#this probably says something about me i guess

[gaytheropods]

[ID: A tweet by @ DefiyantlyFree reading, "DOGE, coming to a government building near you..."

Attached to the tweet is a meme of buff doge + crying doge. Buff doge says, "Pack your bags" and crying doge is labeled 'Government employees studying the sex life of beetles" and is saying, "Please no". End ID]

There’s a bunch of right-wing people posting memes about “”DOGE”” making the government more efficient by removing funding from “”dumb bug researchers”” and I am now realizing how little the average person knows about entomology and its importance

Excuse me while I get sad .

[marauder-misprint]

Checked box

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

13k words

cw: fluff, little bit of snogging, pinning, hurt/comfort (I guess?)

“Black is snogging Eloise Garner in the corridor,” Mary says as she sits down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“Bit early for a snog, isn’t it?” you ask, not looking up from your paper.

“I’d say so,” she responds, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Isn’t that like the third girl this week?” Lily asks.

“Feels like he’s trying to at least snog every girl in our year and then some,” Marlene answers.

The group is silent for a moment as Mary, Marlene and Lily all stare at you.

“Well? Is he?” Lily asks.

“How would I know?”

“Because he is quite literally in your lap every evening?” Marlene replies. “Honestly, if we didn’t know you, we’d say you two were dating. Or at least you’d’ve been the first one he snogged.”

You make a face at that assumption. “My brother’s best friend, believe it or not, does not confide all of his life’s mission to me.”

“You’re probably one of them,” Mary giggles.

“Except I’m basically his sister!”

“Siblings don’t act like that around each other,” Lily says with a smile. 

“James!” you call to your brother who is a few seats down from the group. “Does Sirius like me romantically?”

He looks up from his Quidditch book, eyes wide.

“What? What did he do to you?”

He slams his book down and quickly walks down the table toward the girls. He crouches next to you so he wasn’t towering over you. 

“What did Padfoot do?”

You laugh at your brother. “Nothing, James. But these three,” you gesture to the girls around you, “think I’m on his to-be-snogged list. I’m not, am I?” Your words were teasing, already knowing that you weren't.

“I’ll damn ensure that you’re not,” he growls, shaking his head.

“But there is a list?” Marlene pipes up. Her eyes glitter with intrigue. 

“Not a list, per se… But he does seem to have trouble keeping to one girl for long.”

“And there you have it, folks! No real list and even if there was, I’m not on it.” You turn to look at James who doesn’t seem to be moving from where he crouches behind your shoulder. “Thanks James. You can, uh, go sit down now.”

“Oooh! Speak of the devil!” Mary chirps, looking toward the Great Hall door where Sirius was entering alone. 

“Morning, pumpkin,” Sirius says, ruffling your hair. “Girls.” 

James had waited until Sirius made it to the girls. The boys went down to their usual spots down the table. Once sat, James bursts into hurried whispers that lead to numerous glances being sent in the girls’ direction. 

“How come I can’t call you pumpkin?” Lily pouts. Of all the pet names, pumpkin was your least favorite.

You roll your eyes before answering. “He’ll be reprimanded later for that. Don’t you worry, dearest Lily.”

“Reprimanded in your sex dungeon?” Marlene gasps, a hand over her heart.

You smack her with your paper from across the table. “Don’t you start a rumor like that!”

“I could totally see you having one though!” Marlene insists. 

“What is your dominatrix name?” Lily asks, gently bumping into your shoulder. 

“You are all too horny this morning. I’ll see you in class.”

You quickly gather your things, take one last sip of coffee and leave the hall. The day seems to go on as usual for you. You sat with the girls in most of your classes. You’re glad the conversation of Sirius’ list had been left at breakfast. There are minor differences in the boys during classes. They appeared to have shuffled their seating arrangements, but it doesn’t affect you until History of Magic. You usually sit next to Sirius. Instead, you were sat next to Peter while Sirius sat on the other side of James. Peter wasn’t your favorite of James’ friends but you could tolerate him. 

There was definitely something different about Sirius in the common room after dinner. You usually hung out with her brother and his friends in the evenings. This would often lead to you sitting with Sirius on the couch, one of you draped over the other. Depending on who was sitting and who was lounging, you would play with each other’s hair or do homework or take a brief nap. You liked when Sirius would read you the assigned chapter because you otherwise wouldn’t read it. This evening, however, Sirius sat in an armchair nowhere near you. You frown as you watch him sit down and proceed to avoid your gaze. 

The altered seating arrangement and not sitting with you on the couch continues for the next few days. By Friday evening, it is driving you crazy. You need to know what is going on. You wait until most people have gone to bed before deciding to confront him. Sirius was usually one of the last people up so you knew that waiting it out would be okay. 

“Black, come ‘ere,” you say.

He looks over at you with a confused look on his face. He had been watching the fire, lost in his own thoughts. When he doesn’t move, you pat the couch cushion next to you. Reluctantly, he gets up and move to sit next to you. 

“What’s up, pumpkin?”

“What’s up with you?” you ask, your brows furrowed. “Feels like you’ve been on the other side of the Earth this week.”

He shrugs, looking back towards the fire. “Just following directions.”

“Whose directions?”

“Prongs.”

“And, pray tell, what did that idiot tell you to do?”

“To stay away from you?” he replies, obvious confusion in his voice. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild frustration. “When was this?”

“Uh, earlier this week at breakfast. Made it seem like it was partly at your request?”

You shake your head. “Leave it to James to mess something up. No. He said he would make sure I didn’t end up as another checked box on your list. That would be all him.”

“Another checked box? What list is this?” Sirius asks with a slight chuckle as he looks at you. 

“The list of every girl in our year and then some,” you giggle, slightly relieved that it seems like he doesn’t have such a list. “You know, your apparent mission to kiss every one. And maybe get some.”

He quickly turns back to the fire, hoping to hide the brief look of embarrassment that crosses his face. You see it anyway and feel your face flush slightly. 

“There’s no list. And you certainly wouldn’t be a box on it if it were.”

“Ouch, Black,” you say with semi-fake hurt. “Cut me deep.”

“Please, I would be neutered if I kissed you.”

You laugh. Your laugh is enough to draw Sirius’ gaze away from the fire again. He loves seeing you smile that widely and knowing it was something he said to get you to. 

“Why were you talking about that imaginary list anyways?”

“Mary saw you snogging Eloise and apparently thought I would know if this list existed,” you say with a soft chuckle. 

“And James was a part of this conversation?” he asks in disbelief.

“Well, I called him over when the girls didn’t believe that we aren’t romantically involved, let alone never kissed.”

Sirius shakes his head with a small smile playing on his lips. “And that leads to James declaring that I need to be at least a meter away from you at all times?”

“I asked him two questions. Do you like me romantically and was I on your to-be-snogged list?” You pause. “You know, he never actually answered the first one.”

“That would be because he doesn’t know,” Sirius says, turning his head almost 90 degrees to crack his neck. “You know how much he hates being wrong… So he’s not going to give an answer if he doesn’t know if it’s right.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I don’t discuss everything with Prongs. Although, he never has asked how I feel about you.”

You chuckle and nudge Sirius with your shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend like you might have feelings for me. It’s… fine that you don’t.” The words taste bitter in your mouth, but you try to sound genuine. You would be lying if you said you never imagined things developing between the two of you. 

“Why do you assume I don’t?” Sirius asks, cocking his head as he looks at you intently.

“Why would you be snogging anything that moves in a skirt if you liked me and you’ve never made a move for me?”

“I thought we agreed that Prongs would have me neutered if I kissed you?” He takes a breath. “And maybe knowing that I could very well lose my best friend if I went after the girl I actually like is the reason I go from girl to girl. None of them make me feel like she does.”

“Wait, what?”

“There’s just more than one reason why you can’t be a checked box on this list,” Sirius says, standing up. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”

He places a gentle kiss on top of your head before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. You stare after him dumbfounded. Has Sirius just essentially told you that he did like you and then leave? 

Despite knowing that he was well out of earshot, you still say, “That’s not my name.”

None of the students remaining in the common room pay you any attention as you sit on the couch alone, talking to yourself now. You slump into the cushions and take over Sirius’ habit of staring into the fire. You understand why he does it. The way that the flames dance and flicker and radiate heat is calming. 

You are distracted all weekend by what Sirius had said. You bury yourself in homework and use it as an excuse to avoid the Quidditch game. It’s Slytherin against Hufflepuff so your absence isn't insulting to James. Despite being tucked away in a distraction-free corner of the library, you make little progress on your homework. Your mind kept wandering back to Sirius and what he had said. You had worked hard to bury all of your feelings for him years ago, assuming it would never happen due to his close friendship with James. Your feelings continued to remain buried as he got closer with you and never hinted that he might like you more than a friend. 

In your dorm, you ignore the comments from Lily and Mary that for someone who spent all weekend in the library, you made such little progress on your assignments, or that they were done extremely poorly. 

On Monday, you really do try to pay attention in class, but it is futile. Even after a weekend of him on your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to Sirius, who is in most of your classes. Even worse, you come to realize that you have no one to talk to about it so you can only let your mind spin as it had for the past two days. You think you disguise your distraction fairly well in classes until Remus grabs your hand in Potions before you can tip an ingredient into your cauldron.

“Are you trying to blow up the classroom?” he hisses at you. 

You blink at him and then look at what you had been about to pour into your brew. He is right. If you had dumped it in, your cauldron would have blown up and severely damaged those around you. You give Remus a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Remus… Been a bit distracted lately.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You give him a look. “Is it obvious?”

“You didn’t bother to apologize or clean up your spilled inkwell in Transfiguration,” he says with a soft smile. “If Lily hadn’t quickly cleaned it up for you, McGonagall would’ve given you detention.”

“Huh… I’ll have to thank her later…”

“What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing too important,” you lie.

“If I’m almost blown up over it, it must be important.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I just don’t have anyone to talk to about it so it’s… festering.”

Remus turns back to his own potion.

“Must be quite the topic if you have no one to talk to about it.”

You scrunch your face as you add the correct ingredient to your potion, causing it to turn a pleasant blue color. 

“What does that mean?”

“You have plenty of people who care for you. And if none of us are good enough, you could probably have your pick of first years who would love to listen to your problems.”

You chew at the dead skin of your bottom lip, looking at Remus and knowing he was right.

“Don’t be mad but sometimes I forget that you are also my friend, not just James’. And that you are the most understanding person on this planet.”

He chuckles softly, not trying to draw attention to himself. “Understandable. But what is it that you feel you have no one to talk to about?”

“It’s too public in here,” you say, looking around the room. “It’s something I can’t talk to the girls about because they will all tease me endlessly if I do. And I can’t talk about it with James because we don’t really discuss that kind of stuff often and he overreacts.”

“And Sirius?”

You purse your lips. 

“Oh,” Remus says, suddenly understanding. “Let’s discuss this after class when I’m certain I’ll be in less danger of blowing up.”

Once your potions are turned in to Professor Slughorn, you and Remus leave the classroom together. Lily, Mary and James give you questionable stares as you disappear around the corner. Neither of you say a word until you are more secluded in the grounds of Hogwarts. You walk down towards the Black Lake. Anyone trying to eavesdrop would have a harder time hearing you over the sound of waves. 

“What did Sirius do?” Remus asks, sitting down and resting his back against a tree. 

Mimicking his actions, you answer, “It’s what he said when I confronted him for avoiding me all last week.”

“Wasn’t that at your request?”

“No. James is a liar.”

“Okay?”

“Long story short, Mary, Marlene and Lily…” you start to say before putting your head in your hands and groaning. “Screw that. Does Sirius like me?”

“He lets you touch his hair. Of course he likes you.”

You lift your head to look at Remus. “Does he like me as more than a friend?”

“What did he say to you?”

“I asked first.”

“I can only speak if I know what he told you.”

You sigh heavily and turn your gaze to the lake.

“Something like he’d lose James if he kissed the girl he actually likes and that’s why he’s been kissing every girl who looks his way. And then that there’s more than one reason why I can’t be another checked box on the list of girls he’s kissed.”

Remus puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“Oh, darling…”

“Remus, does he like me?”

“I believe he does.”

You whip your head towards him. “What do you mean, you believe?”

“He’s not known for pouring his heart out. You know that. He’s private with his more personal feelings,” Remus says, choosing his words carefully. “But I have eyes and ears. The way he looks at you, especially when James isn’t looking. The way he acts around you. The way he talks to you, and about you. … And he calls you pumpkin.”

You don’t say anything. You were taking it all in, although you don’t quite understand why him using that pet name held significance. You just want Remus to keep talking. 

“You know about his home life,” he continues. 

You nod. 

“I don’t think I could say all the ways it makes him the way he is. We’ve only heard snippets of it. I think there’s a lot he has walled off. And he has a found family in us. In James specifically. So he’s going to tread lightly around anything that could harm that.”

You bite the inside of your lip. You know you have been let inside some of Sirius’ walls. There were the miscellaneous late nights filled with more vulnerable conversations over the past two years. A particularly horrendous nightmare had brought Sirius to the common room to sit by the dying fire, and you had already been sitting there. You had been unable to sleep with your own anxieties. You snuggled into each other on the couch and talked until Sirius felt okay to go back to sleep. 

Even with that memory in your head, the thing you say is, “So James’ irrationality is why Sirius hasn’t made a move on me?”

“Part of it… but that’s not what you’re taking away from this conversation. There’s more than Prongs in this equation.”

You sigh and rest your chin on your hands. The sun was beginning to set and it reflects beautifully on the lake’s shimmering surface. 

“You’re also in the equation,” Remus reminds you. “Do you like him as more than a friend?”

You can’t help but laugh. 

“Remus John Lupin, I’ve been in love with him since second year.”

The moment you say that, it hits you like a brick wall. The buried emotions all bubble up and you lean back into the tree forcefully. Your head hits the trunk with a soft thud and you groan at the sudden pain. You know that you thought Sirius was cute from the moment you met him but it did take time and a little bit of maturing for you to decide that you liked him in that way. And because he is your brother’s best friend, you kept quiet about it, even to your female friends. Despite playing it off, you were bothered when you heard about him snogging another girl in the corridor. You were bothered when you heard girls giggle about how handsome he was and how they hoped he would give them attention or take them to Hogsmeade. You relish in the fact that out of every one of his friends, he chose to sit next to you in the common room night after night. And you treasured every time he let you see that vulnerable side of him that he kept so well hidden behind his bright smile and boisterous laugh and devil-may-care attitude. 

“If that’s true, why haven’t you made a move?” 

You laugh again, nudging Remus’s shoulder. 

“I thought you were the smart one of the group. He’s James’ best friend. His best friend who has never once shown an inkling of romantic interest in me. Why would I risk that level of embarrassment with someone who is obviously going to be in my life as long as I stay close with James?”

“Do you ever think that maybe he thought the same thing?”

“Rems, I…”

“Love, listen. I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you for certain that he likes you. But I suggest you talk to him. Probably when James isn’t around. And if it comes to it, screw what James thinks. He just cares for you and doesn’t want to see you hurt. You are twins after all.”

You sit in silence for a minute. The crashing waves of the lake fill the air as the sun disappears over the horizon. 

“Rems, thanks for this. But we did miss dinner,” you finally say.

You stand up and hold out a hand to Remus. He takes it with a smile. He grunts as he stands up, like the old man the boys often compare him to.

“You act like we don’t know where the kitchens are…” 

After a quick stop by the kitchens for sandwiches, you enter the common room together. You are greeted by multiple versions of “There you are!” and “I told you they’d be together, I saw them leave Potions together!” It seems as if your disappearance had captured the attention of every sixth year Gryffindor. 

“You missed dinner!” James chides. 

“We grabbed sandwiches,” you say, holding up your almost finished grilled cheese. 

“What were you doing?” His eyes narrow at Remus. 

“Talking?” Remus answers, moving past James to sit by in a chair by the fire. 

You, however, feel frozen with James in front of you and the eyes of many Gryffindors on you. 

“Talking kept you from food?” Marlene asks in disbelief. “Must’ve been some conversation.”

“I’d say it was enlightening,” you say. 

“Did he teach you Lumos?” Peter asks from the couch. 

“Ha,” Remus says dryly. 

“Are you okay?” James asks you in a hushed tone as the non-sixth year Gryffindors slowly turn back to their own conversations. 

“Yes? I just needed to talk to Rem about something private.”

“Something private?” he asks, trying to get more information out of you. “With Moony? Come on, what is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. God forbid a girl talks to her male friends.”

“If nothing is going on, then tell me what you were talking about.”

“You are not privy to my every conversation,” you snap.

“I am a bit when it’s with one of my best mates.”

“Your best mates are also some of my best mates, James. Learn to share.”

Your voices were increasing in volume.

“Do I need to talk to him too?” James asks, placing a hand on your shoulder which you immediately shrug off. 

“No! And I never asked you to talk to Sirius!”

Sirius looks from Remus to you to James at the mention of his name. 

“You asked if you were…”

“I asked for information. That’s all. And you have the audacity to tell him to stay away from me?”

“I’m protecting you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” you spit. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be from your friends.” You look over at the boys and then back at James. “If anyone needs protecting from the people you call your best mates, then you need to reevaluate the kind of company you keep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Let me get hurt.”

You give James one last nasty look before finally being able to move your feet. You disappear into the girls’ dorms. As you walk away, you can feel eyes watching your every move. Apparently if you argue with your brother loudly, the common room is forced to give you all of their attention. Once out of sight, James collapses on the couch, refusing to look at anyone. Lily, Marlene and Mary watch James sit down and then follow you up the stairs. Lily hesitates a moment before knocking on the door to your shared dorm. 

“Lovie?” she called softly as she opened the door a crack. “Potter!”

The door creaks loudly as it opens wider. You had changed out of your uniform and into muggle clothes. You are sitting on your bed, lacing up your heavy boots with a small bag next to you.

“Going somewhere?” Marlene asks. She is the first of the girls to enter the room.

“I need to clear my head.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Lily asks, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle.

“Heard about some poachers gathering in the forest. And if I can’t find them, I’ll find some trolls or dugbogs or something.”

“And you plan on going alone?”

You shoot the girls a warning look. “Yes. Evans, if you threaten detention, make it for Thursday.”

Lily doesn’t say anything. 

“What did you and Lupin talk about?” Mary inquires, not quite seeing that you aren’t in the mood to talk about that yet. 

“Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.”

You, having finished lacing your boots, grab you bag and storm out of the dorm. You have to push past Mary who is still standing in the doorway. Your heavy footsteps silence the common room before you finish descending the stairs. Eyes follow you as you leave the common room. Once out of the portrait, the common room roars to life again. 

“So… what the fuck?” Peter asks, looking at his friends.

“She’s pissed off,” Remus says coolly. “And I’d say for decent reason.”

James gives him an annoyed look.

“That time of the month, is it?”

“Peter, no!” Remus chastises. “She’s just figuring stuff out.”

“Care to share with the class?” James asks. 

“I’d prefer to not spend the next two weeks in the hospital wing so I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready.”

“So we’re going to let her go off like that?” Sirius asks, speaking up for the first time since you and Remus came back. 

“Yes,” Remus and James say at the same time. 

“Like she said, she doesn’t need protection,” Remus says, sending a wary glance to James.

---

Remus was mildly surprised that when he woke up, Sirius wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, less surprised when he found Sirius slumped on the couch in the common room. Remus approached him, ready to wake him up, only to find that Sirius was awake. His hair was slightly frizzy and dark bags formed under his eyes. He was still in his disheveled uniform from the day before, having never gone up to their dorm after dinner. 

“Pads?” he says gently. “Were you up all night?”

Sirius looks away from the fire groggily. 

“Huh?” He processes what Remus had asked him. He sits up, his back loudly cracking as he does so. “Yeah. Someone had to wait for Potter to get back.”

“And you didn’t come up when she did?”

Sirius shakes his head before running a hand through his curls.

“She didn’t, Moons. She didn’t come back.”

Remus’ eyes go wide.

“No, surely she came back. You must’ve drifted asleep at some point.”

“She didn’t. I was awake the whole time.”

Remus sits next to his friend, placing a hand on his knee. “Maybe she got back recently and just went straight to breakfast? How ‘bout we go get some, yeah?”

“Let me change,” Sirius mutteres, giving Remus a tired look.

He doesn’t move for a minute. His brain feels too fuzzy and wired at the same time. Convincing his legs to support his weight as he eventually stands up is more of a task than he anticipates. He is quick in getting ready for the day in their dorm. He doesn’t understand how James is still asleep, or how he had slept at all when you weren’t in the castle for all they knew. Sirius ties his hair back and looks at his reflection with his fresh uniform on. Despite his attempts to make himself look presentable, not having slept at all and being filled with worry makes him look exhausted, which is how he felt. He just doesn’t want to show it. He sighs and returns to Remus. 

Sirius watches the Great Hall door as he slowly eats some breakfast. He drinks some coffee that Remus pushed towards him, saying something along the lines of needing caffeine if he was planning on making it through the day. When the girls sit down, they confirm that you hadn't been in their dorm that morning and your bed looked unslept in. Sirius groans. The girls exchange curious looks. 

Palpable concern and worry finally reaches the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors when they are all sat in Charms and you still weren't there. 

“You’re certain that she didn’t come back and just made her bed when she got up?” James asks Marlene.

“Positive. All of her school things were still there. The bed hadn’t been touched.”

“And since when does she make her bed?” Lily asks. 

Halfway through class, you enter the room. All eyes turn to look at you. You have multiple bandages over your body, looking freshly applied. You hand Professor Flitwick a note and take your spot next to Mary. You don’t say anything to all the Gryffindors staring at you. You just open your book to the same page as Mary and turn to look at the professor, hoping he’d continue his lesson where he left off. 

“Where have you been?” Mary whispers, not looking at you.

“Forest. And then hospital wing,” you reply nonchalantly. 

“Did you sleep?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” you assert. “Now shush.”

After Charms ends, the Gryffindors surround you so you can’t slip away to your next class. You avoid making eye contact with any of them as you gather your things and attempt to push through them. 

“Going into the forest at night is one thing,” Lily chides. “Not coming back until halfway through the first lesson of the day is another.”

“Okay, mum,” you say shortly, still trying to push through the group.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” James asks.

You glare at him. “Certainly not to you.”

“You look like you barely came back in one piece!” he exclaims. “I’m shocked Pomfrey let you leave the hospital wing.”

A wicked glint shines in your eyes. “Oh, she didn’t. I just left.”

“Potter!” Mary gasps.

“Macdonald!” you mimic with an eye roll. “If you lot don’t get out of my way, I’ll be late for Ancient Runes and I’m already on thin ice with Raltmole.”

You finally push through the group and leave them in the Charms classroom. They exchange frustrated looks before following you out. They split up for their respective classes, Remus and Lily following you towards the Ancient Runes classroom. 

“Did you find the poachers you were looking for?” Lily asks tentatively once they sit on either side of you. 

You nod. “And then some. The hippogriffs they had weren’t happy to be freed.”

“Did you bow to them?” Remus asks.

“No? Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Remus breathes.

You hum and spin your quill in your fingers. “Now I know for next time.”

Professor Raltmole gathers the class’ attention and begins her lecture. Remus takes a ratty piece of parchment from his bookbag and scrawls a short note on it before sliding it across the desk toward you. 

Padfoot waited up for you

You quickly read it, write a response and slide it back.

Is that why he looks like living death?

He didn’t sleep because you were gone

You crumple the paper when you get it back from Remus. You shove it in your pocket, away from Lily’s view. 

“I’ll talk to him later,” you hiss to Remus.

An angry Madam Pomfrey yells at you in front of most of the castle at lunch for sneaking out of the hospital wing when you were clearly still in need of tending to. An excuse of not wanting to miss more class seemed to ward her off, but you feel the nurse’s frustrated gaze on you for the rest of the meal. Mary and Marlene ask you about the poachers you dueled as you walked to your next class. You recount a watered down version of the previous night’s events for them. You make sure that your injuries still make sense but their severity less. The girls are simply impressed and less concerned for their friend. 

You are happy when the second half of the day is more concentrated on schoolwork rather than what you had gotten up to last night. You didn’t want to keep reliving being outnumbered by the poachers and just barely getting out without being too injured. The fear in the hippogriffs’ eyes haunted you. It reminds you that what you did was right, but they had still attacked you after you unlocked their cages. Sitting at dinner, you gently touch the bandage on her face and wince. 

“If it hurts, you probably shouldn’t touch it,” Lily says. “Or go see Pomfrey again. I’m sure she’d love to patch you up more.”

“Going back is admitting defeat,” you say definitively. 

You wouldn’t go back, not even when your bandages need to be replaced. You know that the boys have plenty of bandages in their dorm and you could use some of those. You worried that Pomfrey would handcuff you to a cot and place a charm on it so you couldn’t escape. You were determined to not be held captive to the nurse. 

You fold gravy into your mashed potatoes until they turn a gross shade of pale brown. Your whole body had started to ache during the last lesson of the day. The pain is stronger than your hunger and all you want to do now is sleep. However, you weren’t dumb. Your friends would have cursed you into next week, or at least taken you to Madam Pomfrey, if you hadn’t shown up to dinner. You sigh as the plates in the middle of the table clear and replenish with desserts. Nothing looks appetizing. You force yourself to swallow some of the potatoes so you could claim that you did have some dinner. After a few bites, you resume swirling the soft mush around your plate. 

“Darling, you done?” Marlene asks, standing up across from you. 

You look up, noticing that a fair amount of students had already left the Great Hall. 

“I guess so,” you say. 

You walk back to the Gryffindor Tower in silence. Marlene seems to read your body language, which says you aren’t in the mood to talk anymore. Your face has a hardened look to it with your arms crossed over your chest. After giving the password, Marlene makes sure to hold open the portrait for you so it doesn't close on you. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t smile a little when you saw Sirius sitting on the couch with no one else. Marlene heads for the girls’ stairs, half expecting you to follow her up. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch and lay down, your head resting in Sirius’ lap.

“Hey Black,” you say, looking up at him.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asks, looking down at you. “I think you got as much sleep as I did last night.”

“So Remus says,” you reply. 

Sirius twirls some of your hair around his finger, something he had done hundreds of times before. Only this time, you see it as something more tender, all thanks to what Remus had said the day prior. It sent off butterflies in your stomach.

“Must’ve been some conversation you two had yesterday,” Sirius mumbles. “What else would keep you out so late?”

You scoff. “James being a prat. But it was some conversation. I think I needed to hear it.”

Sirius’ expression softens. 

“What did you need to hear?”

“It was… a reality check.” 

You pause, studying the look on his face. You are vaguely aware of the other people in the common room, but the way Sirius is looking at you could’ve convinced you that you were the only one in the entire castle with those grey eyes. Without saying anything to each other, you feel as if the only things you can hear are your breathing and the muted crackling of the fire not far from you. You reach up and tuck a curl behind his ear, revealing his multiple piercings that he’d gotten over the years. You notice his breathing hitch as your hand gently grazes his face. You smile at him. 

“So between the reality check and Mr. Bitchiness himself, I needed to clear my head.”

Sirius shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“I think you should find a way to clear your head that doesn’t involve barely coming back in one piece, Potter.”

“I thought you called me pumpkin.”

“I thought you hated being called that.”

“I do, but I let you get away with it.” You gently poke the tip of his nose playfully. Your gaze briefly flicks to his lips before returning to his eyes. “You’re… special.” 

“That doesn’t look like a meter,” James’ voice calls, bringing you back into the noise of the common room. 

You can see your brother standing over the two of you behind the couch. His face isn’t quite murderous, but it was getting there. 

“She’s exhausted and in pain and you come swooping in?” James accuses Sirius. “I thought I told you to give her space.”

You sit up and glare at James, the tenderness of the moment with Sirius evaporated.

“Excuse you,” you say, a disgusted snarl creeping up on your face. “He did no such swooping. And you can’t tell people to stay away from me.”

“I’m your brother! It’s my job to keep people away from you,” he says, giving his friend a sour look. “Especially when I think they have immoral intentions.”

“Have you considered that I’m the one who came to him and not the other way around?” 

“Why would you?”

You blink. “Because he’s my friend?”

“He’s my friend,” James says.

You can’t stop yourself. You slap James across the face. You feel your own face burning and tears beginning to brim in your eyes. 

“I see you didn’t learn anything from last night, you git,” you spit at him. 

You stand up, leaving Sirius alone on the couch. He watches in silence as you turn to leave the common room. You slam the portrait behind you, earning a scolding from the Fat Lady about respect. The common room remains silent as Sirius looks up at James.

“Prongs, I swear, she came to me,” he says. “I was sitting here and she came to me. She walked in with Marlene long after we came back from dinner.”

“Whatever, Pads. Just keep your distance from her, like you said you would.”

Sirius lets his lips form a thin line as he looks away from James and back to the fire. Technically, he had never said he would keep away from you. James had just insisted on it. James sighs heavily, glancing at the portrait hole. He is glad that you didn’t go upstairs to change and grab whatever you would need to go out again, but you leaving in such a fury wasn’t ideal either. He turns and goes back up to their dorm. When Remus sees how upset James is, he immediately goes to check in on Sirius, letting Peter work on calming James down. 

Remus sits on the other side of the couch. Sirius is radiating an energy that said he needed a little bit of space around him. 

“Padfoot,” Remus says, speaking tentatively. “What just happened? Why is Prongs in a huff again?”

“He’s accusing me of trying to defile her when she’s not in her right mind.”

Remus isn’t a fan that Sirius didn’t look at him when he talked. He didn’t want his friend to stay up all night staring into the fire again. 

“Where is she?”

Sirius shrugs. “Slapped Prongs and left.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Sirius. 

“She slapped him?” he asks, trying to hold in some laughter. “Honestly, someone needed to and it’s good it came from her. He’ll forgive her.”

“Do you think he’d forgive me?” Sirius asks, his voice barely audible and eyes still not leaving the flickering flames. 

“Forgive you for what?” Remus asks cautiously. “Did you… defile her?”

Sirius scoffs. “No, Merlin… But… fuck. Nevermind.”

Remus scoots to the middle cushion of the couch. He places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius looks away from the fire. His cheeks are dusted with a faint blush. 

“Padfoot, be honest with me. How do you feel about her?” 

Remus’ voice is soft. It has a sense of pleading to it, as if begging Sirius to admit something he doesn’t want to, as if begging him to be more vulnerable in the middle of the common room than he has ever been before. Sirius just shakes his head with a frown.

“That doesn’t matter.”

With a harsh sigh, Remus tries again. “Prongs doesn’t matter right now. How do you, Padfoot, Sirius Orion Black, feel about her?”

“Like she is the most precious thing.” He closes his eyes and turns his face toward the fire again. “But Prongs does matter. So how I feel doesn’t. I need his friendship more than I need a relationship.”

Remus gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Imagine if everything went right though… You and Prongs could legally be brothers.”

Sirius coughs in surprise at his words. Of course, he had thought about it from time to time. James was his brother in practically all ways except literally. You, being alluring as you were, were something different. You weren't a sister to him. What he feels for you isn’t what he would feel for a sister and it is certainly more than anything he has felt for any other girl. 

“Think about it, Pads, yeah?” Remus suggests, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “You think Wormtail has calmed Prongs down enough for it to be safe to go back up there?”

Remus glances toward the stairs. Then he looks back at Sirius, who has opened his eyes but stares absently at the hearth. 

“You said she left the common room? You don’t think she’ll be gone all night again, do you?” Remus questions, his voice having more concern than before. 

“She’ll be back… Although it might be better if I’m not down here when she returns…”

---

You spend the rest of the week avoiding James. You put as many people in between you as possible when you have to be near him. If he tries to talk to you, you either ignore him or speak to him through someone else. It pisses him off. You also take to avoiding the common room, being that he was often there. For once, you find yourself being furious that Remus and Sirius were James’ friends first and yours second.

Marlene sits down in the library at the same table as you, Mary and Lily. You are working on various assignments, books littering the tables. Marlene clears a small section for her to get out her own work. She shoots a wary look toward you.

“Black’s back on his bullshit,” she says, watching you for a reaction that you don’t give her. 

You keep your eyes on your Ancient Runes assignment.

“Who’s he snogging now?” Lily asks. She knows someone has to buy into the bait.

“Charity Burbage.”

“Didn’t realize she was his type…” Mary mutters. “Isn’t she a few years younger?”

“Fourth year, but she’s… mature if you know what I mean,” Marlene answers, giving her own breasts a squeeze.

“Alright, we get your point,” Lily says, cutting her off. “Remember that we’re here to do homework, right?”

You just scoff and keep working. Hearing that Sirius was off snogging a busty fourth year rubbed you the wrong way. You keep thinking back to what Sirius had said and what Remus had told you about him. You think about how Sirius had been the one waiting up for you to come back that night you got into the fight with James. You don’t want to imagine Sirius sucking face with a younger girl, but the image keeps appearing in your mind. It makes your blood boil. 

“Potter, you good?” Mary whispers from across the table.

You look up at Mary and then back down at your paper. There were various splotches of ink where you had been holding your quill and lightly tapping it. You sighed in annoyance. 

“Guess Raltmole is getting subpar work again,” you groan. 

You look over at the assignment sheet again and force a smile. At least you were on the last question. Once you answer it, you could make an excuse to leave. You hurriedly finish and begin putting your stuff away.

“I’ll see you lot later.”

“Going back to the common room?” Lily asks, not looking up from her own assignment. 

“Yeah,” you lie. You had no intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower and risk running into James. 

You make your way up to the astronomy tower. As you climb the stairs, hot tears sting in your eyes and begin to fall. You have never been so glad to find the tower completely empty. You sit down near the edge of the platform. The cold air feels nice as you feel like you are overheating. Your mind is spinning with thoughts of Sirius. You hate that you had admitted to Remus that you had been harboring feelings for Sirius for years and everything you had buried so deep inside of you had been brought back to the surface. You hate that your friends feel the need to bring up whoever they saw Sirius kissing. 

As you look over the horizon, lost in your thoughts, you hear a string of swears from the stairs. You don’t look to see who it was. It isn’t a Gryffindor and that’s all that really matters to you at this moment. When the boy reaches the top of the stairs, he immediately spots you at the edge of the platform. He swears again, having hoped the tower would be empty, but then he notices you shuddering and hears your sniffles. 

“Is this where everyone goes when they’re upset?” Barty Crouch Jr. asks, taking a step towards you, unsure of how you felt about having company. He had wanted to be alone so maybe you did too.

You turn your head to look at him. Your face is flushed and eyes red. Tears streak your face. Barty decides that you look too pitiful to leave alone. He sits down next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the platform and leaning backwards. 

“Misery loves company, doesn’t it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you.

You smiled softly, although it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends on the company you keep.”

“Well, I came up here to be alone.” He kicks his legs in the open air. “But you’re not a Slytherin so I’ll give you a chance.”

“And you’re not a Gryffindor so I won’t ask you to leave.”

He chuckles and gives you a half smile. “Lions and snakes can be too much from time to time.”

“You can say that again. … What’d they do to you?”

“Evan… He’s hiding something from me and it’s not good. He needs to let me in, but it’s hard to convince him when everyone, Black, Snape, Avery, Wilkes, tells me to drop it. God forbid I try to be involved in my boyfriend’s life…” Barty sighs. “Everyone ganged up on me, even Pandora.”

“Didn’t know you and Evan… Rosier?” 

“Yeah, Rosier. We don’t make it a habit to snog in the corridors like the other Black.”

You grimace. The other Black was your issue. 

“What?”

“The other Black…”

Barty’s eyes widen. “You and him? I thought I heard he was…”

“We’re not,” you cut him off. “Which is why I’m up here.”

“I need a distraction from Ev… What’s up with that little blood traitor?”

You glare at Barty. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be like that.”

“Sorry, habit. What’s the other Black up to?”

You shake your head and adjust so your legs hang over the edge too. You sniffle again and blink away tears that threaten to stream down your face again.

“How am I supposed to know if he likes me if I keep hearing that he’s going into a broom closet with a new girl every other day?”

“You like him?” Barty asks. “Of course you do. Just about every girl has a fantasy about him.”

You scoff. “Every girl… Yeah. That’s part of the problem. He all but told me that I’m the reason he’s snogging every girl in our year. And yours. And then some.”

“You’re the reason?”

“Something like James would kill him if he touched me so he touches everyone else.” You roll your eyes and lean forward into the metal railing. “And then Remus goes off and says he’s fairly certain that Sirius really does like me in the way I like him. And James constantly acting like I need protection from his friends. And every time I think I’ve collected myself and reburied my feelings for Black, Marlene and Mary come around and talk about who they saw him with.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

“Your stupid problem is better than thinking about mine. I know Ev will be cooled off when I get back and we’ll be fine. Your problem is… more.”

“Do the Slytherins think Sirius has some checklist of every girl he needs to snog before graduation?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Not that I know of, but I’m around Reg a lot and we don’t talk about his brother in front of him unless we have a death wish.” He pauses. “Poor wording because some of us do… We don’t talk about him.”

“Hmm… It’s definitely a topic among Gryffindors. Obviously.”

“He’d never be able to finish it.”

You give him a confused look as you sniffle again. 

“You and that redhead. The one your brother and Snape are obsessed with.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, Lily would never kiss Sirius. Even for a dare. She’d rather do just about anything else.”

“And I call that a success!” Barty says with a smile. “Got the crying girl to laugh.”

“That you did…”

“May regret asking this, but what set you off? Why are you here now? Sounds like you’re just eternally pining.”

“Marlene said she saw Black snogging Burbage.”

“She’s younger than me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.” You sigh and feel tears fall again. 

Your mind keeps telling you it was stupid to be jealous over a silly fourth year, but it was unfair. Barty notices you starting to cry again.

“Come here,” he says as he puts his arm around you. 

While he and Evan would fight, he hoped they would never make each cry like this. The girl he had only ever seen as a force to be reckoned with was reduced to a puddle of emotions. You rest your head on Barty’s shoulder. It gives you a little bit of comfort to be hurting with someone else.

---

“She’s where with who?” James yells in their dorm. 

When the girls had returned from the library and asked if you were in their room, they were met with confused stares from the boys. They hadn’t seen you since dinner and they had been in the common room all evening. While the girls shared looks of minor confusion, the boys shared looks of worry. The boys had immediately gone up to their dorm and opened the map. Each scanned a different section, looking for your name.

“She’s in the astronomy tower with Junior,” Peter repeats. 

“Is she trying to get herself killed?”

“You seem far more concerned about her being with Junior than you did with her going off to fight poachers,” Sirius mutters, going to sit on his bed. 

James turns to glare at him.

“What does that mean?”

“Just questioning what, or who, you think counts as dangerous.”

“You damn well know that Junior is dangerous,” James growls. 

“Oh, I do know that, Prongs. But I’m not. I’m not a threat to her.”

“We aren’t talking about this right now, Padfoot. She is actually in danger right now!” 

“Should we be concerned that their names aren’t moving?” Peter asks, still looking at the map. “Neither one has even shifted so they aren’t walking around or nothing.”

The two boys look over at Peter, anger fading from their faces and being replaced with fear and concern. 

“That’s it. I’m going to get her,” James announces, moving for the door before Remus stops him.

“Like hell you are,” he says firmly. “In case you’re more dense than I think you are, you’re not her favorite person right now. I don’t think it’s wise that you go.”

“Then who’s going to go? Can’t really ask Lily to go fetch her without explaining the map.”

“Padfoot, you go see if she’s okay,” Remus decides. “Just… don’t overreact to whatever you’re walking into.”

Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips out of the door behind Remus, shooting James a gloating face. Once the door is closed, Remus lets James go. 

“Tell me how Padfoot is going to handle that situation better than I would,” James demands. 

“First off, you would walk in and blast Junior off the tower. Don’t act like you wouldn’t. And like I said, she is still angry with you. You going would only make things worse between you two,” Remus starts to explain. “Second, it would’ve been best if I went, but then I’d be leaving you and Padfoot alone and I didn’t feel like returning to a blood bath.”

James frowns, although he could see the logic behind Remus’ actions. He doesn’t need to ask why they didn’t send Peter; he didn’t have what it might take to get you away from Barty if it came to that. 

Sirius’ stomach churns when he sees Barty’s arm around you. You appear to be willingly leaning into his side. You are sitting at the edge of the platform, legs hanging over the edge and resting against the bars. Keeping quiet as he lingers in the doorway, he can hear you having a whispered conversation. You were sniffling. After a few minutes of watching them and feeling sick, Sirius makes his presence known.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he says softly, causing both of them to jump at the sound of his voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Barty glares at Sirius. They had never gotten along, especially with Barty being one of Regulus’ closer friends. 

“Piss off, Black. We’re having a conversation,” he spits, still holding onto you although it was a looser grip. 

You had turned your body and propped one of your legs up on the platform. You wipe your nose and sniffle. Now that you were looking at Sirius, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy from crying. 

“Everyone can piss off, actually,” you say, voice shaky. “They can handle a night without me.”

You let your leg fall back over the edge as you turn back to looking over the horizon. Barty follows suit. Sirius walks closer to you and sits down only a short distance away, resting his back against a pillar. 

“Well, I’m not going back without you. So, carry on. I’ll walk you back when you’re ready.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, not that Sirius saw either. 

“Black, I would’ve thought by now you’d be able to tell when you aren’t wanted,” Barty says, venom dripping from his words. “Get out of here before I make you.”

“Last I checked, she was more my friend than yours,” Sirius replies. 

“Guess you haven’t checked recently.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at Barty as his arm pulls her waist closer to his. 

“Guess fate is being extra cruel tonight,” Barty mutters to you and you nod in agreement. “I’m going to be fine, but are you?”

“Eventually, I assume,” you say. “I just feel defeated, and that doesn’t help.” 

“What did I do?” Sirius asks, knowing that he was what you were referring to.

You and Barty look over at him. 

“The fact that you have to ask…” you sigh with a sniffle. 

“Do you want me to go?” Barty asks.

“Yes,” Sirius answers.

“I wasn’t asking you, Black,” Barty snarls. “Potter? I’m not leaving you with him unless you ask me to.”

Sirius gapes at Barty. The Slytherin seemed genuinely concerned to leave you alone with Sirius, someone you had been alone with many times before. He doesn’t understand why people weren’t trusting him to be around one of his friends. He didn’t think he had done anything to earn that. 

“Stay,” you say.

The one word hits Sirius hard. He feels like he is going to throw up. In what world would you be asking Barty Crouch Jr. to stay? 

“What the hell, love?” Sirius asks. 

You shoot him a hurt look. “Burbage? Really?”

He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that what this is about? I thought we talked about this.”

You let out a cold and empty laugh. “We talked about this? No. You were just incredibly cryptic about some feelings you may or may not have as you let James run your life.”

“So you get with Crouch?”

You and Barty look at each other and make faces of disgust before slightly pushing away from each other, as if suddenly becoming aware of how close they actually were. 

“We… no. Absolutely not,” you stutter.

“I don’t… I’m taken,” Barty says. 

“He is,” you confirm with a nod.

You scoot back from the ledge, still sitting much closer to Barty than you were to Sirius. Barty does the opposite, leaning further over the railing and slumping like a rag doll. Sirius looks from one to the other. 

“Then what is this?”

“One upset person comforting another?” Barty offers.

“And you’re upset?” Sirius challenges, not quite believing him.

“You don’t seem upset nor are you comforting Potter. So that would leave me being the other upset person. Yes.”

“Whatever. Darling, can we go?”

“No?”

“Hey, come on.”

“No.” 

Barty gives you a wary look. Then he stands up, moving slowly toward the door.

“I’m going… to go. You two… need to talk.”

“Barty, no,” you plead. Your eyes looked ready to cry again. “Please, stay.”

“No, bye bye Barty,” Sirius says, standing up. 

Sirius claps Barty on the shoulder, walks him to the doorway and makes sure he leaves. Then he walks over to you and holds out his hand. 

“Come on, darling. Let’s go.”

You don’t take his hand. You spin where you sit to face away from him. Whenever he moved to be in front of you, you’d spin again. You know you are acting like a stubborn child, but you feel that you’ve earned that. He allows you to act like this for a few minutes before he gest tired of it.

“Pumpkin, come on. If you don’t come with me, I’ll have to go back and James will come get you.”

You make a disgruntled face and finally take Sirius’ hand. 

“What did Junior mean by we need to talk?” Sirius asks as you walk toward the stairs. 

“The Marauders need to get their shit together,” you say, not looking back at him and starting to descend the stairs. 

Sirius follows you, picking up his speed to stay just one step behind you.

“So it’s not just me?”

You stop abruptly. Sirius bumps into you and you have to grab onto the railing to stop yourself from falling.

“Prongs needs to keep himself in check. He needs to stay in his lane. Moony needs to stop getting a girl’s hopes up. You need to go after that one girl you like and stick to her. I’m tired of hearing about a new girl’s tongue down your throat every day.” You pause. You had brought their friend group’s name into it so you had to name everyone. “Wormtail… uh, needs to be less of an idiot. Get him a real sense of humor or something.”

“And you told Junior all of that?”

“Yes.”

You walk the rest of the way back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Sirius isn’t sure what to say that would make you feel better so he settles on silence. You still sniffled a few times, but they were getting less frequent. You seem to be more furious now than sad, which was something of a win. When you enter the common room, you both keep walking to your individual dorms. You go straight to bed, closing the curtains around so that no one will bother you. Sirius is met with James, Remus and Peter anxiously waiting. 

“Took you damn long enough,” James says as soon as Sirius walks through the doors. “What did that bastard do to her?”

“Gee, no Thanks Padfoot, thanks for getting my sister back safe and sound?” Sirius mocks. His mind is still stuck on what you had said to him about all of them. He sighs. “If what they both said is true, they simply talked. She was crying; he comforted her.”

“What was she crying about?” Peter asks. 

Sirius makes eye contact with Remus. It seems like Remus knew immediately what she was crying about, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of James.

“Coudn’t get it out of her,” he lies. 

---

You follow the girls around Hogsmeade on Saturday. You don’t really care where the group goes and you are able to mostly drown out their conversations. Your brain is empty. It is easier for it to be empty than to think about everything that made you cry the previous night. 

Mary, Lily, Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas, carry their own conversations and manage to stick together as a group all day. They don’t seem to notice that you are in your head. They just make sure that you are still tagging along, not left behind anywhere. 

“It’s good to get out of the castle for a good, safe time,” Mary had told you this morning when she insisted that you come instead of rotting in bed all day as you had planned to. 

The group is heading back into Hogsmeade Square from Dogwood and Deathcap when they run into the Marauders in the cemetery. No one questions why they were messing around the tombs. With them, it is better to just accept it and move on with your day. The boys insist that they all go to the Three Broomsticks and end their day with as many butterbeers as they could drink. You, being determined to not talk to any of the boys, pinch the bridge of your nose as the girls enthusiastically agree. Lily hangs back as the boys lead the way to the pub.

“We could probably sneak back to the castle,” Lily mutters to you as you follow the group at a short distance. 

“So you’re delusional,” you reply. “James will most certainly notice you’re gone.” 

“They would notice you’re gone too… Don’t think I haven’t taken note of how quiet you’ve been.”

“I didn’t want to come here in the first place,” you hiss. 

Lily reaches out to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers. “Well, we can suffer through butterbeers together. And then rot in our beds tomorrow.” 

“Lily Evans doesn’t rot,” you snort.

You allow the girl to pull you into the Three Broomsticks after your friends. They somehow managed to push two tables together to accommodate their large group, which is an impressive feat given how busy the pub always was when students visited the village in troves. It doesn’t take long for Madam Rosmerta to get foaming mugs of butterbeer in front of everyone. The group sat divided by gender at the table. You made sure to sit on the same side of the table as James so if you accidentally looked down the table, you had a near impossible chance of making eye contact with him. It helped that he was at the complete opposite end of the table. Although Lily had said you would be suffering through butterbeers together, she is quickly engulfed into an animated conversation with Dorcas, Remus and Peter. Mary and Marlene were listening intently, but didn’t offer much to the conversation. James and Sirius appeared to be in their own world at their end of the table. You were content ignoring everyone’s conversations. 

You slowly sip on your drink, looking around the pub. A handful of Slytherins are sitting at a table in the corner. You somehow manage to catch Barty’s eye and you share a small smile. Next to him sat the blond Evan Rosier and he was throwing back drinks and laughing loudly. You could see what Barty saw in him. There was a certain lightness to him. 

“Mind if I sit here?” a voice asks, bringing your attention to a boy standing at the end of the table with a chair in hand. 

“What?”

You recognize him from classes. Davey Something, Ravenclaw. You never really paid him any attention. 

“Can I sit here? All my friends went back to the castle already.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Davey, right?” you ask, pulling your mug closer to you.

He sits kitty corner to you, despite there being empty space across from you. You assume that he didn’t know that no one was sitting there. 

“That’s my name,” he replies with a smile. 

He glances down the table to the rest of the Gryffindors and Dorcas. None of them seem to notice or care that someone new has joined their table. 

“Anything interesting going on in Gryffindor Tower lately?” Davey asks, returning his gaze to you. “Most interesting thing to happen in Ravenclaw is a fourth year beat a seventh year in Wizards’ Chess.”

You chuckle and take a sip of your butterbeer.

“Oh, there is always something happening in our tower,” you say. “I slapped James. Argued with him in front of the entire common room. Sirius pulled an all-nighter for no reason. He’s also been snogging anything that moves in a skirt.”

Davey’s smile dips slightly. “Been snogging you?”

“No,” you say with an eye roll, before chuckling as you continue. “James banned him from being within a meter of me for that very reason.”

“That what you argued with him about?”

“Part of it. He’s been acting like I can’t handle myself. Like I had a simple chat with Remus and James threw a fit.”

“He got pissy because you were hanging out with his mates?”

“Yes! That’s also why he got slapped. Those were two different days…” You pause as you glance down the table. “And from what I can tell, he’s still on his bullshit.”

“Definitely is bullshit,” Davey agrees. His brilliant blue eyes looked deep into your eyes. “I think the whole castle knows how capable you are at handling yourself.”

“Do I really have a reputation of more than being the female Potter?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, darling, you do.”

“Tell me about it.”

You take a drink of your butterbeer, draining it. Rosmerta is quick to bring around another one and one for Davey as well. You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t have a mug in front of him previously. 

“If you didn’t have Sirius or James as your perpetual dueling partners, you’d have trouble finding one in Defense class. You’re.. too good. It’s almost scary.”

You smile widely with a faint blush on your cheeks. You knew you were good at dueling. That’s why you went off to fight poachers when you knew where they were and didn’t bother buying potion ingredients that could be gathered if you ventured a little further than teachers normally approved. You had also been told by many teachers that you were exceptional at dueling, but hearing from a decently cute boy did something to your ego. 

“From what I’ve heard, you’re amazing in every subject. We don’t have many together anymore. But when we were younger, I remember seeing you taunt James whenever you got a better grade than he did… which was pretty often.”

“What’s the point of having a twin if you can’t be better than him,” you laugh. 

“Are you better than him at quidditch?”

You groan at that question. “No…”

“Darn. I was hoping you could make the Gryffindor team better.”

You lightly hit Davey’s shoulder playfully.

“Gryffindor is a damn good team!”

“Your seeker is trash!”

You take a second to think about who your seeker is. 

“Isn’t he a second year? Cut the kid some slack!”

Davey laughs. “But if he’s the best that tried out? I’m doubting the captain’s skills.”

“Too bad that isn’t a James diss. For some reason he wasn’t made captain this year, but he was last year. Quidditch politics baffle me.”

“I’d try to explain them, but I think they differ by house.”

“You’re not on Ravenclaw’s team?”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have friends who are.”

“James likes to make it his entire personality so I’ve become fairly good at tuning it all out. There are better things to focus on.”

“Yeah? What captures your pretty little brain?”

“During the summer and over breaks, I’m a top-tier chef and baker. I honestly don’t know what my parents eat while we’re at school because I literally make every meal when I’m home.”

“You cook? Isn’t that what house elves are for?”

“Not everyone has, or needs, an elf,” you say firmly. “But, like, cooking is good for distracting my brain. Although I could be better in Potions…”

“You’re in N.E.W.T. level Potions. I’m sure you’re fine,” Davey assures you, placing his hand over yours on the table. “What else do you do besides dueling, cooking and looking beautiful?”

You feel yourself blush more. 

“Merlin, this sounds nerdy, but I really do love learning about obscure magic. Haven’t gotten my hands on any good books yet this year because they are usually deep in the Restricted Section and Pince has been watching it like a hawk.”

“Obscure magic? Very Ravenclaw of you.”

You were trying to not look at his hand that was still on yours. His gaze is fixed intently on you. You have all of his attention.

“I plan on either being an Auror or an Unspeakable after school so a deep understanding of magic is important.” 

“Look at you. Big ambitions.”

You look down at your empty mugs. You aren’t entirely sure when either of you had finished your drinks but apparently you had. You cast a quick glance down the table as well. You don’t know why you are relieved that no one was paying attention to you, all completely engulfed in one large conversation now. 

“Want to get out of here?” you ask, looking back to Davey.

He smiles widely at your suggestion. He stands up and pulls out your chair to help you up.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he whispers into your ear. “Lead the way.”

You take Davey’s hand and you head for the door. You make sure to bump into James’ chair. 

“Oops,” you say with a giggle before pulling Davey out of the pub into the autumn evening. 

James and Sirius watch you leave with equal looks of distaste.

“Where’s she going?” Sirius asks.

“Better yet, who the fuck is she with?” James follows up. 

The rest of the table turns to look but the door has already closed behind you. Despite wanting to follow them, Sirius and James return their attention to the group’s discussion about whether the foul smelling liquid from Gobbstones would cover up the smell of Amortentia. They hadn’t discussed the potion in class yet, but they had heard of the powerful love potion. 

You and Davey walk around Hogsmeade, weaving in between buildings. There’s easy conversation between you, nothing too deep or heavy. You can tell by the way he looks at you and lets his touch linger that he’s looking for something more, but conversation feels so platonic. It feels like two acquaintances getting to know each other, which is what it was. You can’t deny that Davey’s attractive, but there’s no draw to him besides a little bit of attention and maybe some revenge aimed at Sirius and James. You find yourself in the garden outside of the village, walking up to the platform that overlooks the Black Lake. The distant glow of Hogsmeade lights it up just right so it feels far more romantic. As you lean over the ledge, you wonder if Sirius’ method of snogging someone else helps you get over them. Looking at Davey, or his lip if you’re being precise, you debate giving it a shot. 

Then there’s a burst of noise that makes both of you jump and look over your shoulders. You can barely see the Three Broomsticks and the herd of people leaving it. It isn’t hard to tell that they are arguing. You can pick out James, Sirius, Lily and Dorcas’ voices. Both of you stare for a moment before looking back at each other. 

“What do you think happened after we left?” he asks. 

You shrug. “Not sure.”

“Don’t be rash!” Lily yells.

“I’m going to kill him!”

“James! Slow down!” Dorcas yells.

“When I find them, I’m going to kill him!” 

“And I’m helping!” Sirius adds.

“Like hell you are,” James resorts.

“There!” Marlene exclaims, her voice sounding more cheerful than the others. 

You turn to look at Davey nervously when you notice that Marlene is pointing in your direction and the group begins running. James and Sirius shrug off Lily and Dorcas’ grips on them as they tried to hold the boys back. The two are in a full on sprint with the rest of the group jogging behind them. It appeared that they came to the conclusion that none of them could outrun them. 

“Gudgeon, step away from her,” James snarls once he reaches the platform. 

Davey raises his eyebrows at your brother. “Why?”

“Because he bloody told you to, you git,” Sirius adds, heaving from running. 

“But why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to fully face them. “He came out here with me.”

“And you’re coming back with us,” James says. “Been a long day, time to go home.”

You hum and look at Davey. 

“I think I want to stay out a little longer.”

Davey smiles widely at you and then looks back at James and Sirius. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

“You boys heard ‘er. She wants to stay.”

“James,” Lily warns as the rest of the group approaches.

She noticed before you that he had started to reach for his wand. James looks at Lily. 

“Lils, you must-” he starts to say, but then Sirius is ripping Davey’s arm off of you and picking you up to throw you over his shoulder. 

Your yelp of surprise is what cut off James’ excuse to Lily. 

“SIRIUS BLACK, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” you holler, trying to remove yourself from his grip.

“Ready to go?” he simply asks the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I’m good,” James answers, much more calm than he had been moments before. 

Davey watches as Sirius carries you in the direction of the castle, followed by James and the rest of the group. Peter and Remus bring up the rear, shooting him glares for having gone near you. While the girls didn’t seem to approve of how Sirius and James had gone about getting you away from Davey or why they had, they do seem to support getting you back to the castle.

“Sirius, are you going to put me down?” you ask, sounding defeated.

“No.”

“Why’d you leave the group?” Dorcas asks, moving into your line of sight.

“Too loud and hot,” you lie. You weren’t about to say that you were looking for a pretty distraction from the irritation your brother and boy carrying you caused you. 

“Just talk to us next time, yeah? We’ll leave,” James says. “Afterall, you know the buddy system.”

“I had a buddy,” you correct him. “Davey is a just fine buddy.”

“A buddy who just wants to get into your pants,” Marlene sings. 

“Huh?”

“He’s just looking for a quick shag, darling,” Mary clarifies. 

“Which is why we came to your rescue!” Sirius says.

“Rescue or ambush?” you grumble. “Maybe I wanted a quick shag too.”

The rest of the walk back to Hogwarts is quiet. Your ribs have grown sore from being slung over Sirius’ shoulder and your head feels light. At one point, you close your eyes and just listen to the crunching of leaves underfoot. 

“Alright, down you go, pumpkin,” Sirius says as you arrive at the entrance to Hogwarts’ grounds. “Figure you can walk from here.” 

He puts you down gently and all you can do is glare at him. You walk slowly into the grounds and the group takes that as a sign that all is well. 

“Marls, come on. I got something for you in the dungeons,” Dorcas says, grabbing Marlene’s hand and pulling her toward the castle.

The rest of the group follows suit, picking up their pace to get inside the warmth of the castle. You, however, keep your slow pace. You certainly aren’t in the mood to be sitting with them around the fire in the common room after you were literally hauled back. Sirius is the only one who lingers with you. 

“You alright?” he asks quietly, bumping shoulders with you. 

You sigh and look up at him. Damn those grey eyes and how warm they make you feel.

“Just tired of James acting like he controls my life.”

Sirius nods and takes a deep breath. 

“Come with me,” he says and holds out his hand for you to take. 

You hesitate. Your mind is screaming both to take it and to slap it away. How dare he offer his hand to you after being the one to carry you back? But, also, he was offering it to you, giving you the choice to take it. So you do. You take his hand and let him lead you down some stairs to a secluded area near the greenhouses. Light shimmers through their windows, giving the small clearing a subtle glow. 

“I think James would back off you a bit if I stopped listening to him about some things,” Sirius mutters, standing in front of you. A gentle hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear and lingers there for a moment.

He’s looking at you like he did that day on the couch, like you were the only one who existed in all of Hogwarts, in all of the world. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to understand what he was saying. All of your focus was on the hand that softly held your cheek. He takes a step toward you and before you can process anything, his lips are brushing up against yours. It’s soft and gentle and momentary. 

“I think I can tolerate him more if you do that again,” you mumble.

And he does. The second is still soft and gentle, but it lasts longer. It only deepens slightly when he places his other hand on your waist. Sirius is holding you with a featherlight touch like he doesn’t want to break you, but his hand never leaves your cheek. Inside, despite what you just said, he fears that if he lets go, you will disappear and leave him. 

“You could never be a checked box. Because you’re everything,” Sirius whispers.

“Then stop with your stupid list, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Good, because I think I like this a little too much."

[hotshotsxyz]

love dresses up in many ways

(buddie)(8x07 spec)(881 words) how about a little not-evil spec? as a treat title from yet another bastille song

“Buck,” Eddie says flatly as soon as he opens the door.

Buck pastes on his most charming smile. “Eddie,” he replies.

“I’m one person.” He steps back to let Buck in anyway.

“One person that’s choosing joy!” Buck reminds him sunnily, kicking the door shut behind him.  

Eddie grins and leans against the wall. “I am,” he acknowledges. “Pretty sure I don’t need to overdose on baked goods to achieve that.”

“Sure you do!” Buck exclaims. “Besides, this one’s focaccia. There’s like, a vegetable in it.”

Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, if there’s a vegetable…”

“See, I knew you’d come around.” Buck makes his way into the kitchen to drop off the focaccia (and the pound cake and the brownies, but shh, who’s counting?).

“Grab a couple beers?” Eddie calls after him.

He opens the fridge and finds a six pack of a fruited wheat beer he’s never seen before and grins. It’s not that he’s actually all that excited to try You’re My Boy Blueberry Wheat Ale, but man, it’s hard to put into words just how much he likes seeing Eddie try news things just for the fun of them. There’re a few familiar sours in there, too, but fuck it. Buck grabs two of the blue-labeled bottles and heads back into the living room.

“I reserve the right to pour this out and get a new one if it’s weird,” Buck announces, popping the top off Eddie’s and handing it to him.

“Mm,” Eddie replies. He takes a tentative sip, then his face blooms into one of those easy smiles Buck’s seeing more and more of these days. “S’not weird,” he says. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to try it for yourself.”

“Guess so,” Buck murmurs before taking a sip of his own.

To his genuine surprise, it is good. Better than he expected. Like maybe-his-new-favorite-beer better.

“Okay, yeah,” Buck says, dropping down onto the couch next to Eddie. “Not weird.”

Eddie grins at him, so bright that Buck kind of wants to look away, but also maybe never stop looking.

“So what inspired today’s round of baking?” Eddie asks, knocking his knee against Buck’s.

Unbidden, an image of Eddie’s bare thigh pops into Buck’s head. He brushes it away because—

Anyway, he brushes it away.

“I dunno, Eds,” Buck says with a sigh. “I just— I think I’m a little stuck. In—in my own head, I mean. About, you know, all of it.” He waves his beer around to emphasize his point and narrowly avoids spilling it. “It’s not even about him, you know? It’s what he represents.”

“Which is…” Eddie prompts.

Buck settles back into the couch and wraps his non-beer-holding arm around himself. “I don’t know. Finding whatever it is I’m missing, I guess.”

Eddie hums and takes a long sip of his beer. “What makes you think you’re missing something?” he asks finally.

Buck frowns, nonplussed. “I mean,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

“What, a couple of not-forever relationships and there’s something wrong with you?” Eddie asks and—

“Five,” Buck says dully. “Five not-forever relationships.” Yeah, he’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with him.

“Buck,” Eddie says softly. From anyone else, it would feel chastising. From Eddie, it’s just… comfortable.

“Well what do you think it is?” Buck asks.

“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “that I’m probably the least helpful person you could possibly ask for relationship advice.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “M’not asking you about relationships, I’m asking you about me.”

“Ah, well, in that case,” Eddie says teasingly.

Despite himself, Buck smiles. “Just—what is it that makes me so—” Easy to leave? Hard to love? He can’t quite bring himself to voice either thought.

Eddie frowns like he heard them anyway. “Whatever it is, I like it,” he says with a shrug.

Buck blinks. “You… like that I keep getting dumped?”

“No, obviously not, Buck,” Eddie says, turning to shoot him an exasperated look. “I like you,” he continues. “Whatever it is your exes were too stupid to love about you, I do.”

All the air seems to leave the room. It’s—one time, in high school, Buck was slammed into the ground so hard during a football game that for a few seconds, he was literally incapable of breathing. This feels a little—a lot—like that.

“Eddie,” he croaks.

He shrugs again, like he didn’t just say the most insane, incredible, intense thing Buck’s ever heard.

“I like you the way you are,” Eddie reiterates. “You don’t need to make yourself less to be loved. The right person will get that.”

Buck swallows. “You think?” he manages.

“I know,” Eddie says emphatically.

Buck opens his mouth and closes it again. It’s just—it isn’t something he hasn’t heard before. Hell, Eddie’s said it more that once before. He just feels—

It’s like there’s something in his chest that’s dying to break loose, some incredible revelation that’s just around the corner. But for all he pokes and prods at it, it won’t come any sooner. There’s something, though.

Maybe he does just need to let the universe do it’s thing. In the meantime, he’s sitting next to Eddie on the only couch he’s ever really felt completely comfortable on. It’s enough.

[always-just-red]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to illicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming likes he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[inkskinned]

i haven't been back to CT since the accident.

which is to say I hate driving in CT, every time i have to go through it to get to NYC i spend the whole time holding my breath and hoping nobody acts stupid. there are exactly 2 things in CT worth preserving: rein's deli and the mystic seaport museum - and that second one only because my grandpa loved that shit.

now, i am not particularly familiar with the specifics but it just feels like CT is not an appropriate place for a christmas tree farm. when i got The Call, Roger on the other line called it "your standard CTF" and i had to say my what and he said "you've never heard that? CTF? christmas tree farm? CTF? - or haha, if you're woke, maybe holiday farm? haha".

i hung up after that for like 12 minutes just to take a deep breath and do a 10-minute meditation so i don't peak my blood pressure. and then i said sorry my phone died and ignored him talking while i googled. oregon has the highest number of CTFs per state. most firs and standard christmas trees are in zones 4-7 and CT is mostly a 6 state, so actually maybe i was just being biased against CT when i assumed you simply can't grow the spirit of christmas down there.

i like the name balsam fir and i keep repeating it to myself. i didn't know there were so many species of christmas trees. meanwhile Roger is still talking a mile a minute. "you don't gotta come in with force but really stick it to 'em. that's what Kevin and Herb taught me - none of that nice-guy stuff, okay? we're talking quick-and-easy. get in, hand 'em the folder, get out. it's efficiency that's the matter here."

i tune him out and then eventually get the pleasure of hanging up.

I only really work for this stupid place because i need insurance for my fucking laundry list of chronic "hysterical woman" issues (EDS, POTS, PCOS. probably something else with a fun acronym, why not). i fucking hate it here, except that it's actually been, like... fine? since the top 6 account managers kind of (i guess) disappeared - including my 2 bosses, Kevin and Herb.

most of us are just like, still doing our job. we still have meetings. there's less weird jokes. the meetings are much shorter. we just present our stuff and go home. so imagine how i fucking feel getting in my stupid honda civic and driving the 3 hours down from boston to bum-fuck just to... check on the boys.

i grew up on a farm, so im not too surprised when the road suddenly turns from "gravel" to "makeshift" to "shut the gps off, it's just confused at this point." no worries. a guy in a torn flannel drew a picture for me at the last gas station. he had leaned over and sniffed a little while sipping his Dunks. they got good trees.

they do. after a little white picket fence, suddenly the entire road is swarmed by them. firs on all sides like a coat. red twine marks off alleys of pine; cute little bows shine on the top of many. bells and white plastic deer and each branch dusted with glittering pristine snow. ornaments and little santas peeking out of present boxes.

i lean over the steering wheel and glance upwards. "aw shit. it's fucking cute here." in my passenger's seat, TERMINATION OF ACCOUNT is a red folder. i don't feel fucking good about this. i don't want to fucking do this. there's a freaking hand-painted sign saying family-owned! with handprints on it and tiny little names scrawled under it. jesus christ(mas). i'm 1000% going to hell for doing this.

on the other hand, Jen was one of the 6. like, losing the men was fine. but it is weird that jen never came back last month. i'm like, too feminist to feel okay with that. obviously yes quit your job and walk out but like - she had a life before she left. apartment and everything it sounds like.

i give up trying to bump my car over the potholes and end up walking the last 1.2 miles. it's been getting warmer these years, which i hate - but it's a lot colder here than i expected. the weather app said 54F. it feels maybe 21. the smell of snow warns me before i glance upwards - sure enough, decadent fresh flakes come tumbling down.

aw fuck. if it was gonna snow i should have put my windshield wipers up. i nestle closer into my jacket and pointlessly check my out-of-service phone for the 125th time. i realize only now i fucking forgot the folder in the fucking car.

the little house-barn-store is too close and i'm too cold at this point, so fine. the whole thing is covered in warm white lights and cute decorations. old christmas music is coming out of speakers placed at the end of the tree aisles.

i practice what i'm going to say. hi. i'm with Herrington Asset Management. we have sent, like. a lot of representatives. what did you do with the 6 entire human beings that came down here.

wait, why am i just now realizing our acronym is HAM? okay, so i'm going to say -

a man with a bright smile and a red flannel comes out from behind a work shed, wiping his hands on a rag. he's pretty, the way men can be pretty sometimes: rugged and approachable, blue eyes, 5'oclock shadow. he fills out that flannel well. "didn't hear ya come in, my apologies! what can i do ya for?"

i'm with HAM and I'm here to shut down your CTF. "hi."

"hi." he smiles wider. "welcome."

"um..." i sniff a little, feeling stupid. i keep thinking about my parents and how fucking hard it actually is to keep a farm. like, they say it a lot in movies, but it's genuinely like really very hard. fucking A, man. I don't want to do this.

he squints at me. "you from around here?"

i try not to bristle - is that because i'm fucking hispanic and allowed outdoors in CT - and suck in a breath. "no, i, um..." i decide to tell the truth. "a guy at cumby's told me where to find ya."

he laughs, and the sound is a sonic boom in the stillness. "that'd be Ron. he's a looker, huh? no, i recognize all our regulars, is all. don't recognize you."

HAM is located in Jersey and i work remote, so i take a second pass at radical honesty. my yoga teacher would be so proud. "i'm from boston, actually. just swinging through."

"oh? for real? laurel's from boston - she's my fiancée. how 'bout that. small world. can you believe - she left the big city for a dunce like me and now i get to marry the best lady around."

i do the little appropriate chuckle you are supposed to do when someone you don't know is also from the same major metropolitan area that you are from. also, that's extremely sweet to say about his partner. i am a sucker for wife-guys. "no kidding?"

"how are you liking conneticut? it's beautiful this time of year."

"it's..." fine? "more snow than i expected. weather said clear through 'til like thursday."

he offers me a warm hand. "i'm nick. what brings ya down here?"

i can't remember the name on the account. maybe it's in her name. and didn't i just say i was passing through? i flash him a smile while i think of the easiest way to warm him into the idea of shutting down his personal business. fuck. "um, just had some stuff to handle."

"that time of year, huh?" at my noncommittal smile, he waves a big, meaty paw. "come inside, i'll getcha some hot chocolate. laurel just made cookies."

he leads me into the store part of the building, and i stop for a second to pick up a tiny ornament shaped like a cottage. okay, this shit really is very cute.

"christmas really is the best holiday of all of 'em," he sighs. "wouldn't you agree?"

no, that's halloween. "sure," i say. i hold up the ornament. "this is nice." i glance around. "this is all... very rustic."

"sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, ya know?"

oh i really fucking hope he doesn't know i'm from HAM. literally that would be such a vibe killer. "very rare," i agree.

i follow him into the back. i pause at the green velvet-rope stanchion that blocks off a hallway presumably leading into the "house" portion of the building. "oh. i can stay out here...?" because i am not going into this man's house. alone.

"don't be silly." he wraps his arm around mine like a gentleman and i almost scratch his damn eyes out, except i'm genuinely so fucking shocked by the boldness of the action that i just sort of follow him down the hallway. "i won't letcha leave without a cookie."

he walks me into a simply stunning kitchen. the ceiling skyrockets into a beautiful, tinseled roof. the living room folds out to the left of the kitchen island. a fire is roaring, and a massive christmas tree winks cheerily at me. outside the huge windows, the snow peacefully rests in perfect layers.

well, there's part of their money problems. they need better insulation because paying for heat in a building with this many windows has got to cost an arm and a leg. nevermind how much dust must collect on those exposed beams. why do people design houses like this - have they never cleaned?

also, they need to stop spending half their budget on christmas decorations. surely not every surface needs to be frosted with pottery barn items. it is dangerously close to a modernized cracker barrel in here. i wander into the living room, trying not to be jealous of the casual wealth.

nick stands next to me and chuckles. "this kinda weather always makes me want cookies. but that's what laurel's here for, i guess."

"you have a pretty place," i say, because i am clearly staring.

"oh, i don't know. needed a woman's touch." he winks at me and goes behind the granite kitchen island to wash his hands. "you shoulda seen it before laurel."

"oh yeah?"

he nods. "had some money troubles. 'course, she is an angel and organized a whole fundraiser. mind you - she's only been here but a second when she does. i proposed to her right then and there."

i can't help it. i genuinely fucking love that. "that is incredible," i say. "how precious to find love like that."

"she's my answer to all life's problems. truly."

"honey?" a warm voice greets us and a lady comes around the corner, one hand in an oven mitt. "do we have a customer?"

i stop moving.

her hair is darker now. her smile is wider. something opens a pit in my stomach and i fall through myself. i put my hand on my stupid useless phone and take a step backwards.

"oh!" her white teeth shine. "hi there. you're not from around here, are you?" she picks up a tray of cookies. "i recognize all our regulars."

the man laughs. "rob is tellin' on us again." she laughs too, tinkly and high and beautiful.

of course she doesn't recognize me, we're remote and don't work on the same accounts, i was never high up enough -

nick gives her a little slap on the back that makes her stumble. she laughs and wipes a little bit of flour on his nose affectionately.

maybe i'm not being fair. she could have legitimately found love and dropped out of our shitty job. he wraps his arms all the way around her and buries his nose in her hair. "my girl," he says.

"i'm laurel," she smiles at me. "i'm his fiancee. come inside, let me getcha some hot chocolate."

he picks up a cookie from the counter and waves at me. "i'm gonna go whack on a tractor for a few minutes, but i'll leave you in the capable hands of my beautiful christmas girl," he promises. "warm up, and then let's go back out there and pick you out something nice."

i force a smile at him and at her and watch him leave. i do not move. i stay perfectly still, like an animal. because here's the thing: her name isn't laurel.

maybe she's conning him?

i stare at her. she doesn't seem to notice, instead taking a bag of white icing out of the large, beautiful fridge. "how are you liking conneticut? isn't it beautiful this time of year?"

"jen, what the fuck is happening."

she arranges a single gingerbread man on her countertop and starts icing him. "how are you liking conneticut?" she repeats. "isn't it -"

"it's beautiful this time of year," i say.

"christmas is the best holiday of all," she sighs, "wouldn't you agree?"

"sure," i say. i put the phone in my pocket. i stand up straighter. "i am really just..." going to leave now. maybe i should try subtlety. "don't i know you from somewhere?" like, ya know, work?

the cookie is too hot and the icing is melting as she draws the outlines on the gingerbread. a bead of sweat trickles down her nose. "i'm from the big city," she says. "but now i am going to be married to the best man around. i'm his beautiful christmas girl."

"right, but which big city?"

"i'm from the big city. how are you liking conneticut?"

there is ice in my gut. i am getting the pure, foreboding sense of fuck that which i am pretty sure is genetically engineered in me. in spanish we call it espookies. i try to make it look casual while i walk closer and closer to the exit. i pretend to look at the decorations closely. "i'm just wondering because your partner said you're from boston?"

she laughs. the cookie icing is pooling on the counter. "sometimes you gotta just hit the brakes and slow down. this town is so perfect for that. places like this are so rare, wouldn't you agree?" she pushes the gingerbread to the side and starts working on the next one.

it's hot in here, i realize. too-hot. sweat licks down my back. i watch it slide down her neck, down her arms.

she outlines a melting gingerbread man. "what brings you down here?"

"i had..." i feel my voice crack. the hallway back into the store is within a few steps at this point. "...some stuff to handle."

"that t-"

"that time of year," i finish for her.

she stares at me. the icing has burst out of the bag and is melting down her wrists and over her apron. "doesn't this weather make you want cookies?"

i put one heel into the hallway, trying to back up as subtly as possible.

she looks up at me. icing melts over the counter. "doesn't the weather make you want cookies?"

i'm so close to making a bolt for it. but when i look at her and the icing and her perfectly applied lipstick i just fucking can't. my heart breaks for her. i need to at least fucking try.

"jen - laurel - whatever," i hiss. "i don't know what fucking happened but - we need to fucking leave." i glance behind me. "jen, this isn't fucking okay. whatever he's doing to you - we can get out of here. call the cops. something."

"it's beautiful this time of year."

"jen. come on girl, i will put you in my fucking car. but we got to go. i don't know if it's like a cult thing or -" i hork down a breath and feel dangerously close to crying. "please."

"doesn't the weather make you want cookies? that's what i'm here for!"

i take another step backwards and a hand comes down on my shoulder. when i jump, nick is back, and laughing.

"sorry about that." tucked under one arm is a huge ax. nick wipes his hands on a rag. "low on oil. you get a cookie from the missus? that's what she's -"

"balsam fir," i blurt. "i'm looking for a balsam fir."

he puts the axe over one shoulder. "oh? i love balsam. good choice. didn't expect a city slicker like you to know much about christmas trees." he lets out a laugh and so does she.

sweat is beading down my back. "i grew up on a farm," i feel my voice come out creaky and high.

he laughs again. "when you came in, i thought - this lady is corporate. you know how we take to that."

"money troubles," jen says from the kitchen. "we had money troubles."

my lips feel dry. i manage to slide by him, closer to the store. i force a watery smile. "oh. no, sir."

"they come in with a folder, talking about our CTF. i said i've been doing this for years."

my heart is slamming against my chest. i take another step down the hallway. i throw a look to jen.

she opens the oven and sticks her head inside.

"you know," nick says. "the firs are out by where you left your car."

i didn't tell him where i left my car. "oh, great." i say. "must be a sign." i take another step. and then another. i feel the weight of the velvet rope behind me and jump a second time.

"from the big city" jen says, her voice muffled by the oven. "how are you liking conneticut? this place needed a woman's touch."

at the other end of the long hallway, Nick swings the axe to come home in his hands. "it needs a woman's touch," he says.

yeah, absofuckinglutely not.

i turn and bolt, wiggling past the rope, stumbling into the many, many ornament displays. above me, white christmas rings out while i run-walk through wreaths and bobbles and reindeer. tears prick at the side of my eyes but being raised on a farm teaches you the professional art of being incredibly good at a panicked run-walk.

behind me, i hear nick pacing the store. the rope must have slowed him down. he's bigger than i am - he doesn't weave through things as easily. thank god.

i throw myself against the front doors and burst out into the chill and immediately feel a cough in my chest. the snow whips through the air. i dash past handmade right this way to holiday cheer! signs and tinsel. behind me, like a ghost, nick stomps his way ever-closer. i dart into the thickest part of the trees, hoping he will lose me in the snow and branches.

"you're from boston, right?" he shouts. "my ex was from boston. small world."

i dart across the wet snow and almost slide on the black ice underfoot. fuck fuck fuck fuck i cannot run a fucking mile in the cold. see above multiple chronic reasons for this. my bones and joints are already fucking hurting as i try to shimmy my way through the boughs, alternatively running and hiding. if i survive this, i wont be able to move for like a week.

if. good fucking lord. if.

"it's a nice place," he calls. i can't locate him in the whip of the snow. "it just needs a woman's touch."

thankfuckinggod im used to snow and blizzards because otherwise i would be utterly fucked. i try to keep any amount of calm in my body while i manage the slide-waddle of running on black ice - the backwards lean and body-tilt that i've practiced many times over farmland. the kind of tilt-run that is only possible if you've done it before. thankfuckinggod i'm not a city slicker - the trick isn't to rush.

but fuck it would be nice to rush right now!

over the speakers, white christmas restarts. i fork my keys through my fingers into a sharpened fist. i pause only for a second to pick up a particularly swingable gnome and then i keep fucking running. my chest feels like liquid fire. i can't stop coughing. christmas trees rise up on all sides of me. i can't get a breath down. the air feels like a fire hose. every step i take fucking echoes. go go go go go go.

i dart, he laughs, i freeze. i dash my way forwards. a branch cuts into my cheek. my nose is full of the smell of pine. my hands are sticky with sap and i'm covered in green needles.

i keep going. if i fucking die on a christmas tree farm i hope i poison all of the trees and end christmas. i run and hide and run and hide. i have no idea where that fucker is but i am not going to be caught relaxing for a moment.

my knee makes a particularly sharp turn and i know for a fact i've just done some serious damage. i slap my hand down onto it and hide inside the branches a particularly thick tree, trying to catch my breath for a second.

a family owned! sign winks up at me. the little handprints are the names of children, but the big ones say Steve and Piper. the date on it is from this year.

i simply do not have the time to care about that. i shiver through several calming breaths, trying to force my body back into running. i stumble into a clearing and recognize it as the road i took in.

something loud and banging starts and i know in my bones it's the sounds of a tractor starting up.

my heart drops and i seriously think about just laying down on the ground and letting him run me over.

except there is my car, blanketed peacefully in a white layer. i should have put the fucking windshield wipers up.

what-the-fuck-ever. my hands are shaking too much. i just need to get inside the fucking thing and go. i will ruin my suspension but i will take every pothole dead on if i must.

the tractor lights slice through the blizzard, heading right towards my car. it bounces jovially over the snow and potholes, unhindered.

nick is on the back of it, swinging his axe, laughing.

over the hum of his engine he calls: "how are you liking conneticut?"

Sending my most reliable corporate staffer to Connecticut to shut down a Christmas tree farm. Wish me luck

[ghostlyglimmer]

You're Grounded Mister

Summary:

A mission gone wrong leaves the Batkids bickering—until Batman grounds them and Danny Fenton, a confused civilian caught in the chaos. This one-shot is based on this post by Shower-Phantom-Ideas

It had all gone downhill fast.

The plan had been Dick’s idea—though Tim and Jason definitely could have pointed out the glaring holes in it, and Damian hadn’t exactly offered his usual dose of cynicism. It was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out operation. Minimal risk, maximum payoff.

But things got complicated when that guy showed up. Just some kid, and not even a vigilante or a rogue. It was supposed to be a straightforward job in Gotham’s shadier district—stop the exchange of a highly dangerous chemical, break up the bad guys, be home in time for breakfast. But, no, some civilian had gotten in the way and distracted the gangsters long enough to mess with their timing.

As Jason would tell it later, “It was just bad luck.” As Bruce would say, “It was complete negligence.”

And as for Danny? Well, he didn’t have much of a say in it. Not that he was about to back down from a bunch of armed gangsters, especially with the Batkids swooping in around him, leaving chaos and knocked-out criminals in their wake. Danny had handled a few of them before they even showed up, quietly taking out the last of them when Bruce finally stepped in.

And now they were here, a tense, heated argument in a dark Gotham alley.

“You should have waited for backup!” Bruce snapped, his voice slicing through their squabbles. “I told you it was a risk to go in alone—especially when we didn’t have all the intel! This is about safety, and clearly—”

“Right, clearly we were fine until you stepped in,” Jason shot back, scowling.

“It would have gone smoothly if someone didn’t just happen to be there,” Dick muttered, clearly feeling defensive.

“It was your idea, Grayson!” Tim hissed, his voice laden with frustration. “Don’t turn this around.”

“Maybe if you’d listened—”

Damian scoffed. “I could have handled them on my own.”

Bruce’s frown deepened, and he turned to Danny, who was awkwardly inching his way toward the exit.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Bruce said, turning his Batglare on him. “You’re grounded too.”

Danny froze, one foot halfway lifted in a tippy-toe pose. “I… I’m sorry, what?”

The Batkids stopped mid-argument and looked at Danny, then back at Bruce, then at each other, as if piecing something together. Dick’s face morphed from irritation to confusion; Jason’s went slack.

“Uh… Mr. Batman, sir, with all due respect, I’m just some guy,” Danny said slowly, staring at Bruce. “Can… Can Batman even do that?”

“Everyone in the Batmobile,” Bruce said firmly, ignoring Danny’s question. “We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”

Danny, still too stunned to process much beyond “Batman grounded me,” felt himself nodding along. Guess we’re going with it.

The ride was silent and tense. Jason looked broody, arms crossed, staring out the window. Tim rubbed his temples, probably rethinking every tactical choice. Dick was sulking, and Damian, surprisingly, just looked mad at being lumped in with the others. Danny, meanwhile, stayed very still, wedged between Tim and Jason, trying not to breathe too loudly. It was a surreal experience—he was tired, his limbs ached, and his brain was reeling from the absurdity of it all, but it was Batman. The Batmobile wasn’t exactly the place to make his objections.

By the time they reached the Batcave, Danny figured he’d try for some clarity.

“Uh,” he started, looking around at the cavernous space, vast and impressive, filled with tech and lights. “So, do you mind if I, uh, call my family to tell them I won’t be home tonight?”

The entire cave fell silent. Jason froze mid-complaint, Dick and Tim stopped sulking, and Damian’s scowl melted into shock. All four of them stared at Danny, and then slowly, like someone had hit pause, their heads turned to look at Bruce.

He seemed unbothered, glancing at Danny as if this were just standard procedure. But for everyone else, the realization was dawning. Dick was the first to speak, his voice wavering.

“Uh… Bruce?” Dick asked slowly, eyebrows raised. “Did… Did you kidnap a civilian?”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason burst out laughing, doubling over, his hands clutching his sides. “Oh, this is gold. He’s not even a rogue, B. He’s just some random guy you told to get in the car!”

Danny held up his hands. “In my defense, it was Batman, okay? Who’s going to not get in the Batmobile when Batman tells you you’re grounded?”

Tim covered his face with both hands, muffling his laugh. Damian scowled, crossing his arms.

“This is embarrassing,” he muttered. “Father, you’re losing credibility by the second.”

Bruce’s expression tightened, clearly irked by the fact that his kids’ attention had wandered from the initial issue. They had disobeyed him, endangered a civilian, and now they were laughing because, okay, maybe he had unintentionally forced said civilian to join them in the Batcave.

He sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly rethinking several recent decisions.

“Alright,” Bruce finally said. “My apologies. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you don’t need to be here. We’ll get you a ride back home.”

Danny blinked, a little surprised. “So, wait, I’m not grounded?”

“No, you’re not grounded,” Bruce replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jason snickered. “Damn, you got off easy. We’re grounded for sure.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and the smiles faded from the other Batkids’ faces. “Yes, you’re grounded,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “All of you.”

They groaned in unison, but Danny, relieved beyond measure, was already edging toward the door. He nodded a quick thank you to Batman and managed a small, awkward wave to the others.

As he left, he could hear Dick muttering, “Grounded… from what? We’re grown men!”

Jason groaned. “Grounded as in, no solo missions, genius.”

Danny paused, letting the sounds of the Batfamily’s complaints echo behind him as he took the lift back to ground level. He shook his head, chuckling. Only in Gotham. Only with Batman would you end up “grounded” for just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But hey—at least he got a free ride in the Batmobile out of it.

[gingernut1314]

Are You Mad?

Summary: Zoro hates it when you are mad at him...so why is it so hard for him to apologize?

Content: Gender-natural reader, Zoro being stubborn, Poor Chopper getting stuck in the middle of your fight, slight spoilers (thousand sunny)

Word Count: 850+

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“Why are you still pissed off?” Was the first thing out of Zoro’s mouth after thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of him standing before you in complete and utter silence. Not a single peep out of his mouth for thirty minutes as he watched you comb through Chopper’s fur, the poor reindeer molting so bad he had asked for your assistance in easing the itch a bit.

You quirked a brow up at him, keeping as silent as he had.

Zoro gruffed at his. 

“Really?” You turned your eyes right back down onto the reindeer in your lap, whose anxiety seemed to be growing the longer he was between you and Zoro's angered tension.

Zoro scoffed. 

Scoffed.

“It’s not even a big deal.” 

“You think so?” You were quick to shoot back. Zoro’s brows furrowed together at your tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” You plucked a clump of molting fur from the comb, tossing it into the trash bin next to you.

You gave him a simple nod. Just one. 

“Okay.” Silence fell over the deck of the Thousand Sunny once more. Well…as quiet as the Sunny could be. You could hear Sanji shouting something at Luffy from within the kitchen as well as the clinking and clanking of Franky and Usopp tinkering. 

Zoro watched you for a long moment, muscular arms crossing over his chest. Watched you as if he was trying to figure something out.

“...okay?” You gave a small shrug. 

“Okay.” You repeated. Zoro’s brown, near-black eyes continued to watch you. 

“...why do I feel like you’re still pissed?”

“Take a wild guess.” Zoro grit his teeth.

“Hey. I didn’t know.” Chopper was wiggling in your grip, his nerves bubbling fully to the surface then. 

“Heh, heh…I think Robin--” The doctor started but you cut him off, running the comb back through his fur to keep him there.

“You didn’t know? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” 

“I did!” He huffed back, uncrossing his arms again.

“You were there when I bought it!” The swordsman gave the back of his green-covered head a scratch as if he was trying to wrestle up the memory. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” It was your turn to scoff. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe apologize. Maybe actually take responsibility for it?” Chopper was once more wiggling in your grip, more nervous laughter falling from his lips.

“Guys…guys I’m sure--”

“You want me to apologize?” Zoro asked like it was the stupidest thing in this world. 

“No. Not now. You don’t think you did anything wrong.” 

“I know it wasn’t great.” 

“Then fess up and apologize.” You bit.

The deck fell quiet once more. Even Chopper held deathly still in your arms.

Zoro watched you, his gaze still narrowed like he should be the angry one.

“Fine.” He grit out like it was painful. 

He was probably the most stubborn man you had ever met. No. No scratch that he was the most stubborn man. There was no way he was really going to do what you asked of him. 

“Yeah?” You cocked a brow up at him. 

“Yeah.” He confirmed making you all but roll your eyes. You gestured for him to go on then with your hand. “I’m sorry.” You gave a small nod. 

“Okay…for what?” He went to open his mouth but you were quick to speak again. “And say sorry again before you tell me what you did,” Zoro grumbled.

“This is stupid.” 

“Then don’t do it.” This only made him grumble all over again.

“I’m sorry,” He began again, “for…” Another grumble in frustration. “For drinking your wine.” 

“You should be. That wasn’t that cheap shit you buy.” Zoro rolled his eyes right back at you.

“It was only 20 berries.” 

“The good stuff.” You were quick to correct him. Zoro sighed. 

“Whatever.” The deck went quiet again. Zoro continued to stand there, looking like he was still trying to figure you out as you went back to combing through Chopper's fur. The doctor had given a great sigh of relief at the tension being lifted. “Are…” Zoro started up again. 

“Are…?” You spoke, glancing back up at the tanned swordsman. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He mumbled like he was embarrassed to ask. Mumbled because he truly hated when you were mad at him. It was a fact that, once you figured it out, loved to use to your advantage. 

“Give me a little kiss and I won’t be.” Zoro’s shoulders seemed to slump in his own relief at your words. He was quick to kneel before you, lending over Chopper to fit his warm lips against your own. 

“EW! No! Stop!” Chopper complained, starting his wiggling back up all over again. You let the doctor go, who was quick to rush off, fake gagging as he did.

“I’ll get you another bottle,” Zoro murmured against your lips. You nodded, cupping his cheeks in the palms of your hands. 

“Thank you.” You claimed his lips once more, your skin warm and buzzing as he kissed you right back. 

[tan1shere]

Tattoos

A/n: Was just listening to Agora Hills when I just had to write a little something about it - sorry if this isn't the best. Have this while I work on her favorite. I didn't know what to do at the end 😔

Warnings - smuttyish content ?! || masterlist

You thought you hid it well but you guess not. You were currently on your way home from a long shift at work. It was currently 8 pm. You open the door to your home and head in. You see her standing there infront of you, loose sweats and a loose button up shirt. She had done a few things today so probably just wanted to be comfortable with that and the sweatpants on. You look at her confused on why she's just standing there. "Hi babe." You say with caution. "Licking on her tattoos, or even my own." Whyd that sound so familiar.

"Maybe hitting and smacking too." Your face stays the same, utterly confused. "Hello to you to?" You walk further in when she flashes a black book. Your sex book. It was just some silly thing you had written in for laughs, even if deep down those were some actual fantasies of yours. "Oh..." How'd she even find it. You don't even remember where you last put it, it had been that long. "Got home earlier today and wanted to clean our room a bit. Then found this. Is it true?" You didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or nervous.

Her head tilts at you and that's when your nerves kicked in. Billie would never ever make you feel embarrassed over anything. "They might be." You fiddle with your fingers. "Yeah? You wanna lick my tattoos? The one on my spine." Your throat closes that was the exact one you were thinking of. That and the one on her upper. Upper. Thigh. "Where else?" She walks over to you slowly. "I uhm.. uh-" "My thigh one?" You look into her eyes, hers were droopy. "You didn't read it all right?" She smirks.

How dumb could you be right now. "Sure did baby. Got some interesting desires in here." Your head spins at the closeness, her lips being so close to your own. "You know, I think I wanna lick on that one tattoo of yours. You know what one I'm talking about. It's almost like mine." You gulp loudly. You had a tramp stamp on your lower back, she was talking about that. "You can.." You quietly utter. "Can I?" Her tone was mocking. You stay quiet. "I mean, i was planning to do so anyway." Then suddenly you were being slung over her shoulder. Heading straight for the bedroom. She lays you down, hovering over you hungrily.

Your breath catches as she hastily takes your pants off. Her hands reach to lift your shirt up a bit. "Bills." You sigh out, really wanting to be the one to kiss her dragon tat. "Patience, I'll give you what you want." You let out an annoyed whine, wanting to now. "Hey hey, don't be like that. Just want to admire you first. Then I'm all yours." You nod slowly, taking in her words. Calming down just slightly as her fingers run over your body. But you get impatient again.

"Baby let me lick on your tattoos."

She smirks at you as you say that, grabbing your waist and flipping you so you're straddling her. Your hands retract to the sides of her stomach. She smiles up at you. "Go on then, take my pants off." You gladly obey, starting to pull them both off. Your eyes land right on the tattoo, big and beautiful. Her hand cups your jaw. Swiping some drool that had escaped in the process. "Look at you, such a mess already and we haven't even started. Cute." She smirks at you, loving how your face relaxes into your hand like putty. "Go on baby, know you're dyin for it."

You nod yet again, moving your face to her thigh, your tongue darting out and licking slightly over the ink. She watches you intently, moving her hand into your hair, lacing it throughout. "That's it.." She says more so to herself. But you clearly hear it. Going mental inside. It made you wonder what else she'd be willing to do in the dumb little book of yours. Your tongue eagerly moves all over the dragon, slowly becoming dazed as you can smell her so close, your head moves. Going to just have a little lick but she grabs your face. "Just the tattoo." She was messing with you.

She knew how badly you wanted to taste her with your raging oral fixation. "But please.. The smells going to my head." You whine. She chuckles at you, faking a sad look. "Naww, is it making that stupid brain go fuzzy?" Another nod. "Shame, tattoo. Keep doing what you were doing." She was so tempting, you just wanted to have a little lick of her. But you adored how much she was enjoying the show of your licks on her tattoo. It was different for the both of you, something simple yet still effective. "There you go, so good at listening huh?" Your teeth retract going to bite, she lets out a breath but she sure as hell enjoyed the action. Biting her lip in the process.

You may not of gotten a taste of her that night but she got a taste of an amazing show.

[midnight-soulless-system]

Paywall free link

Love this, and I'm glad that they bring up misandry/transmisandry even if they don't use the words, but I am confused about one thing that it said. It acts as if trans men don't face prejudice for wanting to be men? Or at least that's how I interpreted this paragraph.

"Trans men, in contrast, are often viewed as women who are aspiring toward manhood. They still get their gender invalidated, and they have to navigate misogyny, but their motives are at least understandable in a world where masculinity is superior. Like hyper-masculine gay men, trans men can sometimes receive a pass from some oppression for at least trying to become the societal ideal. But because they cannot ever match that ideal, both trans women and gay male “sissies” are the subject of dehumanization and disgust."

Because I know personally I am often subject to dehumanization and disgust just as much as my soley (i apologize for not knowing how to spell that) transfeminine peers. I don't know if this is due to me being intersex and transfemmasc, or if this article is just erasing the violence trans men go through as well. And the way I've been reading it, it acts like trans men aren't targets of transmisogyny either, which is just not true? If I'm reading it wrong, please let me know!

Also does anyone have the direct results to the study? I would like to go over the reponses, questions, etc. myself and study this further! I love how the article explains the nuances and bias of the results. Unfortunately I don't see that very often in studies anymore.

Also, I think a main part of why trans women get such blatant bigotry thrown against them is due to the erasure of trans men, which the article also talks about. Although the article fails to understand what trans men are fighting for when we talk about transmisandry. We aren't saying it's worse, we're just trying to get our voices heard and have people recognize that there are many times where transfems have internalized misandry and then project that onto transmen. This is the same for trans men projecting misogyny onto trans women, but that is more talked about and seen than transmisandry is, and the experiences aren't fundamentally different, because it is all linked. It's interesting to see how, after they acknowledge in the beginning transmisandry, they then later on go to say that it's fake when they describe it IN DETAIL earlier on and claim it's transmisogyny, when it is not. It also ignores the fact that when people that are perceived as women dress masculine, they aren't respected. It is in fact the opposite, because we are still viewed as women. Masculinity is seen as bad by many, and so transmen and butch people often experience mockery, violence, and general hatred for being masculine. What they are talking about is proffesional clothing, such as long dresses, pants, and montone clothes.

And on the trans reproductive things, that would be a case of transmisandry/misogyny, most likely due to the fact that almost always, trans men are seen as women who like to try and act tough.

And now that I have gotten to the end of the article it seems that it started off strong and just... spiraled. At the end it used intersexist language and now I am just dissapointed.

It sucks to see that something that could've been a great article and started off wonderful delved into transmisandry and intersexism. Probably should've read the whole thing through before writing this, but now I guess you get to see what happened. Even the link that defines TME/TMA terms recognizes that they are intersexist, but it fails on explaining why this is. It is not that it is used as a replacement for agab, but that it ignores the nuance of bigotry that everyone, but especially intersex people, face.

omg did not expect to see “we have mainstream research evidence for transmisogyny now” this morning but happy friday?? thanks dr. devon price for pre-digesting it

and of course there’s the angle of, well lmfao yes trans women have been saying this in mainstream print since at least 2007 and doubtlessly in other fora for much longer, but sometimes an argument from authority has more force and how do we emotionally reckon with ongoing lack of agency in conversations about us, but i digressss

[homesick4la]

complicated — hamzahthefantastic

3. brown eyes at the entrance

contains: goofy drunk hamzah, quick mention of sex but no actual nsfw content in this one

summary: what do you do when your ex shows up at your front doorstep?

a/n: short but i just wanted to post hi

last part: with you all night

you left hamzah’s apartment that morning feeling more confused than ever. you two ate breakfast together and then you were out the door. he hadn’t even asked to hangout again or talked about breaking the whole “no contact” thing. he simply said he enjoyed the night with you and told you to have a good day.

how could he spend such an intimate night with you and not ask to see you again?

as hard as it was, you tried to be nonchalant about the situation. you could hook up with your ex in a casual way, right?

you call mandy, practically begging her to meet you for coffee.

now you were at your local cafe, anxiously walking up to the table you spotted mandy at.

“y/n! hey!” she said excitedly. you can almost see her eyes analyzing your facial expressions as you walk up to her. “so what’s up? you look like you’ve got something to tell me.”

“oh, it’s definitely..something.” you laugh nervously, “i uh, ended up talking to hamzah last night…”

“oh that’s great!” she interrupts, “did you get any sort of closure?”

“yeah, about that…i actually ended up going back to his place..”

she sighs at your confession.

“and we had sex but listen! i know that it was probably a bad idea but being around him again- it like made my brain go all fuzzy and all common sense went out the window.” you ramble, trying to defend yourself.

“y/n, i told you to go out on the balcony to get closure, not to hookup with him!”, she shakes her head at you. “but i get it. you guys have history, you’re comfortable with him. it’s easy to go back in that situation.”

“exactly! it was so comfortable! it felt like how things used to be. so now, i’m all confused because i thought i had finally gotten over him. and there’s matthew…”

“the guy you said was boring?” she questions.

“he is a bit boring but he’s nice- stable.”

“but what are you gonna do now? keep seeing him?”

“ugh, i don’t know. i guess i should end things with him- because clearly i have not moved on from hamzah yet.”

she nods slowly, deep in thought. “you think you’ll get back with hamzah again?”

“i don’t know,” you let out a harsh breath. “sometimes i think that maybe if we tried again, things would be different. like we’d be able to figure it out this time.”

she smiles softly.

“but today, he didn’t ask to meet again or ask how he could contact me or anything so i don’t even know if he wants to try again.” you shrug your shoulders.

“honestly, y/n, you might want to figure that out before cutting things off with matthew.”

she was right. you didn’t want to ruin a good thing simply for the possibility of getting back with your ex.

after another thirty minutes of catching up over coffee, she reminds you to keep her updated before the two of you part ways.

as you start driving home, your phone rings.

*incoming call: matthew*

“hey babe, you never texted me when you got home?” he questioned, his voice concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, “yeah, sorry- i went to sleep right when i got home.”

“you feeling better today?”

“yeah, yeah i think i just had a migraine or something.”

“good! i was actually wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” his voice is hopeful.

he was kind and cute and he knew what he wanted. how could you say no?

“sure! were you gonna pick me up on the way or should i meet you somewhere?” you ask, a soft smile creeping on your face.

“i’ll pick you up at six. oh- and wear something fancy! i wanna take you to a nice place.”

you agree and say your goodbyes. you were excited to get dressed up and be taken out. you hoped that this dinner would change things- show you how interesting and exciting matthew really is, helping you move on from the chaos of hamzah.

…

the restaurant matthew had chosen was beautiful. the warm candlelight and low jazz music playing in the background creating such a romantic atmosphere.

he sat across from you, retelling a story about a hike he had went on.

you could tell he was making an effort. telling you this story with you in an attempt to share something meaningful with you. feel closer to you.

but as he kept talking, your mind kept slipping into memories with hamzah. you thought of how beautiful his face looked when illuminated by candlelight. the way his smile had always been on the edge of a smirk.

hamzah knew exactly how to pull you into each of his stories. he entertained you effortlessly. just one of his jokes could leave you clutching your stomach in laughter.

“and then i was there, completely lost.” he chuckles slightly as he ends his story.

“oh my god, that must’ve been so scary.” you reply, doing your best to give him energy.

he smiled softly as he looked into your eyes. “that’s what i’ve always loved about hiking though- you never know what adventure’s around the corner.”

“yeah.” you respond, smiling sweetly while all you can think about is how hamzah would’ve made fun of that corny line.

“you okay? you seem distracted.” matthew said, watching you as he took a bite of his steak.

“oh! yeah i’m fine, i just had a long day.” you explain, telling yet another lie.

“i get it.” he smiles, “no worries.”

god, did he have to be so kind and patient? it’d make you feel much less guilty if he was a complete asshole.

no, he was everything you should want. he was sweet, understanding, and so open with you.

but there was no allure. no mystery. no edge. all of the surface-level conversation you two were having was driving you absolutely insane.

“well, i actually had something to ask you.” he broke the silence.

you look up at him, nervously waiting for him to continue.

“i’m going on a trip to seattle next week. it’s completely covered by my job and i have a plus one. i know it’s a bit last minute but i wanted to know if you’d like to join me?”

traveling together would change this “casual dating thing”, into something more serious. something you were definitely not ready for. not yet.

you clear your throat to speak, “can i uh- think about it? it sounds super fun, i just have a lot of school work and stuff…”

he nods. “yeah, just let me know whenever you decide.”

“thank you.” you smile.

after finishing dinner, he drives you back home. he thanks you for the night, explaining what a great time he had with you.

he walks you to the front of your apartment complex and presses a gentle peck to your lips before telling you goodnight.

as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, you decide that you have to end things with matthew. you couldn’t go on that trip with him and lead him on any more than you already have. it was unfair of you to be constantly comparing him to hamzah. the truth was that there nothing wrong with him at all- you were the only person to blame in this situation.

you look up as you start walking toward your apartment to see hamzah leaned up against the wall next to your front door. his head tilted back, eyes closed- simply waiting.

“hamzah? what are you doing here?” you say, your voice coated in shock.

his eyes are low. a goofy smile plastered on his face. he was either drunk or high, or both.

“you look pretty.” you can practically hear his smirk.

you stand directly in front of him. “are you drunk?” you ask as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“a little bit”, he laughs. “and maybe a little bit high but listen- i just wanted to see you.”

“oh and this couldn’t wait until you were, i don’t know, less…drunk?”

he shrugged, “but you were out with ‘new guy’, what’s his name?”

“matthew.” you roll your eyes at him. “how’d you know i was out with him anyway?”

“mandy might’ve mentioned that you texted her about it.” he grins, “i think watching paint dry might be more exciting than going on a date with that guy. i couldn’t let you go home and just be with that kind of…energy.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “hamzah, you can’t just show up at my door every time you think i should be around better “energy.”

“oh i can”, he shoots back at you. “it’s actually one of my best skills- showing up uninvited and reminding you of how fun i am.”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, already feeling defeated by his charm.

“and yet”, he pauses. “here you are, laughing. i’ve still got it.” a cocky grin creeps on his face. you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re so full of yourself.” you shake you head, smiling.

“i just feel confident around you, that’s all.”

“oh really?” you tilt your head to the side.

“c’mon, y/n. tell me the truth- was he as funny as me?”

“no.” you admit, rolling your eyes.

“as charming?” he pushes.

“also, no.” you answer.

“then what are we doing here?” he lifts his hands up dramatically. “why are you spending your night with boring ol’ matthew when you could’ve had all this?” he gestures to himself, that goofy smile of his still lingering on his face.

“hamzah. you are being ridiculous.” you reiterate.

“did you mean ridiculous-ly hot and sexy or?” he can’t help but laugh at his own joke.

you shake your head and roll your eyes once again, still unable to contain the smile that seemed stuck on your face.

“you are impossible to argue with.” you tell him.

“is that a yes to me coming in?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes. “please? i’ll just sleep on the couch or even, the floor. whatever you want me to do.”

“you came here to sleep on my couch?”

“i just want to be around you.” he whined.

how could you say no to those brown puppy-dog eyes of his? and you couldn’t send him home drunk- that wasn’t safe. you just had to let him in.

“fine. get inside before i change my mind.” you tease as you unlock your front door.

the second you two get inside, he walks over to the couch, flopping onto it and stretching out with a smug look on his face. “see? look how harmless i am?”

“mhm, very harmless.” you say as you grab a blanket.

you start tucking him in with the fluffy blanket until he grabs your hand, looking into your eyes. “thank you for letting me in.”

“yeah, well you’re just lucky i’m too tired to kick you out.” you joke.

“yeah, lucky.” he repeats, his voice soft as his thumb rubs your hand softly.

just from the way his gentle touch and low voice had such an effect on you, you knew you were in trouble all over again.

a/n: next part soon. promise. also i did not proofread bc it’s 2 am and im tiredddd also writing this kinda reminded me of the song memories by conan gray so that is where the title for this part is from yay here’s the song if u wanna listen

[swappermanent]

e-Swap (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @swapery here.

Liam's POV:

It’s wild to look back on it now. Four years ago, I was just a cocky kid scrolling through Tumblr, indulging in bodyswap roleplays. I mean, it’s hot, right? The idea of becoming someone else, walking in their skin, living their life—it’s escapism at its best.

To be honest, though? What really turned me on the most was the idea of someone else wanting to take over my life. And this guy—Kristoph—he wanted to step into my shoes, take over everything about me, and, I don’t know… maybe live my life better than I could. That hit me somewhere deep.

Sure, I found Kristoph hot. Objectively speaking, he was attractive. He had this kind of rugged, manly charm—average height, short curly brown hair, a beard that was thick but didn’t quite fill in everywhere. In gay terms, he’d be an “otter,” though not the polished, Instagram-perfect kind. Still, there was something about him, something raw and real.

But what I found so hot wasn’t necessarily his looks. It was the roleplay itself. The back-and-forth, the fantasy of letting someone else become me—it was intoxicating. So I flirted with him, told him how hot he was and how much I wanted to be him too. It egged him on, made him want me even more. And that was harmless, right? That’s what roleplaying is for. It’s not real life. Nobody actually thinks they’re going to wake up in someone else’s body.

And who knows? If it hadn’t been for what happened next, I probably would’ve gotten bored after a few days and moved on. I’ve done it before. I’m a bit… boy-obsessive. A bit of a heartbreaker, if I’m being honest. Cute guys came and went. I was always onto the next. And, let’s be real, it usually worked for me because, well, I was even cuter.

But that’s not what happened.

---

I was completely thrown when I woke up one morning in Kristoph’s body. Like, how the fuck was that even possible? I stared at myself—well, at him—in the mirror, touching the unfamiliar beard, the broader shoulders, the chest that didn’t feel like mine. It didn’t make any sense.

The first thing I did was try to contact myself. I called my phone—my phone, which was now across the world in Australia, in Kristoph’s hands. No answer. I sent messages on Tumblr, over and over, desperate to get a reply, but it was like shouting into the void.

Confusion quickly turned to anger. As the hours dragged on, I couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that he must’ve done this to us somehow. He must’ve found a way. What other explanation could there be?

How could he do this to me? To us? Without even asking? Without telling me it was real?

Well… okay. He had asked, technically. And I had consented, in a joking way. But I thought it was all pretend. A game. Roleplay. Something to get off on—not… this.

Now I was out of moves. Totally stuck. Kristoph lived in England—or I guess I did now—and I lived in Australia. Or, well, he did. Either way, it wasn’t like I could just hop on a plane and go confront him. What was I even supposed to say? “Hey, give me my body back”? Impossible.

---

As I began to accept the fact that I was stuck in Kristoph’s body, resentment crept in. I hated how I looked. I mean, I know I’d flirted with him online—played it up, told him how hot I thought he was—but I didn’t actually want to be him. Not for real.

Honestly, I couldn’t stand his beard. It was scruffy, patchy, and felt like a chore to maintain. And in person? He was so much shorter than I’d imagined. That one photo he’d sent me had totally oversold him. His muscles were fine, I guess, but not as impressive as I’d hoped. Definitely felt like I’d been catfished.

And the worst part? He had no hot romantic prospects at all. No dates, no flirty DMs, no wild social life. The guy was a total dud. Meanwhile, I was stuck in his body while he got the better end of the deal.

It didn’t take long for me to start seeing his posts online. There he was, shirtless and flaunting my old twinky body for the world to see. He was out everywhere—hanging with my friends, partying, meeting people I didn’t even recognize. Hot, sexy guys who I could only assume were his latest hookups or maybe even a boyfriend.

At first, it made me furious. How could he be so bold, living my life like that? But slowly—bit by bit—I found myself getting turned on by those posts. Watching him, in my body, owning the life I’d built, looking amazing in photos, thriving without me… it did something to me.

He still wouldn’t reply to my texts, but it’s not like he’d blocked me on social media either. If anything, it felt like he wanted me to see it all. To flaunt it. After all, he’d been into bodyswap fantasies too—he probably loved the idea of me watching him live my life better than I ever could.

And damn, was he doing a good job. I started thinking about how well he was pulling it off. He didn’t need my help or guidance; he didn’t need anything from me at all. He’d just stepped into my shoes and thrived.

I couldn’t help it after a while—it turned me on. Seeing him so confident, so free, so successful in my life was like watching my biggest fantasy unfold before my eyes. It was frustrating. It was infuriating.

And it was so fucking sexy.

---

Eventually, I turned my focus to fixing up my new body, accepting that this situation was probably permanent. There wasn’t much else I could do.

At first, I tried to go back to my old look—the twinky vibe I’d always rocked. It felt safe, familiar. I shaved the beard and acted a bit more submissive, like I used to. But the more I leaned into it, the more wrong it felt.

It was almost like this body was resisting me, like it was pushing me to be something else. Something… jockier. Stronger. It was weird, but I couldn’t ignore it.

So I regrew the beard, but this time I made it work—neat, full, and intentional. Then I started trying out sports, just to see what stuck. Tennis, running, biking… I gave them all a go.

But the one that really clicked for me was rugby. Something about it felt right, like this body was made for it.

I threw myself into it. It was a lot of hard work—hours in the gym, changing how I ate, how I moved, how I carried myself. But over time, I started to see real results. The body I was living in became exactly what Kristoph had pretended to be all those years ago: a true muscle hunk.

It wasn’t just the body, though. Something about the discipline, the structure, the focus it took to transform myself—it all changed me, too. I started posting on social media, sharing my progress. And damn, the attention rolled in. Now I’ve got more hot guys sliding into my DMs than I can keep track of.

But here’s the thing—I’ve learned a lot about how to treat people, about how to navigate relationships. I’m not the boy-obsessive heartbreaker I used to be. That’s made the best ones—the guys who actually matter—want me even more.

Honestly? I’ve never felt more in control, more confident, or more like me.

---

That brings me to today. I just got an email telling me to check the messages on this old Tumblr account, one I’d almost forgotten I even had. It was from Liam.

I was surprised to see his name pop up after all these years. Part of me wondered what he wanted, but honestly? I didn’t even read it. And I’m definitely not going to respond. Why would I?

So consider this post my way of signing off for good. I’ve learned my lesson—I know better than to mess around on those forums ever again.

Besides, look at me now. I’m hot as fuck. Why would I ever want to be anyone but me?

[thedoritodealerofthewoods]

OooHOOOHOO

Man

Copy pasting my thoughts from my ramble at the friend who showed this post to me because I'm satisfied with the way I put them. Spoiler warning for wof arc 1 below

How does this work? Does she know the prophecy is fake from the moment Morrowseer visits the cave to observe the dragonets? Maybe he wasn’t thinking about it well enough for her to realize he doesn’t believe the prophecy - “hmmm…. This one isn’t good enough. This one will work better. This one will accomplish the need very effectively-” could all be interpreted as someone who doesn’t trust in fate to do it’s own work. Maybe this annoys her, but the truth doesn’t register.

Or does she deny obvious “lol this thing isn’t real” thoughts with the certainty that he’s wrong. And maybe she hates him because of it right off the bat - though she might not tell the others exactly why beyond a potential cryptic “he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about!” To which she gets the average response of “lol alright Sunny. Anyway I want to punt him into the sky because he hates Glory” - !!! Right - iirc, Morrowseer tells the guardians to kill her, but to the side where the dod don’t hear him. (Can’t check atm cause cat on lap). Maybe Sunny gets all bolt-upright-shock at a certain point and starts frantically trying to convince everyone that Glory is in danger the second he leaves, before anything is overheard. They maybe think she’s overreacting, that of course he hates me Sunny I’m a rainwing and yeah but they wouldn’t go that far haha - but eventually the conversation is overheard and they all realize the truth and the escape kicks off (with the difference of Sunny being in on it this time - unless they maybe still think she might accidentally let something slip).

Also - the moment in the tunnel with Morrowseer fits a little too well to change at all. He opens his mouth to gloat, to tell them all the truth, and no, no, no! She’s pleading for him to stop before he speaks a word because she knows, she knows, and maybe she always has, maybe she should have seen it sooner but it’s the only hope the others have, the only reason they’re still trying and she can’t let them lose it. She can’t lose it. She can’t lose them.

Oh! Also - does she tell the rest of the dod? Probably not, I’d guess. Starflight would be crushed. As far as they all know till the last book, she’s just a weird SandWing. Not only did Starflight fail to have any powers, but she got both. Maybe she tried to tell them before it occurred to her that it might hurt him, but no one believed her. She’s just supposedly really good at picking up on stuff. Can’t hide anything from her.

Also - mindreading and foresight would only feed into the hyper-empathy. She’s so worried about everyone all the time because she can hear their pain, she knows what they’re worried about, she can hear their hopes and dreams and she can see the fates everyone tumbles through. When the dod eventually find out about her powers, I can see Tsunami probably saying something along the lines of “hey, if you can see in everyone’s heads, why did you still trust the guardians so much? Why do you still care about them? Why do you still want to help everyone when everyone is trying to KILL US!??” To which she simply responds that that is the reason.

thrice-moonborn sunny :)

[chukys-mouthguard]

what are the odds? | part 6

matt rempe x female reader; featuring numerous side characters

social media au!

part 5

mattrempe

liked by your.name.here, kandre.miller, addison.clark and 401,201 others

mattrempe nothing says I’m sorry like some wine and a good board game 🎲

alleyrempe thank god you’re not entirely hopeless

-> mattrempe the boys got me together 🤞🏼

liked by kandre.miller and chris.kreider

-> alleyrempe don’t make the girls have to come after you next time

liked by francesca.kreider and addison.clark

user30284 he apologized!! 😭 thank god

-> user50347 i was ready to give up hope if they couldn’t fix things 🥹

addison.clark who knew he was a cook?!

-> mattrempe stepping my game up because she deserves it

liked by addison.clark

-> addison.clark that she does!

your.name.here no more get out of jail free cards for you sir 😜

-> mattrempe don’t plan on needing one 😉

liked by your.name.here

user35038 so they fixed things?!

-> user20490 i feel like it was probably something dumb

-> user80584 dumb or not it clearly was enough to cause issues…

kandre.miller you’re welcome

-> mattrempe i owe you and kreids big time

-> chris.kreider there’s a new Rolex I’ve been eyeing 👀

-> mattrempe dude I’m a fourth liner…how about i get you a nice Fitbit? 😂

your.name.here

liked by alleyrempe, mattrempe, addison.clark and 354,201 others

your.name.here i guess I’ll keep him 🙄

alleyrempe no take backs this time!

-> your.name.here something tells me i won’t be giving him back

liked by alleyrempe and mattrempe

user20484 shut up this is so cute 🥹

-> user63924 thank god he fixed whatever happened!

-> user10384 i love we assume it was his fault…

-> user63924 literally everyone has confirmed it was him that messed up…😂

addison.clark omg it’s my otp 🫶🏼

-> francesca.kreider i ship them so hard

-> your.name.here i hate you both 😂

liked by francesca.kreider and addison.clark

user20559 I’m waiting on an official post hard launching them…

-> user24943 don’t hold your breath 🙄 lol

mattrempe shit your bf is kinda hot 🥵

this comment was deleted by mattrempe

mattrempe who is that handsome devil?? 👀

-> your.name.here he’s a handsome ranger, get it right 😉

liked by mattrempe

user32055 where is tybauer_ to out them when we need him ? 😂

-> tybauer_ soon enough they’ll out themselves lol

-> user32055 👀

-> user52559 soooo are we getting a hard launch?

-> your.name.here you’re the reason we can’t have nice things tybauer_ 🙄😂

-> tybauer_ 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[bleue-flora]

***UPDATE***

I did some snooping of my own and ruled some out

Alright, by popular demand here it is. There are likely things on here that may not exist yet because the map is from before the finales or don't exist at all or aren’t on this map. I don't know, but that's part of the fun I suppose. :) Feel free to leave the answers in my asks, tag me, or just use the tag: #dsmp scavenger hunt so I can find your posts. <3 Good Luck!

DSMP Scavenger Hunt

Places

1. Staged Duo Island [related post]

2a. Map #1 2b. Map #4 from Dream’s wall in his bedroom cell [related post] (hopefully they are oriented right, I based it on the other wall maps’ orientation)

3. Quackity's storage room (what is in the chests?) [clip]

Given the look of this room and the presumed general area based off of the stream, I searched everywhere and am going to say this no longer exists and must have be changed since April 2021, perhaps it was part of a Las Nevadas building during construction… so no new torture method lore I guess :[

4. Quackity’s birthday poster (does it really say he’s 28? Or that his birthday is on December 28?)

5. Dream’s house (does he actually have one that’s not the prison or his old secret base)

6a. Revival Book Lab [clip] 6b. Punz's secret underground room

The finale secret room has been confirmed to not have been built yet [post] and given that not even the map room exists in Punz’s tower I’m gonna say the lab probably also does not exists. Though maybe I’m wrong… I can dream right? :)

7. Dream’s bed for respawning in the disc confrontation (it had to be close for him to get there so fast [related post])

8. Warden’s prison stasis chamber on the outside [clip]

9. Does Quackity have an in Minecraft calendar? (that Dream mentions [clip] & is shown in vod)

10. Did they make a replica of the cell for the scrapped lore and just never filmed it?

Items

11. Books Dream gave to Techno in prison (are they all empty?)

12. Dream’s letter to Techno

13. Revival Book

14. Are there multiple Enderboo prison waivers for multiple visits?

15. The OG pink bed (shown in old enderchest [from this post] but not later)

So there are actually a shit ton of pink beds on the server a result of Eret’s ‘you matter <3’ pink wool no doubt. So I think this will be pretty impossible, unless we find something that seems like Dream’s house which has a pink bed.

16. Does Dream have any named possessions?

17. Dreamrider [clip]

18a. Dream’s blue shield 18b. Smile shield from staged finale

Enchantments

19. Enchantments of Quackity’s netherite low durability axe

20. Enchantments of Quackity’s diamond sword

21. Enchantments of Quackity’s diamond pickaxe

22. Dream’s armor enchantments after prison (how does it compare to Nightmare?)

Questions

✔️23. Would Techno and Dream have been able to escape from under the cell? [clip] - I think EVENTUALLY yes

I’m gonna probably do a separate post about it

✔️24. Is the End completely untouched? [related post] - Yes

@blockgamepirate has made the observation that no End file exist so presumably they never went to the end before the finale.

25. Are the cow and sheep still at the disc confrontation vault?

Just For Fun - Where are these?

✔️26. KSI portraits from sex class (are there any still around?) - Yes

I do not have the plugin but all maps seem to still be in the school.

27. DEFINITELY NOT PENIS

28. Dream’s Diary

29. “thanks for visiting” prison book

30. The :) book Sapnap gives to Ranboo from Dream in prison

31. Sam’s book that says "I am not an idiot "over and over

32. The L’manberg photo from the finale [clip]

33. Are there any Tales of the SMP sets?

34. Egg 

35. Bones and Skeppy’s house (in Egg Finale) [clip]

36. Antarctica Tommy got teleported to when he was banned on his first day [related post]

37. The ocean monuments missing elder guardians (for prison build)

38a. Fundy's house in mesa 38b. Fundy’s nightmare set in mesa biome [clip]

39. Dream’s parrot’s grave [Dream's parrot]

Helpful Resources

@sumwan’s post [here] tells how to access inventories

And @seriousbusiness4130 left some helpful replies on my post about finding the loaded chunks of a map:

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Cat-Levi

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 6)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

A/n: New chapter alert!

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 2.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

The office door fell shut with a clang. Levi tossed the envelope onto the desk, then turned around to face you. You expected him to scold you, but he said nothing. He just stood there and stared at you, one foot tapping the floor in an irritated manner, like he was waiting for something. The silence was hard for you to bear.

"So I take it the drawings are not to your liking, then?" you asked tentatively.

"Now what gave you that impression?" he deadpanned.

"Maybe the way you immediately ordered me into your office after seeing them? Though I guess it could also be to express admiration for my outstanding artistry in private…"

"Certainly not," he huffed. He was scowling again.

"Didn't think so," you murmured. So much for lightening the mood. He really was angry, after all. Maybe you should work on defending yourself.

"You asked to see them, I gave them to you. I did exactly as you told me. So what's the problem, exactly? I can't read your mind."

"Tch," he made. "Guess I need to spell it out for you."

"That would be nice," you said. Though you could already imagine what it was.

"The problem is…this." He pulled out the topmost drawing from the envelope and pushed it in your direction without looking at it. "Why am I like that?"

You gave it a quick glance. He was leaning against the wall, one hand up in his hair, making his bared chest muscles stretch. You had put a lot of attention to detail in there, so you were quite proud of it.

"Shirtless, you mean?"

He nodded, his jaw tense.

"It's a very popular theme with the ladies. I already told you these were all commissions. They want to see what you look like underneath your uniform."

He scoffed. "That's none of their business. Besides, how would you know? You've never even seen me shirtless."

"You are right, I haven't, so there might be some inaccuracies. I'm usually really meticulous, so this has been bothering me for a while, if you must know. I think I got the muscles about right, in fact I really put my heart into those abs...but you probably have some scars that I don't know about, right? Why don't you show me?"

You looked at him expectantly, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"What?!" he asked, dumbfounded. He even forgot to scowl for a moment. "Please? Just a quick peek?"

"No."

"I just want to know if I got it right," you pouted. "At least tell me."

"No."

"Then don't complain if the drawings aren't perfect next time."

His eyes narrowed. "There won't be a next time."

"Right," you mumbled. "I know."

"You apparently don't."

"These really were just drawings I had left from before. What was I supposed to do with them? Burn them?"

"Yes," Levi said.

"Do they really make you that uncomfortable?" you asked.

"They do."

"Okay," you said. "I'll burn them. They make you uncomfortable, so I'll burn them all. Satisfied?"

Levi didn't say anything. He just glared at you, arms crossed over his chest. You could tell he was still mad.

"I am sorry," you said softly.

He nodded. "When you're done burning those drawings, clean the stables. Be thorough. I'll check."

"What? That's gonna take so long!"

"This is nonnegotiable."

"But–"

"You're not happy with your punishment?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

You nodded furiously. "I don't think it's fair." "Fine. After the stables, you will now also do the women's barracks. Not just your room, but all of them."

Your eyes grew big. "You can't even check those," you muttered defiantly.

"I'll ask someone to do it for me. You're lucky, they probably won't have the same standards."

"This is impossible to do in a day," you pouted. "Not that I'm not happy with the punishment. 'Cause I am," you added quickly. You didn't want him to come up with more.

"You have all week," Levi said. He almost sounded amused. His face was back to his usual cool expression.

"Deal." You took the envelope with the drawings from the table, then hesitated, biting your lip. "Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll still have teatime later, right?"

"Of course. Don't be an idiot."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

"Of course he would need to have black, shiny fur", you giggled to yourself as you sat hunched over a piece of paper in a quiet corner of Hange's lab, adding some sparkles to show just how clean it was.

Instead of watching over a very slow, probably very important experiment, like you were supposed to, you were completely absorbed in perfecting your current drawing, which depicted a somewhat irritated-looking cat. Naturally, it wasn't just any cat. You were trying to capture the very essence of Levi Ackerman, distilling it into the shape of the animal on the paper in front of you.

This was your latest plan to get around his order which banned you from making or selling drawings of him. You had to be extra careful after he had chewed you out last time. You'd never seen him so mad. Well, it certainly hadn't helped when you asked him to take off his shirt. He had you scrubbing floors for all of last week. You were finally done with it, and you certainly had no desire to repeat that anytime soon. But you still found it impossible not to wonder whether your portrayal of him had been accurate. (Maybe he'd show you when he wasn't so mad.)

"Don't look at me like that", you mumbled to Cat-Levi, suddenly feeling a little guilty under his reproachful gaze.

"Don't you know I'm doing this all for you?"

If you wanted to be able to afford Levi's birthday present, you had no choice but to resort to methods like these. Surely he would understand. Better yet, he would never find out in the first place.

You nodded at the picture, satisfied. It was still in its draft stage, but it was getting there. In fact, it was kind of cute, and the longer you looked at it, the cuter it became.

"You're so precious," you gushed. "I wish you were real." Your face broke into a massive grin as you imagined what Cat-Levi would actually be like.

Chortling, you started to scribble a list of traits underneath it.

Smol

You don't choose him. He chooses you.

Perpetually grumpy (secretly a big softie but likes to keep the people around him on their toes)

Hits you with his cute little paws when you disturb him while he's sleeping

Hits you when you try to pet him without his permission

If he wants pets, he approaches you first. Then you have to give him attention. If you don't - you guessed it - he'll pout and hit you (with a cute little paw of course)

Is not afraid to draw blood (but with his special chosen person, he hits them paw only without any claws)

Others when they disturb them? They get it bad.

Did I already mention his cute little paws?

Cleanly as fuck. Don't disturb him while he's grooming himself. He will be your enemy.

Has trouble sleeping but when his chosen person is there with him he can relax

Hates being picked up. It makes him feel smol. Never make him feel smol.

Looves head scritches

Loves gourmet cat food. He's a luxury babe. (But if it comes from his favorite person, he will accept anything they feed him.)

You were so immersed in your writing that you didn't even notice Levi leaning in the doorway.

He watched you as you sat in front of the bubbling flasks, bent over your notes, your face hidden behind a curtain of your hair. Your pen was scratching furiously over the paper, exuding an air of productivity and concentration. He was almost impressed.

Then you giggled.

All of his illusions were shattered in an instant. Clearly, you were doing anything but working.

He approached you with a scowl on his face, already suspecting the worst.

"Are you drawing me again?"

You looked up, startled at the sudden presence, but your wide grin remained in place.

"Nooo! It's just a cat. Not everything's about you, you know."

You ostentatiously pushed the drawing over to him, trying to show him that you had nothing to hide. "See?"

Levi peered down at the cat which sat there with a wrinkled nose, its irritated gaze mirroring his own.

"Tch."

Your smile grew even wider. "Buut, now that you're here…lend me a hand, will you? I need help coming up with a name for this cat! What would you name him?"

You held out the drawing to him. He didn't take it. "Shouldn't you be working?" He motioned to the experiment set up in front of you.

"Ah, that," you said, like you had only just remembered it. "Nothing's been happening for the past three hours. I think it's a bust." You extended your hand even further, waggling the sheet of paper right under his nose.

"Come on, it will only take a second. Then I will get back to watching this thing like a hawk, I promise!"

Levi begrudgingly accepted the drawing and read the notes with raised eyebrows. "Who would even like this cat?"

You gasped, clutching at your chest in horror. "Excuse me? I do! Everyone does. He's precious, okay? You wouldn't know true cuteness even if it hit you in the face."

"I think I would," he said, giving you a glance.

"Obviously not. He's like, the definition of cute." You were pouting. "So, did you come up with a name?"

"Hellspawn," he said dryly.

"Noo, that's so mean! That's not even a real name."

"Fine." Levi sighed. He was quiet for a while, thinking. You looked at him expectantly.

"Herbert," he said finally, his tone serious.

You burst out laughing.

"What?" He frowned. "You wanted a real name. I gave you one."

"No, no, it's great, really. You're absolutely right," you tried to appease him.

"Herbert it is then."

Of course, this was just his undercover name. He would always be a Levi to you.

You took the paper from him and added a bowl, lovingly writing 'Herbert' on it in cursive letters.

When you were done, Levi was still standing there with his arms crossed.

You shot him a questioning look. "So, why did you come here? Did you want something?"

"Just wondering why you were late."

"Late?" You took out your pocket watch. It was just after 4 o'clock. "Oh, it's teatime already? I can't believe I almost missed it! I totally lost track of time." You jumped up from your seat. "Let's go!"

"What happened to watching your experiment with hawk eyes?"

You winced, visibly deflated as the excitement drained from your body. "You're right", you mumbled. "I did say that…" Why had you promised that, again?

You slumped back into the chair, eyes fixed on the flasks. They were still bubbling happily, almost as if they were mocking you.

Hange had told you to watch the experiment until they got back. It had seemed easy enough, while also giving you the perfect excuse to get out of today's training. You just never would've imagined they'd take this long.

"Go on without me…" you said in a dramatic, choked up voice.

Levi snorted. He pulled up a chair. "Don't be stupid. You'll get withdrawal symptoms." He knew how you got when you didn't have your afternoon tea. It wasn't pretty.

"These your notes?" He pointed at the lab journal.

You stared at him. It certainly looked like he was offering to watch the experiment for you. But that couldn't be right. You had to be dreaming again. Or hallucinating. It had been a while since you'd had your last tea. Maybe these were some new withdrawal symptoms? Still, you had to make sure.

"Don't tell me… You would give up on teatime for me?"

"Go before I change my mind."

"Wow. For real? Thank you!" You beamed at him. "I'm honestly so touched. You're the best, you know that? The best!"

You bent forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek. His eyes widened.

"I really don't know what I'd do without you," you went on, still smiling cheerfully, before getting up from your chair.

Levi cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at you. "I have work to do. So don't take too long."

"Of course not," you reassured him. "I'll be right back. You won't even notice I was gone."

He rolled his eyes. That was a blatant lie. You always took your time with tea, savoring every last drop.

You were already at the door when you suddenly turned back around.

"I just want you to know…"

"What?" Levi asked.

"I'll never forget your glorious sacrifice," you declared solemnly.

Before he could answer, you were already out the door.

Levi looked after you, absently bringing a hand up to his cheek.

"Tch. Always so dramatic," he grumbled to himself, but his gaze was soft.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn

[tanddiscord]

Thank you. I'll add to this by saying, I spend a fair bit of time in right-wing spaces, out of curiosity and a few other considerations, (well, spent, I am currently not there, and will probably stay away for... a while. It's not exactly fun, and after the election I do not have it in me right now), despite being very heavily left myself... And there is almost no difference in rhetoric unless you dive into the deeper material on either side. Unless you're reading dissertations, or watching videos from big personalities, the rhetoric is exactly the same. Often, the phrasing is exactly the same. "Any woman that voted Trump is a brainwashed fool, selling their rights to someone that doesn't even see them as human." is something you could easily see on the left. "Any man that voted Harris is a brainwashed fool, selling their rights to someone that doesn't even see them as human." is something you could easily see on the right. You see the sentiments on both often enough. Want to know what the biggest, easiest-to-spot difference, in surface-level rhetoric in their own respective spaces, is? The right never talks about killing random women. The left can't shut up about killing random men. Of course, dig deeper, just a touch, and it all starts to change. You start to see how the specific policies being drafted on either side tell different stories, and let's just say the one on the left is far more palatable. But surface level? It's pretty one-sided, and not in our favour. The actual content of our politics, ideology and message is so much more inclusive and kind than the right's... But maybe let's try to show that through rhetoric and how we talk to/about people too? Call people out when you see them say shit like "kill all men". Because guess what. If someone on the right said "Kill all women" The response would likely be "Are you fucking retarded?" And we can do better than that. At least I hope so.

to the guy replying to that post about how much it hurts to be hated for being a man, for being perceived as dangerous

look, i fucking get it. i was exactly where you are when i was younger. this is exactly how i thought of myself before i transitioned.

i need you to understand that i was where you are now, and i would do pretty much anything to only deal with what you're dealing with.

i used to think all that stuff was hard. then a group of men followed me home in their car screaming slurs at me. i had to ask a manager to use the back door to escape a man who tried to hit me with his bike, then followed me to the store i was going to and waited by the door for me to come out. i had to sleep on the floor of the hotel room i was paying for because a cis person got uncomfortable.

and suddenly i was surrounded by even more vulnerable people confiding in me the much, much worse things that happened to them, things they were scared to bring up to the men in their lives.

i'm not saying it doesn't hurt to be hated.

what i am saying is that it is not fair that the hurt of men facing resentment is treated as an apocalyptic issue in need of immediate repair or else fascism is just the natural and normal answer, but the hurt of everyone else facing much more hate is business as usual, that even bringing it up is driving division and violence.

i'm saying it hurts us to be hated too.