next door.

After the fence incident, you start flirting with him, bringing your best puns, but it's not working. After a couple weeks flirting with him and him being completely obvious about it, you break down and ask him on a date. He stutters and says yes, making you coo at him as he blushes in the most amazing shade of soft brown. You aren't sure what he eats, but he offers to prepare dinner at his place. The moment you step into his house and see the big comfy nest in the middle of the living room, you want to kiss him senseless. So you do. At first is a bit weird with his beak and all, but you make do. You make out messily on the nest and against the wall and against the kitchen counter... You are thirsty and hungry for each other and it's the best feeling in the world.

When you are intimate for the first time, you are surpised to see his cockpocket. He's shy about it, but when you tease it with your fingers and his cock comes out all sticky and warm... you are sold. The fact that you aren't the only one wet when you get to it is as arousing as nothing else was before. You love how wet he gets, how desperate when you play with his slit and stop his cock from coming out compltely, playing with his tip still inside of him. It drives him insane, it makes him beg and squirm and his wings get all fluttery behind his body. And when he finally fucks you, he's so wet that it goes in without any problems, so nice and slow and dirty... You love all of it. Having sex with an harpy is the best experience of your life.

It's not until months later when he confesses that he bought the house just to be near you, you think it's weird as fuck, but what else isn't about him? He's so quirky and weird and you fucking love every part of it. Of him. And when he confesses that he's in love with you, you go down on him for so long that he screams so loud because of oversensitivity that your neighbor two houses down calls the police.

[kisses4kaia]

god college!luke makes my emotions go haywire 😡😩 i’d honestly start dating someone else to spite him

you know what anon. ima need you to claim an emoji bc ur thoughts are TOO GOOD (also thank u sm for 1.5k💋)

so we’ve discussed previously that luke castellan does not get jealous easily.

however.

he never thought you would go this far. sure, you had danced on other guys at parties to get a rise out of him, maybe flirted here and there in front of him, but never this.

getting into a relationship—a serious relationship—with his frat brother? that was a new low. so what if he’d purposefully lead other girls into gross bathrooms at bar outings so you would see? this was uncalled for. how dare you?

so naturally, at your new boyfriend’s birthday party, when you’re sitting on his lap, helping him unwrap your present of a jean-paul gaultier cologne he’d wanted, luke—in classic luke fashion—thought this would be his chance. your sorority sister, drunk off of her wits—bless her heart—came up to you and whispered some slurred imperative about how you needed to get to ‘the square’.

your eyebrows furrowed at her as her eyebrows raised, questioning the significance of ‘the square’ and why the man who prompted her to ask chose there. you said no words, excusing yourself after finding her a water and alka seltzer.

“you really couldn’t help yourself, huh?” are the first words you say to luke, button up shirt open and lying on his back on the false grass. “me? you’re one to talk, sweetheart,” you rolled your eyes at his use of the nickname, crossing your arms as you stand over him.

beneath the twilight, your exposed shoulder skin glistened like the moon, just a sliver of it visible in the northern night sky. luke had obviously had something to drink or smoke, or both, because he slurred his words as he patted the turf next to him. “sit down. c’mon, like the good ol’ days,”

‘the square’ was a small patch of land in the middle area between his frat’s and your sorority’s backyards. it was insignificant to most everybody else, but you and luke had claimed it as yours on drizzly nights like these, when the owl called and adolescence snored. it didn’t even hold sexual reminiscences, for each night you spent on the square was spent just talking. he would gloat about some things he did over the summer, interrogate you on your sex life, laugh at your offense and crack bad jokes. he was the worst person to spend valuable time with, but you returned every night, nonetheless.

“i’m surprised, castellan. been here a full sixty seconds and you haven’t tried to fuck me,” you remained standing over his lax body, crossing your arms over your chest. “do you want me to try to fuck you? because i’m down,” he looks up at you with that smile of his. that toothy, million dollar, smile that reassures whomever it is on the receiving end that everything is okay and there’s not a thing to worry about.

you snort, giving in and sitting down. luke pulls you into his lap before your butt can even hit the cool grass, eliciting a yelp from you. his lips press against your shoulder, strong, warm arms wrap around your waist and you can’t help but melt into the body beneath you. “luke,” your voice is meant to be a warning, supposed to remind him and yourself that you belong to another and this was not right, but he did nothing except for hold you tighter and smile against your skin.

“he doesn’t make you feel like i do.” he spoke the words out of your mind, the voice of truth you swallowed down with a knowing conscience that it would rise to the surface eventually. this wasn’t what you wanted. your single goal wasn’t to make luke jealous, it wasn’t even to show him what he was missing. you just wanted it to be different. you wanted somebody to take you seriously enough to call you theirs.

but anybody who did wasn’t him.

“luke,” this time, you weren’t trying to ward off anything. this time, you were welcoming him and all his invasive, rude, luke-like, traits and the pain you knew would come with letting him in once more. “i know, baby, i know.” he said no further words before flipping the pair of you over and letting your back onto the ground. you focused on none else other than the feeling of his lips finally landing on yours, the trace of his fingers across your denim skirt’s hem. “can i?” luke’s fingers dipped past the fabric, drawing swirls on your skin. “mhm, yeah,” your smile is audible and spreads to luke’s lips.

if there was one thing luke always did, it was worship you. this time was no different. his lips were everywhere, and when they weren’t pecking kisses all over you, he was breathing praises like you were a mortal saint against your skin. and when he entered you, he fucked you like he couldn’t believe he got the chance to feel you again. but he knew what the outcome of this would be; of course he did.

you didn’t know him as a particularly selfish lover, but the way he chased his high, rutting his hips against yours to the point of overwhelmed stuttering suggested that to be true.

and when it was all said and done and the past hung in the air like a wonder of the world, luke stood and looked down at you like you previously did him.

“break up with him.”

“why?”

“you know why.”

there was no denying that, so you did none else than nod.

“yeah. i do.”

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Stages of Grief

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

Prompt 5 of @thatdammchickennugget ‘s Hogmarch challenge🫶🏽

Summary: They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

word count: 6.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Denial

“Oh you’re kidding,” you groan as you finally spot your name on the list of assigned pairings for your next potions assignment.

You loved potions; in fact it was one of your favorite classes at Hogwarts, despite its demanding course work. You ironically found its rigid, methodical nature to be quite relaxing as moving step by step through the different recipes seemed to practically be second nature. It was a rhythmic dance that you followed religiously, finding thrill in the ever changing contents of your cauldron.

What you did not love however, or who you did not love to be more precise, was Lorenzo Berkshire. Flirtatious, carefree, and devilishly handsome, you were fairly certain that that boy could chat up a corpse. Or he could if he or his friends ever bothered showing up to class. It’s not that you disliked the boy per se, but to allow him onto your sacred ground? Into your sanctuary? You’d rather not.

Yet, there his name was, scrawled neatly next to yours on the board. It was like the universe had it out for you. Or your professor more likely.

“Tell me I read it wrong,” you complain turning to Daphne who was sat beside you.

The two of you had made an unlikely pairing in second year herbology and been inseparable ever since.

The girl just rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh come on, he’s really not as bad as you make him out be,” she sighs, scribbling notes from the board onto her parchment.

“Maybe not to you, but you’ve known him your whole life,” you grumble.

Personally, you’d always found the boy to be a bit of a prick. He was a pretty boy and he knew it, giving him a rather inflated ego you thought.

“Yeah, so don’t you think I might know him a bit better and perhaps be a better judge of character?” She asks.

“Maybe the professor will let me work alone.”

“Oh honestly, y/n. Look, at least he’s in class today. You’ll be fine, promise. And if he annoys you, even a little, I’ll owl his mother,” Daphne replies, not even bothering to look up from her notes. She was used to your dramatics by now.

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down,” your professor calls out, moving to stand at the front of the room before you can complain any further. “This next assignment will take course over the span of the next month or so, as you will be expected to collect some of your ingredients outside of class. So. Who can tell me a little bit about what this next potion that we’re brewing is?”

Your hand shoots into the air as soon as the question leaves your professor’s lips.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It doesn’t really create love though, but rather infatuation which makes it one of the most dangerous potions in the world,” you recite.

“Yes, yes! Very good, y/n! Five points!”

“Really if it’s so dangerous, I don’t see why they’re teaching a bunch of sixth years how to brew it,” Daphne mumbles to you under her breath.

You let out a snicker. She had a point.

You turn back to the front of the classroom, tuning back into the lesson as your professor begins scratching away on the chalkboard once more.

“The ingredients that you’ll need to gather are as follows. Two ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, and rose petals. You’ll have the next two weeks to gather your ingredients with your partners, so I suggest you begin,” your professor announces.

You feel your shoulders wilt at the thought of purposely seeking out Lorenzo, but you can already feel his eyes on you from across the room.

“Do you think if I ignore him long enough he’ll get the idea and just go away?” You whisper to your friend.

Daphne just rolls her eyes at you once more, shaking her head.

“Go,” she sighs, giving you a light shove in his direction before moving to join Theodore Nott at a different station.

With one last sigh of despair, you make your way over to the station where Enzo sits waiting for you, silently mourning your potions grade. And your mental and emotional stability.

“Mornin’ love,” he greets giving you a bright lopsided grin as you approach.

“Hi,” you respond dryly with a tight lipped smile.

“So, what’s our game plan going to be, darlin? I reckon we’ll want to get the hardest ingredients to come by first yeah?” He pushes on, ignoring your clear disinterest.

You nod your head in response.

“The peppermint, rose petals and thorns will be easy. We can get all of those in the greenhouse. The pearl dust- I assume we’ll need fresh pearls, we can probably get from the Black Lake.”

“Great. I think I have a moonstone in my ingredient collection. We can crush it down for the powdered moonstone,” Enzo offers.

You raise your brows at this. Moonstone wasn’t necessarily rare by any means, but you weren’t really expecting Enzo to offer up ingredients from his personal collection.

“That would work. We can also find them in the dark forest,” you reply.

“Nah, save us the hassle. Pretty girl like you doesn’t have any business in that musty old forest anyway,” he responds with a charming grin.

Ignoring his comment, you continue on to the last item on the list.

“I’m really not sure where we’re going to find those eggs. I don’t think we can find ashwinders on the school grounds, and they’re quite risky to breed.”

Enzo stares at you blankly.

“Remind me what an ashwinder is again love?” He says sheepishly.

“Magic serpent. Born from the embers of magic flames that are left to burn. You’re a Slytherin, shouldn’t you know all about snakes and such?”

“Yeah, let me recite to you the alphabetical list of all known magical serpent species that us Slytherins actually use as the password to our common room.”

You purse your lips at the boy’s obvious sarcasm.

“Fair enough. Still don’t know how we’ll get the eggs though.”

“I can see if we have any in our stores at the manor. Probably our best bet if we don’t want to risk burning down the school.” Enzo replies.

“Are you sure? We’re already using your moonstone,” you say, beginning to feel a bit bad about raiding the boy for supplies.

“It’s the least I can do really. I’m useless at potions, so least I can do is provide you with the ingredients that we need,” he says honestly with a light laugh.

“Well alright. Shall we meet up on Friday then to collect the pearls?” You ask, scribbling down your plans in your notebook.

“Sounds good, six o’clock? By the dock?”

You nod in agreement.

“Well alright then. See you then, love.” And with a grin and a cheeky wink thrown your way, Enzo is off.

At least he was pulling his weight in gathering ingredients you supposed.

Anger

“Y/n! Are you headed down to the docs?” Daphne asks slightly out of breath as she runs up to you from across the court yard.

“Yeah. Enzo tell you?”

Daphne nods her head in response as you two begin to make the short trek down to the lake.

“Hope you don’t mind if Theo and I join you?”

“Course not. Probably better that I’m not alone with Enzo by the lake anyway. Wouldn’t want him to try and drown me.” You say lightly, only slightly joking.

“Oh piss off. He’s a nice bloke once you get to know him.” Daphne laughs.

As the two of you arrive at the edge of the lake, you can already see Enzo, Theodore, and Mattheo splashing about in the water. Draco and Pansy are watching disdainfully from the shore.

You hadn’t realized this was going to be a whole party.

“Daph, please get these boys under control!” Pansy shouts when she sees the two of you approaching.

“I’m not their mum, they won’t listen to me,” Daphne replies dryly.

“Sure they will. Or at least Theo will, and the other two dimwits will follow whatever he does.” Pansy replies.

“Theodore!” Daphne shouts, turning to the three boys who were waist deep in the water by this point.

“Bella?” He calls back, visibly perking up at the sight of your friend.

You watch with amusement as Daphne points a finger at the boy and then again at the ground next to her. Theo slowly sulks over to the four of you, Mattheo and Enzo following in his wake.

“Really Theodore? You’re sopping wet,” Daphne sighs, only to be met with a sheepish grin.

“Hey love,” Enzo greets, prancing over to stand beside you.

It takes everything in you to focus anywhere but Enzo’s soaking wet shirt as it clung to his chest and abdomen like a second, very see-through skin. Bloody hell.

“Hi Enzo,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure we’ll even find pearls here? I thought pearls were from the ocean, and I don’t want to risk getting wet for nothing,” Draco says, eyeing the lake warily.

“Hogwarts a History says that fresh water pearls are common in the Black Lake,” you reply.

“What’s the difference?”

“Saltwater pearls are generally rarer, more expensive.” Pansy replies easily.

“Fresh water mussels can produce multiple pearls at a time, but oysters generally only produce a single pearl in their entire lifetime,” you explain.

“So how exactly are we going to collect these mussels?” Theo asks.

“Accio.” Daphne responds, as if it should’ve been obvious. Which it was.

Your now rather large group makes it way onto the dock, squinting into the murky water for any trace of mussels in the sand below.

Daphne finds the first one, and after that, they slowly start pouring in. Eventually, there’s a sort of system in place with you, Daphne, Pansy, and Draco scanning the dark waves for the elusive mussels, while Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo crack them open to retrieve the pearls.

It’s all going swimmingly until the boys begin to get rowdy once more, with Mattheo sending a small wave of water at Enzo when his back is turned. Daphne gives the boys several warning glares as the waves gradually grow larger, only for them to start up again the moment your backs are turned.

Eventually it turns into an all out water war between the three of them once more, and you scowl as you feel a splash of water hit your leg.

Could they not cause a ruckus for one afternoon? You thought bitterly as another mussel flew into your hand. You go to place it in the pile with the others when you feel a weight hit you like a ton of bricks. Then cold. Everything is cold as you feel yourself hit the water.

“What the fuck!” You exclaim once your head breaks the surface and you frantically wipe water from your eyes.

You look over to see Lorenzo in the water near you, a grin plastered across his face. His smile quickly fades however when he sees the pure murderous intent in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” You shout, swimming over to him, and shoving him under the waves.

“Y/n! You can’t drown him!” Daphne yells from the dock.

“Watch me!”

“It was an accident, swear!” Enzo gasps when his head re-emerges once more.

With one last scream of rage, you make your way to land as Daphne runs to catch up with you.

“Seriously Daphne? What is wrong with him?” You rage as you storm up the hill back to the castle.

“I really don’t think he meant for you to get shoved into the lake. The boys can get pretty tunnel visioned,” Daphne offers as she follows behind.

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who went for a swim,” you mutter between chattering teeth, the cold really beginning to sink in.

“Oh I’m not defending him. Not completely I mean. He was totally acting like a right git. The other boys too. I don’t blame you for being upset, I would be too. I’m just saying, maybe don’t be too hard on him? It was an accident after all, and he really did look sorry.”

When you only shrug in response, Daphne sighs.

“Look. Give him one last chance, and if you still think he’s the worst person on earth, at least exploit the fact that he really does feel bad, and milk it for all he’s worth. Okay?”

You let out a smile at this.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin, Daph.”

Bargaining

The following Monday when you take your seat next to Lorenzo in potions, he immediately turns his head, almost like he’s surprised you hadn’t demanded to be reassigned partners.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I really didn’t mean for you to end up in the lake, Theo just shoved me and I grabbed on the closest thing which happened to be you. I really am sorry,” he rambles, fiddling with the quill in his hand nervously.

“It’s okay. I know it was an accident, so let’s just move on, alright?” You say with a sigh.

Maybe if the both of you just moved on, this nightmare of a pairing would be over sooner.

“Really?” Lorenzo asks, his bright personality snapping back into place.

“Sure Enzo.”

“Excellent. Because I was able to get us these,” he says proudly, carefully pulling two little eggs and a medium sized moonstone out of his bag. “Oh, and the pearls.” He adds, placing the eggs, stone, and glass container filled with pearls on the table in front of you.

You eye the ingredients carefully before determining that they were in fact all up to standard.

“Perfect. I’ll begin crushing up the pearls, if you take care of the moonstone?” You say, already pouring the shiny orbs into your mortar and pestle.

The two of you work surprisingly well together for the rest of the class period, almost as if you’d been working together for years. It takes you by surprise how easy the brown haired boy is to work with. You hadn’t been expecting much, knowing that potions wasn’t Enzo’s strong suit. But he made up for it by making sure you never wanted for anything. Needed a vial for your pearl dust? It was in your hands before you even had to ask. A fire needed to be lit beneath the ashwinder eggs to keep them from spoiling? Enzo’s wand was pointed in their direction before you had the chance to open your mouth.

As class winds down and you go to make your exit, you feel a hand on your wrist.

“Y/n?” Enzo says, stopping you. You turn to look at the boy.

“Look uh, I know that you’re not my biggest fan, or at least that’s what I gathered from Daph,” he begins to ramble, scratching the back of his neck, “but, could we maybe like, just start over?”

You’re a bit skeptical at first, but seeing his nervous smile melts something in you. Being friendly couldn’t hurt, you reasoned. And it would certainly make working with the boy easier.

“Alright, Enzo, we can start over.”

“Wicked.” He says with a grin. “Don’t suppose you’d like to meet in the greenhouse later then to gather the rest of our ingredients? Promise I won’t drag Theo and Matt along this time.”

“Sounds lovely.”

The both of you agree to meet right after classes are released that day, and as you make your way down the cobblestone path to the greenhouse, you can’t seem to push the memories of wet hair and an infectious smile from your thoughts.

“Hi love!” Enzo calls out as soon as you push open the doors of the greenhouse. The boy is elbows deep in soil, pulling at the roots of a suspiciously pink colored plant.

“How’d you get here so fast?” you ask, glancing at the clock to see that classes had ended not even ten minutes ago.

“Herbology is my last class of the day,” he explains, brushing some of the dirt off his gloves.

“Ah. So you wanted to meet right after classes ended so you wouldn’t have to make the trek back out here?” You ask, fingertips brushing the soft petals of one of the many flowering plants growing within the greenhouse.

“Well, and I wanted to see you again sooner,” he replies with a shrug and a cheeky grin.

You roll you eyes as you feel your cheeks heat up, turning quickly and hoping he hadn’t seen.

“So where are the rose bushes?” You ask, looking around at the distinct lack of roses within the building.

Enzo gives a nervous chuckle. “About that. Apparently Professor Sprout didn’t think that the common rose was, ah, dangerous enough, for her plant collection,” Enzo says, gesturing towards the various plants, “so, uh, there are none. But! We can grow them pretty easily. It might take a week or two to grow a full bush to peak maturity, but it should be fine.”

You let out a sigh. Of course Hogwarts wouldn’t grow something as simple and common as a rose.

“Alright, well. Let’s begin I suppose.”

Enzo immediately perks up as he goes to fetch a large pot and a bag of soil and you begin to rifle through the cabinets to find rose seeds. After several minutes with no success, you feel a warm presence behind you as Enzo leans over your shoulder and plucks a packet off the top shelf.

“You certainly know your way around,” you murmur, looking up to find the boy’s face much closer than anticipated. You feel heat rise to your cheeks once more and you duck under is elbow, making your escape.

“Herbology is my best subject,” Enzo says, trailing behind you.

“Ah, so you’re the Slytherin version of Neville Longbottom then eh?” You say with a grin as you watch him fill the pot with soil.

Enzo grimaces, making a face.

“No, I’m much better looking,” he says with a smirk.

Bloody self-aware bastard.

It only takes a few minutes for Enzo to bury the seeds in the soil and place several incantations over the dirt before he looks up at you with a triumphant grin.

“All good to go,” he says happily. “Though we should probably check back in daily to refresh the enchantments and such.”

You nod your head at the boy.

Over the course of the next few days, Enzo uses your time spent together to pick your brain for any morsel of information he could get out of you. He really was determined to be your friend apparently.

“What’s your favorite plant?” He asks you on the third day of your little meetings.

You tilt your head a bit in consideration.

“No, no, wait, I bet I can guess. Is it peonies? Your perfume is peony scented right?” He asks.

“Yeah, it is. Peony and vanilla,” you say, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Knew it,” he says, looking rather self satisfied.

“And yours?” You ask, leaning against the table to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“What’s your favorite flower? Or plant that is.”

Enzo pauses for a moment, eyes flickering around the greenhouse for a moment before landing on you.

“I like roses.”

“Really?” You say, scrunching your nose a bit.

“I’m a romantic, what can I say?”

“Gross. That’s so cliche.” You tease, a small smile gracing your face.

As the days go on, your time spent in the greenhouse becomes longer and longer as you and Lorenzo banter about the ridiculous questions he’d come up with. Did owls have knees? Which house would win in hand to hand combat? Were Theodore and Daphne secretly hooking up in the fifth floor prefect’s bathroom? (The answer was yes.)

You were shocked to find that, while still a bit of a prat, Enzo really was rather smart and witty. As the days went on, it became easier and easier to open up to the boy until the two of you were talking like old friends.

It happened slowly. You really didn’t even notice at first. But by the second week, you found yourself looking forward to your daily meetings, and found yourself thinking of the handsome brunette when he wasn’t around, and you caught yourself staring at the boy a bit too long after he’d already looked away.

Over the years of being friends with Daph, you’d often been forced into the proximity of the boy. Always noting the way he’d easily move from one witch to the next, his charm never seeming to fail him. You had been so determined to make sure that you would never be one of those witches. Just another tally on Lorenzo’s ever growing list of conquests.

But it had happened. The unimaginable. The impossible. You were falling for Lorenzo Berkshire. No, this simply wouldn’t do you thought to yourself as you made the familiar trek to the greenhouse.

Your mind raced as you thought of ways to stop this madness. Maybe if you went back to pushing the boy away. Or if you just ignored him. Yes. If you just shut him out, these feelings would go away.

Sarcasm

The next several days for Lorenzo were miserable. And that was putting it nicely.

“She hates me!” Enzo wailed dramatically, hanging upside down off the edge of his bed.

It had been three days since your terrifying revelation in the green house, and Enzo was very convinced that he was going insane.

He could still remember clearly the day that Daphne had introduced him to her new friend after one fateful day in herbology. You had been so wicked smart, and kind, and funny, and your smile had melted his heart. He was pretty sure he’d been in love with you ever since. But he was lucky if you even acknowledged his presence most days.

“Can you blame her? Didn’t you send a flock of peacocks after her when we were all visiting Draco’s last year?” Mattheo asks, squinting at his friend.

“I thought it’d be romantic! How was I supposed to know they weren’t friendly?”

“There’s also that time in third year, you knocked her off her broom playing quidditch.” Draco adds, scowling at the memory of Enzo harassing the birds on his family’s property.

“I caught her after!” Enzo protests.

“She still sprained her wrist.”

“Oh yea. And then you tried to give her a kiss as an apology, but ended up with a nice bruise on your jaw instead,” Mattheo laughs.

Lorenzo wasn't going to lie, that was a particular sore spot for him.

“And let’s of course not forget the most recent offense. Trying to drown her in the lake. Thank Salazar I wasn’t there for that scene.” Blaise mutters.

Enzo winces.

After the incident at the lake, Enzo was sure he was done for. The look of pure rage in your eyes had felt as though you had stomped on his heart, and then cruciod it for good measure. But then you had accepted his apology and even agreed to start things over. Enzo had felt the first real burst of hope after four pitiful years of pining.

Sure he’d made some missteps over the years. As his friends so graciously enjoyed reminding him, but he meant well!

The two of you had talked. Laughed. He’d even allowed his hand to brush up against yours a time or two, delighted when you didn’t flinch away.

And then, as if the switch had flipped, it was back how it had been before. Enzo felt like he had whiplash with the way you had turned right back around to treating him like a total stranger.

Theo eyed his roommate with concern.

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than you pining over Daphne,” Mattheo mutters, jabbing an elbow into Theo’s rib cage, earning him a sharp glare.

“I don’t understand! Things were going so well! She was actually talking to me and everything, and now it’s like I’m right back at square one,” Enzo sighs, ignoring his bickering roommates.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from us mate. You’re supposed to be the romantic one of the group. Though with your track record, I’m not sure why we’ve been taking your advice all these years. You’re a wreck.” Blaise says, matter of factly.

“You tried talking to Daph bout it?” Theo asks, not quite sure how to help his slightly delirious friend.

“Ask me about what?” Daphne asks, seemingly materializing in the doorway of the boys’ shared dormitory.

She makes her way into the room, face morphing into one of both concern and disgust as she takes in Enzo's distraught state.

Theo eyes his friend, as if to say “good luck mate.”

Dragging himself into an upright position, Enzo considers the girl in front of him. How had he not thought of it before? Y/n’s best friend had been at his disposal this entire time, and he’d never thought to simply ask her.

Lorenzo turns to look at Daphne.

“Daph?”

“Yes Enz?”

“Does y/n fancy anyone?” He asks, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible.

Daphne raises a brow.

“If you’re trying to subtly ask if I happened to know of her feelings towards you, you’re doing a lousy job."

Enzo pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and honestly looking quite pathetic.

"For Salazar's sake, what happened?" Daphne huffs, making herself comfortable on Theo's bed, much to his delight.

“Enzo is down bad. Obviously.” Mattheo states.

Daphne shoots the boy a glare, rolling her eyes at the curly haired boy.

"We've been working in the green house together, and I thought things were going so well. She was talking to me, and laughing and everything.” Enzo says, falling back into his bed dramatically.

“Well then what’s the problem? You like her I thought.” Daphne replies with an annoyed huff.

“That’s just it isn’t it? It wasn’t a problem. But then suddenly, a few days ago, she went completely cold again. Like the last couple weeks never happened." he laments.

Daphne opens her mouth. Then closes it, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. For the love of- she loved you. Truly she did. But you were going to be the end of her.

“I’ll take care of this.” She announces, promptly rising from the bed just as Theo was about to sneak an arm around her.

He glowers at Enzo who gives him an apologetic grin.

Daphne had been your best friend for years at this point, and most of the time, she was convinced that she knew you better than you knew yourself. She wasn't blind. Or dumb for that matter. She knew that there were some strong feelings between you and Enzo, though she had never really bothered to figure out if they were positive or negative. Clearly she should've and all of this could have been avoided she thought wistfully to herself. At least this explained the strange tension between the two of you as of late.

“Y/n.” Daphne huffs, sitting next to you on a bench in the court yard.

“Daph,” you greet, looking up from your book.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you fancy Lorenzo?” She asks, staring you dead in the eye.

You feel your mouth gape like a fish out of water.

“Right Daph. Like I’d ever fancy that peacock.” You reply, doing your best to appear disdainful.

“Don’t you get an attitude with me.” Daphne responds. She’d always been able to see right through you. “Enzo told me everything. The chatting. The giggling. The immediate turn around as if nothing had happened. Textbook case of realizing you like someone while being emotionally constipated!” Daphne announces.

“Shhh!” You hush your friend, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed the scene. “You know that being mean and sarcastic is my only defense mechanism!” You hiss.

“Oh honestly y/n. We both know you won't be able to use that excuse forever.” Daphne says with a dramatic eye roll. “Besides, he likes you too. Why do you think he’s always preening when you’re around. He’s trying to impress you, you dolt.”

“Fantastic. He’s only a prat when I’m around. How romantic,” you mutter.

“Well you certainly didn’t think he was being a prat when you were spending all that time in the green house together. Don’t think I didn’t notice you two disappearing for several hours. No one is spending that much time every day looking at flowers.”

“We were just talking,” you defend.

“Mmhm. And then you stopped talking because you got scared and now Enzo is a wreck.”

You feel a pang of guilt. You hadn’t meant to hurt Enzo. You hadn’t thought that he actually might like you too.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow in class, I guess,” you mutter.

Daphne sighs.

“Look. I’m not saying that you have to date him, or even tell him you like him. But you’re both my friends, and I don’t like seeing either of you upset.”

“I know Daph. I’m just confused is all. I thought I hated him.”

“Well, I’ve always been told that the line between love and hate is fine.” Daphne replies.

Bloody hell, when had your friend become this philosophic?

“I’ll get it sorted tomorrow. Promise.” You tell her.

Daphne nods, giving you a comforting smile.

“Good. And word of advice. Drop the sarcasm, Enz might cry if you put him through anymore emotional whiplash.”

Acceptance

You sat nervously in the potions classroom having arrived close to fifteen minutes early as you couldn’t shake away your nerves. Glancing at the clock on the wall, your classmates should start filing in at any moment.

You’d finally managed to gather all the need ingredients for your potion, so today would be the day that you and Enzo would be able to brew your amortentia.

Your fingers twirled the stems of the roses you’d collected mindlessly as your thoughts buzzed between your conversation yesterday with Daphne, and the fluffy haired brunette boy that had taken up permanent residency in your every thought.

Remembering the silly game one of your roommates had played years ago, you began plucking the rose petals off of the stem, one by one. You were going to have to do it eventually anyway. He loves me, he loves me not, the phrase repeats in your mind.

“Look nervous,” A voice comments from behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts, you look up just in time to see Enzo take his seat beside you.

Clearing your throat, you give the boy a small smile.

“Just thinking about the potion. Not going to be an easy one to brew today, and I’d like to get a good mark,” you reply.

“Of course.” Enzo replies, a strained look on his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time then.”

You open your mouth to reply, but close it again when no words come to mind. Instead, you opt to sweep your rose petals into a small pile and begin shaving off the rose thorns as Enzo wordlessly takes out the gold cauldron, lighting a fire beneath.

“So,” you say awkwardly, the deafening silence finally getting to you. “How bout that weather?”

You hear a clatter as Enzo drops pestle he was holding to look at you incredulously.

“I know some of my conversation attempts were bad, but that was downright criminal.” He says with a snort.

Unable to hold back your laughter, you let out a giggle. “Yeah, I’ll see myself to Azkaban for that one.”

And just like that, the two of you fall back into your comfortable rhythm of idle chatter, jokes, bickering as you work seamlessly together.

You can’t help but watch with silent admiration as Enzo dutifully stirs the cauldron, careful to keep even counter clockwise strokes. A few tendrils of soft brown hair fall in front of the boy’s face and he gently blows them to the side with an annoyed puff.

“Pearl dust?” He asks, reaching his hand out.

As you hand him the vial, your fingertips brush softly, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. The heat from the cauldron must be really getting to you.

“If you just want to add the powdered moonstone, we should be all done,” Enzo says after a moment, taking a step back to allow you to complete the final step.

Slowly, you approach the boiling cauldron, carefully sprinkling in your meticulously measured moonstone powder. You stir the concoction a bit longer until you see a familiar pearlescent sheen and swirling tendrils of steam.

“Think we’ve done it,” you say with a smile, looking over at your partner.

He grins back, joining you in leaning over the steaming cauldron.

“Well? What do you smell?” He asks cheekily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“We both take a wiff? On three?” Enzo asks.

You nod in agreement, watching the swirling colors within the cauldron. They say that amortentia smells like the things you’re most attracted to, and you’d always been curious what scents the potion would elicit for you.

“One, two, three.”

You lean in, and immediately you’re hit with the earthy scent of fresh soil, a soft hint of rose, and something else- oh. Oh. You feel your eyes widen.

“Peony. And vanilla.” Enzo murmurs, head still hovering above the cauldron before he turns to look at you.

The moment your eyes meet, you both know.

“I need a moment,” you mumble, hurrying out of the classroom.

As you rush past Daphne’s table, you hear the girl run after you into the corridor.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Daphne asks as the two of you come to a stop in a small alcove that’s somewhat hidden behind one of the many large stone statues that decorate the halls.

“It’s Lorenzo. My potion- it smells like Lorenzo. Or, it smells like fresh soil, and roses, and that stupid expensive cologne that he always wears,” you gasp, out of breath.

“Oh? And what did he smell?”

“Me. My perfume. Peonies and vanilla.”

“Well, that’s good then isn’t it? That you both smelled each other? I know when we talked yesterday I said you don’t necessarily have to tell the boy you fancy him, but, if you both really like each other that much. What’s the harm?” Daphne tries to reason.

“I don’t know! I just didn’t realize I liked him that much and it freaked me out. And I’ve been icing him out these past couple days, so he’s probably so cross with me. But he’s been so nice today, I don’t know what to do Daph. I’m not good with feelings. I was never going to act on anything!”

“Is that why you did all that? Back there?” A voice asks. “And why you’ve been acting strange the past several days?”

The two of you whip around to see Enzo staring wide eyed at the both of you, mouth slightly agape.

“I think I’d best let the two of you sort this out,” Daphne says, slipping out of the alcove and back into the classroom.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t meant to hear any of that,” you start as Enzo wordlessly approaches.

“You like me?” He asks once he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. He looks genuinely surprised at the notion as he stares down at you intensely.

You nod slowly. “Smelled you in that bloody potion,” you mumble.

Enzo’s smile falls.

“Is it that bad? Liking me?” He asks, hurt written across his face.

“No! No it’s not! I just thought I didn’t like you- no, that’s not what I meant. I was surprised that I fancied you is all, and didn’t know what to do. Because we’ve know each other so long, and we haven’t necessarily always gotten along. And I didn’t really realize I liked you at first, and I got all freaked out and then I panicked, and-“

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” Enzo asks, interrupting your rambling.

You freeze, looking up at the boy in front of you.

“Yes please,” you murmur.

Without wasting another moment, Enzo’s lips meet yours with a hunger and passion you didn’t realize the boy had in him.

Any last trace of doubt or worry you had disappears as his soft lips move against yours, melting you into him like putty in his hands.

Right as you’re about to run out of air, you feel Enzo’s lips trail off to your cheek, placing gentle kisses as he trails down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“Enz,” you mumble softly as you feel the warm, sucking sensation against your skin in the crook of your neck.

“Shh,” he whispers, lips meeting yours once more.

You feel yourself getting lost in the sensation as he moves against you until Daphne’s voice brings you back to reality once more.

“Just so you’re both aware, we are still in class,” she calls from around the corner.

You feel your cheeks heat up as Enzo lets out a soft laugh above you.

“Rest assured love, we will be coming back to this later,” he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and leading you back into the classroom.

If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’ll take any excuse to write a cheesy amortentia fic🤪

Special thanks to @finalgirllx and @pizzaapeteer for editing and rvwing🫶🏽

[orangekittyenergy]

gale being woken up for sex. that’s the prompt. (based on the post about his reaction to the vampire attack in act 3)

Oooooookaayy 😏❤️ I'll be honest and say I don't recall the post about the vampire attack but I just grabbed this idea (like I'd grab Gales cock) and just went with it.

NSFW

Gale x GNreader – 1700 words

Tav wakes Gale up with a blow job (established relationship but still on the road - vague for what section but definitely after the love confession)

It was late by the time you and the team were trudging back to camp. You noticed the fire was already burning low, a hot pit of embers and small flickers of flame still warming the cook pot next to it.

You glanced around; no one was awake. Of course not. You turned around, but the others had immediately headed off to their tents to change and fall into their own beds. Another hard fought battle. Another weary day ahead. You couldn’t blame them.

You stepped toward the fire to peek inside the cauldron. A simple meat stew, likely one of Gale’s concoctions. Glancing over to his tent you wondered if he might still be up, reading a book by the light of a spell like he usually was.

He was much chagrined to be left behind at camp this time. Especially since formally being romantically partnered now. But you had insisted. He had taken a nasty blow from a spell the day before and there was only so much healing that spells and potions could do. Despite his lengthy points, which he listed out on each one of his fingers, as to why he should join you in the next foray, you simply crossed your arms and stared him down, forcing him by sheer will to see your point. Which was simply, no.

You stepped closer to his tent, listening for the telltale sign of rustling pages or even a hint of a glow behind the canvas flaps. Nothing. He knew this would be a long day and told you to wake him when you returned, but still you hesitated. He was already a night-owl and if even he was in bed at this hour it must truly be later than you thought.

With a sigh, you turned on your heel and headed to your own tent, stepping within and quickly shedding your armor until only your tunic and leather pants remained. You looked down to your own bedroll. Sleep would be best. It would be so nice and easy to fall into slumber. It would also be wise, considering the arduous journey that lay ahead. But before those thoughts of sleep could truly take hold, you felt a coil in your stomach.

Your adrenaline was still up from the days events. Sleep wasn’t yet ready to steal you away as something deeper took hold. What was that Gale said one time about a brush with danger? How it left one seeking other forms of stimulation? A smile at his brash, unexpected (at the time) flirting grew across your face as the coil bloomed into a full blown heat, sinking deep and low into your gut.

Without even fully knowing your own intent you abandoned your tent and headed back for his, heart already racing. You paused briefly at the flap before slipping in quietly, being careful not to let too much light in.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, the sliver of light from outside allowing just enough illumination to see Gale dozing on his back, one arm draped off to the side as if reaching for something.

You knelt down beside him and gently eased your body next to his, leaning on his outstretched arm, and placed a soft careful kiss on his cheek, which was flush from sleep.

“Hmm….mylove….” He murmured sleepily and lolled his head slightly towards you.

Your heart thudded as you watched his chest rise and fall, his mouth slightly parted as sleep stole him back from you. This sweet, handsome, ambitious wizard. How far you had come together. What perils you still had to face together.

An ache in your chest you weren’t accustomed to made you suck a quiet breath in as you gazed down at him. Gods, how much you loved him. You didn’t think it was possible to love this way. This deep. So deep it was almost painful.

The ache slowly eased as you watched him, taking comfort in the fact that he was safe, here, now, with you, beneath your adoring gaze. In place of the ache, the deep hot burning in your core returned. You wanted to show him. You needed him to know how much you loved him. Your hand raised, ready to shake his shoulder and wake him, but that same heat from deep inside you made you pause.

You recalled his words from earlier that day.

“Wake me up when you get back, please? However you must.” He had said with that signature almost mischievous grin of his.

An idea took hold and you carefully raised yourself up instead and eased your body back away from him. His arm seemed to twitch in response, as if in search of the missing heat it had been given.

Biting away a smile you knelt down beside his hips instead, adjusting yourself slightly so you were almost laying perpendicular to him. In fact, if anyone else was up right now, they would see your feet peeking out the edge of his tent.

Ever so gently you traced your hand down the smooth velvet fabric that covered his chest, pausing to feel his deep steady breathing beneath your palm. As you reached the edge of his shirt you gently pulled it up and gave him a small kiss just above his navel. You actually half expected him to wake up at that and raised your head expecting to meet his soft loving eyes. But he continued to doze, breath steady and low.

Okay, lets see how far this will go, you mused. You planted a few more kisses. Each with a little more tongue, a little suck of flesh, until you reached the edge of his pants.

You lifted your head again, but his eyes remained blissfully shut.

Deftly and carefully undoing the laces on his pants you eased the front of them down a touch and reached in to give a few tender touches of his soft cock over his underwear. It twitched slightly, seemingly on its own at the contact, but Gale still seemed otherwise undisturbed. You stroked harder, easing your fingers as far as they could grip around the thin fabric and moving your hand up and down slightly.

Gale groaned softly and rolled his head to the side, a smile flickering on the edge of his lips before sleep seemed to take him away again and he stilled once more. I hope you are having a wonderful dream, my love, you thought and gently eased his cock, now almost half hard, out of his underwear.

Fully able to wrap your warm palm around him now you felt a shiver of excitement run through you as you eased your hand up and down, savoring the feeling of his hot silky skin. Your fist met stem and even as you raised your hand back up you could almost feel him getting harder beneath your palm.

“Mmmmmm….” A soft moan escaped his lips this time, still halfway between dream and reality. His chest started to heave, breathing becoming faster as the sensations pulled him from his slumber as you continued to lovingly stroke his length.

You grinned and squeezed a little harder, giving another long slow stroke and his hands clutched at the blanket below him. He was fully hard now, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hips even starting to writhe beneath your arms. Truly, it seemed his entire body had woken up but his eyes remained shut.

You let your hand lower once more, and holding him steady you leaned forward, wrapping your parted lips around his tip and dancing your tongue across it.

He let out a louder groan this time, and his hands reached to grasp at his shirt now.

“Shhhh…” You released your mouth for a moment to hiss at him.

“Gods, Tav...don’t stop.” He whispered, his voice still groggy and hoarse from sleep.

You smiled and leaned your head back down, sucking him in again, carefully swirling your tongue around his already dribbling tip before easing your head down further. His hands descended to tangle themselves in your hair; not even to guide your head, but just to touch part of you.

Raising your head up and down more swiftly you added your hand in, twisting it gently at his base as spit dribbled out the sides of your mouth and across your waiting moving fingers.

Gale was panting now, his chest heaving, hard, hot, quick breaths where moments before they were soft and sleepy. He opened his mouth as if to speak or maybe moan again, but caught himself and you heard him snap it shut and let out a groan through his clenched teeth.

His hips bucked up slightly, matching the rhythm of your hand and mouth and before long you felt him twitch against you, shudders wracking his body. You reached your free hand up, grabbing at his chest and he reached to twine his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand tightly, pushing your mouth down as far as it could go, wriggling your tongue along his length, trying to encourage him to give in.

He gave a last shuddering breath and released, hot spurts of his seed shooting into your mouth and down your awaiting throat. His hand gripped yours so hard it almost hurt as you swallowed every single drop of him. As his shuddering subsided and his breath started to return to normal you took a moment to lick him clean and gently tuck him back away before crawling back up to lay in his awaiting arm once more.

“You continue to amaze and astound me in every way possible.” He said sucking in another deep breath and releasing it slowly. You leaned forward to nuzzle into his neck and give him another few kisses.

“You told me to wake you up.” You mumble, feigning innocence. He pulls back a touch, meeting your eyes with a twinkle in his own before smothering you with a flurry of kisses, pulling you even closer. You push your body flush with his, finally letting sleep start to take hold, happy that he is happy, but wondering if he might be thinking of waking you up the same way.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak. 

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm. 

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you. 

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone. 

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything. 

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone. 

Then you found Jackson. 

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead. 

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical. 

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back. 

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.” 

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.” 

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?” 

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.” 

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den. 

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds. 

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile. 

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?” 

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.” 

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.” 

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away. 

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.” 

“But—” 

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone. 

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.” 

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort. 

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?” 

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones.  “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.” 

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.” 

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.” 

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.” 

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.” 

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds. 

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”  

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.” 

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.” 

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?” 

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.” 

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.” 

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.” 

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.” 

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten. 

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth. 

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon. 

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes. 

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing. 

And no one. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal. 

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things. 

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here. 

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent. 

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows. 

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest. 

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask. 

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?” 

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear. 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.” 

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”  

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway. 

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.” 

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst. 

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—” 

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand. 

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally. 

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask. 

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question. 

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?” 

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.  

It’s Tucker. 

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off. 

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously. 

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian. 

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson. 

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore. 

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.” 

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.” 

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?” 

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle. 

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood. 

O W L 

A week had passed since Tucker’s death. 

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control. 

You also visit Joel and vice versa. 

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write. 

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go. 

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.” 

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours. 

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.” 

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?” 

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.” 

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?” 

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said. 

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?” 

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”  

“S-Say what?” 

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.” 

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you. 

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever. 

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock. 

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame. 

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing. 

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.” 

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt. 

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.” 

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together. 

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.” 

“Be my guest.” 

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

“What?” 

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.” 

“On—On your face?” 

“Where else?” 

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked. 

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails. 

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.” 

“What a noble way it would be to go.” 

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face. 

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips. 

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks. 

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked. 

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs. 

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—” 

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .” 

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?” 

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts. 

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward— 

And all hell finally breaks loose. 

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body. 

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper. 

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips. 

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine. 

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.” 

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up. 

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.” 

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over. 

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?” 

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds. 

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer. 

On your second try you find something else. 

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully. 

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline. 

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel. 

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear. 

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.” 

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?” 

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.” 

“Really?” you ask and he nods. 

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?” 

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.” 

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?” 

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.” 

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.” 

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor. 

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?” 

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?” 

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask— 

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead. 

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.” 

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.” 

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?” 

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.” 

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?” 

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel. 

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.” 

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?” 

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin. 

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.” 

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.” 

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?” 

“W-What?” 

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does. 

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips. 

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?” 

“I—I don’t know.” 

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins. 

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.” 

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.” 

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.” 

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.” 

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.” 

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.” 

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times. 

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love. 

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there. 

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes. 

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel. 

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor. 

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way. 

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim. 

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest. 

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be. 

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask. 

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you. 

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once. 

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out. 

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys. 

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask. 

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off. 

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light. 

Joel. 

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second. 

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours. 

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you. 

“Wait!” 

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair. 

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you. 

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” 

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition. 

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.” 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!” 

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.” 

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?” 

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation. 

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger. 

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.” 

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest. 

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.” 

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy. 

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.” 

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?” 

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.” 

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.  

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?” 

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips. 

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.” 

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.” 

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.” 

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.” 

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy. 

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.” 

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply. 

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame. 

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it. 

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.” 

“Does. . . Does Maria—” 

Tommy cuts you off, “No.” 

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.” 

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore. 

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes. 

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest. 

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?” 

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief. 

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them. 

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.” 

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones. 

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours. 

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says. 

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance. 

Tommy cradles your face tenderly,  urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise. 

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort. 

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves. 

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach. 

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear. 

You don’t answer him. 

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.” 

“What about Tommy?” 

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.” 

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more. 

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin. 

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction. 

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts. 

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.” 

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged. 

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.” 

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches. 

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.” 

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes. 

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—” 

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.” 

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing. 

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name. 

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—” 

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you. 

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs. 

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness. 

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all. 

[dtdrawz]

BADSANSUARY prompt 6: pepper PREV // NEXT

drew enough food related stuff already so I decided to pepper him with y'all's kisses :^) enjoy

horror - sourapplestudios badsansuary hosted by owl-bones

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 12: Ow!

Word Count: 999

Rating: T

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: descriptions of sex

Summary: Eddie explains how he injured his wrist, much to your embarrassment

@corrodedcoffinfest

“This is going to be awful,” you complain, sliding down in your seat at the lunch table. 

With a sigh, you reach up and rub a hand over your face.

Eddie chuckles and nudges your ankle with his booted foot under the table. You move your hand to nervously tug on the bottom of the black beanie you’re wearing—or rather, Eddie’s black beanie.

“Oh, relax,” he says. 

Letting your hand drop, you give your boyfriend a pointed glare. 

“You do realize I’m a part of this, too?” you ask.

“Babe,” Eddie groans, letting his head fall backwards, “they know we have sex.”

There’s no use arguing with him when he presents you with facts, so you cross your arms over your chest and sit up straighter in your chair. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Eddie smirking. He finds this way funnier than it is. 

“Mac and cheese,” Gareth sing-songs as he sets his tray down across from you. “Mmm.”

“Can’t believe this is the third day in a row they’re serving meatloaf,” Jeff complains, obviously far less excited about his lunch. “I’m pretty sure this should have gone bad by now.”

“I think it did,” Frank adds, pulling out the chair next to you. The same offending meat is on his plate, and you wrinkle your nose up at the smell.

Eddie, the master of waiting for just the right moment, lets the guys dig into their food before he drops the bombshell on them.

“Well, gentlemen, I am afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

“Wassup?” Gareth asks through a mouth full of macaroni. 

The three Hellfire members expect Eddie to tell them, so none bother looking up from their food. Your boyfriend gives them a few seconds, but when none of them lift their heads, he pointedly clears his throat. 

“Ahem.”

Eddie makes sure all three sets of eyes are on him before he lifts his hand up from under the table and unceremoniously drops it down, the white cast landing with a thud. 

“What happened?” Jeff asks.

“Is that your—dude, that’s your right hand! How are you gonna play guitar?!” Gareth has seemingly forgotten about his excitement over his meal. 

“I said it was unfortunate,” Eddie says.

“Can you still DM?” Frank asks.

Letting out a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Sometimes you wish you weren’t the only girl at this table.

“‘Course,” Eddie answers, waving his uninjured hand dismissively.

“What happened?” Jeff asks again.

Eddie lets out a snort of laughter and his eyes dart to you. The weight of your friends’ stares is hard to ignore. Face already heating up, you rub a hand over your forehead and avoid looking at any of them. The fabric of the beanie rolls up at your repeated motions, so you tug it back down and cross your arms once more. 

“So,” Eddie starts, a mischievous smile on his face as he leans on the table, “I’m laying in bed, on my back—”

“Oh God,” Gareth interrupts. “Did you actually injure your wrist from jerking off?”

“Anyway, I’m on my back and we’re, ya know, fucking.”

There’s a small sense of relief when he doesn’t say “she was riding me” out loud.

“And I flip us so I’m on top,” Eddie continues. “My knee must’ve landed on a soft spot when I got upright, because suddenly there’s a loud crack and the bottom left corner of my bed collapses.”

“Oh fuck, so you fell off and hurt your wrist?” Frank asks.

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p”. 

“I ignored it,” Eddie says with a laugh, “and just kept going. Since all my blood was down south, it didn't cross my mind that the whole frame holding the mattress up was wrecked. So, at one point I went to put my weight on my right hand near the middle of the bed. Next thing I know, her eyes get as wide as a goddamn owl’s, and right where my hand is gives out and we’re falling.” Eddie pauses to laugh, both at the memory and at the truth in what he says next. “I didn’t care, I still didn’t stop. And neither did she.” At this, Eddie throws you a wink and your face feels hot as a flame. 

“Okay Aesop, get on with it,” you say. 

“My hand is still on the same spot on the mattress and with the angle we’re tilted at now, I put even more weight on my hand so I can use the momentum to my advantage.”

The looks of interest on the guys’ faces makes you wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. They look enraptured by your sex tale. 

“I guess I overestimated my own strength,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Or you had too much weight on your wrist,” you mumble under your breath.

“And I,” Eddie mimes thrusting his hips and you hide your face in your hands, “which was too much for my arm and it gave out. I fell smack down, my head knocks right against hers, and my wrist twists beneath me before I land on it with most of my body weight.”

The guys all wince as you replay the memory in your mind.

“So,” Eddie concludes with a dramatic sigh, “that is the story of my sex injury.”

Gareth begins a sarcastic slow clap, in which Jeff and Frank join. 

Despite the smile on your face, you complain to the guys, “You’re all idiots.”

The guys cease their applause and Jeff nods his head at you.

“You escaped unharmed even with this hard head falling on you?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. All four guys at the table watch as you push the beanie up to expose a quarter-sized bump that’s varying shades of pink and purple as it starts to heal.

Jeff sighs and picks his fork back up.

“I knew he had a hard head.” 

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.3 K Warnings: Angst (like pretty much every chapter now lol). Prompt: Another night with the pack. 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

Friday, January 7th, 1977 - Full Moon

The next few hours had gone by faster than you expected. James got a letter from Lily stating that she’d make it to his party on Sunday and he was absolutely thrilled about it. The rest of the Gryffindor gang has also been invited, of course. But James, as per usual, just wouldn’t shut up about it from the moment the owl knocked at the window.

You were all lounging on a small kiosk near the woods that the Potters had charmed to always be warm and that you and Sirius had lathered with pillows and blankets to make Remus’ transformation more comfortable. The sun was setting and the moon was about an hour away. Sirius was drawing on his old notepad, but he was playing around with the watercolours you had given him. You noticed he kept looking at Remus who was reading a book, and you assumed he was drawing him again. 

James snapped his fingers, bringing you back onto the game of exploding snap you had been playing with him. He took the cards and you looked at him with a frown. 

“Not my fault you’re ogling your boyfriend,” he said with a shrug. You quickly eyed Remus, who seemed to have no reaction to James’ words, he was engrossed in his book. It was one of the books you’d given him for Christmas: Frankenstein. 

He placed a card on the floor, and you placed another one, you snapped your fingers and took both of them. “Not my fault you can’t stop thinking about Lils,” you sassed back. He shook his head, diverted and fixed his eyes on the deck at the centre, taking one from the top and placing it on the table. Then the two of you started placing your cards so fast on the table that both of you missed the mark and all the cards exploded before any of you managed to snap their fingers. 

“Look what you’ve done,” He complained. 

“You started!” you retorted with a scoff. 

“Hey Pads, what does this mean?” Remus asked aloud, leaning closer to Sirius who lazily looked up from his sketchbook and to the book. 

“Jeune fils, apprends-moi toujours à être just?” Sirius asked in french as he read. 

“Jeune fils is young son, right?” Remus had his hand over the line and was biting his lip with a small frown etched on his features as he turned to Sirius. 

“Oui, bien sûr!” Sirius responded with a thumbs up and looked at the book again. “Apprends-moi toujours à être just is like ‘always teach me to be’, uhh– Étoile, what’s just in English?“

You turned to him, only now noticing how close they were to each other, “It’s, um… like fair?” 

“Yeah! That’s it. Merci, Étoile.” 

You were still looking at how close they were to each other when James snapped his fingers and took all the cards on the table. You threw him a dirty look for doing it while you were distracted, he just shrugged in return. 

You sighed and turned back to the boys, Sirius was translating something else to Remus from the book, alternating between English and French as seamlessly as he often did. And you saw his gaze linger on Remus as he explained, Remus focused almost solely on the book. You gulped, as you stared, and then James snapped his fingers right in front of your face. “He’s not going to steal your boyfriend, you know that?” 

“What?” you faltered as you turned to James.

“You’ve been looking at the two of them with such attention. I mean I get Sirius is pretty to you, but you have barely focused on the game.” 

“Right,” you staggered. “Right, sorry. Maybe it’s the potion you gave in the morning.” 

The potion he gave you in the morning had no such effects, he had taken it plenty of times, but just like earlier, James didn’t want to bring about what’d happened on Christmas so he just nodded and played along with you. He turned to his watch. 

“We’ve got like 20 minutes left,” he said. “How are you feeling, Moons?” 

“Still good,” he replied. Sirius was no longer translating anything, but he hadn’t leaned back and Remus didn’t seem to mind the closeness at all. They were both resting their backs on the little kiosk’s railing, surrounded by pillows. Their shoulders were comfortably crashing against each other.

You threw yourself backwards, allowing your head to fall onto one of the pillows as you looked up at the vaulted ceiling. It was really pretty, with some shining orbs of light that danced around like a baby’s mobile. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the bright lights and leaving your disturbing thoughts as far as physically possible. It didn’t matter much though, they kept coming back, they always did. 

You wanted to walk over to Sirius and peer over his shoulder and see what he was drawing, you knew he wouldn’t mind, but you also didn’t want to overdo the PDA, not after the balcony scene you’d made, and Moony had witnessed. The small, almost imperceptible falter of his features, the heartache before the fake smile was so hard to forget, it kept playing over and over in your head. And then his words. Take all myself, he’d…

“What do you think, Étoile, do you like it?” Sirius asked as he passed his notebook over to you. He could easily tell you were troubled, but just like James, he assumed it had to do with Christmas. Nobody knew what you’d seen last night, and nobody would know. You couldn’t tell James without outing Remus and of-bIoody-course, you could not tell Sirius you’d seen Moony moaning his name. 

You took the notebook from his hands, his fingers lingered over yours as if he too was craving the contact. But he let it go and you checked. On one side there was a sketch of you and James playing exploding snap. You had a small frown and James was grinning like a fool, one of his hands was over the bunch of cards he had just won. It was slightly cartoonish, but the way he had added more sketches with different expressions on your face, made it adorable. 

On the other page though, there was a more detailed drawing. It was Remus reading, similar to the first drawing he’d shown you, but this time, he’d added colour. He’d carefully traced Remus’s scars and the golden brown of his eyes. As golden as they looked then, with the moon being so close. Sirius had also drawn his jumper and the details of the cover of the book. The background had been left colourless, but the pillows surrounding Remus made him look like a careless prince, looking at his book with nothing but the plot troubling his mind. 

Beautiful, Remus looked beyond beautiful. But that’s when you started to pay closer attention, Sirius’ sketches of James and Peter (you had seen them before) were more on the rougher side like he wanted to practise the lines on their faces and get them just right. Yours and Remus’, however? They were always more detailed, more intricate. There were softer strokes behind the ones he’d added in the end, like he wanted to have both of your features not only simulated but also photocopied from reality. 

There wasn’t a single drawing of Remus you’d seen that wasn’t like that. Where he didn’t look stunning, where it wasn’t a perfect mirror of the Remus only a few people seemed to be able to witness. Perhaps that only the few who knew why he had all those scars had seen. The same scars that you thought added to his beauty rather than took away from it. 

All of that, always present in the way Sirius drew him. “It’s stunning, Pups,” you said honestly. “Rem would love it.” 

“Me, why?” The boy asked as he looked up from his book.

“It’s you,” you said as you passed the notebook over to him, James tried to lean over to see the drawing but got only a glimpse before Remus took it from your hands. Once he’d taken it away you turned over and used your elbows to prompt yourself up and be able to see his reaction. 

He stared at the drawing, the light blush tinting his neck and ears was so obvious now that you knew about his crush, that you wondered how you hadn’t seen it before. How you hadn’t seen the nervous glance Sirius was throwing at him, as if he craved his approval. The way he looked at Remus’ lips, and how they pursed, even if it was just slightly. 

“You’ve gotten used to the watercolours,” Remus said. “It’s incredible, Pads.” 

The smile on Sirius’ lips when he said that, so big and unabashed. Like he couldn’t help but be thrilled by it. You loved seeing it, you loved seeing how happy they were both, how happy they would make each other, but that didn’t stop the slight pang in your heart. 

Were you in the middle? Was it possible that Sirius was as in love with Remus as Remus was with him? 

“You really captured the way his eyes look today. Just the right shade, more gold than brown with how close the moon is.” 

Remus, who was aware of the fact that his eyes changed often, but didn’t pay much attention to it since he was barely a witness of it, looked at you with interest. 

“Oh right, that happens to Moony,” James said almost as an afterthought as he took the notebook from his hands and placed it next to Remus’ face. “Vix is right, the colouring is on point, mate.” 

It’s not that James hadn’t seen Moony’s eyes change, he’d pissed him off enough to know how they would turn almost golden when he was furious, but unlike you and Sirius, he wasn’t always paying attention to his eyes.

But Sirius does, you thought. Sirius knows what the subtle changes in Moony’s eyes mean, he’s paid enough attention. Or perhaps too much of it.

“I was reading about colouring eyes in the book you got me for Christmas earlier. I thought I could practise with Moony’s since they’re always interesting.” 

You wondered if Sirius also considered your eyes interesting, and then felt silly for being jealous over it, you also thought Remus’ eyes were extremely interesting, not to mention soothing and warm. Eyes that said 'You're safe’, even when it was Moony’s eyes, the ones you were looking at. Perhaps it was all part of the wolf, giving him soothing eyes so he could catch the foolish, impressionable prey. You had almost been bitten because of them, you would know. 

“Won’t you try with my eyes,” James said with a pout. “My eyes are interesting too!” 

“Nah,” Sirius said with a small smirk, knowing it would get a rise out of James.

 He scoffed and leaned close to Remus, “Moony don’t you think my eyes are interesting too? At least as pretty as Vixen’s!” 

They were not as pretty as Vixen’s. Only Sirius’ eyes were. At least to Remus. “Well, I suppose…”

“They’re not,” Sirius said, just to piss James further.

“You’re such an ass!” James complained as he pushed Sirius lightly, causing him to dramatically fall on Remus’ lap. 

“I’ve been hurt for being honest, Pauvre de moi!”

“Is that poor me?” Remus asked, a lace of scepticism in his tone as he leaned his head over Sirius who looked at him smirked and then winked as an answer. 

You took pity on James’ little pout, “I believe Lily thinks you have the prettiest eyes,” you said casually. James turned to you with unparalleled excitement, completely contrasting with his previous stance.

“Really? She does?” 

“She said she likes the specks of brown mixed with the honey tones,” you added with a shrug. Both Sirius and Remus eyed you after that, as if you were not allowed to think of James’ eyes as pretty.

“Vixen, you’re becoming my favourite marauder,” James declared as he placed his hand over your shoulder. 

“I know,” you said with a sly smile. You were about to say something else when Remus grunted.

The three of you turned to him, his eyes were even more golden than before, and he was clenching his jaw so hard you could see the muscles flexing. You were quick to rise from your laying stance and into a sitting position, dragging yourself closer to Remus with a concerned gaze.

“He’s coming,” Remus said, voice strained. 

From the large arches of the kiosk, you could see the moon appearing through the clouds. It was already quite dark, and the air became chiller, even with the warming spells of the kiosk, it was as if the cold air slipped through the cracks of whatever disturbance the powerful lycanthropy course was causing.

Sirius had risen from Moony’s lap but was as close to him as you, James, or rather, Prongs, was already outside and looking at the three of you while he made sure –by smelling– that there was nobody around. Sirius and you had somehow travelled to either side of Remus, your scents overwhelming his senses and making his stomach churn, he wasn’t sure if that was him or the wolf. 

Remus shut his eyes and dug his head in between his legs, he handed you the book he was reading, “On the chest,” he said. “I don’t want Moony to break it!” 

Moony had, on previous occasions already broken things Remus liked, as if he found joy in making Remus suffer, and Remus was sure he had done it on purpose so he didn’t take risks anymore. If there was anything Moony would want to destroy, then he made sure to keep it as far away from his claws and jaws as possible. 

“Take my wand too,” he said. You were quick to dig through his coat pockets to try and find it and then decided to pull the whole thing entirely. Sirius was next to help him with his shirt and threw it your way. You caught it with ease and placed it on the chest, still searching for the wand while Remus pulled the rest of his clothes off. Sirius threw them your way once he managed to pry them off Remus’ legs. 

Remus really tried not to think of the fact that both you and Sirius had just undressed him completely, but he had been thinking of such lewd things in the past few hours that he couldn’t help but flush. “Cold?” Sirius asked when he noticed.

“Mhm,” Remus said as he tried to hide his head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Sirius said and leaned closer, embracing him and rubbing his hands all over Remus’ arms and back. Then he pulled to look at his best friend again. “Better?” 

That’s when you found the wand and shut the chest along with Remus’ clothes, book, the cards you’d been playing with James and Sirius’s sketchbook. You made sure to use a powerful locking spell, courtesy of Remus’ wand and then turned. You saw skin breaking, and his eyes locked on Sirius while your boyfriend held him in the most reassuring manner possible. 

Just like he had held you after that November Moon, his eyes looked on Remus’. The blush, which Remus had attributed to cold, was still there, and you knew it wasn’t because of the chilly atmosphere. But there was something else, the way Sirius looked at Remus? He had never looked at James like that. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, that you didn’t react to everything that was going on until Remus shrieked your name. You flinched, your eyes focusing back on the situation. Remus was pretty much leaning onto Sirius, hiding most of his body in the other boy as he looked at you with a horrified expression. He didn’t have to say it, you instantly knew what he meant with that. In a matter of seconds, you turned into Vixen.

“Si–Siri.” 

“Shut it Moony, I know when to turn,” the other boy responded casually. Remus groaned in response. You could see the skin of his back ripping and giving way to fur. You walked closer to him and Sirius, and leaned your head to his bare leg, rubbing it much like a cat would. 

Not you too, Remus thought as he saw how close you were to him now. He didn’t speak though, he was trying to hold back his sobs. He hated being weak in front of the two of you. He hated you having to see him so raw and vulnerable, but he also loved having you there. He loved the way Vixen wouldn’t leave his side and how Sirius held him as close as physically possible. 

How he was completely enraptured by the two of you, and how both refused to move no matter how much he screamed for you to do it. He hated being vulnerable, but he loved what that vulnerability brought along with it. If he hadn’t been a werewolf, perhaps he would have never gotten an excuse to be as close to you as he was now. And even if he considered it a curse, even if he wished he was normal most of the time, it was on days like that one that he didn’t wish for any of it. Instead, he embraced it. 

Seconds later, Remus was gone, his eyes had grown bigger, his scarred skin had turned into fur and his nails had grown and sharpened into claws. Sirius had turned almost at the same time, one second he hugged Remus and on the next he was Padfoot. Moony jumped on top of him playfully when he realised he was free. 

Padfoot complained with a bark, although he was just being his dramatic self. Moony knew him well enough to bark in return. You watched the two of them being playful with each other for a while. If Moony knew you were there, he didn’t care to let you know. Prongs clashed his hooves against the ground as if telling the two boys to let him join the fun, but neither of them seemed to listen as they barked and jumped all over each other. 

You watched the exchange with curiosity for a while. It was as if Remus and Sirius could be as close to each other as they wanted while they were animals. The more you thought about it, the more you realised how blind you’d been. Prongs clashed his hooves again, digging them deep enough to let the wet soil smell waft through the air as they dug past the snow and into it. You turned to look at him, skipped through one of the balusters and landed on the snow, your paws sinking deep enough for you to get stuck. 

You had to move around for a bit until you managed to roll out of the snowy trap you had ended up on, and by the time you managed Prongs was gently pushing you to the side. You barked an «I can do it by myself» that James obviously didn’t understand, but was enough to get the two other dogs to turn and look at you. 

You peeked through the balusters of the railing when you noticed they had stopped barking at each other. They were both looking at you, wolf and dog, eyes locked on your much smaller frame, you instantly knew what game they were playing, you waved your tail behind you, looking at the way their eyes chased your every movement.

A deerhound and a wolf, both hunters by nature, both known to hunt foxes, and both ready to chase you to the ends of the earth, quite literally. You tilted your head to the side just a little, clearly teasing them both, Padfoot barked something about not being too cocky. You rolled over your back and took off running. 

You sped through the thinnest and softest snow as fast as you could. Since you were less heavy, you could walk over it without sinking too much, but Prongs’ hooves, and Moony and Padfoot’s paws fell deep, which made them lag, even if it was just seconds as they tried to follow behind you. Prongs, being the tallest, and somehow most able to skip through the snow, was trailing behind you while Moony and Pads kept trying to get past the deep snow. 

You kept running, pleased that you had managed to outrun them long enough when you heard a wail, and then the cries of a wolf. You turned around concerned, Moony was wailing behind. Sirius barked at you, but you didn’t pay attention to what he said and walked straight to Moony. He wailed again, howling lowly like a scared dog and you ran faster. 

When you reached the area, you figured one of his paws had dug into the snow and started digging to try and find the root of the problem, too busy with that to pay attention to the way his wails had stopped or to see the way he looked at his small friend fox before he jumped out of the snow and trapped you between his paws.

 «Treacherous Wolf,» you barked.

 «Gullible little fox,» he retorted, then he leaned closer. «I won!»

 «You cheated!»

«I still won,» he barked, this time slower, as if he wanted you to understand him. 

If that’s how we’re going to play, you thought and leaned your head to the side, enough to sharply bite onto one of his paws. He wailed at that, and you took off running, the coppery taste of bIood remained on your tongue as you darted to the side, perhaps you had bitten too sharply. 

«You bit me?» Moony barked, he sounded impressed as he inspected his wound, giving it a lick and confirming you’d drawn bIood. It hurt, but not enough to have him stagger. 

«Well, since cheating is allowed,» you replied as you kept running. Prongs eyed Moony carefully, they had seen him when he was on edge, there was nothing of the gentle wolf from the last full moon, and absolutely everything from the angry one from November. But Moony didn’t look mad, if anything he looked entertained, amused. Prongs jumped towards him, leaning his head down in some sort of salute Moony had already learned to understand, but he skipped past him and went straight behind you. 

You had already been caught by Padfoot, though. He was rolling all around you, blocking your path to continue running, and leaning closer to push you around with his snout when Moony reached the two of you. 

«Stop!» he barked loudly. 

Neither you nor Sirius listened, you were too caught up in trying to escape his grasp, and he was too entertained with teasing his little fox girlfriend to bother with whatever Moony was trying to say.

«I said stop!» Moony barked again, and for a second time, was completely ignored. He didn’t like being ignored. And while Remus had enough forbearance to tolerate the two of you being all over each other, Moony did not. Moony was possessive, his Vixen and his Padfoot had no business being all over each other from his perspective. 

He tried one more time, but all he got in return was some soft, cooing-like barks from Sirius and something akin to a laugh from you. He’d had enough, he waited, and when he had the chance, he bit the fluffy end of Vixen’s tail and pulled you back a couple of steps. 

«Moony?» you barked confused, and then saw him step past you and between you and Padfoot.  

«Moony?» Pads asked as well. 

«Don’t play with her?» Moony said sternly.  

You instantly figured out what’d happened and cursed yourself for being such an idiot. Moony cocked his head to the side and you stepped further back and then took off running. Sirius barked, but you ignored it entirely and when Padfoot tried to step behind you, Moony got in the way. 

«Are you upset because she bit you?» Padfoot asked, trying to see past Moony’s larger frame, you were already near the edge of the forest. 

«No.»

«You’ve upset her.»

«She bit me.»

«So you don’t care?»

Moony growled at that. Of course, he fucking cared, there was something very deep inside of him clawing out and telling him to go after you, telling him he had to comfort you, telling him it was his duty to take care of the fox, but the other side the wild side of him, the jealous beast, it said that you shouldn’t have been playing with one another. That for some reason it had upset him, and Moony was only around for a little while, he did not like feeling down. 

«She was upset before you came, you know?»

Before I came? Moony wondered. They were together before I came? That was maddening. He hated the idea of you existing together outside of the little to no time he had with you. Remus’ feelings were buried deep down, and only Moony, a terribly jealous Moony remained.

«I don’t care!» he barked. 

Padfoot seemed upset by that, which only made him angrier. 

«She bit me, yet you defend her!»

«She was playing.»

«You defend her!»

You approached the two of them fast enough to step in between Moony’s legs and barked «Catch me if you can!»

«Vixen…» Padfoot warned he knew Moony was in a mood. 

«Don’t meddle,» you barked back and looked at Moony defiantly, you’d bitten him, he was mad at you, not at Padfoot, not at Sirius. You were the one who had taken his crush away, if anyone deserved the wolf’s wrath, then it was you. 

You taunted the wolf one more time and then took off running. Moony was behind you in a split second and when Padfoot tried to run too, he was stopped by a warning growl from Moony. He peeled his lips at the black dog, showing his sharp-as-knife claws and continued running behind you. 

Pads was ready to ignore the warning and follow the two of you but Prongs stepped right in front of him, and with all his regalness shook his head. Whatever it was, it was a Moony and Vixen issue, not a Padfoot and Moony issue, so he should let you solve them. Moony was often volatile, and he’d had similar quarrels with Pads in the past, he’d just never seen one because he was always immersed in them. 

Prongs didn’t quite understand what it was all about, but he assumed it was a canine thing and decided not to dwell on it too much. In the end, Moony never did anything to actually hurt Pads, and he was certain he wouldn’t dare to hurt Vix either. Especially not after seeing the two of you play on the previous moon. It had taken minutes for Moony to warm up to you, for Pads, Prongs and Wormy, it hadn’t been nearly as fast.

You ran straight into the forest, outrunning Moony on the snow was not going to be a successful endeavour for too long, especially not when you passed the soft snow area and reached one that wouldn’t cause him to lag, but inside the forest, where you could use your reflexes to skip through branches and through run roots, it would be much easier. 

You could hear his loud puffing behind you, the thump of his paws against the snow, making a rather hollow sound. Your running was somehow still controlled, even if slightly frantic. You were playing, and you knew there was no way Moony would hurt you, but the adrenaline was still there, and it helped you run through James’ forest as if it was a maze you knew by memory, even if you ran nowhere in particular. 

You were about to jump through a small creak when a pair of strong jaws sized you by the neck. Moony huffed as he stopped and dropped you not so gently into the floor. He huffed again as he stared at you rolling around and standing your ground. 

«Don’t play with him like that!» he barked.

You wanted to tell him you could play with him however you wanted, but you understood that you were hurting Moony as much as you were hurting Remus whenever you were so close to him, so against your very nature, kept your mouth shut. 

«You can only play with me like that,» he barked next. 

What?!? You wondered as you stared at him, surprised at his words. 

«Understood?»

You narrowed your eyes at Moony, he seemed very determined over what he said, over you only being able to play with him like that. Sometimes when you thought you understood the wolf, he did something like that and scrambled your mind altogether. You would have sworn he was jealous of you playing with Pads, not of Pads playing with you. You would have never imagined what actually went through the wolf’s head –he was jealous of both. 

The wolf huffed again, clearly expecting an answer. «Fine,» you barked.

You would have sworn you saw the wolf smile. He leaned down and pushed you with his snout lightly. You barked at him as a reply, and he pushed you again, this time to the other side. He wants to play, you realised. The next time he leaned to push you, you dodged and walked through his paws until you were on the other side. 

He barked and turned around, in an instant, looking for you again as you dodged and jumped around the much larger dog. You had to be a lot faster to try and beat his reflexes that were for some reason much sharper than Padfoot’s.

Eventually, you took off running again. You suspected Moony gave you some advantage, since you lost him in the woods at some point, even if you could still hear his howlings all around. You skipped and jumped around branches until you tried to find your way back into the snowy fields from the beginning. That’s when he appeared, stepping right in your path and howling in triumph. 

«Found you» 

«You always do,» you retorted. It was true, both Moony and Remus were exceptionally good at finding you. 

«I do?» he asked as he walked by your side, slowing down his steps to match yours. 

«Must be your sixth sense or something»

He huffed in return, still trying to make sense of the situation. By the time the two of you made it out of the forest, the sky was starting to brighten. He looked up with a mix of tiredness and melancholy. 

«You’ll come again, right?» he asked. 

You howled, Padfoot ran towards the two of you the minute he spotted you on the edge of the woods, although he stayed on Moony’s side instead of yours. 

«Always!» 

«Always!» Pads barked right after you. «We’re a team, Moony» 

«Team?» Moony asked as if he didn’t understand the meaning.

«A pack,» you corrected. «We’re a pack»

«A pack,» Moony agreed, and then he yawned, shaking his head to try and fight the sleep away. 

«Let’s sleep» Pads barked.

«We must play»

«You’re falling asleep,» Pads said as he pushed Moony lightly, but he was leaning on the leg you’d bitten and he ended up toppling over to the other side and pushing you into the snow. You wailed in surprise and Moony stumbled up quickly. 

You shook some snow off your head as you peeked from the hole you’d ended up in, you narrowed your eyes at the two dogs. Moony leaned closer and licked some of the snow off your head, and then, just to tease you, gave a small bite to your ear. You complained with a bark. 

«It’s payback for my leg,» he said simply. You shook your head again and he pulled back as you scrambled your way outside of the small hole. It had comically gotten the shape of a fox, and it made you think of some of those muggle cartoons you sometimes saw playing on the TVs they had in cafés and supermarkets. 

Eventually, you all went back to the kiosk, you found your way on one side of Moony and Pads on the other. Prongs tried to get in too, but he was too tall, and his antlers kept crashing onto the top of the kiosk, so he had to accommodate himself just outside. 

Moony fell asleep before the moon disappeared, and this time you were awake as you saw him shrink into Remus. The process didn’t look as painful for him, but when Remus was back, his body was still covered by the opened wounds where the fox had ripped through his skin to come out. He was hugging Padfoot by the time you scurried towards the side and peeked your head through the balusters to bark at Prongs, so he too noticed Moony was gone. He turned back and walked inside with a yawn. 

“You haven’t slept?” he said after he saw you turn. 

“Are my eyebags that big?” you joked in a quiet tone as you pulled Remus’ wand from your pocket and opened the chest to take his coat, you didn’t want to wake them. You tried not to think of what’d happened with the coat when you placed it over him and threw a cover on top for good measure since it was rather cold.

“A little,” James said as he let himself down and accommodated some of the pillows to lay on them, “you should sleep,” he added just after yawning. 

“Just want to leave his clothes ready,” you said as you dug through the chest, trying to find the rest of the bunched-up clothes you’d thrown in there.

“We slept” –he yawned again– “we slept while he was playing with you,” he explained. 

“Sounds nice,” you said as you pulled out the clothes and leaned closer to Remus, pulling the covers from him just enough to expose about half of his back, and performing a simple numbing spell all over his gashes. You knew magic didn’t play well with Werewolf-caused injuries, and while you wouldn’t be able to heal them, at least you could help him feel at ease. 

You saw the way his small frown dissolved about at the same time his jaw muscles untensed. It worked, you thought with a simple smile. James, half asleep, was looking at you taking care of Remus and he also smiled. He loved the fact that he could entrust his two best friends to you and drift asleep without having to worry too much about either of them. 

“Sleep,” he said again. “Play nurse later.” 

“Not playing nurse,” you said as you made sure Remus’ coat was covering him from the cold. Rem had been there for you at your worst, you wanted to be able to do the same for him. You wanted to be the reassuring presence in his life; especially since it was because of you that he was partially miserable. 

You threw yourself close to the railing and fell asleep shortly after. Effie and Monty came home and helped transport a still-sleepy Remus back to James’ room. Monty gave him some potions, and Effie lathered him with a royal blue paste that would help the wound close faster, prevent infections, and a bunch of other stuff that you barely heard from how sleepy you were.  

You were still sleeping in the kiosk when you felt something tickle your ear. “Étoile,” Sirius said. “Aren’t you planning to wake up today?” 

You groaned in response and placed one of the pillows on top of your head to block the light, but Sirius took it off and leaned closer to you, his hair was tickling your face as you tentatively opened one eye. “How’s Rem?” 

“Still asleep. The Potters are waiting for you to have breakfast.” 

“For me?”

“Effie and Monty both brought their favourite bread and they want us to choose who made the best. James and I picked the opposite so you’ll be the tiebreaker.” 

“Couldn’t I be the tiebreaker in a few hours?” 

“’M afraid not Starshine, the bread will get cold and it won’t taste the same. Come,” he said as he pulled you into a sitting position, your head landed on his shoulder and you groaned because of the sudden movement.  “Want me to carry you?” 

“Want you to sleep with me,” you retorted, your lips brushing against Sirius’ bare neck and making him blush from the memory of the fae pond. 

“We can definitely arrange that later,” he teased. You weren’t so sleepy that you didn’t notice the double meaning of his words.

“I meant to sleep, as in close your eyes and dream, you perv,” you laughed, finally getting some of that sleepiness to shrug off. You pulled back to look at him, he was so pretty as he looked at you. The softness of his gaze, the small smile that was almost a smirk but still wasn’t the one he’d pull for teachers or people he’d prank. But rather, an honest sort of smirk, one that he paired with those loving eyes of his. Loving eyes that you had only ever seen him use on you.

And then, almost as a whisper from the back of your mind came a voice, And Remus.  

Breakfast with the Potters was like it had been the previous days, except with higher stakes in the competition. Effie’s bread was the clear winner for you, and Sirius completely agreed while both James and Monty gave you a dumbfounded, betrayed sort of look that was so genuine you almost felt bad for picking Effie. But then you saw her big smile and the way she did a small successful dance that the feeling disappeared. 

Effie and Monty both cut up their bread into slices and the elves helped by bringing over some toppings, from jam, butter, cream cheese and hazelnut spread, to more exotic things like manticore cheese, mermaid jam (actually just sweet seaweed jam) –that was apparently James’ favourite–, and even pixie dust cream that made people float if they had too much.

You had already tried the jam and cheese, but the pixie dust cream was completely new to you, your father had always steered away from anything fae-related, just in case. Hadn’t been worth much in the end, had it? 

Effie stood up after everyone had eaten, “Isn’t it time for Remus’ potion?” She asked as she looked at the clock, and then at Monty. 

“Seems like it is,” he replied after adjusting his glasses and checking on the clock himself.

“Did he eat?”  

“Said he didn’t want to,” James said as he gave another bite of his bread with mermaid jam.

“I’ll bring him some,” you said. “Can take the potion too.” 

“Such a darling,” Monty said, and stood up, grabbing a potion from the cupboard and serving a bit in a small shot glass as you prepared buttered some bread and added some of the spreads, a different one to each slice.

“Want me to come?” Sirius asked as you took the plate in one hand and the potion in the other. 

You shrugged in response, “I’m gonna find some clothes to change afterwards, so it might take a while.” 

Sirius wanted to say that maybe he really should come along then, but decided to shut his mouth when he remembered both Effie and Monty were still in the room. “See you in a bit then,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Then he took a few pieces of cheese and placed them on the plate with Remus’ food. “It’s his favourite,” he said, and then pulled a chocolate from his pockets and placed it there too. 

You gave him a small smile and walked upstairs, it didn’t escape your mind how thoughtful Sirius was with Rem after the moon. Of course, you had always encouraged it, since you knew Remus needed it, but the uneasy feeling that was still gnawing at the back of your mind became more present. Was it so obvious, and had you just been too blind to see it before? 

“Hey, Rem,” you said as you opened the door. He was on the bed, still shirtless and with bandages all over his torso. Monty had wrapped him earlier when they brought him up. He was looking at the window and turned to look at you as he heard the door. Your hair was loose, you had his jumper on, and he thought there wouldn’t be a more comforting thing than that. 

“Hey, Little Witch.”

You walked towards him and sat on the bed, placing the plate on the table before leaning in a bit closer with the potion glass Monty had given you in your hand. 

“Open up,” you said with a smile.

“I can move my hands,” he replied.

“I didn’t ask if you could,” you retorted and leaned closer, sneaking your hand to the nape of his neck and pushing his head forward. He raised one of his eyebrows at you but opened his mouth as you leaned your hand with the potion towards his mouth. He drank the potion and tried not to laugh at your satisfied smile. “How are you feeling?” 

“I should be asking you that, wasn’t Moony too rough last night?” 

You shrugged, “We’re still getting used to each other. It’s a bit hard letting him win.” 

“Oh,” he said with a teasing smile, “So you let him win?” 

“He likes to think he’s got the power,” you responded and handed over the plate.

“Godric forbid little Vixen surrenders any of her power to him,” he retorted. And you pulled your tongue out in reproach, which caused him to laugh. “All this for me?” 

“Mhm,” you responded. “Sirius said you really like this one,” you added as you pointed towards the cheese. “I didn’t know.” 

“They don’t serve it at Hogwarts,” he said and took a piece. It was when he dragged his hand to his mouth that you realised the sharp bite mark he had on his wrist. Two holes on one side and two on the other, a slight purplish tone surrounding them both. You swallowed, that’s exactly what your arm looked like after you bit it at the Christmas party. 

“Vixen did that?” you said taking his hand and dragging it towards you. “Shit, Rem, I’m sorry,” you said as you stared at his wrist, carefully sliding your fingers over the marks your fangs had created and wincing at how his soft skin was now marked. 

“I heal fast,” he said with a shrug. “I really don’t mind it, Sweetheart. I mean if anything, it’s nothing compared to what Moony–” 

“I didn’t bite you because of that!” you said. “I mean she didn’t– you know what I mean.” 

“I know,” he said with a smile. “Moony was being a prick.” 

You smiled, “Have you tried a healing spell?” 

“Monty gave me some ointment for it,” he said as he pointed to the table. “Said Vix has a mean bite.” 

You pouted at that and pulled the ointment from the table and picked some up before carefully placing it on top of his wounds. “Now it looks like a vampire bit you.” 

“It’ll go away in a couple of days,” he said with a shrug, looking at the way your fingers carefully danced over his wrist. Remus would have allowed Vixen to bite him all the time as long as he got this treatment from you afterwards. Heck, he was even considering cornering her into it just for the aftercare. Of course, he couldn’t exactly get Moony to do any of those things, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. 

“Thank you,” he muttered when you finished. 

“‘Least I can do,” you said as you turned to him. He missed the apprehensive look you gave him, thinking of how much pain you were causing him, and not just the physical one. 

 “Eat,” you said as you pointed at the food, taking a piece of cheese and plopping it in your mouth before standing from the bed and walking towards your suitcase. 

He took a piece of bread and gave it a bite to it. He’d picked the one with hazelnut spread, “Did you combine this with cream cheese?” he asked, mouth slightly full.

“I’ve seen you do it a couple of times,” you said with a shrug. “You think we’ll be out much today?” 

“I certainly won’t,” he said as he nodded towards his bandaged self. “Monty said if I rest all day, tomorrow I’ll be able to at least, have fun at the party. He prepared a really potent painkiller potion for it.” 

“Maybe I can convince the boys to just come back here and we can play Monopoly or something.” 

“Without me? Is that so you win?” 

“I could win even if you were playing,” you retorted, still digging through your suitcase. You took a pair of denim overalls out –you’d bought them with Tom and Beth– and then a band shirt (that was actually yours and not stolen from Sirius). It was an extremely muggle outfit, but you didn’t really care. 

Remus saw you sitting in the corner, rummaging through your clothes and he couldn’t help but be reminded of that one scene on Peter Pan. He wondered if you would play along with him like you had with Sirius on the balcony.

“Girl, why are you crying?”  

You frowned, jumping to him with your clothes still in your hands. Remus might have been perceptive as hell, and he would have probably figured out if you were actually crying, but you weren’t. Not at that time. “I’m not–” 

“Remus John Lupin, What’s yours?” he pressed on. 

You frowned and tilted your head to the side. “Vixen?” 

“Is that all?” 

Finally, you smiled, knowing exactly what Remus was doing, “Yes.” 

“Where do you live?” 

“Second star to the right and straight on till the morning.” 

“What a funny address,” he said with a bit of a mocking smile. 

You walked towards him and sat with him on the bed. “It is not.” 

“Why were you crying?” 

“I wasn’t crying,” you deflected again. “Come with me! To Neverland!” 

“To Neverland?” Remus asked, “sounds far away.”

“We could really use a werewolf,” you teased. 

Remus laughed, “I shall give you a kiss.” You extended your hand to him in the same way Peter Pan would have done. “Don’t you know what a kiss is?” 

“I shall know it when you give it to me.” 

Remus couldn’t stand up, and he really didn’t have anything even remotely close to a thimble around, so he took a piece of cheese and deposited it in your hand, you couldn’t help but break into a laugh, letting yourself fall over his legs as he looked at you bemused. 

“Why do you make fun of me so?” 

“I’m not, I’m not,” you added, “sorry”. And then sat back on the bed, trying to stifle your laughter. When you finally did, you bit your lip and tilted your head to the side, “Remus, you’re worth more than twenty boys.” 

Remus was almost taken aback by your words, not because he didn’t know they were on the play –which was by now a completely scrambled version of Peter Pan, but because of the sincerity you said it with. Remus was good at figuring it out when you were lying, playing or bluffing, and this time, he couldn’t see any of that, you were being sincere, and it was startling. Remus could almost see the love you held for him behind your eyes, he could tell how much you cared and it pained him, it pained him to know just how close you were and yet how–

“What are you up to, mischievous creatures?” Sirius asked as he burst the door open and took a diverted look at the two of you on the bed.

And yet how far… 

“Just playing,” you replied with a smile, the spell that had been cast over the two dissolving like the soap bubbles of oblivion that the two of you had created when you were alone at their parent’s cottage. “Take care of him, will you, I’ll change.” 

“Why not here?” Sirius teased with a smile, and Remus threw him a look. He would have so not been able to see that with a casual stance. And knowing you, if Sirius decided to make it some sort of dare, you might have done it. 

Thankfully, instead of indulging Sirius, you took off Moony’s jumper and launched it at his face, “Wouldn’t you like that? You perv,” you teased, and walked towards the bathroom with the clothes you’d change to in between your hands. 

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked, turning to Remus with a kind and soft smile.

“Much better,” Remus admitted. “Vix seems to know how to lift my spirits.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. And then took a deep breath. “She’s still avoiding the subject.” 

“I doubt she’ll stop anytime soon,” Remus said, quite aware of it himself.

“It worries me,” Sirius said. “What if she keeps it all in and then she blows up?” 

Remus sighed, he knew what Sirius meant, he too was worried about it. All the pressure in your shoulders was something that neither of them could control nor alleviate, and it was eating both of them up from the inside. “You just have to be there for her then.” 

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A/N: Well now we know, but what shall we do with said knowledge? Suffer, of course.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[battymommastuff]

The Other Side

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

!!TW!! - MENTIONS OF SA AND OTHER DARK THEMES

Part 1 Part 2 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You didn't get a chance to address the deep voice before a cloth was covering your face and the world went dark. A throbbing pain came next when you awoke. You were laying on a very luxurious bed. Looking down, you saw that you were still in your same clothing. Just a silk robe that covered your underwear. Your heart was racing as you looked around the room. Whoever lived here, lived in style. Everything looked as if it would cost you bodily organs to own. 

Before the shock could wear off, the two massive double doors opened, and a man walked into the room. A mask covering his face, and his eyes watched you carefully. Your body visibly shrunk as you stared at the intimidating man across the room from you, "Ms. (L/N), I do want to apologize for the rather harsh retrieval of you. We have to take precautionary measures these days." The man said while stepping closer to you. He stepped into the moonlight, and you finally saw every detail of his mask. A golden bird mask...no owl mask. What the hell is going on? 

"W-What do you want with me?" You asked, moving off of the bed once he got too close to you. The bed now served as a barrier between you and your kidnapper, but it didn't provide any comfort for you. All you could think of was being raped, and sold on the black market. Gotham City wasn't the safest city, but you never thought this would happen to you. How did this happen? There was always security watching over the bunk area every night to make sure this never happened. How did these men get in to kidnap you? Whatever the reason, you didn't feel safe with the circus anymore. 

"To give you a chance...a chance to be apart of something great. My organization works from the shadows to ensure the safety of our beautiful city..." Beautiful isn't a word you would use, but sure, "You possess a talent that could be beneficial to our cause." The man picked up a remote and turned the tv on. What played was several of your acts and some of your rehearsals. All taken from vantage points, and places that you wouldn't have noticed someone watching you, "We've come to realize that our organization is seen as a myth, a boogeyman. Many criminals fear us, and with your talents...we could harness that fear." He stepped around the bed and started making his way towards you once again. The fear you felt kept your legs from moving, so this time he got uncomfortably close to you, "Join us (Y/N). Join us and help us purge Gotham of everything that taints it." 

The Court of Owls. One of Gotham's scariest myths. You've heard whispers of them while spending days in the city. Some of your fellow performers even mentioned them once or twice. Everything you've ever heard was never good. This cult believes they are doing the right thing, but are harming so many in the process. You couldn't join them...you couldn't live your life in the shadows. What could ever be so wonderful about someone so full of darkness? It seemed that the man saw what you were thinking, and he backed away, "Such a shame...you would have been such a valuable asset. I'm afraid if you won't join us, then we have to do away with you. You will pose a risk to all of us." The man turned his back towards you, and you knew now was your chance. Grabbing the closest thing to you; a lamp, you hit him over the bed. The man dropped to the ground, and you ran to the window. Luckily you weren't too high from the ground, so you pushed the window open and climbed out. 

You could hear voices and yelling as you dashed into the dark, raining city. You hadn't a clue where you were going, but anywhere would be better than this. The circus would be the first place they would look, so you had to find somewhere new. You could hear footsteps behind you as well as some above you. They were after you, and they were fast. Thankfully, your breathing training worked wonders. Still you were no match for these skilled men. They managed to corner you into a dead end alley. This is it. The place where your dead body would be found. It all ended here. The vile smell of puke, piss, and garbage filled your nose as you looked around at the court members closing in on you, "P-Please...I promise I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You pleaded, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. From behind you were pushed to your knees, and you could see your reflection in the blade meant for your death. 

The member lifted the blade up, but before it could meet your skin...a rope wrapped around their wrist. With a scream, they were pulled into the darkness. It felt as if all sound in the city stopped...everything went quiet. You felt fear before, but this was a new level of fear. A fear that you never would forget. A black shadow flew by, grabbing another member. This caused the rest of them to ignore you, and turned their attention to their surroundings. Now would have been the perfect time to run, but your legs were screaming. The adrenaline was wearing off, and it felt like you couldn't move an inch. A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, right as a shadow covered the alley...a shadow of a bat. The mysterious savior dropped down on one of the members, and a fight broke out. You could only watch in awe as your savior took down every single member without much struggle. Once it was over, the figure turned towards you. Again the lighting allowed you a glimpse of him. The bat symbol of his chest matched the one in the night sky. 

"Batman..." You whispered, with relief before your eyes rolled back and you slumped to the ground. Batman walked towards you, and gently picked you up from the ground. He didn't see any visible injuries besides little scrapes on your knees from being pushed to the ground. Even now you were just as beautiful as you were while performing. He held you close and summoned the Batmobile. No hospital in Gotham would be safe enough for you. He needed to take you to the batcave. There you would be safe, and he could question you. 

"Alfred, get the med-bay ready. We have a guest." Batman said into his comms, after sitting you in the passenger seat. Your head leaned on the window, but your lips were starting to turn blue. Judging from your attire, you must have been getting ready for bed. With one final look over to make sure you were secure, he raced off into the streets of Gotham to the batcave.

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[officialrocketjumper]

HOWDY EVERYONE- so excited to FINALLY be able to show off my piece for this year's Bumbleby Big Bang!

Unfortunately no accompanying story as of yet- but I really hope you guys get to read it someday! The premise involves Yang cursed to be trapped inside a sword, which was an idea I KNEW I had to make move.

Details and development stuff under the cut!

Lots of fun collaboration with the author, Celeste! We worked together to find the look-of-picture, Blake's outfit, how the Grimm look, the style of the sword, the whole shabang! I'm really happy with how it all turned out!

When I first saw all the prompts, even before claims opened, I got to work on a handful of exploration pieces based on some of the summaries, to decide which of the stories I was interested in would be the best fit. Here's the initial idea for this one I put together over a lunch break:

After showing Celeste, we got to work finding the look we wanted! Went back and forth a bit and found this great look for Blake! Also shoutout to Pinterest boards for visdev inspiration I love you Pinterest boards.

Just about everything stayed to final anim, with the simplification of getting rid of that purple cloth hanging from her belt, (since I already had the rope ends to think about working with), and the light purple strap across the chest, since leaving it out would simplify the linework on her chest.

The sword also went through a bit of change! Celeste had the idea of Yang making the sword catch on fire, which I LOVED. I went with a split design so we can see the fire more clearly start from the hilt and grow to cover the whole blade.

And from there we brainstormed animation ideas! I went all over Youtube for video reference of sword work (that would be complex enough to be interesting, but short enough to be manageable). I found something we liked from Motion Actor Inc., a channel I've used LOTS for both personal and professional work (I work in 3D Animation, for those who don't know). I edited this together, to see the action from multiple places at once, which gave me the idea for that camera move that's in the final anim!

Now for the fun part! Make that badboy MOVE. For the cam turn, the first frame she's in the air I'm referencing the top left video, and the frame she lands I'm referencing the bottom left one. While she's airborne I'm just inbetweening that! No reference for the Grimm, just wanted it responding to her attacks, but I end up tweaking the roughs later on to make the block feel stronger.

Then from there we had to actually figure out Grimm designs! Nimona had just released, and Celeste and I loved it, so she asked if I could take some inspiration from Nimona's shadow form! GLADLY. Here's what I came up with!

I was going between how the movies and comic designed Nimona, really loving the almost liquid shadow of the movie, but also how the comics had this broken up/held together rougher form. Celeste liked the second to last one the best! The original plan was to have it leave a wispy shadow trail like the concept art, but to simplify the animation we left it solid instead!

Next up is tiedown! Basically just getting the roughs more on-model, so the lineart comes out nice and clean. I've also transferred the new Grimm design to the base from earlier, and fire's also outlined orange so it reads clearer. (SPOILER- if you look REAL close here, you can see Yang visible in the fire! I liked the idea of Blake's slash also doubling as Yang throwing a punch. The idea is in the concept art earlier but now it's working with the action.)

Next step- final look of picture!! I asked Celeste for sources of inspiration to draw from when thinking about environment design, and we got Nimona, She-Ra, and Owl House! Used each of those as springboards for shading style, colour palettes, and how the fire would look!

From there, we kept the straight trees/bush/lake/foreground greenery from the first one, the blues from the second, and the fire from the third!

Once I had this frame, it was a matter of working backwards and making the background work pre-camera turn (which was ABSOLUTELY the most challenging part of this process). Learned a lot doing this! Procreate isn't quite equipped to make something like this efficient, but I'm pleased to say that Dreams would make something like this easier in the future (keyframing objects instead of hand-drawing/spacing duplicates by hand, for example).

From then on it was just colouring the lineart, adding shading, and finishing up the background! Beginning-to-end this whole process was beginning of July to end of October!

I had an absolute BLAST putting all this together. Here's to next year where I find a way to do something even more ridiculously complicated!! It's fun!!!

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — something sweet

prev: monkey tie at the exhibit | masterlist | next: coping mechanism

"what prompted this?" she asks while taking a sip of the coffee he got her. it's filled to the brim with ice, much to her dismay, but the hints of lavender and cinnamon make up for the inconvenience. she's still dressed in her pajamas, lace-lined and adorned with ribbons, but she's wide awake.

"as thanks," he claims, but truthfully, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. "for inviting me the other night. and for returning my jacket." she shakes her head at his reasoning. her hand motions to their spot on the floor, signaling him to situate himself while she prepares her materials, and as she does so, kageyama soaks in her room again, this time with more intent. the papers that were on her desk a few days prior have been neatly stacked up and stored in a container beneath her desk, and the clothes that once piled up on the floor are nowhere to be seen. most importantly, though, the canvas isn't bland anymore. there's a sketch of a girl with her arms wrapped around an unintelligible creature in the center, and the face vaguely reminds him of her. this time, he questions it. "what is that?"

her movements come to a swift halt, and her eyes dart towards the easel. he can see the tension settle in her bones at the realization that the unfinished piece is on full display. "it's nothing," she replies, and instead of leaving it alone, she moves quickly to hide it in her closet.

his head tilts at her actions. "it looks great, though."

"thank you, but-"

the call of her name from the living room cuts her short, and she's escaping through the door before he can say another word. his fist curls in on itself subconsciously while he waits, the hushed talks on the other side of the wall failing to reach his ears.

when she returns, the air around her is heavier. a soft sigh leaves her lips before she settles herself on the ground and delves into the lesson for today. he doesn’t fail to notice the slight stiffness about her.

the time slips through kageyama's hands, and unbeknownst to him, wisps of warm golden sunlight are peering through her window. his legs have fallen asleep a long time ago, and his posture is unsalvageable. regardless, he listens. he listens to the soft timber of her voice as she explains each diagram, and he listens to the enunciation of each syllable that falls from her tongue. he's entranced, to say the least, but he doesn't realize it. all he can feel is the thump, thump, thump of his heart against his chest and the airiness in his stomach.

his notes have grown cleaner, compared to the last session. she compliments his organization, and embarrassingly, a barrage of heat hits his face. the change in dynamic shakes his awareness back into place, and he realizes the sun is already disappearing into the horizon, the hue of the sunset long gone. seemingly, his awakening draws her attention to the time, and she breathes out a small apology for dragging on for too long.

he's rushing to pack his things, realizing he'd overstayed his welcome. he can't read her expression -- it's an amalgamation of emotions he can't put a name to, and it bothers him slightly. nevertheless, she bids him farewell, this time following out to the front door.

"thank you," she whispers, her arms crossed against her chest to fight against the breeze. "for the coffee and sweets. i'll have to pay you back sometime soon." the small smile on her lips almost makes him forget to respond.

"you don't have to," he replies hastily, his words tumbling out all too fast. "you're already doing me a huge favor. y'know, by tutoring me."

she shifts her weight to a different leg, her gaze attached to his face. "okay. just get home safe, alright?"

he nods, pivoting around to walk down the hallway, to the street, and back home. the trip is quiet, save for the whirring of cars on his right and the hum of evening owls on his left. when he returns, the thumping of his heart dissolves into a softer noise, and the airiness in his stomach disappears.

𝜗𝜚 incoming family trauma :3

𝜗𝜚 tsukki is very caring behind the scenes as u can see (he wants to look nonchalant and cool for his bf but i didnt tell u that)

𝜗𝜚 yachi may or may not have eaten half of the pastry box

𝜗𝜚 yn orders the same noodles every time tsukishima says he's getting takeout and he uses the add-ons as a mood indicator. no add-ons means she's doing fine, the more add-ons equate to how badly she's doing

𝜗𝜚 kageyama is like a cat exploring a new area every time he enters yn's room LOL she's noticed it she just hasn't cared enough to mention it

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