#the way he's crouching a bit down and holding her like he's trying to steady himself because he's so overwhelmed

[fullscoreshenanigans]

@goldiipond

Doodles

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hi I love your fics and was hoping you’d like this request:)) I was thinking a fic with James x fem!reader where she’s a slytherin but not in the stereotypical way that James and the marauders typically see them as. She’s not cold hearted or prejudice, rather quite friendly and very artsy. I was thinking an enemies to lovers where James just generalizes her with the slytherin she doesn’t like so he’s not the kindest to her, but maybe she gets paired up for an assignment with Remus so James ends up having to be around her a bit and realizes she doesn’t suck lol. Think he would definitely have to work for her affection after fumbling the ball so hard but im a sucker for a happy ending!

I hope this sounds like something you’d enjoy writing, if not that’s totally ok too❤️

Masterpiece

James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: (see above) James Potter goes a little too far with a girl everyone happens to like.

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it <3

CW: not proof read, use of {Y/N}, Jealous and Stupid James, sexual implied ending, Protective salty Remus, self indulgent, cursing, very slight angst, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo,

WC: ~9k

The sky was overcast and the wind was blowing rapidly, causing your sleeves to billow as the very stool you perched on teetered from side to side. You grabbed the seat and tried to steady your perch, holding up your paint brush away from your portrait as the creamy white shade dripped down on your bare legs. 

Dressed in casual clothes, your paint stained denim short overalls and a striped shirt that hid evidence of handprint smears from your absentminded messes. Sleeves rolled up to show your speckled skin already decorated with splotches of white and browns, fresh hazy grays that resembled the foggy ground of Hogwarts and its students. 

“{Y/N} {L/N}?” A voice so calm and careful called out from behind you. You turned and smiled on instinct, your eyes landing on the tall figure. He was also in more casual clothes, a brown cable knit sweater vest over a simple white button down shirt. He was holding up a piece of paper to his eyes before he put it in his pocket. Smiling so kindly, where the corners of his eyes crinkled and his scarred lip curled up to reveal perfectly uneven teeth.

Ballet white.

“Remus Lupin?” You called out to him and he chuckled, taking a few long steps to stand beside you. 

“You were meant to wait for me, you know.” He teased and slipped his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But this was the perfect time for it.” You lifted your hands to gesture to the sky and he looked around to try and find what exactly made this 'perfect.’

“How’d you even manage to get in here?” He quizzed and took a seat on the railing. Looking around at the castle grounds from the top of RavenClaw’s tower, you got the perfect view of the astronomy tower, what you were currently painting. 

“There wasn't much convincing involved. Barty Crouch walked me up here.” You smirked and he looked bewildered.

“You know Crouch?” 

“Yeah, I do.”

Remus furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together how he hadn't heard of you before. Seeing as he was meant to be escorting you two and from each Hogwarts house for your own personal study, it seemed unlikely he wouldn't of known of you, getting this particular form of special treatment from the headmaster himself.

Remus walked around you and took a peak at what you were painting. The air so familiar, and comforting, both of you had forgotten you had just met.

“What are you painting?”

“Magical paintings.” You hummed and he furrowed his brow further.

“Don't you usually need a subject?”

“Traditionally.” You muttered and gestured for him to sit down. He listened almost instantly, sitting down on the floor next to you, laying his crutch across his lap. After a moment of pause you shrugged and set your paint aside, shifting to sit beside him on the floor, making him chuckle.

“Do you know how they work?”

“Not a clue.” He shifted to sit and face you fully. Both of you crossed your legs, like tots ready to swap unearthing secrets in the school yard. 

“Well. What you're thinking of is magical portraits. The art of bringing the life of the subject to the painting.” You declared almost breathless. “But that's amature work.” 

He gave a delighted and startled laugh at your bold declaration, but it didn't impede you.

“The true magic is being able to bring life that isn't visible to the naked eye, to visual art forms.” You declared and gestured to your painting. Remus’s eyes flickered up and widened a bit. You gave an excitable bright smile as you both watched the misty fog in your painting shift, the faint stars in the background twinkle against the backdrop, and even the few faint sketches of students within the distant tower moving about. 

“Woah.” He whispered and you nodded eagerly. 

“Isn't it inspiring?” 

“It is.” He agreed instantly before he looked back at you. “But, doesn't it typically take magic from the subject for it to work effectively? How does this work?”

“Well, don't you think Hogwarts is possibly the most magical place in the world?” You argued and he chuckled at how easily you brushed off the question. 

Of course, no one truly knew how it worked. Not that the creator of the art method ever documented his findings. The only clear part of it was not everyone had the knack for it. You were lucky, since you were young, to be able to produce the art even before you got your magic.

You turned to Remus, who was watching with rapt attention.

“Do you want to try?” You offered, a mischievous smile taking over your features that looked startlingly familiar to Remus.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me? Paint?”

“Why not? You might find you have a hidden talent!” You encouraged, handing him a brush and a palette. 

Reluctantly, he took the brush, glancing at the canvas as if it were a daunting task. Exaggerative hesitation to defile such a beautiful painting. You grinned, ready to guide him through it. Little did you know that in that moment, you had endeared yourself to Remus in a way not many people were able to. 

For the next few hours, well after curfew, you and Remus stayed perched on the RavenClaw tower, as you instructed him on what colors and paints to use. He was doing his best not to ‘ruin it’, which quickly went out the window when, in a moment of playful determination, you covered your hands in black paint and began to stamp your canvas. Convincing him that you truly didn't care what he did to the painting as long as it was fun.

Finally, you both snuck out of the RavenClaw tower as quietly as possible, trying not to wake anyone. Leading to you two in the halls, laughing and joking as he carried your canvas for you. 

“So, you're self taught?” He prodded and you nodded. 

“Yup! Have been doing this since I was.. four? Likely. My mother showed me.” You hummed and he gave a delighted laugh. 

“Really? So you're studying in your free time?”

“Mhm! It's not something that can really be.. taught. So Hogwarts doesn't have classes on it quite yet.” You waved your hand vaguely and he nodded. 

“You're telling me this now, after all that time trying? You got my hopes up, {L/N}.”

You giggled and he put his hand over his heart in fake anguish. 

“I was this close to changing career paths, you know.”

“Oh, I'm sure you were. I could see the headline now: 'Remus Lupin, Future Auror, Turns Painter After One Magical Evening.'” You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to Defense Against the Dark Arts, thank you very much. But this-” He gestured to the covered painting with a soft look. “You turned this mess into something amazing. You're truly talented.”

“I know.” You sang and he laughed, nudging you. 

“I'm serious, you know.”

“Sirius? I thought you were his boyfriend?”

“Oh Merlin, you're as bad as they are.”

You gave a laugh of your own and shoved him back. “Oh, you Marauders? Please tell me you're joking.” 

“No, no, truly. I think you'd get along. Gryffindor tower is next, right?” He prodded as you both entered the hall and stopped just before the dungeons’ entrance.

“Mhm.” 

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” He offered and held out his hand. You took it with a firm shake and you both said your goodbyes, hurrying over to the Slytherin common room.

~~~

“She's quite fun, showed me how to match pallets colors.” Remus rambled on to Lily who gave a delighted laugh at how excited he was to show her his new found artistic ability. They were sitting on the couch together, and he was exposing to her why his newest sweater vest was absolutely ruined 

“She sounds lovely.” Lily hummed, Sirius smirking from his spot between Remus’s knees, looking up at him. Eyes closed as one of the werewolf’s hands tangled in his loches of hair. 

“So lovely you should just marry her.” Sirius teased and Remus glared at him, giving a particularly rough tug at his boyfriend's hair. Sirius giving a chuckle and biting his lip. “I see no punishment here.”

“You-”

“Whose getting hitched?” James piped up from the stairs, jogging over and hopping onto the couch. Making the cushions bounce a bit as he got comfortable. “Evans, how can you let this happen? A Hogwarts marriage that's not our own?”

Lily gave a sigh and rolled her eyes, gathering her things and saying her goodbyes to Remus and Sirius, giving James the cold shoulder with a simple ‘Potter’ as he put his hand over his chest and sunk further into the cushions. 

“She says that name like it won't be hers someday.” He sighed fondly before he turned to look at the other two. “Where's Wormy?”

“He's on a date with a Hufflepuff.” Sirius snickered. “Some seventh year dude.”

“Huh.” James muttered and looked at the ceiling. “Didn't think he'd be the type to date older.”

“Yeah well-” Before Sirius could continue, Remus’s head peaked up from the couch when there was a knock on the portrait door. 

“That her?” Sirius asked as Remus slugged out of his seat to get around his clingy boyfriend. 

“Likely!” He shouted back and James tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Who?” He quizzed Sirius and he smirked up at James.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, the artist extraordinaire.” Sirius replied with mock seriousness, adjusting his position to climb onto the couch. “Remus has been raving about her all evening.”

“{Y/N} {L/N}? Where have I heard of her before?” James leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Oh! That paint girl? One who has been doing those weird paint studies around school?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Sirius replied, grinning. “Apparently, she's doing some self study. Remus was practically glowing when he talked about her.”

James’s eyes widened with intrigue. “That’s brilliant! I’ve heard whispers about her- it’s supposed to be absolutely mesmerizing.”

“I wouldn't go that far.” You interjected, stepping through the portrait hole just in time to catch the end of the conversation. You were slightly out of breath, having hurried from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor tower, your paint-stained overalls still evidence of your artistic endeavors from yesterday. Looking around at the beautiful common room. A very faded almost gray-green scarf around your neck.

Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch

The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You teased with a playful grin, glancing around at the familiar faces of the infamous boys. Sirius was looking you over curiously, with his typical sleazy grin, but James seemed absolutely slack jawed. After a moment of a wait you gave a small laugh, snapping James out of whatever trance he was in. Turning to look at Remus who had his eyes locked on your paints, making you smile.

His eyes flicked up to yours and he grinned back cheekily. “Where should I set up?”

“Over here, near the window.” He gestured over to a small nook. You hurried over and set your things down. Starting of course with a small tarp to set up your painting area without having to worry about ruining the flooring.

You set up two canvas this time and Remus helped you, confused at first before you set another pallet and paint brush down. “Alright, my student. Do you remember what I taught you?” You teased and he laughed, walking over to pick up the paint.

“You didn't have the bring this just for me.”

“Oh I know, how great am I, right?” You teased and sat down. Remus was still getting used to your deflective personality. Shrugging as he sat down and watched as you worked. Doing his best to copy your movements.

Meanwhile, Sirius and James were watching the scene curiously. Sirius couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the attention his boyfriend was giving this new girl, and James was unable to get over the fading color of your scarf. His jaw clenched a bit as he watched Lily walk over to introduce herself, also somehow roped in by your charm and even sitting down with you two to watch you paint.

James leaned back on the couch, arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold before him. The sight of you, animated and joyful as you explained your artistic process to Remus and Lily, stirred something in him. It wasn't just the way you wielded your paintbrush with such confidence; it was the warmth that radiated from you. You were a Slytherin, so obviously, but you held the room like a Gryffindor. You worked with the precision of a RavenClaw. You were patient and thoughtful with Remus and his questions, like a HufflePuff.

He didn't get it.

“Oi, Prongs, you look like you’ve just swallowed a lemon.” Sirius whispered, nudging James with his elbow. “What’s got you all broody?”

“Nothin.” James replied, too quickly, his eyes still fixed on you. “Just… watching.”

Sirius followed his eyes and slowly smirked to himself. “She's getting under your skin too, huh?” 

James glanced at Sirius before his glare locked back on you as you instructed Lily to take your paintbrush and gestured to the canvas he couldn't see. “What's her deal? Why's she so.. smiley?” 

The ‘as a Slytherin’ part came unspoken to both of the boys.

“You know, Remus says she knows Crouch.” 

“Of course she does.” He muttered, eyes locked on the way you rolled up your sleeve and cuffed them. How you loosened your collar, and leaned down, showing the upper valley to your-

And suddenly the floor was a bit more interesting. He turned to look at Sirius who’s lip twitched as he watched Remus rub his thumb across his cheek and smudge some black paint on himself.

“... Merlin, he's bloody fit, ain't he?” Sirius muttered and James gave a loud exaggerated groan.

“I'm shocked Remus is entertaining her at all.” James finally muttered and sunk deeper into his sheet like a pouty child. Sirius nodded.

James watched with narrowed eyes as you laughed along with Remus and Lily, his annoyance bubbling up to the surface. Without really thinking it through, he pushed himself up from the couch, making his way over to where you were sitting with the paintbrushes and palettes laid out neatly.

He made it look casual, like he was just getting a better view, but as he stepped closer, his foot "accidentally" caught the jar of paint water perched near the edge of the table. It tipped, and time seemed to slow as the murky water splashed all over your leggings that just peaked form under your overalls, staining the fabric a dark, ugly color.

"Oh! Whoops, sorry 'bout that," James said, not quite managing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was just on the edge of sincere, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.

You glanced down at the mess, then up at James, and for a moment it seemed like the whole room held its breath. James just waiting for the snake to snap its jaws at him. But instead of getting angry, instead of snapping at him like he expected, you just smiled- a bright, genuine smile that made James's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"No worries, Potter.” You mused, brushing it off as if nothing had happened. "A bit of extra color never hurt anyone."

James blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. He muttered something that might have been an apology, but the way you smiled at him; completely unbothered- only made his irritation flare up more. He turned sharply on his heel, stalking back to the couch where Sirius was watching with an amused expression.

"Smooth, mate," Sirius drawled, arching an eyebrow.

"Shut it," James muttered, sinking back into his seat, his eyes flicking back to you as you continued painting like nothing had happened.

---

Over the next few days, James found himself increasingly irked by you. No matter what he did, you never seemed fazed. He "accidentally" knocked over your brushes during lunch one day, scattering them across the floor. You just laughed, picking them up without complaint. He charmed your canvas to keep sliding down whenever you set it up, but you only adjusted it each time, humming to yourself as if it were all just part of the process. He even tried to charm the colors in your palette to mix into a murky brown- but you simply shrugged, saying something about it being a "happy little accident" and turned it into a whole new painting.

Each time, you just smiled at him, that infuriatingly calm smile that made James feel like he was the one being childish. It was driving him mad, and Sirius, for one, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.

One morning, James was sitting in the Great Hall, absently poking at his breakfast, when he heard a determined set of footsteps approaching. He looked up just in time to see you standing over him, hands on your hips, your eyes sharp. If James was a smarter boy, he would of been able to see the faint red rims around your eye sockets and the twitch of your lip.

"Potter.” You huffed, your voice carrying just enough edge to catch the attention of the surrounding students. "Give it back."

James blinked, feigning innocence. "Give what back?"

"Don't play dumb.” You snapped, leaning over the table, your face inches from his. "My paintbrush. The one with the silver handle. I know you took it."

James opened his mouth to deny it, but the look in your eyes made him hesitate. There was something different today- a fire that hadn’t been there before. He was finally getting a reaction from you. He felt his resolve waver, and before he could stop himself, he found his hand reaching into his robes, to pull out the paintbrush in question. Only.. it wasn't there.

James blinked, his smirk faltering as he patted the pocket where he thought he’d stashed your paintbrush. It wasn’t there. A pang of unease settled in his chest as he searched through the other pockets of his robes, the smirk fading completely as he came up empty-handed.

“Are you kidding me?” You straightened, your eyes narrowing. “Potter, don’t play games right now. That brush… it’s important to me.”

There was a crack in your voice, something raw that caught James off guard. The confidence you always carried seemed to waver, your voice betraying a vulnerability that made James's stomach sink with guilt.

“I… I swear it was right here,” James muttered, now frantically checking every inch of his robes, his face growing paler with each empty pocket. The students around them had grown quiet, sensing the sudden seriousness of the situation.

Remus was glaring daggers into his very soul, even Sirius hid his face away in his hand.

You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your lips pressed together as you fought to maintain composure. You looked away from him, swallowing hard. “Potter, that was my mother’s. She gave it to me before…” You trailed off, your voice breaking slightly before you cleared your throat, trying to regain control.

James’s heart sank. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t thought. All he’d wanted was to rile you up, to see you react. He hadn’t meant for this.

“Alright,” He said quickly, standing up from the table. His voice was more earnest now, the usual cockiness gone. “I’ll help you find it. It must have fallen out somewhere. Let’s go check my dorm.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded stiffly, blinking rapidly as you turned on your heel and started walking, James trailing after you. The Great Hall was eerily quiet as they left, whispers following in their wake.

“She's too damn nice.” Remus muttered and Sirius sighed. About to say something, before he earned a glare from Remus too. 

Lily tutted. “As if you weren't involved in anything he's done to her so far.”

~~~

The walk to the Gryffindor common room felt like it took forever, the silence between the two of you heavy. James kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, the way your jaw was clenched, the way you kept your eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.

When they reached the boys' dormitory, James immediately began tearing through his things, searching every nook and cranny. He pulled open drawers, checked under his bed, even rummaged through the pockets of his other robes. But the paintbrush was nowhere to be found.

He turned to you, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat. “I… I’m so sorry, {Y/N}, I can’t find it. Maybe it fell somewhere else, maybe-”

“Stop,” You cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes were glassy, tears welling up as you looked at him. The fight you’d been trying to keep inside seemed to crumble all at once, your shoulders sagging as you sank down onto the edge of his bed. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”

James stared at you, his heart aching at the sight of you like this. He’d never imagined he’d see you cry, and knowing he was the cause of it made him feel worse than he ever thought possible. Suddenly all those weeks of trying to get under your skin seemed more of a success, if this was the result of a truly damaging prank.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say, how to fix this. He knelt down in front of you, his voice gentle. “I’ll find it, I promise. I’ll look everywhere, I’ll…”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It’s not just a paintbrush, Potter. It was hers. It was all I had left of her.”

James’s chest tightened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your knee. “I’m so sorry. I… I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll find it. I swear I will.”

You looked down at his hand, then back at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. “Just… don’t,” You whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Potter.”

And with that, you stood up, wiping at your eyes as you turned and left the dormitory, leaving James there, staring after you, feeling more helpless than he ever had before.

~~~

James had never felt guilt like this. It gnawed at him, making his usual swagger feel empty. Over the next few days, he found himself constantly scanning the corridors, the classrooms, even the common rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you were always just out of reach. Each time he spotted you, you either turned and walked the other way or simply looked right through him as if he didn't exist.

It wasn't long before the whole school knew what had happened. How James Potter had lost something precious of yours, something irreplaceable. And unlike other times, where his mischief had earned him admiration or laughter, this time he received disapproving glares and whispers behind his back. How he hurt the only Slytherin everyone seemed to adore. Even Remus had given him the cold shoulder for a while, and Lily refused to talk to him outright.

One day, after Transfiguration, James caught sight of you slipping out of the classroom. He hurried to catch up, weaving through the crowd of students, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached you, he touched your arm gently.

“{Y/N}, please, just give me a second.”

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. There was a guardedness there that hadn’t been before, a wall that you had built between yourself and him. It hurt more than James could put into words.

Even then, you took time to notice; Cinnamon Brown in his eyes.

 James Potter was used to rejection, Lily Evans ran him like it was a damned sport, but something about your usually positive beaming face turning to a frown at the sight of him wrecked him.

“What do you want, Potter?” You asked, your voice tired, as if dealing with him was just another chore.

He swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry. Really. I never meant for things to go this far. I’ve been looking for your brush, I swear it. I… I just want to make it up to you.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “There’s nothing you can do, alright? Just leave it, Potter.”

“But-”

“No,” You said firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You’ve done enough. I- I thought you were funny, that you could tell a good joke. Take one too. But this- no. No, just leave me be, Potter.”

James flinched at your words, the finality of them cutting deeper than he expected. He watched as you turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with every step.

~~~

James's heart sank deeper with each day that passed without a sign of the lost paintbrush. He had scoured the castle, enlisted the help of some of his housemates, and even tried asking around discreetly in other houses, but to no avail. It was as if the brush had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a growing rift between him and you.

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, James slumped on a couch, staring blankly at the fire crackling in the hearth. Sirius and Remus were there too, the latter still showing signs of his displeasure over the whole ordeal.

"I messed up, didn't I?" James murmured, not really expecting an answer.

"You did.” Remus deadpanned, not looking up from his book. "And you know it's not just about the brush. It's about how you've been treating her from the start."

Sirius, lounging with his back against the armrest, watched James closely. "You've been a right prat, Prongs- even I gave in after the first prank.” He remarked and avoided Remus’s slight glare. “You didn't just step on her toes, you danced the bloody Tango on them."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just wanted to get a rise out of her, see her react. But now... I can't stop thinking about how I made her feel. It's like I'm seeing myself for the first time and it's not a pretty picture."

"Sounds like you've got it bad," Sirius said with a smirk.

Remus closed his book, finally giving James his full attention, not exactly happy with what he was hearing. "It's not just guilt, James. It's empathy. You're finally understanding the impact of your actions on others."

James looked from Sirius to Remus, the realization slowly dawning on him. "It's not like I like her. She's just.. pretty. You know, I hate to see a pretty face so upset.” He scoffed and looked back to Sirius who arched his eyebrow and smirked wider as he realized his remark wasn't as playful as he intended.

“That right?” Sirius pushed and James huffed. 

“That’s right.”

“When was the last time you bothered poor Evans?” Sirius challenged and Remus gave a low groan. Great, James just couldn't leave his friends alone. 

He watched in a bit of sympathy as the dumb boys jaw slowly went limp and his eyes widened. “Merlin, I think I like her.” He mumbled in absolute dread. “Like really like her. And I've gone and ruined it before it could even start."

"Well, you can't undo what you've done, but you can start making amends," Remus advised, a softer tone replacing his earlier reprimand.

"How? She doesn’t even want to see me," James lamented.

"Give her time and show her you've changed.. And Merlin, don't do this just to win her over." Remus huffed.

James pondered, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire. "What if she never forgives me?"

"Then you’ll learn a valuable lesson in respect, won't you?" Remus said sternly. "You can't force forgiveness, James. All you can do is prove that you're better than your worst mistake."

“Does Merlin speak straight through you?” James muttered to Remus who swatted him with the book across his lap, before standing. 

“I need new friends.” He mumbled as he walked away.

Sirius laughed and James pouted, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Pondering what would be the next best move when earning your forgiveness. He could live with never being with you, he always found the concept of lost love romantic. 

What he couldn't do was live knowing he hurt you without even trying for your forgiveness.

~~~

For the next few weeks, Hogwarts transformed into an entirely different realm for James. Determined to right his wrongs, he threw himself into the role of a repentant suitor with the zeal of a true 70s romantic hero; one who was more often clumsy than charming.

One morning at breakfast, armed with an armful of apology notes penned in his best handwriting (which still looked suspiciously like chicken scratch), James tried to navigate the treacherous waters of your friends’ skepticism and Barty’s disdain. He handed out his notes, his voice tinged with hopeful earnestness that made a few of your friends stifle their giggles. “Could you- um, would you make sure {Y/N} gets these? They’re, well, important.” His cheeks flamed red as he stumbled over his words, but the sincerity in his eyes earned him a few nods. The stuttering and foolish boy even earning a smile from Pandora Rosier who assured him she'd ‘do her best.’

He was getting desperate, at every shred of attention you spared him. During potions class, James attempted to be your knight in shining armor, which, predictably, went about as well as a troll in a ballet shop. When he noticed you struggling to reach a vial of newt eyes on a high shelf, he leapt up, nearly knocking over his own cauldron in his eagerness to assist. “Allow me!” 

But his overly enthusiastic grab sent the vial spinning into the air, only to crash down right next to Slughorn’s feet, splattering the hem of his robes with an unsightly goo. 

“Sorry, Professor!” James winced, while you suppressed a snicker at the sheer absurdity of his gallantry. Graveling even as he was sentenced to detention.

Now, James knew that if he wanted to be truthful with you it started with his behaviors. Which, started with him being truly himself. So, much to Remus’s annoyance, James turned to grander gestures. 

He managed to convince the house elves to let him borrow the kitchens for an evening to bake you a peace offering. Armed with sugar, flour, and an overabundance of misplaced confidence, he set about creating what he envisioned would be a culinary masterpiece. The result was a lopsided cake with icing that read, "Forgive me?" in wobbly letters. Only, half of the cake was callapsed, making it seem much more like a command of “give me”. 

He presented it to you during dinner, his hands shaking slightly as he placed it on the table. The entire Great Hall watched in anticipation as you took a bite. The cake was oddly salty, but when your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, James felt a surge of pure elation. Maybe, just maybe, his efforts were thawing your icy regard.

He even tried serenading you one evening in the common room, guitar in hand- a skill he had hastily learned over the past week. His voice cracked more than once, and the guitar was slightly out of tune, but he sang with such heartfelt passion that even the portraits along the walls seemed to listen in. He crooned to you, mangling the melody as he went. You watched, half-amused and half-astonished, as this boy who’d never shown an interest in music before butchered the song with endearing enthusiasm. Everyone in your common room appalled.

Through it all, James's exploits became the talk of Hogwarts. Whispers followed him everywhere- some mocking, others admiring. Some even amused that his attention had switched from Lily Evans, to you after years of pining. But beneath the laughter and the rumors, a thread of respect grew among his peers. Here was James Potter, chasing redemption as doggedly as he’d once chased after mischief.

Late one night, as James sat by the fire reflecting on his recent life choices, Sirius plopped down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Prongs, you’re a bleeding heart wrapped in a jester’s cloak,” Sirius shook his head with a grin.

James laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I just need to know she forgives me, Padfoot. That I’ve made things right.”

“Well, mate, at the very least, you’ve given the whole school a good show,” Sirius chuckled. “And who knows? Maybe our little Slytherin is writing her own notes now; ‘How to Tame Your Marauder’ or something more poetic.”

James smiled, gazing into the flickering flames, hopeful and a bit wiser. In his quest to win your forgiveness, he’d stumbled across something unexpected. Something worth it. Not just you, but a desire- no, need- to better himself. Every time he saw you smile, made you laugh, roll your eyes, he wanted to be someone better. Someone who deserved to find themselves feeling the magic of being in love with a girl like {Y/N} {L/N}.

And maybe he'd even find himself worthy of her affection in return.

~~~

It all came to a head one day when he was scouring the school once again for your paintbrush. He had lost track of time in his mindless routine and forgotten about potions class. He was a half hour late, dashing into the classroom in a ruffled mess.

His breathless arrival didn’t go unnoticed, especially by you, who eyed him warily from your spot at the potions bench. Professor Slughorn eyed him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. 

“Mr. Potter, so kind of you to join us,” Slughorn boomed, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, it's almost as if you left to miss my instruction specifically.” 

James grimaced but still tried to flash his playful smile that usually meant a clap back or snark. Instead, it was his form of a hesitant apology. “Sorry Professor-”

“I am not going over the instructions for Amortentia a third time today, is anyone willing to assist Mr. Potter?” Slughorn announced form the front of the class. There was a long moment of silence. Even with everyone slowly growing fond of him, no one was willing to drag down such an important project for the foolish boy.

Then, from across the room, your voice cut through the tension. "I can help him, Professor," you said, your voice calm but with an edge that didn’t entirely mask your reluctance. Everyone's heads turned towards you, including a visibly surprised James.

"Very well, {Y/N}. Please ensure Mr. Potter catches up without disrupting the rest of the class," Slughorn replied with a nod, turning back to his notes.

James approached your bench, a mix of gratitude and nervousness evident on his face. As he took the seat next to you, he whispered, "Thank you, I really mean it."

As James settled beside you at the potions bench, his hands fumbled slightly with the equipment. Slughorn, having returned to the front of the class, continued with his lecture, oblivious to the dramatic love story unfolding at the back.

James cleared his throat softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, {Y/N}, thanks for helping me out here. I know I've been... well, less than admirable lately."

You didn't look at him immediately, focusing instead on measuring out rose thorns with precision. "Just start by adding these to the cauldron slowly.” You instructed, handing him the thorns. "And stir- don't let it settle."

As he followed your instructions, his movements were careful, mirroring the cautious tone he was taking with you. After a moment, you finally met his gaze. "You've been trying hard, haven't you?" You muttered, not unkindly. Your eyes drifting over his focused expression and having to fight a smile.

James paused, the stirring rod in his hand still. "I have. I want to make things right, not just with you but... well, I've been thinking a lot about things I've done. I'm sorry, truly."

You watched him, the sincerity in his eyes striking a chord that made your heart ache. What had you done to the famous James Potter? His efforts over the past few weeks hadn’t gone unnoticed- it was quite entertaining. From the awkwardly presented cake to his out-of-tune serenades, his actions spoke far more than his words ever did. "I've noticed.” You whispered. "It's been hard to miss, really. Hogwarts hasn't been this entertaining in years."

A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've made a bit of a spectacle of myself."

"Just a bit.” You chuckled, the tension easing between you as the familiar rhythm of your banter found its footing again.

Encouraged by that sweet sound of your laugh and the pretty way your lips curled into a smile he just adored-, James continued, "If there’s any chance I could, you know, maybe start over? I’d understand if not but-"

"You're really laying it on thick with the humility, Potter. It’s a good look on you.” You teased gently, turning back to the potion, which was now bubbling contentedly. "Let's just take it one day at a time. But, yeah, we can start with being friends."

James let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, relief washing over him. "Friends, right. And if you ever want to throw more paint at me, just say when."

"Be careful, I might take you up on that.” You warned with a playful grin.

As the class progressed, you both fell into an easy rhythm, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a budding conversation. James was surprisingly adept once he focused, and you found yourself laughing more genuinely than you had in a while at his self-deprecating jokes and clumsy yet earnest attempts at potion-making.

By the end of the class, not only had you two successfully brewed a passable batch of Amortentia, which thankfully didn't smell like sweat and regret. James had shown you a different side of himself, one that was humbly trying to make amends and move forward. And as you packed up your supplies, sharing a light joke about the day's mishaps, it felt like a fresh start was truly possible.

James took the chance to smile back at Remus and Sirius. Sirius seemed delighted for him, and Remus seemed hesitant. But it was okay, because you hadn't just forgiven him. You were willing to be his friend.

~~~

James slowly realised that being your friend was likely one of the best feelings he's had in a while. He thought everyone you had met were your friends, considering how sweet and lovely you were with everyone. 

But he was wrong.

There was a crazy side to you that only a small few saw. He learned it quickly, that you were sweet, kind, understanding- yes.

But you were an absolute gremlin when you wanted to be.

James discovered this one evening when you invited him to join you for a late-night painting session- a tradition you shared with a select few. Remus told him about them, but he never really understood just how amazing it felt to have your full attention like this. He had anticipated a serene evening, maybe learning a bit more about your magical painting techniques. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a chaotic spree of creativity that involved more prank-like antics than actual painting.

How in the bloody hell had he not known you properly?

As James entered the room, he was immediately hit by a flying glob of paint. It splattered across his face, dripping down his cheek. He stood, stunned for a moment, before hearing your laughter from behind an easel.

“Oh Potter, rule one. Never let your guard down.” You taunted and quickly hurried over to your canvas. Able to notice how the bright pink paint clung to his Jet Black hair.

Wiping the paint off with a sleeve, James couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a spark of challenge light up within him. "Oh, it’s on, {Y/N}." He responded, grabbing a palette loaded with vibrant colors.

What ensued was a wild mess of laughter, artistic ‘attacks,’ and impromptu paint duels that left both of you covered in every hue imaginable. Hindsight is 20/20- he shouldn't of worn his school robes. It was during these moments, dodging your playful ambushes and crafting hasty shields out of canvas boards, that James realized how comfortable he felt around you. Your laughter became a soundtrack he looked forward to, and your approving nods at his clumsy attempts at art warmed him more than he expected.

“It's humiliating how good you're getting at this.” You teased from your perch on a stool, James chuckled and playfully flipped you off.

“So much sass. And if I credited this to my teacher?”

“You should, I'm bloody good.” You laughed, wiping your nose before sneezing away some of the wet paint you forgot was on your hand.

That night became a normal accurance, it was like you two never fought. You two would find yourself laying on a tarp full of paint. You were laying on your back with your legs against the wall, and he was sitting with his back against said wall. Both of you looking off into dead space as you both talked about the most random and ridiculous things; from the controversial taste of pasties to the value and control one had over each other's fates.

“You know, everytime I come here, I remember why I've fallen for you.”

His words came out before he could stop himself. His jaw dropped at his own broken honesty, horrified that he had ruined the moment. 

After a moment of silence, he looked down to see you smiling at the ceiling. 

“Is that so?”

James swallowed thick and clenched his jaw a bit.

“Yeah.”

“That's awfully sweet of you.”

Your words were light, but they carried a weight that settled over James with an unexpected warmth. He watched you, admiring the serene expression on your face, highlighted by the ambient light that filtered through the scattered paint jars around you. He welcomed the twist of his gut like an old friend.

"I mean it, though," James continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze still fixed on you. "You make it easy to be myself, to be better. You've turned what started as a mess into something... pretty great."

“And isn't that just life?” You teased softly. “Sappy, messy, and yet an absolute masterpiece.”

“Is that what you truly believe?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just say what makes sense to me in the moment.”

“You're a pain.” He chuckled and looked down, seeing your smile had grown tenfold. Your nose scrunching up and the corners of your eyes wrinkling.

James couldn't resist the infectious energy of your smile. It pulled a laugh from deep within him, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the room- he was screwed. "You're brilliant, you know that? Absolutely infuriating, but brilliant."

You shifted to sit up, leaning against the wall next to him, paint smears marking both your faces and clothes. "I'll take that as a compliment, Potter. Coming from you, it means quite a lot."

And that was all. James hadn't even registered your soft rejection, just relieved you seemed to accept him regardless. He leaned his head on your shoulder and you flicked off some stray pain from his nose. He smiled, all teeth, before he got up and forced you to your feet. Pulling you into a dance that made you cackle like a proper witch. And that was enough. To see you so bloody happy was enough.

~~~

James learned to share you quickly. With Barty always on your heel or Pandora hovering listlessly at your side. 

He even grew accustomed to seeing you draped in the easy camaraderie of Ravenclaws and your fellow Slytherins, your infectious laugh filling the spaces you all occupied together. It was during these times that James learned to appreciate you in a new light- not just as a friend or a fleeting crush, but as a vibrant part of his Hogwarts experience.

It wasn’t always easy, of course. The sting of his previous actions lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts, a reminder of the consequences of his thoughtlessness. Yet, each shared smile and each shared conversation with you wove a new thread of respect and affection into the fabric of his daily life.

As winter deepened and the snow began to blanket Hogwarts, bringing with it the festive buzz of the upcoming holiday season, James found himself more reflective. The common room was often aglow with the warm light of the fire, students gathered around in cozy clusters, and it was here that James found a new sense of belonging. Not just as a Marauder, but as a friend among a wider circle that included you.

One chilly evening, as the wind howled outside and the frost painted delicate patterns on the castle windows, James approached you with a tentative peace offering- a sketchbook. Its cover was a simple, deep blue, but inside, he had taken the time to fill the first page with a clumsy yet earnest attempt at a magical painting. It wasn’t animated like yours, but the colors were vibrant, a silent testament to his efforts to understand your world.

You accepted the sketchbook with a surprised chuckle, flipping through the blank pages before pausing at his painting. “This is for me?” You asked, a softness in your voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah,” James nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I thought… well, I thought you could use it to capture the winter. I know it’s not magical like yours, but-”

“It’s perfect, James,” You interrupted, a sincere smile breaking across your face. “Really. Thank you.”

That smile, that simple moment, seemed to close a chapter on the earlier tensions between you two.

“Of course, it's not free.”

“Id expect nothing less.” You teased and he chuckled. 

“Quiddich. You never go to the games. All I ask, next week, come and cheer me on?” He offered and you couldn't up but laugh. “Are you asking for a lucky charm, Potter?”

”Not any Lucky charm. Mine.” 

~~~

The day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived with the usual buzz of excitement and rivalry. The stands were packed, a sea of red and green as students cheered boisterously for their respective houses. James, his nerves on edge, had been secretly looking forward to seeing you in the crowd, especially after your promise to wear Gryffindor red. It was a small victory, but for him, it meant the world.

However, as he scanned the crowd from his broom high above, his heart sank a little. There you were, indeed wrapped in a bold, red scarf, but still cheering enthusiastically for Slytherin. The sight was confusing and, if he was honest with himself, a bit disappointing. Throughout the match, James tried to focus on the game, but his eyes inevitably kept drifting back to you. Each cheer for Slytherin felt like a playful taunt, and his competitive spirit took a hit each time.

Despite his best efforts, the game didn't go well for Gryffindor. Slytherin was sharp, coordinated, and relentless. When the Slytherin seeker caught the Snitch, sealing their victory, a wave of green cheers swept the stands. James landed his broom with a tight expression, his disappointment not just in the loss, but in the mixed signals you seemed to be sending.

The teams made their way back to the locker rooms amidst mixed reactions from the crowd. While his team consoled each other and talked about what went wrong, James couldn’t shake off his gloom. He avoided the usual post-game mingling, instead heading straight for the Gryffindor common room, his mood as dark as the clouds above.

As he slumped into an armchair by the fire, the common room mostly empty due to the ongoing celebrations outside, Remus and Sirius walked in. They took one look at him and exchanged a glance.

“Tough game, Prongs,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. And I guess the whole wearing-red thing didn’t mean what I thought it did,” James muttered, not meeting his friends' eyes.

Remus, ever the perceptive one, added softly, “Maybe there’s more to it, James. Did you ask her about it?”

Before James could respond, the portrait hole opened, and you stepped in, still wearing the red scarf, your expression a mix of concern and determination. Seeing you, Sirius and Remus excused themselves with knowing smiles, leaving the two of you alone.

James, as avoidant as ever and riddled with emotions he didn't want to confront, stood sharply and turned towards his dormitory. You gawked at him before furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance, a pout taking over your expression. You hurried after him.

“What's wrong, Jamie?”

Oh Merlin.

“I don't want to talk to you.” James hissed out and shoved his way into his room. You huffed and shoved the door open and walked in, closing the door behind yourself.

“You're not being very fair right now. I'm sorry I couldn't win the game for you but-”

“Do not make this about the win.” 

“What is this about then, Jamie? I don't get it!” 

“Stop calling me that.” He hissed and turned to face you, making you flinch. 

“What's gotten into you?” You pushed cautiously and James scoffed.

“I can't do this! I don't get you!” He strained. “I tell you I've fallen for you and you brushed it off. I ask you to cheer for me and you show up in red, cheering for Slytherin!”

“James, it's my house.” You muttered softly and you saw his shoulders sag.

“Yeah but- I just figured-” He gave a long shaky sigh. Turning around and sitting on the bed, running his hands over his face.

You moved closer, taking a seat next to him on the bed, your own emotions swirling. Even then you were able to take notice. His teeth were strained by his jaw, yet they held the same Ballet White. His robes shimmering with Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch. His eyes that locked onto yours so vulnerable, giving that perfect Cinnamon Brown. Then the way his hair shagged over his Jet Black lochs. You couldn't look away. Not from all your favorite colors.

“James, I wore red because you asked me to. I thought it was a way to show you that... that I care. But I'm still a Slytherin, and my friends were down there on that field too. I was cheering for them, not against you."

James looked at you, the frustration softening in his eyes as he processed your words. "I know, I know. It's just... everything got mixed up in my head. Seeing you there, in red, but not for Gryffindor. It felt like you were there, but not really with me."

You took his hand gently, squeezing it. "I was there for you, James. Maybe not in the way you expected, but I was there because you matter to me. I cheered for Slytherin, but I wore your favorite color. Can't I support both?"

James let out a small laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly reasonable. I just... I guess I let the game get to me more than I should have."

"You're passionate, that's not a bad thing. But sometimes, you might see competition where there's just... affection." You offered him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood further.

He returned your smile, this time with more warmth. "Affection, huh? So, you admit there’s something?" James teased, trying to shift back to his usual playful demeanor.

"Maybe I do.” You teased back, nudging him lightly. "But don't let it go to your head. We still have a lot to figure out, starting with how to handle house rivalries during Quidditch matches."

James chuckled, his spirits visibly lifted. "We'll figure it out. As long as it means I get to see you in Gryffindor red, maybe I can even cheer for Slytherin once in a while."

"That’s a deal.” You agreed, feeling the gap between you closing as the misunderstanding cleared up.

Just then, the door burst open, and Sirius poked his head in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Are we all forgiven and friendly now? Because there’s a victory party for Slytherin, and I was hoping to steal your girl for a dance, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. "Only if you promise to bring her back, Padfoot."

You laughed, standing up and offering James a hand up. "Let’s go then. And maybe we can start a new tradition- dancing together, no matter who wins the match."

James took your hand, standing and pulling you into a quick, grateful hug. "Sounds like a perfect plan."

Before he could pull away fully, you stole a quick kiss against his cheek. He gave a startled huff, staring at you with wide eyes. Before he could scamper out any response, or even kiss you back, you pulled away and sent him a wink. Hurrying after a laughing Sirius as he took your arm like a gentleman would.

It took James two to three business days for his system to turn back on. “H-hey, wait!” He shouted after you, stumbling over himself and hitting his foot against the bed. Giving a small curse before he stumbled back after you, not hearing the soft clank of something falling from between his head board and the dresser. 

Later that night, you two would find your mother's paintbrush, nestled between his bed posts and pillows. 

What were you doing in James Potter’s bed so late? 

Experiencing a masterpiece.

[paarksunghoon]

omg imagine heeseung and reader shopping tgt in a mall when suddenly reader decided to hop into victorias secret?? heeseung gets so horny n needy in the changing rooms whenever reader tried on lingeries infront of him so he just fucks her in the changing rooms 💗

this made me go crazy….wrote this last night but forgot to hit publish so here we are

***

Heeseung doesn’t understands why guys don’t like stepping into lingerie shops. His friends always lament about going into a store that’s frilly and too girly, but Heeseung can’t see their point of view. Going to Victoria’s Secret is less of an embarrassment and more of a fantasy to him because every time you hold up a piece of fabric and ask for his opinion, he imagines you wearing it while he’s got you in his bedroom in all kinds of positions.

“Babe?” You call out for him and wave the set in front of his face. “What about this green one? Do you think it would look good on me?”

Heeseung licks his lips. “Yeah, I think so. You should try it on just to make sure.” You light up.

“Good idea! Let me find the dressing rooms.”

He follows behind you and notes the people in the store. There are a few shoppers and a small handful of employees around. He watches you disappear into one of the fitting rooms and hears the door lock. He lets his mind wander as you change.

“Heeseung, you can come in now.”

Your boyfriend stands up and feels his dick straining in his pants at the mere thought of you but the way you look in the lacy fabric makes his mouth drool. He locks the door as you look at yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think? It’s a bit more skimpy than I’m used to…”

“You look sexy.”

You pout. “You always say that.”

Heeseung brings his hands to your hips and toys with the band of the panties, rubbing the pads of his finger against the fabric. “You always look sexy but fuck.” He kisses your shoulder and slides his index finger below the band. “This set barely covers your pussy or your tits.”

He notes the way you look at him through the mirror as if to contemplate. Heeseung’s right, though. The panties don’t cover much. One wrong move and your folds will slip out. He’s right about the bra, too. It offers almost no support and the cups are designed to be so small that the rest of your breasts start to spill out, even when you’re standing still.

Heeseung moves his hand to cup them and brushes his thumbs over your nipples. “I could eat you up.”

“So I should get it?” He nods and keeps flicking your nipples when his lips touch your neck.

“Put it on my card.” Heeseung laughs against your neck when you gasp after he’s slotted his hardened dick against your asscheeks.

“Not in here!” You scold him in a whisper-yell and push his hands off of your breasts. You watch him pout through the mirror and wriggle to free yourself from him but your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you to keep you steady while he grinds himself against you.

“Why not? Thought you loved public sex.”

Your cheeks warm up. “This is different.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I don’t want to get these dirty before I pay!”

Heeseung chuckles and skips his hand down your panties as he crouches down to his knees. “When I pay. I don’t mind if the see a little wet patch.”

“W-Well I do,” you stutter.

“Mm, okay. In that case, I think we should take these off so you don’t ruin them, don’t you think?”

You watch him slide the green panties down your legs and stand on your toes when he forces your asscheeks apart after you’ve stepped out of them. He tosses it on the provided bench and admires your convulsing hole. Heeseung leans forward and gives you a lick.

Your hand catches the wall as your back arches out. Your chest pushes against the surface to balance yourself out as his big hands stretches your ass apart.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mutters when he brings his thumb to stroke your folds. “Wish I could’ve pulled them to the side instead of take them off.”

You turn around to look down at him, “After we pay.”

He looks up at you. “Right, right. We should take off this bra too, right? So you don’t ruin it?” Heeseung stands up right and pulls your body back to him to unclip it until it falls to the floor. “There. Problem solved.”

Heeseung pulls his dick out, listening to the sounds of people walking just outside. He’s sure that if anybody pays attention to the shadows underneath the open gap from the door, they’d see two shadows. Not that he minds.

“Can’t wait.” His voice is clipped. He pushes your back until you’re gripping the clothing rack for stability as he pushes inside of you. “Need you.”

[signofspeed]

Hi love! I was wondering you’d be able to write a Lando fix where his gf got her period early and she’s really not feeling well so he’s super worried… definitely not inspired by a recent personal experience lmao :))

──── ⭑

The sun was dipping below the horizon when Lando let himself into the apartment, the comforting click of the door signaling his return. Normally, the space felt alive when he came home—your presence a quiet but palpable energy that greeted him like warmth on a cold day. Today, though, something was missing.

He set down the groceries, frowning slightly. The stillness in the air made his chest tighten. Your slippers were by the door, your jacket tossed over the back of a chair, but the usual sounds—music playing softly, or even the occasional clatter from the kitchen—weren’t there.

“Love?” he called out, his voice breaking the silence as he slipped off his shoes.

There was no response.

He found you in the bedroom, curled up beneath the duvet, your knees tucked to your chest. The dim light of the bedside lamp illuminated your face, pale and drawn, your usually bright eyes dull and half-lidded. The sight stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey,” he said softly, his worry sharpening as he approached the bed. He crouched down by the side, studying your face. “You okay?”

You blinked slowly, trying to focus on him, but even that small movement seemed to drain your energy. “It’s just my period,” you murmured, your voice scratchy and quiet.

“Your period?” His brow furrowed. “It’s not supposed to hurt this much, is it?”

You gave him a weak shrug, your face contorting as another wave of cramps hit you. “Sometimes it does. It just… came early, and I wasn’t ready for it.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze shifting to the tension in your curled frame, the way your hands pressed against your stomach like you were trying to hold yourself together.

“Stay here,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm.

He disappeared into the bathroom, rummaging through cabinets until he found the heating pad he vaguely remembered buying with you months ago. Plugging it in by the bed, he slid it under the covers and positioned it against your stomach. The warmth began to seep into your skin almost immediately, and a small sigh escaped your lips.

“Better?” he asked quietly, sitting down beside you.

You nodded, a hint of relief easing your features. “A bit. Thanks.”

But he wasn’t done. He slipped out of the room again, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a packet of painkillers. “Here,” he said, holding them out to you.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against his as you took them. “You don’t have to fuss, Lando,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not fussing,” he replied, his tone light but steady. “I just hate seeing you like this.”

You took the medicine, the water cooling your parched throat. He sat beside you while you drank, his hand finding yours under the covers. His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, a quiet reassurance that he was there.

“I’m going to make you something to eat,” he said after a while, standing up.

“Lando—”

“Don’t argue,” he interrupted gently. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

You shook your head. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

The scent of soup wafted through the apartment soon after, the quiet clink of dishes oddly soothing in your haze. When he returned, he carried a tray with a steaming bowl, a mug of tea, and a small plate of crackers.

“You’re spoiling me,” you murmured, managing a faint smile as he set the tray down and helped you sit up against the pillows.

“Not spoiling,” he said, settling beside you and watching as you took a tentative sip of the soup. “Just taking care of you.”

You leaned against him after you finished, the warmth of his body a comfort that rivaled the heating pad. He shifted slightly, adjusting the blankets around you.

“Better?” he asked again, his voice soft.

You nodded, your head resting on his shoulder. “Much.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand found yours again, holding it firmly, as if to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere.

[httpsdana]

hiiii can i please request a joao felix fic where they do the ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’ tiktok trend!! i think it’ll be really cute! love ur fics xx

Jacked and Kind~João Fèlix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

João was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his TikTok fyp when he suddenly burst out laughing. “amor, you need to see this”

She glanced over, eyebrow raised, as he showed jer a video of a couple participating in the trending challenge to Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

The boyfriend lifts his girlfriend onto his shoulder with ease, flexing his muscles and looking ridiculously proud.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, already sensing what was coming. “You’re not going to make me do that, are you?”

João’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I’m absolutely going to make you do it. You’ve seen these arms, right?” He flexed dramatically, giving his bicep a quick squeeze.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Please, João. I’m not exactly lightweight, you know.”

“amor, I’m practically a superhero. I lift cars for fun.” He gave her a teasing look, clearly trying to be serious, but the way he said it made her giggle.

“Okay, Mr. Superhero,” she teased. “But if you drop me, I’m posting it to the internet, and you’ll never live it down.”

“I won’t drop you,” he said confidently, then added with a playful smirk, “But you’ll definitely post it, right? Gotta show off my muscles to the world.”

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. “You’re such a child.”

“oh shut up” João replied , leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Now, come on, let’s make this video. We’re gonna go viral.”

She sighed dramatically but gave in, standing up from the couch. “Fine, but if I break my back, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll be fine, princesa. Just trust me,” João said with a wink. “You ready?”

She grabbed her phone, adding the song and preparing to film as he positioned himself. He flexed his arms one last time and gave her a wink. “Okay, on three. Hold on tight, and don’t look scared.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not scared, just... cautious.”

“three...two...one” João counted with the TikTok counter

In one fluid motion, João crouched down, then lifted her effortlessly onto his broad shoulders.

She yelped in surprise at how quickly it happened, but João’s hand was already on her thigh, holding her steady, while the other arm flexed proudly in front of the camera.

“Whoa, you actually did it,” she said, half in shock, half in awe. She couldn’t stop smiling, though she was still a little unsure of the whole thing.

João looked up at her with that proud grin. “Told you, princesa. I’m jacked and kind. A perfect match for this trend.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, trying to keep her balance. “You look like you’re about to audition for a bodybuilding competition.”

He flashed her a teasing wink, flexing again for the camera. “All for you, meu amor. Look at these muscles. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Lucky? I’m more like terrified,” she joked, her grip tightening on his shoulders as he started moving around a bit.

“Oh, come on, you love it. Admit it,” he teased, giving her a wink. “The view from up here is pretty great, right?”

She smirked. “Well, I guess it is. But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Too late,” João said, his grin growing wider as he flexed once more. “This is how you do it, amor.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m impressed. Just put me down already the phone stopped filming ages ago.”

“you’re making me look good right now though.”

She laughed at his words before he gently lowered her back down, his hands sliding to her waist to steady her.

She stood there, grinning up at him. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You’re strong.”

He gave her a proud look, holding up his phone to check the video. “Told you! This is gonna get so many views.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” she teased, poking him in the chest.

“I’m full of you, meu amor,” João said with a wink, pulling her in for a kiss. “Now let’s post this before I start flexing again. Don’t want to break the internet with all this muscle.”

Dhe laughed against his lips. “Alright, alright. your fan girls are gonna love this video”

He pulled back, laughing at her words. “oh the edits will be amazing”

She smiled up at him, nodding head.

“Of course they'll be. your fans never miss”

João laughed, pulling her closer for another kiss. “I don't care about them. I just want everyone to know that I'm real boyfriend material”

She laughed at his words, leaning her head against his chest as they settled on the couch, their video long forgotten as they spent the rest of the evening in each other's arms.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[sansaorgana]

I just need to know how buck would react to his wife Breastfeeding! I feel like he is definitely a tits kind of man

oh, darling, let's be real – he's a ✨personality ✨ kind of man 🤭😂 but yeah, I agree 👀 also, I love him being a softie so much 😌 I didn't put any warnings but I assume you know already what to expect from this fic lol 🍼

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Usually, it was Buck who would leave the bed in the middle of the night to bring the crying baby to you but today he seemed to be so deep in his sleep that no amount of your daughter’s screaming was waking him up. You sighed and caressed his hair softly without wanting to wake him up – he deserved his rest as well, after all, and it had been a long and tiring week for him at work.

You got out of the bed and put a robe loosely upon your nightgown as you slid your feet inside a pair of slippers waiting for you on the carpet. Softly and quietly you left the bedroom and hurried to the nursery where your little girl was crying her lungs out.

“Hey, shh, shh,” you cooed to her while picking her up after turning a small lamp on. It was not very bright and perfect for the nighttime when little Dolores was getting hungry.

You sat with her on the rocking chair by the window and kept shushing her softly, trying to unbutton your nightgown clumsily with your free hand while keeping her steady with your other arm.

“Don’t cry, little one, don’t wake daddy up, he needs his rest,” you smiled at her and adjusted her in your arms so she could finally get fed as you watched her tiny features in awe. You were still quite sleepy but you would never change anything. Sleep was not as important as spending time with your baby.

Lost in thoughts and Dolly’s sweet little face, you didn’t notice Buck leaning on the doorway and watching you with the same amount of love as you were staring at your babygirl with.

When you looked up for a second, you got startled at the sight of him and then you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out. “I woke up and you weren’t there but there was a light coming from the hall so I knew where you went,” he explained with a soft smile.

“You should have stayed in bed, love,” you whispered to him.

“And miss this? No way,” your husband approached you and crouched down next to you so he could see Dolly’s face, too. She opened her eyes and looked at him as she kicked her little feet. Buck grabbed them and caressed them gently. “Isn’t she perfect?” He looked up at you and gasped.

“Yes, she is,” you nodded but you furrowed your brow at his gasp. “What is it?”

“You’re a goddess, really,” he admitted and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, Gale, please,” you dismissed that praise shyly.

“I mean it,” Buck whispered and gently let go of Dolly’s feet to caress your cheek with his finger. “After everything I’ve been through, all that death and darkness… You’re a beacon of light, a life-giver, a mother,” he explained. “And I will forever worship you for that.”

You cracked a smile at his words and fought the tears forming in your eyes.

“I wish you haven’t gone through any of that,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“But I have and maybe thanks to that I can appreciate what I have even more,” Buck nodded.

“You’ve always been a good man,” you reminded him and it was true. Your husband had always been kind and generous and a gentleman. You had never complained about anything that actually mattered. He didn’t deserve any of the suffering he had been through and he certainly hadn’t needed it to help him shape his character because he had simply always been a good man.

Even in that dim light you could see your husband’s cheeks turning slightly pink. He was adorable, like a little boy. You wished you could hold him close and make all his pain go away, all the awful memories, all the nightmares, all the triggers. You just wanted him to relax, you wanted to give him peace.

Little Dolly squealed a bit and you looked down to see her mouth curling up in a small smile as droplets of milk were dripping down her chin. You chuckled at that and lifted her up as Buck took a tissue from the changing table to wipe her face gently.

“I’ll take her,” he offered and you let him take the baby. Buck started to carry her around while patting her back delicately and you wiped the milk leaking out of your breast swiftly before buttoning the nightgown up.

You kept sitting in the rocking chair and watching your lovely husband walking around the small nursery that he had prepared by himself before Dolly’s arrival to this world. And now was humming a lullaby to his little girl and everything seemed to be so perfect and cosy. You couldn’t be happier than that, you thought.

When Dolly could be placed back in her crib, Buck made sure to watch over her until she fell asleep. He told you to go back to the bedroom and even though you felt guilty that once again he was the one to stay up in the nursery, you were grateful for him telling you to rest instead.

You were still weak after the childbirth and all the pregnancy and he was just one of those husbands who actually appreciated their wives for carrying their children for them. He was tired after this previous week, too, but he knew his exhaustion was no match compared to yours.

So, you went back to the bedroom and you sat up with the pillows behind your back because you wanted to wait for him. You weren’t that sleepy anymore but you were grateful for the possibility of going back to bed – especially your spine was very happy about it.

Buck came back not so long after you since it never took Dolly long to fall asleep in the middle of the night after being fed. You hoped it would stay this way. In general, so far she had been a quite unproblematic child of a gentle nature and you suspected it was a trait she had after her father.

Buck went under the cover and laid down next to you, looking up at you with his pretty puppy eyes as he leaned in to kiss your tummy.

“You sleepy, darling? Want me to turn the light off?” You asked him and caressed his hair.

“It’s fine. I want to stay up and keep looking at you for a while,” he admitted and you giggled.

“You’re mad,” you pointed out playfully.

“Sure I am. Mad about you,” Buck answered and you rolled your eyes as you kept caressing his hair and face – gently, with your fingertips, tracing the outlines of the thin scars scattered all over his face.

“I love you,” you whispered with all seriousness.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back with a soft smile.

There were many other things that had been told between you two with those three words but you didn’t have to actually list them all out loud. Your “I love you” was enough to thank him for his sacrifice, for surviving the war and coming back to you. It was enough to let him know you would take it all away from him if it was possible. And his “I love you, too” was enough for you to know that he knew what you meant and he thanked you for understanding and for waiting for him, for always treating him so kind and soft – for giving him a baby, too.

Buck moved closer to you and buried his face in your nightgown, breathing in your scent. You kept playing with his hair and sighed softly when he looked up with a smile.

“It smells so sweet,” he whispered and you furrowed your brow because you hadn’t used any perfume before going to bed. “The milk, I assume,” he added and unbuttoned two of the small buttons of your nightgown to bury his face deeper into your chest and take a deep breath in. “Yeah, it’s the milk,” he nodded.

“It tastes sweet, too,” you told him with a smirk and Buck tilted his head as he kept looking up at your face.

“How do you know?” He chuckled.

“Sometimes, when it leaks out on my fingers, I am too lazy to wipe it off and I just lick it off of my fingers,” you confessed. “Well, I was pretty curious about it, too,” you told him, hoping he wouldn’t judge you.

But Buck would never judge you.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down between your breasts as if he was contemplating on something. Finally, he looked up again and his cheeks were crimson red.

“Can I… Can I taste it, too?” He asked.

You were taken aback by this question. Not that you found it obscene or disgusting but you definitely did not expect your husband to request such a thing.

“Yes, my love, of course,” you smiled at him with a nod and began to work on your buttons. You would never deny him anything.

“Only if… If it’s still gonna be enough for Dolly in the morning,” Buck interrupted you by placing his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, she’s gonna have enough,” you assured him with a chuckle and he nodded.

Buck watched in awe when you kept unbuttoning your nightgown – a sight he had seen many times now but this time it was different. It was only for him and you were doing it slowly, which was done on purpose to give him a little show. It felt intimate on a level he had never been with you before although he had never thought it possible.

He nearly moaned at the sight of your swollen breasts jumping out of your nightgown. They had gotten so big due to your pregnancy and he was obsessed with them even more than usual now. A simple thought that they were swollen with milk for his baby was enough to make him have impure thoughts sometimes. He had always worshipped you and the ground you walked on but you becoming a mother of his child only intensified the feeling – he couldn’t believe his happiness, really. The woman he loved so much was loving him back and she wanted to give him a family even though she had to sacrifice so much and her body was a real miracle for actually being able to grow a child and give birth… For Buck you truly were a goddess and he couldn’t care less if it was a blasphemy or not.

Carefully, he touched your breasts and you hissed quietly because they were so sore and sensitive. But Buck knew that already so he was trying to be as gentle as possible when he softly massaged them and watched the milk leak out. He allowed it to flow for some time and only when your breasts were covered in white streamlets, he licked them up while peppering your skin with kisses.

“So sweet,” he said and looked up as you noticed his pupils darkening. You knew that look very well.

“Baby, it’s too early for us to…” You started.

“I know, don’t worry,” he interrupted you and moved up a little to get better access. “I won’t hurt you,” he assured you and you believed him because Buck would never do anything to harm you.

He attached his lip to your nipple and began to suck. You sighed out of relief and threw your head back while caressing his hair and feeling how his muscles relax under your touch. It was all you wanted for him – to finally rest and be at peace, to feel safe in your arms.

His soft, plump lips sucking on your sore nipples softly were making you feel warm all over your body. You were sighing and gasping with pleasure as the hardness of his cock grew, brushing your thigh under the fabric of his pyjama pants.

You felt bad for him because he wouldn’t be able to properly fuck you in two more weeks so you decided to please him in a different way. One of your hands wandered all the way down and under his pants to take his hard and swollen cock. You could already feel the leaking precum and you had to admit, you were pretty surprised that sucking your breasts could make him get so hard so fast but on the other hand you two hadn’t had sex in over a month now.

“Ooh, so heavy. Let me help you with that, baby,” you moaned at the feeling.

With your other hand you kept caressing the back of his head as you started to pump his cock. Buck moaned into your chest and attached his lips to the other nipple as his hands played with your free breast. He bucked his hips to help you jerk him off since he was so desperate to finally have his sweet release. He was nearly as desperate as he had been after coming back home from Europe but you didn’t mind that at all. In fact, you found it pretty hot that he was so needy for you and that it wasn’t taking much for him to finish because of you.

“Shh, you’re such a good boy for me,” you assured him in a whisper. “Let go, baby, don’t hold back.”

You picked up your pace and let your thumb circle around his tip to stimulate him even further and in a few chaotic thrusts of his hips, he came all over your hand while gasping and holding on to you. You kissed the top of his head with a soft smile and caressed his softening cock a few more times before reaching out to your nightstand for a tissue to clean up the mess.

“Did it feel good?” You asked, looking down at his face. His pretty baby blue eyes were hazy and his lips slightly parted. His flushed cheeks and messy hair were making him look even more adorable.

“It felt like heaven,” he breathed out.

You chuckled at that and wiped the corners of his mouth with another tissue to clean him up from your milk before cleaning up your breasts, too. Buck rolled over to lay on his back as he ran his hand through his hair and down his face.

“We can do it more often if you want to,” you told him after throwing the tissues away. “It felt nice… Such a relief,” you told him truthfully. “Sometimes she doesn’t drink enough and I am too full,” you added and rested your cheek on your elbow as you stared at his face lovingly.

Buck turned his face around to look into your eyes. He was still blushing slightly but he cracked a shy smile at you.

“Yeah, well, I’m your husband and it’s my duty to help you then, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled before leaning in to kiss his cheek and then the top of his nose and lips.

“You’re an amazing husband, darling. Performing all of your duties so well that you should get a medal for that,” you teased him playfully.

“I don’t collect my medals,” he reminded you. He still didn’t collect the ones he had been given in Europe.

“Oh, this one you will,” you assured him with a wink. “Just give me two weeks.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[brookaboo]

not without you

kei tsukishima x reader

summary: Tsukishima and his girlfriend get into a petty argument, leading her to sleep on the couch. Despite his salty attitude, Tsukishima can’t stand the distance

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Tsukishima sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes trained on his phone but not really seeing it. His mind replayed the argument from earlier—one of those petty disagreements that seemed to snowball for no reason at all.

You had said something about how he never listened to you, and he had snapped back, as always, with his usual sarcastic quip. It had escalated from there, the sharpness of his words cutting deeper than usual, both of you too stubborn to back down.

And now you were on the couch, lying on your side with your back to him, trying to make some kind of statement by not sharing the bed. The blanket you had pulled over yourself was twisted, not quite enough to keep you warm, but you weren't about to admit you were cold.

Tsukishima had been petty enough to let you sleep there. He wasn’t going to apologize, not right away. He’d let you cool off.

But the longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the more he felt that familiar, annoying tug at his chest. He hated being wrong, and he hated this distance between you even more.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you're really being childish about this," he muttered under his breath.

He glanced at you again, the curve of your back almost mocking him in its stillness. The truth was, he hated being apart from you, even for something as dumb as this. He wasn’t going to admit it, though. Not out loud.

Time passed. Tsukishima tried to distract himself, but all he could think about was how weird it felt, how uncomfortable it was to not be close to you. The couch was too big, the space between you and him too wide.

He couldn't sleep without you.

After a few more minutes, he gritted his teeth and stood up. His usual smoothness was replaced with a slight awkwardness, the realization that he hated the tension more than the argument itself sinking in. He walked over to the couch, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling anything—his usual “I don’t care” attitude kicking in.

You stayed still, though, pretending to sleep, your breathing steady, betraying the way your mind raced.

Tsukishima smirked to himself. "Pretending to sleep, huh? Real mature."

He could feel the warmth of the room, the familiar scent of your shampoo mixing with the cool air around him. And, despite the petty fight, his heart couldn't ignore the pull. He crouched down and, with a soft grunt, carefully scooped you up from the couch.

You opened one eye, but he was already looking at you with that sharp, unamused expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked, trying to keep the bite out of your voice.

He didn't answer. He simply picked you up and walked toward the bedroom, carrying you as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Tsukishima," you muttered, a bit embarrassed now, even though you had been the one to act childish in the first place.

"Shut up," he replied gruffly, "I can't sleep without you either."

You let out a soft laugh, surprised that, despite his annoyance and sarcasm, he was still holding you like you meant everything to him.

When he finally reached the bed, he carefully laid you down, following you as you both settled beneath the covers. You moved closer, instinctively, and Tsukishima, too, slid closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. He sighed contentedly, the anger from earlier slipping away like water down a drain.

He wasn’t going to apologize, not in so many words, but in the way he rested his chin on your head, in the way he gently tugged you even closer.

"I don’t like sleeping without you," he muttered, his voice quieter now, softer.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar rhythm of his breathing easing the tension that had been between you both. "I know," you whispered. "Me neither."

He didn’t answer, but his grip around you tightened, pulling you into the embrace. You both finally closed your eyes, the argument already forgotten, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms

[blue-slxt]

Oldest Children Part 2

A/N: So I wrote Part 1 forever ago and a lot of people were asking for a part 2. I wasn't sure when/if I'd ever get around to it, but after Kinktober and Kinkmas and sooooo much smut, I wanted to try stretching my wings and try a little fluff just to mix it up. I'm admittedly not as confident in my fluff writing, but I think this turned out cute so I hope you like it too! All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, Kissing

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Neteyam asks to meet you after eclipse.

Walking along the shore, you carefully observe each of the older Sully kids as they practice their breathing and ilu riding. Off to the side, Tuk is practicing her sign language with Rotxo.

They're all doing well, but you can't help but notice that Neteyam's posture is faltering. Tsireya and Ao'nung are both too caught up with Lo'ak and Kiri to notice so you decide to step in.

Your strides are long and confident, but nearly silent as you move behind him.

"Your posture is awful" you giggle in his ear making him crack a smile. You crouch down and place your hands on his back and shoulder applying gentle pressure to straighten him back out. Neteyam prays to Eywa that you don't notice the way his tail momentarily falters in its usually steady swaying. Lucky for him, you didn't seem to notice. Or, if you did, you didn't mention it.

He straightens his back, but he still looks awkward. You move around to his front and eye him a bit trying to decide on what was still off. His eyes look at you in waiting and it hits you. Your fingers hold his chin and lift his head. This time, you don't miss it when his face flushes and you freeze feeling your own face get warm. Your stares meet each other in a silent, tender moment that has you suddenly feeling like you can't catch your breath. It's only made worse when your eyes unintentionally flick to his lips and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip.

Off to the side somewhere, Ao'nung is rolling his eyes and Tsireya is stifling a giggle, but neither of you seems to be able to notice anything outside of each other in this moment.

At least, that is, until you hear Tuk's voice calling out from across the way where she was.

"Hey guys! Look at this pretty seashell I found!"

Her little feet stomp the sand beneath her as she races over with the shell in hand. "Be careful, Tuk!" Kiri says, but it's too late. You see the whole thing happen almost in slow motion.

Before she could see it or stop herself in time, her foot lands right on top of a sharp rock that was sticking out of the sand. There's a loud shriek followed by a thud from her falling over into the sand.

There's not a tangible thought in your mind as your body races towards her. You can hear everybody else shuffling to run in the same direction, but you're already in autopilot when you fall to your knees and cradle her in your arms.

Her tears fall steadily onto your arm and her small body trembles with her sobs.

"Shh shh shh, I know, Tuk. I know. Let me see." you try gently consoling her.

By now, everyone else has caught up and they're surrounding you trying to check up on her too. You grab her foot and examine it to see how bad the damage is. There's a small cut, but thankfully, it's nothing too deep.

"It doesn't look too bad. Here, let me clean the sand off and then I'll take you to my mom so she can patch you up? Okay?" you suggest to her and she can only nod her head still letting out little sniffles.

You carefully unhook the sack around your chest that stayed filled with water. Usually, you kept it with you to drink throughout the day, but this was more important right now. Using one hand to hold the skin while your other arm is still holding Tuk close, you pour the water over the small cut making her wince a bit. You gently shush her a bit while you make sure to get all the sand off her injured foot.

Once you're confident that it's all clean, you scoop Tuk up in your arms, "I'm going to take her to my mother so she can properly wrap her foot."

"I'll go with you. I want to make sure she's okay." Neteyam speaks up separating from the rest of the group and coming to join you.

You just give him a small nod as you turn to walk in the direction of the healing tent.

The walk to the healing tent is mostly silent aside from Tuk's tiny sobs and sniffles. Neteyam walks beside you while you cradle his baby sister in your arms and he mutters little words of encouragement to her. It's sweet watching him try to cheer her up.

Fortunately, when you reach the healing tent, it's not busy so your mother is able to attend to Tuk immediately. "You're going to be just fine, okay?" you say placing a comforting hand on top of Tuk's head. Neteyam watches from the wall while Ronal gets to work patching up her foot.

"I should be heading back." you say standing to your feet and walking past Neteyam and out of the pod.

"U-um..." he finally speaks up touching your shoulder to stop you before you got too far away. "Thank you. For looking out for her."

A sincere smile spreads on your face, "It's no problem." You turn to leave again, but again, before you can put too much distance between you, Neteyam takes a few long strides to catch you.

"Can I see you later?"

His question stops you dead in your tracks. You study his expression that almost looked shocked. Like he couldn't believe he just said that.

"Like after last meal?" his voice drops to a whisper feeling the embarrassment color his cheeks, but holding your gaze nonetheless.

"Okay" it comes out a little breathless, but you know he hears you loud and clear when a smile cracks his own face.

"See you later!" you call to him as you take off running back towards the beach. You duck behind a large tree on the shore and press your back to it heaving breaths while your heart threatens to crack right through your chest. There's heat behind your cheeks and your face is starting to hurt from the goofy grin that you couldn't get rid of.

You quietly take a minute to jump in place with glee before composing yourself again and heading back to the group that you'd left on the beach.

...

During last meal, you can barely bring yourself to pay much attention to whatever conversation your family is having. You can't even manage to properly eat your food with how distracted you are. Tsireya is the one that seems to notice first. As if your permanent cheeky grin weren't enough to give you away, she follows your eyeline one time when you and Neteyam catch each other's gaze across the crowd.

"You certainly seem to be in a good mood." she snickers at you.

"Should I not be?" you simply respond.

"You also seem distracted."

"I don't know what you mean." a lie.

"Hm" she hums. "So the Sully kids sure have been improving a lot lately. Especially Neteyam."

Your hands falter ever so slightly and anyone else who wasn't this close to you, would have missed it.

"I knew it!" Tsireya whisper shouts next to you.

"Shhh keep your voice down!" you whisper shout back to her.

A mischievous grin forms on her face laughing at your clearly startled expression.

"Fine! If you must know, he asked me to meet him after last meal." your excitement is barely containable at the prospect.

"How romantic~" she teases, poking at your side.

"Stop, I'm sure it's nothing like that."

"Oh, I'm sure" she says rolling her eyes. "That's why he hasn't stopped staring at you and smiling all meal?"

"Hush!" you lightly push her shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you can see Neteyam stand and excuse himself from his family's spot among the people. He gives you one last look before nodding his head in the direction of the beach and taking off. That's your cue.

You quickly excuse yourself from your family to which your mother gives you a suspicious glare and your sister gives a teasing giggle.

Walking down the shore of the beach it feels like your heart is racing just at the thought of being alone with Neteyam again. The last time the two of you were alone together on the beach, he got so close it made your stomach do flips. You're out of time to speculate on what could happen tonight once you spot his slender frame standing at the edge of the waves. One last breath to calm your nerves and you make the stride over to him.

"Fancy meeting you here, forest boy." you playfully quip at him.

Neteyam huffs out a laugh looking down at you and the gaze in his eyes immediately makes you want to fold in on yourself, but in a good way?

"I've been thinking about how to properly thank you for how you took care of my sister earlier."

"Neteyam, you don't have to--"

"I want to. I've been thinking about it and even though I miss the forest, so far, you have been the best thing about coming here." he turns to fully face you and it's almost as if time stops. Words can't seem to find you right now. His fingers graze the skin on your arm and trail all the way down to your hand where he grabs you firm, but gentle. "Can I show you something?" His eyes are full of hope and a small hint of fear that you'll deny him.

You could never.

"Of course."

The grin that spreads on his face is nothing short of disarming. You let him lead you down the shore and into the forest. He bobs and weaves through the foliage with such grace. No doubt he's fully in his element. Meanwhile, it's all you can do to keep your tail from smacking into every branch that you pass.

He leads you to a tree and before you have the chance to ask any questions, he leaps up to the closest branch with little to no effort leaving you a bit stunned. He looks down at you with an amused smirk and reaches his hand out to you. You were, admittedly, not a very strong climber so you accept his offer and he helps pull you up with ease.

You follow Neteyam up the tree higher and higher until you approach the highest branch.

"You ready for this?" he asks helping you reach your final stop. When you make it to the top and stand to your feet, the sight you're met with almost knocks you backwards.

You can see the entire beach stretched out under a seemingly never-ending sky full of stars. The reflection on the water makes it look like it's shining. And on the other side of you, a forest stretching for miles and miles full of green and bioluminescent flora glowing in the cover of eclipse.

"Wow..." you breath out almost silently. "I've never seen the water like this. It's beautiful..."

The sight is stunning. You can't tear your eyes away. But all Neteyam can look at is you.

"This is my second favorite sight here on the island." he says finally breaking you out of your trance. You turn to face him and his face is suddenly serious.

He offers his hand out to you and you take it somewhat hesitantly. Neteyam weaves his fingers with yours and pulls you closer ever so slightly.

It feels like he gets closer and closer and you can't bring yourself to move out of the way or push him away.

“Neteyam, we shouldn’t..." you say despite the fact that your eyes are trained on his lips that are still moving closer to yours.

He pauses only inches away from your face.

“Then tell me to stop…tell me you don’t want this. If you do, I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone and I’ll resign myself to forever loving the version of us that could’ve been. But if you let me, I will be irrevocably and unapologetically in love with you past the day I die. You deserve the life you want. Let me give it to you…”

Your eyes finally find his and the sincerity you find in them is overwhelming. You can't help but flash back to that moment you shared on the beach.

“If there were such a man who wanted to give you that life, would you have him?”

Your body moves before your mind can think of words to say. You push up on the balls of your feet to let your lips meet his in a heated kiss. His large hands cup your face carefully and his tail wraps around your thigh holding onto you in every way that he can. Your hands rest against his chest and the beating of his heart is erratic and thunderous. Surely, yours feels the same way. His lips are warm and soft moving against yours. It's as if nothing else exists right now. That is until he gives a cheeky little nip to your bottom lip.

You finally pull away with a small giggle and a deep flush on your face.

"You know this is going to be tough to explain to my parents." you say raising an eyebrow at him.

"It'll be fine. Parents love me." he says proudly.

"Maybe, but you've never had to impress parents of a future olo'eykte"

"You worry too much, yawne. Let me handle it, okay?"

"Alright, if you say so, mighty warrior."

Taglist: @soleilmoon @netemoon @fifia-writes @strangersav11

@eywascall @neteyamsluvts @heart-an0n @iman-lu @xylianasblog @theunfortunateplace @hyejusdiary @savvysscandles @randxmthxughts @tiredmamaissy @yeosxxx @atwow69 @bellstwd @iseeyouuu @simp4ff @universal-s1ut @mynameisjuno @teyamsatan @uaze123 @nelissecrectplace  @angrypomeranianwifey @perfectxserendipity @yumimak @rainbowturdz @rhiannonhippiegirl @sullymenrhot @hiddensnow1 @rainymoonsheep @ivysully @badbussylol @afro-hispwriter @fandom-geek17 @teyamsmate @iameatingmyhair @leaveitbythewave @battylupin @angie-1306 @annahblue @criticallybella @xreadersstuff @yunho-leeknow 

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. If your tag isn't working, please check your settings.)

[callsigns-haze]

Happy birthday cutie!!! I feel like we NEED to see how do they celebrate starfall as a family! I would die to see Eris with baby Finna trying to make everything perfect for Y/N as she definitely misses starfall with her brother. I feel that Eris would do everything to make it perfect!!!

When the stars fall

Pure tooth rotting fluff

6 more days to 22 and the celebration only started!

*Serves as a one-shot but can be read as memories fade or the sequel loves haze series

Eris woke up to the soft light of dawn creeping through the curtains. He glanced over at Y/N, who was still peacefully asleep beside him. He smiled tenderly, careful not to disturb her, and gently slipped out of bed. Pausing for a moment, he admired her serene face, appreciating these quiet moments before the day began.

He tiptoed out of the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. As he approached, he heard the soft whines and occasional barks from Ace's kennel. The near one-year-old dog had been such a lively addition to their family, and Eris couldn't help but smile at his excitement.

"Good morning, Ace," Eris whispered as he unlocked the kennel. Ace bounded out, his tail wagging furiously. "Shhh, boy," Eris hushed, crouching down to ruffle the dog's fur. "We don't want to wake everyone up."

Ace, understanding the command, quieted down but continued to wag his tail enthusiastically. Eris made his way down the hall to Finna's room, Ace trotting faithfully by his side. As he opened the door, Eris was greeted by the sight of his 11-month-old son clinging to the side of his crib, a dodie securely in his mouth. Finna was bouncing up and down, his chubby legs giving him a delightful rhythm.

Eris chuckled softly. "Are you dancing, little man?" he asked, walking over to the crib. Finna's face lit up with a big, gummy smile, and he babbled excitedly, his eyes sparkling with joy.

Eris carefully lifted Finna out of the crib, holding him close. "Looks like someone’s in a good mood this morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. Finna giggled, reaching up with his tiny hands to pat his father's face, his touch gentle and filled with curiosity.

With Finna securely in his arms, Eris settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Ace, ever the loyal companion, lay down at Eris's feet, resting his head on his paws as he watched the father and son with devoted eyes.

"You know, your mama would love to see you dancing like that," Eris whispered to Finna, rocking the chair gently. "But let's let her sleep a bit longer."

Finna responded with more happy babbles, his little legs kicking with excitement. Eris laughed softly, the sound filled with warmth and love. He cherished these moments of quiet joy, holding his son close and feeling the bond that connected them.

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, Eris continued to rock Finna, enjoying the peacefulness of the early hour. The baby's eyes started to droop, and his babbling quieted into contented coos. Ace, sensing the calm, closed his eyes and settled in for a nap at Eris's feet.

Eris looked down at his son, marveling at the love and happiness that filled his heart. These simple, everyday moments were the ones he treasured most. They reminded him of the profound sense of gratitude he felt for his family, for the life they had built together.

As Finna's breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep, Eris pressed another gentle kiss to his son's forehead. "I love you, little man," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "You and your mama mean everything to me."

Finna's hazel eyes sparkled, and his little hands grabbed onto Eris's robe, pulling it closer as if it were a favorite blanket.

With Finna on his hip, Eris began his preparations. He transformed the living room into a cozy haven. Twinkling lights were strung from the ceiling, mimicking the stars that would soon fill the night sky. He meticulously placed candles around the room, their flames flickering gently. A plush blanket was spread out on the floor just underneath the glass open ceiling, surrounded by pillows and a small table with a selection of their favorite foods and drinks. The fireplace was lit, casting a warm glow over the room, and the scent of cedarwood filled the air.

Eris carefully laid Finna down in his little rocking crib in the corner of the living room, giving him toys to keep him entertained. He worked efficiently, making sure every detail was perfect. This was their first Starfall as a family, and he wanted Y/N to feel the magic she missed from the Night Court.

As the day progressed, Eris kept an eye on the time, knowing Y/N would wake up soon. He was just finishing up when he heard her stirring in their bedroom. He quickly poured a glass of sparkling wine and waited.

Y/N emerged from the bedroom, looking refreshed and slightly curious. Her eyes widened as she took in the transformed living room. "Eris, what is all this?" she asked, clearly surprised.

Eris smiled, walking over to her with the glass of wine. "Good morning, my love. I wanted to make our first Starfall together special."

She took the glass, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

They spent the day together, enjoying the anticipation of the evening. Eris took care of Finna while Y/N prepared a few more treats for their Starfall celebration. She made an assortment of pastries, their sweet aroma filling the cabin. They played with Finna, laughing as he tried to chase Ace around the living room, but as the boy is still to take his first steps it was a crawling mess.

As the sun began to set, they settled down on the blanket in the living room, Finna nestled between them, his little hands reaching out to explore the new textures. Eris raised his glass in a toast. "To our family," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "To new beginnings and the magic of Starfall."

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her smile radiant. "To our family," she echoed.

As they sipped their drinks, the first streaks of light appeared in the darkening sky, the stars falling in a breathtaking display. Finna's eyes widened in wonder, his small hands reaching up as if to catch the falling stars. Y/N wrapped an arm around Eris, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the celestial dance together.

Eris felt a profound sense of contentment. Despite the challenges and the distance from the Night Court, they had built a beautiful life together. He knew that no matter where they were, as long as they had each other, they would always find their way.

The stars continued to fall, casting a magical glow over their little family. Eris kissed the top of Y/N's head, whispering, "I love you."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. "I love you too, Eris. More than words can say."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the stars fall and holding each other close. Finna eventually fell asleep between them, his tiny snores mingling with the crackling of the fireplace. Ace lay at their feet, his eyes half-closed, content in the warmth and love that surrounded them.

This was their Starfall, their moment of magic, and Eris knew it was only the beginning of the many beautiful memories they would create together.

A/n: ngl sobbing rn, 6 more days to 22 and thank you!

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

@swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

@minaethrym

[auxmodi]

hired killer pt2

pt1 pt2

A/n: i've got so many ideas for this series im fucking excited

summary: After a failed attempt to kill Sandor Clegane, the assassin faces his harsh mockery, leaving her humiliated but burning with determination to prove him wrong.

humiliation, slowburn, enemies, violence, power dynamic, mocking, degradation a little, mad ass reader lol, angst, hate, cursing.

word count: 1.8k

The forest was dead quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the cold night air. You crouched low behind a tree, your eyes never leaving the hulking figure near the dying campfire. Sandor Clegane sat on a fallen log, sharpening his sword, the firelight flickering over his scarred face. His hands moved methodically, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone the only sound in the stillness.

You’d been tracking him for weeks, and this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten close. The last encounter had been in a crowded alley in some backwater village, and you’d had the perfect chance to strike. He hadn’t seen you coming, not at first. But you’d hesitated, an instant too long, and he had turned on you, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. He hadn’t attacked, no. He just laughed, that low, guttural chuckle that made your blood run cold. That humiliation still burned.

You adjusted your grip on the dagger at your side, the cool metal grounding you. You’d waited for this moment, planned for it, but as you watched him sit there in the firelight, an odd flicker of hesitation made your breath hitch. He looked… human. Tired, maybe even worn down. The stories painted him as a monster, a dog bred only for blood, but what sat before you was a man. A dangerous one, but a man nonetheless.

His voice broke the silence like a stone crashing into water. "Thought I told you to stay the fuck away."

Your heart leapt into your throat. He didn’t look up, his attention still on the blade in his hands, but there was no mistaking who he was talking to. You rose slowly from your hiding place, your fingers brushing the hilt of your blade.

"You really think I’d listen?" you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady.

His lip curled in a smirk, his scarred face catching the light. "Didn’t think you had the brains to, no." Rising to his full height, he towered over you, sword still in hand. "What’s it now, then? You here to try your luck again?"

“I’m not trying,” you shot back, raising your dagger.

He moved before you could blink, faster than you expected for someone his size. One moment he was by the fire, the next, he had your wrist in a crushing grip. The dagger slipped from your fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. You struggled, but his strength was overwhelming. With one brutal yank, he pulled you forward.

“Still too slow.” he growled.

You struggled, twisting in his hold, but it was like trying to fight a steel trap. His other hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around and shoving you against the nearest tree. The rough bark bit into your back as his massive frame pinned you there, his hand pressing against your neck to hold you in place.

“Let go!” you snarled, kicking out at him, but it was useless. He blocked every move with ease.

“Shut up,” he snarled, his face inches from yours now. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be rotting in the dirt already. So stop being a fuckin' fool before I decide to stop being nice.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else entirely. His grip was firm, his body radiating heat as he leaned in, his dark eyes boring into yours.

"I’m not afraid of you," you hissed, even though your pulse pounded in your ears.

He laughed. A low, rough sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "No? Then why’s your heart poundin’ like a damn rabbit caught in a trap?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the weight of his hand and the way his gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. "Because I’m pissed off," you spat, trying to push against him. "Let me go, or—"

"Or what?" he mocked, tightening his grip just enough to make you gasp. "You gonna beg now? Cry like a little bitch? That how this ends for you?"

You glared at him, the defiance in your eyes sparking something dangerous in his expression. His lips curled in a sneer as he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your face.

"Here's the truth," he growled, his voice low and rough. "You ain't ready for this. You think you can take me down, but you'd be dead before you even got close enough to land a blow. I’d put you in the dirt like the rest."

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit, but you refused to look away. “You don’t know what I’m capable of,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He studied you for a moment, eyes cold and assessing, before grunting in disdain. Without a word, he shoved you back, releasing you with a suddenness that left you stumbling. He picked up your dagger, holding it by the blade as if it were nothing more than a toy.

“Go on, then, prove it,” he said, gesturing lazily. “Show me what you’ve got, killer.”

The dagger in your hand felt absurdly heavy, though you tried not to let it show. The insult gnawed at you, as much as his calm, almost mocking stare. You’d been hired to kill him, paid to kill him, and instead of dispatching him quickly, here you were, facing him head-on and already looking like a fool.

Your grip tightened. Without a word, you lunged, the blade flashing in the firelight as you drove it toward his throat.

But Sandor moved like he had all the time in the world.

His arm shot up, catching your wrist with a grip that felt like iron. Pain jolted through your arm as he twisted it with just enough force to make your fingers go slack. The dagger hit the ground with a muffled thud.

You barely had time to gasp before he stepped in, his momentum carrying you backward. You braced for impact, but he didn’t slam you into the tree. No, it was almost clinical how he maneuvered you, pinning you there with his sheer presence. His hand gripped your shoulder, his weight pressed against you just enough to stop any thought of escape.

“Stop,” he growled, his voice low and full of quiet menace. “You’re done.”

Your teeth clenched as you struggled against him, but he didn’t budge. His scarred face hovered inches from yours, his breath warm and rough.

“Let me go,” you hissed.

“Let you go?” he sneered. “Aye, so you can grab that butter knife and have another go at me? Not bloody likely, girl..”

The word hit harder than it should have, girl. Like you were some foolish child who didn’t belong here. Fury rose in your chest, but you couldn’t dislodge him. His grip was unyielding, his strength a wall you couldn’t hope to break.

“Some killer,” he muttered, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “Tell me, how much are they paying you to bungle this so badly?”

The heat rose in your face, your anger flaring hotter than the fire behind him. “Enough to see you dead,” you spat.

His smirk deepened, and he let out a short laugh. “That right? Well, they’re wasting their coin. You couldn’t kill a rabbit with the way you’re swinging.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel, but he didn’t care. He glanced down at the dagger lying useless on the ground, then back up at you.

With that, he stepped back, releasing you so suddenly you nearly stumbled. He reached down, picking up your dagger and holding it by the blade.

“This?” he said, his tone laced with disdain. “This little thing’s supposed to do me in? I’ve seen sharper kitchen knives.” He tossed it to you with a casual flick of his wrist.

You caught it awkwardly, fury bubbling in your chest. "Keep laughing," you shot back, "You’re not as untouchable as you think."

“Untouchable?” he repeated, his voice dark with amusement. “Girl, I’ve had men twice your size and ten times your skill try to put steel through my heart. You think you’ve got a chance with that?” his eyes pointing at the dagger.

The dagger in your hand felt foolish now, but the anger still burned. You stood your ground, glaring at him. "Maybe I don’t," you snapped, "But I’ll die trying."

He barked out a laugh, harsh and sharp as breaking glass. “Die trying? Gods, you’re a damn fool.”

His eyes flicked over you, assessing, and then, much to your surprise, he shook his head, a strange, humorless smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Maybe what you need’s a bit of training,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t have you embarrassing the rest of your kind, stumbling around like a half-blind goat.”

You stared at him, stunned. “You? Train me?”

“Aye,” he said, his grin cruel and sharp. “The Hound, teacher of some half-wit assassin who couldn’t gut a fish, let alone a man. That’d be a laugh. Maybe I’ll train you, girl. You might stand a chance next time, if the poor sod’s asleep and tied hand and foot.”

Your cheeks burned hot, and anger flared in your chest. “I don’t need your help,” you snapped, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

You clenched your jaw, the taste of failure bitter on your tongue. His words stung, and you hated that they were true. He turned away, dismissing you as easily as he’d taken your dagger from your hand. “You’ll learn,” he muttered, voice low. “Or you’ll die. Either way, you won’t last long.”

With that, he turned picked up his sword and walked toward the fire, his heavy boots thudding against the ground.

You stood there, fists clenched, burning with rage. Every word he said hit its mark, sharper than any blade. You hated him for it. Hated how easy he made you look weak. But even more, you hated the truth behind his words. He was right. You were a mess, and you’d made a fool of yourself tonight. But you wouldn’t stay that way. You’d prove him wrong.

As Sandor’s heavy footsteps faded into the distance, an icy emptiness settled in your chest, colder than the night air could explain. You should’ve been dead. He had you in his grasp, at the mercy of his strength, and yet, he’d let you walk away.

Why?

The question gnawed at you, simple and brutal. He’d seen your failure, mocked you, and still, he hadn’t killed you. Was it pity? Amusement? Or something else entirely?

You stood in the quiet of the woods, feeling the sting of your own humiliation. He’d probably killed a hundred girls like you, all full of anger and pride, too sure of themselves to know when they were outmatched. And yet, here you were, breathing, still alive.

Why had he spared you?

[starclancy]

Hii!

I love your writing! Can I request a Daisuke x female reader where reader is upset and struggling with depression and Daisuke comforts her? If your comfortable with it

Thank youu

Tysm! ofc i can write this

~Rainy Day~

PAIRING: Depressed!Reader/Daisuke

CONTENTS: 🩷 - fluff

WORDCOUNT: 821

Request status: Open (PLS)

It was a quiet afternoon in your small apartment. The rain pattered softly against the window, matching the heavy weight that seemed to press down on your chest. You sat curled up on the couch, your knees pulled tightly to your chest, staring blankly at the TV that was playing a show you weren’t even watching. It felt like the world was moving on without you while you were stuck in place, lost in a fog of sadness and exhaustion.

You barely noticed the sound of a key turning in the lock until the door opened. Daisuke stepped in, shaking water from his jacket and setting it on the hook by the door. His warm brown eyes immediately found you on the couch, and his usual cheerful expression faltered.

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him. He took off his shoes and padded over to you, crouching down in front of the couch so he was at your eye level. “You doing okay?”

You hesitated, not wanting to burden him, but the concern in his eyes made it hard to brush him off. You shrugged slightly. “I’ve been better,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

Daisuke didn’t push you to explain further. Instead, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t even know where to start,” you whispered.

He nodded, his gaze steady and understanding. “That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”

For a moment, you just sat there, the room quiet except for the sound of the rain outside. Daisuke stayed by your side, his presence grounding and comforting. Finally, he stood up and walked into the kitchen. You could hear him rummaging around, and curiosity got the better of you.

“What are you doing?” you called out, your voice still soft but steadier than before.

“Making tea,” he replied, his tone light and casual. “It’s one of the rules of life: tea makes everything at least a little bit better.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips despite yourself. A few minutes later, he returned with two mugs of steaming tea and handed one to you before sitting down beside you on the couch. He didn’t say anything at first, just sipped his tea and looked out the window at the rain.

After a while, you found yourself breaking the silence. “I just… I feel like I’m failing. At everything. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get it together.”

Daisuke set his mug down on the coffee table and turned to face you fully. “Hey, stop right there,” he said gently but firmly. “You’re not failing. You’re human. Everyone struggles sometimes. It’s okay to feel this way, but it doesn’t mean you’re failing.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and this time you couldn’t stop them from spilling over. Daisuke immediately scooted closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a warm, reassuring hug. “I’m here,” he murmured. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you’re feeling, we’ll face it together.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the tears come. He held you tightly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. It felt like a dam breaking, all the emotions you’d been holding in finally pouring out. And through it all, Daisuke stayed with you, his steady presence like a lifeline.

When your sobs finally subsided, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Feeling a little better?” he asked with a small smile.

You nodded, sniffling. “Yeah. Thanks, Daisuke.”

“Anytime,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Now, how about we do something to take your mind off things? Movie marathon? Board games? Or we could bake something. Your cookies are the best.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. “You just want an excuse to eat cookies.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin. “But seriously, whatever you want to do, I’m game.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of hope. Daisuke’s support reminded you that you didn’t have to face your struggles alone. And maybe, just maybe, things would get a little easier with him by your side.

“Let’s bake cookies,” you said finally, wiping your eyes and managing a genuine smile.

“Good choice,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s make the kitchen smell epic 😝.”

And as you took his hand and let him lead you into the kitchen, you felt a little lighter, the weight on your chest not gone but definitely more manageable. With Daisuke’s encouragement, you knew you could take things one step at a time.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 27/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3 (current chapter)

Read on AO3 (from beginning)

“How long can we stay here?” Tommy asked, his eyes staying fixed on the two witches who were searching with increasing rage for the spot where Evan had slipped into the between.

He doubted they would find it—at least not quickly—as they had both been focused on taking Tommy and Del Marco out, but one of their familiars might have noted Evan’s position. Even if they had, it would still take a while to seek out the exact place where he’d dragged everyone into the between. They had time. But.

“Probably not long enough for them to give up and leave,” Evan admitted softly. “I can’t…Tommy, I don’t know how long I can hold this. Not with all of us.” He inhaled shakily through his nose, trying to quell the wave of nausea that had swept through him when he yanked three people into the between with him. In an instant, Tommy was in front of him, his hands cupping Evan’s face gently. In the chill of the between, his vampire’s hands were almost warm.

“Are you all right?” Tommy asked urgently.

Evan closed his eyes and let himself sway forward just a bit, resting his forehead against Tommy’s. “I’ve got enough in me for a few more spells,” he said. Tommy’s hands left his face, only for his vampire to gather him close and hold him tightly. He sighed, imagining for a moment that he could draw some of Tommy’s strength into him, let his vampire take some of the strain of the casting the way he was taking Evan’s weight. When he opened his eyes again, he felt a little less dizzy, adrenaline carrying him a little farther. “We need a plan.”

“Maddox…Maddox—God, can you hear me?”

At Del Marco’s frantic voice, Tommy let him go with visible reluctance, stepping back and turning to the high coven witch. The woman had managed to drag herself to her knees and was crouched over the still body of her familiar, stroking the poor thing’s bloodied fur with shaking hands.

Cath—Catherine? the familiar whispered. Henry…Henry attacked me. I don’t…Bianca was…helping him.

“I know. Hush, I know.” Del Marco began chanting a healing spell, running her glowing hands over the bite marks that littered her familiar’s body. She ignored the raw gash on the side of her head, all of her attention on her familiar. Only when the familiar’s breathing seemed to steady did she look up at Evan. Her dark eyes roamed over their surroundings, shock plain on her face when she realized what he had done.

“The between…you took all of us into the between?” she whispered. She picked her familiar up gently and staggered to her feet, clutching the cat close to her chest.

“Look, we need to figure out what we’re going to do about your friends, there. Evan, can we just, I dunno, get down the street before you take us out of here?” Tommy asked. “Like before, where you got us onto the porch at Greenway’s house?”

Evan winced when Del Marco’s eyes snapped to him, so wide they showed the whites all around. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “I can’t make the between big enough to stand in, let a lone fucking travel in it! That…familiars don’t teach us how to do this anymore. Most of them don’t really know how to do it anymore!”

It was…common, once. His...familiar must have…been one of the old…ones.

“An old—wait,” Del Marco said, her brow furrowing. “Wait, no, the only remotely recent banishment who had been chosen by one of the old ones was—”

“It doesn’t matter who he is,” Tommy interrupted, and Evan was pathetically grateful. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do! Evan, how far away can you get us?” He winced when the linebacker suddenly plunged through him, stalking in ever-widening circles in the parking lot. “God that’s weird,” he muttered.

Evan shook his head. “I, I can get us across the parking lot. Maybe. But I, uh, I can’t stretch the, the between beyond what I could see when we went in. And—” He paused, closing his eyes against a rush of dizziness, and Tommy was instantly in his personal space, sliding an arm around his waist to steady him. “Taking all of us…Tommy, this place looks like it’s as big as the real parking lot, but…”

“But the path we’re standing on is razor-thin,” Del Marco finished grimly. “If one of us mis-stepped, we could slip right out of Evan’s spell.”

Tommy’s arm tightened around him. “And where would that leave us?”

“At best? Right back out in the parking lot with Malone and Peterson, and their familiars. At worst? An entirely different part of the between. Maddox and I could probably find our way out, but you’d be lost forever.” Del Marco’s lips compressed into a tight, thin line. “There’s a reason it’s no longer common for a witch to be taught how to travel through the between.”

Evan’s head was pounding, and his hold on his magic grew more precarious by the second. “Okay, there’s two witches and two familiars trying to kill us, and I can’t hold this much longer,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Can’t you help him?” Tommy snapped, bodily hauling Evan out of the way as Peterson was about to walk through them again. It didn’t hurt, but Evan knew the sensation could be…disconcerting.

“He’s banished,” Del Marco snapped back.

“He saved your fucking lives!” Tommy’s voice was little more than a growl, and Del Marco drew herself up to her full height, her gaze hardening.

“He is right here, and they are still trying to fucking kill us!” Evan groaned. He slung his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, leaning heavily on his vampire, no longer caring what Del Marco thought of it. Instantly, Tommy’s face softened. Evan turned his gaze back toward Del Marco. “They’re traitors. You know there’s no other explanation. And they’re not going to let you get back to your superiors—they’ll either kill all three of us, or just you two and pin it on us.”

Del Marco’s eyes widened in understanding, flicking to Tommy uncertainly, before she seemed to steel herself. “They’ve betrayed the oaths we took to the high coven. You swear to me that book proves that those witches who have been disappearing were murdered?”

“For what it’s worth, yeah, I swear,” Evan said, his head now swimming sickly. Fuck. Fuck. When he finally went down, he was going to go down hard.

“If you’re who I think you are and you still have your magic, that actually means a great deal.” Del Marco looked down at her familiar, clutching the cat more tightly to her chest. “The punishment for betraying an oath of service is execution,” she said quietly. “I can’t fight them both by myself—Maddox is too hurt to help me much.”

Tommy’s hand at the small of his back clenched into a fist. “So you want us to help you,” he said, a bitter sort of disgust in his voice.

To her credit, Del Marco met his vampire’s eyes squarely. “Yes,” she said. “Help me deal with them, and I’ll make sure your evidence gets to who it needs to in the high coven. I’ll do what I can to get the kill order taken off you both.”

Tommy was silent, before he heaved a sigh, his shoulders squaring. Gently, he let go of Evan, hovering close for a moment in case Evan’s knees gave out—not an unfounded fear—and then stepping back. “Evan, how many times can you throw me out there and pull me back in?” he asked.

Evan sucked in a breath, a thrill of fear running through him. “You’re not doing this without me!” he said, and was immediately undermined by how shaky his voice sounded even to his own ears. Tommy’s expression went tight and worried.

“Please don’t argue with me,” he said quietly. He jerked a thumb at Del Marco. “She’s the best shot we have at getting Grant the support she needs in the high coven. That gets them off your back faster. Trust me, okay? Can you pop me out and back at least a couple of times?”

Evan did trust him. He trusted him more than he’d ever trusted anyone except Maddie and Sally. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, assessing. “You’re probably gonna have to carry me out of here,” he admitted softly. “But yeah, I can do it.”

“You sure?”

Once upon a time, Evan might have bristled at the question, seeing it as a question of his competence. In Tommy’s voice, though, all he heard was honest, genuine concern. His vampire would trust his answer; he knew that. He firmed up his stance as much as he could and nodded.

“You want to ambush them,” he said, not needing an explanation of Tommy’s plan.

Despite the dire situation, Tommy’s grin was fierce and a little feral. His eyes sheened over red, and his fangs lengthened to visibility. “Fast and hard,” he confirmed. He leaned in and kissed Evan quickly, taking his hand and turning to look at where the witch Del Marco had called Malone was stalking directly toward them.

“On three,” Evan said, planting himself and his vampire firmly in Malone’s path. He closed his eyes and chanted, pushing Tommy firmly between the shoulder blades at the crest of the short spell. He felt the between part around his vampire, spilling him out into the actual world.

Tommy melted back into reality barely a foot away from Malone. The man recovered quickly, throwing one hand up, the beginnings of a fire spell already on his tongue…but Tommy was faster. The distance between him and the witch vanished between one blink and the next, and Tommy had him by the throat in an instant. Peterson screamed, and Malone’s familiar bounded toward them, but too late. Tommy tore into the witch’s throat, ripping into his jugular with the brutal efficiency of an apex predator. No neat, small puncture wounds…the ruin of Malone’s throat was little more than ground meat when Tommy pulled back, blood gushing out in a fountain. Tommy snarled and flung Malone’s body away from him, sending it sailing a dozen or more yards into the air to crash down on the concrete with a sickening crack of bone that Evan could hear even through the distortion of the between.

Then Tommy pivoted directly back towards where Evan had pushed him out of the between, reaching his hand out in perfect trust that Evan would pull him back before Peterson or the familiars could retaliate. Evan was there. His magic surging through him felt like fire crawling up his spine, like sandpaper scraping over every one of his nerve endings, and his vision doubled, trebled…but then Tommy was in front of him again. Steadying him. Solid and sure as he gripped Evan’s shoulders.

“I’m all right,” Evan gasped. It was the truth, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Tommy’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and then his vampire whirled to face the wavering figure that Peterson made as she sprinted towards Malone’s body. Her sparrow familiar flitted through the air above Malone’s familiar, who had collapsed to the ground and was howling in anguish as its bond with its witch was abruptly severed.

Delia, don’t! the familiar shouted, as Evan heaved in another gulp of air and pushed Tommy free of the between.

It hurt. The pain nearly blinded him, his head feeling as though it was going to split open, and he collapsed to his knees, blood streaming from his nose and dripping onto the ground beneath him where it shimmered and disappeared. He barely heard Del Marco step closer to him, felt her hand hovering over his shoulder briefly before withdrawing. All his focus was on Tommy.

His vampire’s exit was not as graceful this time, and Tommy stumbled a couple of steps before he regained his footing. He did not let it slow him down, barreling toward Peterson like a freight train. She was even faster to react than Malone had been, a spell bursting out of her even as Tommy tackled her to the ground. The force of the spell went wild, arcing over Tommy’s shoulder and slamming into the SUV they’d driven to the motel. There was a thunderous crash and the vehicle rocked on its wheels and nearly bent in half—as though some invisible giant had just punched it as hard as it could. If the spell had hit Tommy, he’d have been obliterated into a bloody mist.

He was even quicker this time, and not as brutal as he could have been. His hands wrapped around Peterson’s head before she could get off another spell, and with a forceful twist, her neck snapped audibly. Her familiar wailed in the air, falling from the sky like a stone and writhing in pain along with the dog. Gasping for breath, feeling like something was trying to claw its way up his spine, he let the spell holding them in the between dissolve, and melted back into existence in the parking lot.

“Evan!” Tommy crashed to his knees beside him, and it was all he could do not to just collapse forward into his vampire’s arms.

Too much.

He’d done too much. Traveling through the between was exhausting all on its own, even with a coven bond…on top of everything else he’d done today, he couldn’t understand how he’d even lasted this long. He didn’t think he could get back to his feet if his life depended on it…and it very well might. There was no way people would ignore what had just happened out here. Even if the high coven enforcers had placed some kind of silencing spell or look-away charm on the property, it wouldn’t be able to hold against all this. They had to…they had to…

Just a minute. He could take…just a minute…

* * *

Evan looked a thousand times worse than he had after he’d teleported them from the office building.

He was not just pale—his face looked gray in the fluorescent light of the streetlamps scattered through the parking lot. Blood dripped from his nose in a steady stream, and his skin was cold and clammy when Tommy dropped to his knees beside him and laid a gentle hand on his face.

“Evan! Are you all right?” Stupid question. Stupid fucking question, of course he wasn’t all right. Evan barely seemed to register his hand on his face, listing alarmingly sideways until Tommy slipped an arm around him and gathered him close, nearly pulling his witch into his lap. Frantically, he pushed two fingers against Evan’s throat, hissing when he felt his witch’s heartbeat—weak and fluttering like a moth battering itself against a window. Too fast, too thready.

This wasn’t going to be fixed by a hot meal and a night’s sleep.

He turned desperate eyes on Del Marco, who was staring at the bodies of her companions in a kind of numb shock. “What’s wrong with him? What can I do?” he demanded. He understood the basics of why magic seemed to hurt his witch if he pushed it too far…but this wasn’t like what had happened before.

Del Marco’s eyes snapped to him, her expression going carefully neutral as she looked down at Evan. “He dragged all three of us into the between with him—and kept it from collapsing on us while he pulled you in and out of it multiple times. I’d need a week to recover if I’d done that. On top of what we saw at Jonah Greenway’s house…without a coven bond? I don’t understand why he wasn’t a heap on the ground when we got here.”

Convenless magic puts a tremendous strain on a banished witch’s body, her familiar added, its gaze not unsympathetic. I am sorry—either he is strong enough to recover or he is not.

Tommy went cold at that. “Can’t…can’t you do anything?”

Del Marco’s posture took on the stiff cast of a soldier delivering bad news. “Magical exhaustion is different from other ailments or injuries…healing magic doesn’t affect it. And—I’m sorry, but he’s banished. Even if we could help, it’s forbidden.”

Tommy could not bite back the growl that erupted out of him at her words, his eyes glowing scarlet as he pulled Evan closer. He stood with his witch in his arms and taking several steps back from Del Marco, as though she might try to hurt him. Something inside him snarled in ruthless satisfaction when her eyes widened a little, her scent sharpening with apprehension.

“I meant what I said. You did the high coven a service here, Mr. Kinard. I’ll do what I can for you with them. I’ll do what I can for both of you.”

She did not say if he lives.

She did not have to.

“May I have the book?” she asked, a thread of hesitation in her voice.

Tommy clenched his teeth, biting back the new growl that wanted to bubble up from his lips. This was their goal…Del Marco was in a far better position to help Grant and Howie with the high coven than he and Evan were. If he refused to give her the evidence they had found, then this was all for nothing. Evan groaned softly, stirring just a little as he grabbed clumsily at Tommy’s shoulder. His eyes were open—barely—but his witch didn’t seem to be tracking anything. Panic like Tommy hadn’t felt in centuries clawed at his guts.

He shifted Evan awkwardly to get at the front pocket of his borrowed sweatshirt, pulling the ledger out and tossing it at her before his witch could slip out of his arms. Del Marco caught it with one hand, tucking it under her arm. She turned and looked out at where the familiars were still twitching weakly on the ground, the dog whimpering weakly while the sparrow’s wings spasmed.

“You need to leave,” Del Marco said, holding one hand up in the air. She chanted a few words, and the white glow of witch magic sprang up around the familiars’ bodies.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously. “What am I supposed to do?” He and Evan were painted in blood again, and his witch’s breath was growing more labored by the second. He needed…fuck, should he call an ambulance?

“This place will be swarming with high coven operatives in less than ten minutes. You cannot be here when they arrive,” Del Marco said. “I’m sorry, this is all I can do. There’s still a kill order on you. I’m risking everything not detaining you.”

He would like to see her fucking try.

He shifted Evan’s weight into a more comfortable hold. All right…all right, he just needed to get far enough away that the high coven wouldn’t find them. Then he could assess Evan…get him help. Either he is strong enough to recover or he is not. No. No. Evan was strong enough. His witch would be fine. He just needed…

The screech of tires suddenly sounded in the parking lot, and a black SUV with darkened windows came racing into the parking lot. Del Marco startled back, her hands glowing with white light, but Tommy…

Tommy didn’t think he’d ever felt such a wave of relief.

The car screeched to a halt only a few yards away from them, and the driver’s side window rolled down.

“Can’t leave you alone for a fuckin’ minute, can we Kinard?” Sal drawled.

[itshelfiredean]

Growing Up, Winchester

Dean x Daughter!Reader, Sam x Niece!Reader, Cas x Reader (platonic)

Age 1: First Words

Dean had always imagined that his daughter’s first words might be something like “Dad” or even “Sam,” given how much time she spent with her uncle. Instead, her first word was something that made Dean laugh out loud with pride.

“Car!” she babbled one day, tugging at the tiny Impala toy Dean had given her. She said it again, louder this time, clapping her hands. Dean’s grin was unstoppable.

“Atta girl,” he said, scooping her up. “That’s my girl! First words, and she’s already on her way to appreciating Baby.”

Sam shook his head, chuckling. “You know, most kids start with something a little more… typical.”

“Typical?” Dean repeated, feigning offense. “She’s a Winchester. We don’t do typical around here.”

Age 6: Losing Her First Tooth

Years later, Y/N came running to her dad, a bit of worry mingled with excitement on her face. She wiggled her bottom front tooth, which was barely holding on.

“It’s loose, Dad! Is it supposed to be like that?” she asked, her eyes wide.

Dean crouched down, inspecting her tooth like it was a top-level case. “Looks like you got your first loose tooth, kiddo. You know what this means?”

She nodded. “Tooth fairy?”

Dean chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You got it. But don’t worry. It’ll fall out when it’s ready.”

Sure enough, a few days later, she lost it while eating pancakes Sam made. She raced over to show them, proudly holding the tiny tooth in her palm.

“Way to go!” Sam cheered. “Guess we better get ready for a visit from the tooth fairy tonight.”

That night, Dean tucked her in and, after she was fast asleep, slipped a dollar under her pillow, feeling a bittersweet pang of watching his little girl grow up.

Age 8: Watching Scooby-Doo with Dean

One of Dean’s favorite traditions was their Saturday morning Scooby-Doo marathons. The bunker was usually quiet then, and Y/N loved cuddling up with him on the couch to watch the cartoon.

Dean would tell her stories of “the time they met the Scooby Gang for real,” and Y/N would gasp and beg for more details. She’d laugh whenever he did his Shaggy impression and loved how he’d always lean forward whenever there was a mystery to solve.

One day, she looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Dad, do you think we’ll ever hunt a ghost like that?”

Dean chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Kid, we’ve hunted things way scarier than Scooby-Doo ghosts. But who knows? Maybe we’ll stumble across one of these guys someday.”

“I think Uncle Sammy would be Shaggy.”

“Why?” Dean chuckled as he looked back at his daughter.

“He’s tall.”

When the whole “Scoobynatural” fiasco occurred, Y/N had just turned 17. Though she wasn’t that 8 year old anymore, meeting the gang sure brought out her inner child. Especially when Fred kept flirting with her much to the dismay of Sam, Dean, and Cas

Age 10: Needing Stitches

Hunting was a dangerous life, and Y/N learned that sooner rather than later. One evening, while running around the bunker, she tripped and hit her leg on the edge of a table, cutting it deep enough that she needed stitches.

Sam got out the supplies, and Dean gently sat her down on the bed, but Y/N, panicked and crying, immediately started thrashing and trying to pull away. “No! No needles!” she screamed.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, trying to calm her down, but her fear was too strong. Finally, he had to hold her arms down, while Sam gently but firmly held her leg steady to stitch it up. She cried the whole time, struggling against them.

Castiel, watching from the doorway, finally came over, placing a gentle hand on her head. “Y/N, I promise, you’re safe. This is just a little pain, and it will pass soon. Your father and uncle won’t let anything happen to you.”

It seemed to help. She kept her eyes closed and whimpered as Sam finished the stitches, Dean gently patting her shoulder. When it was over, they all sat with her, comforting her until she was calm again.

Age 14: Explaining Gilmore Girls to Cas

When Y/N hit her teen years, her favorite show became Gilmore Girls. One evening, Castiel found her watching it in the bunker’s library as she was singing along to the iconic Carole King theme song.

“What is this?” he asked, tilting his head with a curious expression.

“It’s Gilmore Girls,” she explained, smiling. “It’s about this mom and daughter and their lives in this small town.” Y/N pointed at the screen which showed a scene with Rory Gilmore and Dean Forester.

Cas watched for a moment before raising an eyebrow. “Why does this character, Dean, look like Sam?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, trying to hold it in. “That’s not Sam, Cas. He’s just an actor.”

Castiel nodded, though he still looked slightly suspicious. “It’s uncanny. Are you sure he’s not an alternate version of Sam?”

Y/N patted his arm. “Positive, Cas. Trust me.”

Age 16: Caught Sneaking Out

Y/N’s rebellious streak showed itself more and more as she grew older. One night, thinking she could sneak out without anyone noticing, she tiptoed toward the bunker’s exit. She’d barely made it out the door when a voice cut through the darkness.

“Y/N Winchester, get your butt back here,” Dean called, his tone brooking no argument.

Y/N froze, knowing she’d been caught. Before she could even think of a way out, Dean was there, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over his shoulder effortlessly. She protested, pounding on his back, but Dean only chuckled.

“You think I don’t know all the tricks? I invented them, sweetheart.”

He carried her all the way back to her room, setting her down with a warning look. “No more sneaking out, you hear me?”

Y/N huffed but nodded, knowing she was caught fair and square. Dean softened, ruffling her hair. “Next time, just ask. I’m not as scary as you think.”

Age 17: Driving the Impala

Finally, the day came when Y/N turned 17, and Dean decided it was time she learned how to drive the Impala. She couldn’t have been more excited as she climbed behind the wheel, her dad sitting shotgun with Sam and Cas in the backseat.

“Now, remember,” Dean said, his tone serious, “you’re not just driving any car. This is Baby. You treat her with respect, got it? She’s practically your mother.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Yes, Dad. Got it.”

They drove down an empty road, and after a few cautious miles, she started feeling comfortable, pressing a little harder on the gas. Sam teased her about being careful, while Cas watched out the window, seemingly fascinated by the passing scenery.

Dean turned on the radio, and “Hey Jude” by The Beatles started to play. Y/N lit up, glancing at her dad with a grin, and he started singing along with Paul McCartney. Soon, Sam joined in, and finally, even Cas tried humming along.

“Na-na-na, na-na-na-na!” they all sang together, and Y/N felt a swell of happiness, caught up in the joy of the moment with her family.

By the time they pulled back into the bunker, Dean’s smile was wider than ever. “Not bad, kid,” he said, ruffling her hair.

As they got out, Y/N felt a deep, warm sense of belonging. This family, this strange and chaotic life—they might not have been typical, but they were hers, and she wouldn’t trade a single moment.

[leonslutkennedeeznuts]

can you write Leon x short f!reader. we talking 150cm oow that’s will be cute to read

the first meeting will be:

she’s his new neighbour in the building, there apartments are cross each other. he didn’t know, when she moved he was in a mission. he come back at late after midnight.

In the morning he got out from his apartment to go to his work and he was locking the door when he intended to turn and leave he bumped into her because he didn’t see her. when he looked down he saw grocery bags covering your face , leon” oh sorry I didn’t see you’, you tilted your head slightly to see the person from behind the bags , you smiled’o-ooh don’t worry about it”, he offered “do you wanna help with that” he pointed to seem a heavy bags for you, you nod negative’ no thanks tho’ and you grab your keys from your pocket to open your apartment .

he thinks you are the cutest thing he ever seen. and he keeps thinking about you at work and Chris and Claire noticed!

re4 or re6 🤔..

My first fic request!!! Leon x Short Fem!Reader | Mentions of Claire and Chris | Fluffy Smut (if this is trash I AM SO SORRY!)

Leon hadn't noticed someone new had moved into his apartment building until he bumped into you that one fateful morning on his way to work. He had to look down to see who or what he'd hit before he realized. You were carrying groceries to the apartment right across from his, obviously struggling a little bit.

"Hey, sorry about that. I can help you drop these bags off," he offered only for you to shake your head no and hurry into your apartment.

He had tried to shrug the awkward encounter off but he couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed watching you walk away, the sway of your hips almost putting him in a trance. You were very short, barely 5'0 if he had to guess and for a split second the thought of lifting you into his arms effortlessly crossed his mind (and was filed away into his dirty thoughts).

---

Claire was the first to notice his little crush. She refused to drop the subject, even getting Chris involved in the teasing.

"Aww, Leon has a crush! Tell me all about her, you must," she pleaded.

"Yeah, Kennedy, who's the unlucky girl," Chris joked.

They were relentless but Leon refused to give in and talk about you with them. He wasn't sure if you'd be interested in the guy who almost knocked you over on your moving day. He'd been watching you ever since, trying not to be so obvious and creepy. His living room window gave him the perfect view of your front door- maybe he peeked every now and again to watch you leave and return home, hoping he'd be bold enough to just talk to you one day beyond the simple "Hi" and "Have a good day".

---

Leon finally had the courage to talk to you about two weeks later. The apartment complex was having a social hour, free drinks with light snacks at the clubhouse and you were there. Your smile and laugh lit up the room. He made his way over to you, nervous yet confident when he reached out to shake your hand.

"I'm Leon, I live across from you."

"Oh yeah, I've seen you around," you replied, hoping to not make it so obvious how attracted you were to him. "I'm new to the area."

"Well I'd love to show you around, if you're interested," Leon offered. There was a really nice steakhouse downtown that he'd love to take you to, to show you off, see you all dressed up in heels that would probably still have him towering over you.

You blushed and nodded at this invitation. "I'd like that a lot, Leon."

Everything seemed to fall into place from there.

You exchanged numbers and went on your first date the following Friday night. Leon was quickly falling for you, the way your head rested on his chest when you cuddled on the couch, the way he had to almost crouch down to kiss you with his hands in your hair, the way you stood on your tip toes to meet his lips halfway.

The arch of your back as you took every inch of him so perfectly, squealing and begging for more. The way you rode him and let his hands hold your hips steady as he pounded into you, his eyes transfixed on the bulge in your stomach from the length of him. The way your tight, little mouth couldn't fit all of him but you tried so hard, gagging and tearing up swallowing his load. How he could lift you up and have you bouncing on his cock, your cum leaking down his thighs as he was relentlessly hellbent on making you orgasm over and over, your nails digging into his shoulders and back.

It wasn't long before you were moving into his apartment after Leon bought out your lease, having you meet Claire and Chris and the rest of his close friends with Leon proudly introducing you as his girlfriend.

[thewardenisonthecase]

Moments in Between - Chapter 3

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Summary: Rook has a nightmare and Lucanis has a funeral to arrange.

A/N: I didn't like this chapter that much but it needed to get done. I'm still figuring out where this story is going. Also MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DATV AT THE END (its about one of the big reveals in the third act)!!!

Another night, another nightmare.

She was amongst them, one more darkspawn in the middle of the hoard. Her thoughts were not her own, as she heard the sweet calling of the archdemon, beckoning them to keep digging. 

Just keep digging. Digging. Find it. Find the source of the song. 

Come to me. 

The sound of metal against stone echoed in her head, each time louder and louder until the earth exploded, as a pair of giant wings emerged and the intense roaring of the Archdemon shook everything around her. 

Rook woke up in a cold sweat, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry. Standing on shaky legs, she didn’t know what to do. 

Ever since her Joining, she too had struggled with nightmares, but none that ever felt this…real. And none that featured an archdemon. 

She could feel her feet taking her somewhere, her body moved even if her mind didn’t command it to. She stopped, not knowing where she was until a voice spoke her name. 

“Rook, are you alright? You look pale.” She heard someone speak, her mind still trying to catch on. The voice was familiar, but the sound of her own ragged breath muffled the next sentences. 

Next thing she knew, calloused hands with a gentle touch led her to a chair, helping her sit down. A water cup was put in her hands. Slowly, and with help, she brought it to her lips and drank almost everything. 

Rook closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she opened them, she was met with a certain crow crouching in front of her, his eyes filled with concern. 

“Lucanis.” She whispered, as her mind cleared, looking around the room. “Hi.” She saw his face relax a bit after she spoke. 

“What happened?” He asked, softly. He covered her hands, the ones holding the water, with his own. “You’re shaking and you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She gave him a small chuckle that sounded more like a gasp. “I…I had a nightmare. A very, very, bad one.”

Lucanis nodded and stood up. He thought for a moment and then said “If you want, I can make you something to eat.” 

“I…thank you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before saying “Can you make that chocolate drink? The one from the café.” 

He gave her a small smile. “Of course.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him get to work, as she slowly gathered her thoughts. She had never dreamt with an archdemon before, but she remembered the warden commander telling her about it. 

“It’s intense, terrifying.” She remembered hearing the commander talk. “The nightmares are bad on their own, but during a Blight they’re worse. And when you see the archdemon…I was lucky to have Alistair with me.” 

She didn’t know how much time had passed but the smell of hot chocolate filled her nostrils, as her empty water cup was replaced. 

“Thank you, Lucanis.” He nodded and began to walk away, into the pantry. “Can I…ask you for a favor?” She said, unsure. 

“What is it?”

“Could you keep me company? Just for a while.” 

He stood there, thinking and for a moment, she thought she had overstepped, until he grabbed his cup of coffee and sat on the chair opposite to hers. The two drank in silence, until Rook asked “Do you also have bad dreams?” 

“Sometimes, although lack of sleep prevents them. Do you have them often?” 

“All the time. It comes with being a warden.” 

His head tilted to the side. “I don’t understand.” 

She sighed. “I guess most people don’t.” Rook leaned back on her chair, as she thought of a way to explain it. “Because of our connection to the blight, we often have dreams with them - the darkspawn, the taint. And if you’re unlucky enough, you’ll dream with the archdemon.” 

“And I’m guessing that was the cause of your nightmare.”

Rook nodded. “I had never dreamed of one before. They’re not really supposed to happen unless a Blight is going on, and even then, I’d thought we’d have more time before…”

“Before, what?” 

“Before an archdemon was uncovered.” She took another drink before asking “Do you know how they came to be?” When Lucanis shook his head, she explained “The darkspawn, they’re always digging, looking for the Old Gods trapped beneath the earth. They call them constantly until they get them out. The Old God is then corrupted by the taint and becomes the Archdemon. It’s how we know it's a true blight, if an archdemon is spotted, and usually, our dreams are the first indications we have.” 

“So what you’re saying is that our situation is worse than what it was?” 

“Exactly.” Rook rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know if there’s any connection between the Old Gods and the Evanuris but if they are controlling the blight and got a hold of one of these archdemons…I don’t even want to think of the chaos that would be.” 

“It is something to consider. Have you contacted the rest of your order yet?” 

“We, uhm…aren’t on the best of terms right now. But maybe Harding and I can come up with something.” She finished her drink by putting it on the table. “Thank you, Lucanis.” 

“Of course.” He smirked. “But you’ll be owing me a favor.” 

“I told you we would all be owing each other.”

She smiled one last time and made the lonely journey back to her room. There was another problem hanging in the back of her mind. 

If there truly was an archdemon and if this was truly a blight…then her end was nearer than she’d expected. 

. 

It did not take long for Lucanis to reclaim that favor, as the very next day, a letter from Teia arrived.

The walk to the Cantori Diamond had been silent, but Lucanis was glad. Since Teia had told him about the funeral, he hadn’t been in the most talkative mood.  

Still, he had asked Rook to come along, in case Spite got out of hand. 

But also…he needed someone that wasn’t so involved, so familiar to be there. 

Once they arrived at the casino, Teia and Viago greeted them. 

“Good, you’re here.” The Seventh Talon said. 

“Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia.” 

“For Caterina…how could I do otherwise. I’m so sorry, Lucanis, this must be such a blow.” She turned to Rook. “Thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to plan this. His cousin has been no help at all.”

“I’m sorry, Teia.” Illario said mournfully. “This is just…too much right now.” 

Besides him, Rook took a deep breath and said “If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.” 

That was the other reason why he had asked her to come along. After a year surrounded by Venatori, having someone so…nice around was a breath of fresh air. 

“You’re such a dear.” Teia smiled. “I hope these two are paying attention.” 

Lucanis noticed the familiar, charming tone Teia used when talking to Rook, and he shifted the weight from his feet, slightly uncomfortable at the notion. “Teia, don’t flirt with my…” he stopped himself. 

What were they? Teammates? Friends? 

“Colleague.” Was the word he settled on, hoping the others did not notice his hesitation.

“Jealous? Fine, to business, then.” Teia said. “There’s a lot to plan, but first, I need the ashes.” 

“Ashes?” Illario asked, causing Lucanis to frown. His cousin seemed too surprised, though he couldn’t blame him. With how fast things had been…

“Maker help us, yes, the ashes! Caterina’s ashes. From the cremation?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I’ll get them to you right away.” His cousin said. 

In Lucanis’s mind, he had tried to think of every scenario about how this all came to be but there was still too much confusion. Before Illario left, she asked “Illario…what happened?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Caterina. How..? How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the estate? In the city?” He bombarded his cousin with questions. “How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know.” 

He needed to be prepared. They would come for him too - if he did not find them first. 

But it was still strange. How could the First Talon had fallen so easily?

“Cousin, stop. You can’t dwell on this. It’ll drive you mad.” 

“I am not dwelling. Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how, if I’m going to stop her.” 

“I told you. I’m handling it.” 

Illario and his stubbornness. If he continued like this, he’d get himself killed and Lucanis…he would be the only one left. 

He couldn’t stand the thought. 

“Boys! Enough. We have other things to discuss.” Teia intervened. 

“My apologies, Andarateia. Continue without me. I’ll…get you the ashes.” His cousin said and left. 

Lucanis sighed. He was still as confused as before and Illario seemed to refuse to cooperate. He turned his head, seeing a frown on Rook’s face. 

“Something’s wrong with him. I don’t know what.” 

“When he’s not on the job, my cousin always has his head on the clouds.” 

“Still…”

“Illario can be a handful, but this…The only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died.” Teia looked at him. “You’re worrying, aren’t you? What will people say when they discover that “the Demon of Vyrantium” has a big, soft heart?” 

Lucanis huffed and ignored what she said, opting to focus on Illario. “He’s been careless at times, but never when his own life was on the line. Zara took down the First Talon. Anyone could be next. And my cousin doesn’t want to think about it.” 

Teia stopped to think and replied “You have a point. It’s not like him to ignore a knife coming in his direction.” 

The three stayed there, in silence. Rook was right - there was something wrong with his cousin, but he couldn’t tell. He sighed, mentally, not sure of what to do. 

Lucanis shook his head. He had come here for a reason, and that reason was not worrying about Illario. “What do you need from me for the funeral?” 

“Come. I’ll get us drinks, and we can make arrangements.” Teia led them further inside the casino. 

They didn’t take long. Mostly, they asked what flowers they should use and where to place them, which people could be invited to the wake, if they should bring a Mother. 

All sorts of things that made Lucanis wonder how it must have been like for his family when they thought he was dead. If they had done all of this. 

The only time I’ve seen him like this was when Lucanis died.

And now he might as well be the reason why his cousin would get himself killed.

Before they left, Lucanis spoke with Teia. “Our house owes you for handling all this.” 

“Caterina was family. Can you imagine what she'd say if she saw us all like this?”  

His face lightened. “She’d be furious. Especially at Illario. As usual.”

Rook, who had stayed mostly quiet until now, spoke “How did you manage to stay on her good side?” 

Lucanis laughed. “What good side?” 

“To hear Caterina tell it, Lucanis can do no wrong.” Teia added.

“It’s easy to look good standing next to my cousin.” 

Rook smirked. “You’re not so bad, give yourself some credit.” 

Lucanis looked away, remembering the previous night. He then saw Teia’s eyes narrow, a small rise in one of her brows, before he cleared his throat. 

Teia straightened her face and said “I’ll have my people keep an eye on him for you.” 

“Thank you, Teia.” 

“Go on. I’ll let you know if something comes up.” 

They said their goodbyes and left. 

They were in the middle of the Crossroads, getting close to the Lighthouse eluvian when Rook stopped and asked “Are you ok?” 

Lucanis blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…I don’t know what if feels like, but losing your grandma must be hard, right? I just wanted to check in.” 

“If you’re wondering if I can still do my job-”

“It’s not about that.” She shook her head. “I’m asking as a friend. I mean, I hope we are friends, but I just…” She sighed “Varric recently told me that it’s important to check in on your friends, especially when you’re on a mission as big as killing elven gods. So…that’s what I’m doing.” 

Lucanis stood still. He wasn’t used to this sort of caring, much less from someone he knew for such a short period of time, but he could see that Rook was genuine. 

“I-thank you, Rook. I will be fine.” He said, hoping. “And yes…I think we can be friends.” 

“Good.” She nodded and they kept on walking to the Lighthouse. 

But a sudden question formed on the back of Lucanis’s head. 

If Varric was dead, how had Rook talked to him?