#to then notice the way they were treating you was pure shite

[loullipopx]

well what the fuck ahah

[youcantbesirius]

STRANGERS | S. B.

Warnings: mentions of abuse, arranged marriage, implications of smut, swear words, major plot changes.

Gif is not mine.

Sorry if this is shite.

Y/n Y/l/n was pride of the house Y/l/n. Skilled pureblood witch, top of her class and prefect of Slytherin house. It was almost over, graduation was coming near, but, also the end of her freedom.

Y/n is promised to Sirius Black. At least she was, until he left.

After his parents forcefully made him marry her, she couldn't help but to notice the disgusted look he gave her. She remembers his words very well.

"I want nothing to do with you! You are same as them. How can you listen so blindly!?" Sirius threw his hands in the air making you flinch.

He noticed. He noticed the way you pulled back into the corner from his arm waving, he noticed you get out of your head as he yelled. Maybe you were not as different from him, he thought. But he did not love you and he left.

It brought shame to The Noble House of Black, and in your case shame on you.

You were sitting in 12 Grimmauld place, picking at the wood nervously. After the owl from Dumbledore came, you read the letter, each word stabbing you like an invisible sword. Sirius Black was coming back home. You were still legally his wife. Even though Blacks had other plans for you.

The door opened and your breath caught in your throat. It seemed as the same happened to him as he laid his eyes upon you.

"You..." he let out looking at you in pure disbelief.

"Welcome home, Sirius" you sighed "if you ever called this place your home..."

"Why are you still here?" He asked you nearing you very cautiously.

"I owe you a lot of answers... but please, I got you new clothes and I am sure Kreatcher got the bath ready, Lupin, Weasleys and Harry will be here soon" you avoided his eyes.

He snatched your arms lifting the sleeves to reveal the smooth skin of yours. You knew what he was looking for.

"I didn't take it, Sirius" you said and he dropped your arms. With one last look he did as you told him.

"Dinner will be ready soon, mistress"

"Thank you, Kreacher, you can go rest now, you've helped me enough today" you smiled sadly at the elf.

"Thank you, mistress"

Soon the order filled the kitchen. You watched as Harry hugged his godfather and then his eyes landed on you. You knew each other, after all you were his legal godmother. In a few steps he approached you hugging you tightly. It was a while since you saw him. The first time you've met were at the platform.

"Y/n/n" Harry beamed "where is Victor?"

"He should be here soon" you spoke softly as a dark haired boy entered the kitchen.

"Terribly sorry I am late, but that is just me trying to make an impact" Victor smiled at the people finally noticing the man who stared at him dumbfounded.

"Ah Uncle dearest, right?" Victor gave him an icy look before he took his seat at the table. The people went silent.

Sirius could see the major resemblance of his younger brother in Victor Black. From dark wavy hair to his facial features but one thing stood out. His eye color was much like his mother's. Sirius turned to you. It did pain him a little but he had no idea why. After all he was the one who pushed you away.

"I believe Sirius requires answers, y/n/n" Remus started cautiously.

"I am not going to speak of this in front of my son" you spoke.

"Go ahead, mama" Victor took your hand giving you supporting smile.

"My hell began after you left. Walburga was livid. They needed an heir to the house of Black. They..." you sighed and looked dead at Sirius's eyes.

"They forced me and Reg..." you gulped "they forced Reg to bed me. And no, we did it knowing damn well what would happen if we did not. When I found out I was to be married to you I did my best to convince myself that I could love you, I created my own illusion of you that I fell for and I could say I wanted to give you my heart and soul. But you, you were kind enough to break all my illusions and false hope that night. My family couldn't take me back as your mother lied you defiled me. She wanted to marry me to Regulus, but that was not possible. So on the paper I was yours, here I was his. Regulus was the bravest man I knew, very kind to me and he never stepped out of bounds with me. He made sure I was safe. When he died, when Kreacher came back without him I almost lost it. Walburga made sure to knock sense into me that if I was to continue I would lose Victor. And few days later I gave birth. When Walburga died I could finally raise my son in peace. I heard all about you. And even though we weren't in the best of terms I knew there is no way you've done it. You would rather die. So that is it"

Sirius was at loss for words just as the rest of the people at the table. Your look burned holes into Sirius as you weren't breaking eye contact.

"I am so sorry, y/n" Sirius choked out.

Luckily, Kingsley switched to more important matters and soon, people were either leaving or off to bed. Sirius followed you as you headed to yours.

"I meant it... I am very sorry" he took your hand looking at you.

It seems like just now he was realized what he abandoned.

"It is what it is... I believe you remember where your room was... I only cleaned it" you leaned against the door of your and Regulus's room.

"That yours?" He asked looking at the door of his younger brother's room earning him a nod from you.

"Did you love him?" He asked suddenly.

"Eventually I did" you spoke softly.

"And what about me" he asked softly.

"I did. I fancied you before but I didn't love you yet. And then that came too" you spoke honestly.

"Y/n, will you give me a chance to make ot right? We still are strangers, but I want to fix this. In Azkaban I reflected on many mistakes I made and many regrets. One of those is you... I never should have treated you like that. Not even once have I put myself in your shoes. Give me a chance, give us a chance" Sirius pleaded holding your hands.

"O-Okay..." you blushed looking down.

"Okay?" He asked again in disbelief that you were willing.

"Okay" you smiled softly feeling his kiss on your forehead.

[acnelli]

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The  thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was  his  job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words  Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,  

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.  

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.  

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.  

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.  

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.  

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.  

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.  

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast  Sonorous  at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

[glitchh3d]

Halloween Party (Terushima x Reader) [HTF]

So, I didn’t proof read this. My apologies. 

Also, it’s not the best because I’m not the best at writing and i’m very tired and sad because my halloween went to crap but y’know. whatever. 

Ily guys!! Here you go! 🥰

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Cheating but not really. Language. Talk about sex. Talk about drugs. Alcohol and other college party stuff. 

Masterlist

(Y/n), Terushima, Futakuchi, Atsumu and Taichi walked into Kuroo and Bokuto’s house later than expected, but there was a round of cheers for them as soon as they were noticed. Kuroo bounced over excitedly, his drink spilling over the edge of his red solo-cup as he pulled (Y/n) away to lead her toward Matsukawa and Hanamaki who were waiting for her in the backyard with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

She giggled upon seeing them in their costumes. Hanamaki had darkened his hair somehow so it was red but Matsukawa had left his, instead styling it slightly. 

“Oh my god, you two-” She fell into a fit of laughter as they strutted around and showed off their legs that were covered in thin white tights. She pulled them into a tight hug, thanking them for doing the group costume with her. “I love you guys, thank you so much!” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both laughed and shrugged it off. 

“Anything for you, (Y/n). You’re our girl.” Matsukawa said, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Makki wrapped his around her waist and Oikawa flailed his arms around excitedly. 

“Let me get pictures!” He shouted, his halo nearly falling off as he jumped excitedly and rushed towards them. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but smiled at his friends. 

(Y/n) giggled at his annoyed look, curious on how Oikawa managed to convince him to do a couple costumes with him. They were an angel and a devil. Iwaizumi looked like he didn’t really care though, only wearing a red tight fitting t-shirt and black skinny jeans with a little devil tail clipped to his belt loop and a devil horn headband on his head. 

Oikawa on the other hand, was wearing a pure white robe that had gold accents. His cheeks were dusted with gold and he had a halo headband on. Gold bracelets went up his arms and he had big angel wings on. 

“He looks ridiculous, huh?” Iwaizumi asked as he caught (Y/n) eyeing his boyfriend's costume. She smiled and shrugged. 

“It’s cute. Yours though, mister. Holy shit. Who gave you the right to be that hot.” She asked, making him blush. Oikawa snapped a couple of pictures of the trio in their costume and then turned to admire Iwaizumi with (Y/n). 

“Iwa-chan is hot, isn’t he? But stop ogling my boyfriend! Go ogle your own!” Oikawa said, shoving his cell phone into Iwaizumi’s pocket. 

“Hey-” 

“Oh shush. You’re my pockets for the night, deal with it.” Oikawa demanded. (Y/n) smiled at them and then saw Terushima, Taichi, and Atsumu walk into the backyard. Terushima smiled at her lovingly before approaching. 

His costume, Boomer from the Rowdyruff boys, looked good. They went for more of an e-boy route so he was wearing a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under a blue t-shirt that had the iconic black stripe across the chest. He was also wearing black fishnets under his ripped skinny jeans. He stuck his tongue out and winked at her as he approached. 

“Hey baby girl,” He said, pulling her away from Hanamaki and Matsukawa who raised their eyebrows at him. 

“Look at this tool,” Matsukawa said as Terushima wrapped his arms around (Y/n)’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He cocked his head to the side and winked at them. 

Taichi and Atsumu approached on either side of them. Taichi looked bored, but Atsumu was grinning. 

“Wow, lookin’ hot Matsukawa.” He teased. He’d gone with Butch from the Rowdyruff boys but instead of wearing a long sleeve striped shirt, he was wearing a black hoodie under his green t-shirt. And he had dyed his hair back to black just for the night.

(Y/n) had tried suggesting to just use some wash out spray to do his hair but she was a few minutes too late. 

Flashback to the night before

(Y/n) walked into her apartment after a busy day at work, Taichi trailing after her tiredly. They had been on the closing shift for the night. 

“Teru! Atsumu! Ken? You guys here?” She called into the apartment. She heard a loud crash in the bathroom and hurried towards it, dropping her bag on the floor in her rush. “Holy shit, what happened? Are you oka….y?” 

In the bathroom, Atsumu was sitting on the toilet with a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Terushima was holding a bottle of hair dye and Futakuchi was laying in the bathtub, watching. 

“Why the hell didn’t you just use the halloween hair dye spray that washes out?” She asked as Taichi peeked in over her shoulder. He groaned and turned and walked away. 

“...I didn’t think of that.” 

END of flashback

“Fuck, I know.” Matsukawa said back, a grin rising to his face. They fist bumped. 

Hanamaki grinned at Taichi who shook his head. 

“Don’t.” Taichi said. He was Brick and he absolutely hated it, even though he didn’t wear anything out of ordinary. He was in a red jumper with singular black stripes on the upper arms. He had a lock and chain necklace on and a single dangly cross earring on.  He also was wearing a black beanie and he looked cute in (Y/n)’s opinion. 

“But Taichi, bro! You look good. We’d make a picture perfect couple, don’t you think?” Hanamaki asked, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“I’m going to find Semi.” Taichi disappeared after that. Hanamaki pouted but turned and grinned at (Y/n) again a second later. 

“I’m gonna go harass him,” Hanamaki said, making everyone laugh as he sprinted off. Atsumu and Matsukawa followed after him, leaving Iwaizumi, Oikawa, (Y/n) and Terushima alone. Oikawa smiled at Terushima but it was a bit forced. 

“You two look good. Don’t they, Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi stared at the couple then he shrugged. 

“(Y/n) looks good. I dunno about Terushima though,” Terushima gasped and pulled away from (Y/n), glaring at the two older men. 

“You two are fucking rude.” He said making (Y/n) snort. “I’m going to grab a drink, alright babe? I’ll be back in a few, yeah?” (Y/n) nodded. He kissed her cheek goodbye and then walked towards the glass sliding door that was wide open. (Y/n) smiled after him and then turned back to her friends who were watching her with fond looks. 

“What?” She asked defensively. They shrugged. 

“You just look really happy is all,” Iwaizumi said, crossing his arms. Oikawa nodded in agreement. 

“You do seem happy. I’m glad. You deserve it, (Y/n)-chan!” She smiled at them and pulled them into a hug. 

“Aw, you guys…” She said as they both hugged her back. Iwaizumi was the first to squirm away, claiming he also needed a drink. Oikawa and (Y/n) let him go with little pouts but when they curled up on chairs next to the fire pit and chatted to themselves.

“So (Y/n)-chan. You and Teru have been together for a few weeks now, yeah?” 

“Yup!” 

“And he treats you right?” Oikawa asked, eyes narrowing. She nodded. 

“Of course he does. He gets a simp of the year award.” She said with a smile. Oikawa nodded and fist bumped her. 

“Iwa-chan does too. He’s very sweet behind closed door,” Oikawa winked and she snorted. “Speaking of behind closed doors. Have you two-” 

“No.” She replied quickly making Oikawa freeze with wide eyes. Then he smirked. 

“My my, (Y/n)-chan. That was a hard no, wasn’t it?” He asked and she rolled her eyes, pulling her legs to her chest as she stared at the flickering flames of the fire. “Why’s that? You’ve had sex before haven’t you?” She shrugged. 

“I- I guess I’m scared?” (Y/n) said, not looking up. 

“Why?” Oikawa frowned. 

“Because Yuuji has this image, right? He’s popular. Nice. Funny… I’m scared that once he gets all of me then he’ll leave because he’s had better and-”

“Sorry, I’m gonna stop you there.” Oikawa grabbed (Y/n)’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I don’t know Terushima too well, but from what you tell me, he seems like a great guy. One who respects you and cares about you a lot. I don’t think you need to rush to have sex or anything but I don’t think you should be scared to have sex either.” 

She nodded and smiled back at him. 

“Yeah… You’re right. I just-” (Y/n) was cut off by the back glass door getting slammed open. Iwaizumi was fuming and his hair was dripping with water as he walked towards them. “Oh shit, what happened Iwa?” 

“I swear to god I’m going to kill your boyfriend (Y/n).” 

“What? Why?” Her heart was racing.

“He fucking- that bastard just almost drowned me in that stupid apple bobbing bullshit!” (Y/n) and Oikawa laughed as Iwaizumi ran his hands through his hair. He flicked droplets of water at them and then sat in the small gap of the chair next to Oikawa before pulling his boyfriend onto his lap. 

Oikawa whispered something into Iwaizumi’s ear and the ex ace began to turn red. (Y/n) smiled and looked away from them as they started having their own little private conversation. She didn’t want to intrude so she stood up, saying she was going to grab a drink. 

“Hey hey hey! What’s up, (Y/n)!” Bokuto asked as (Y/n) entered the house. She smiled at him and patted his arm as he pulled her into a side hug. 

“Hey Bokuto! I like your costume!” He looked down at her confused. “I LIKE YOUR COSTUME!” She shouted over the music. He laughed and nodded. He was a sexy firefighter, wearing only the pants of the costume with suspenders and the helmet. 

“I like yours too!” (Y/n) smiled at him and then eyed Akaashi who was standing next to him, wearing a lifeguard costume (aka just a shite t-shirt with a red cross on it and red swim shorts). He had sunscreen smeared on his nose and a cheap flimsy whistle around his neck. He smiled at her as she got done looking him up and down and then also pulled her into a small hug. 

“Hello, (Y/n)-san.” 

“Hi Akaa-chii! He smiled at the nickname and patted her head before he was dragged away towards a beer pong table by Bokuto who was screaming at Kuroo and Daichi for a re-match. 

She chuckled fondly and kept maneuvering her way through the crowd of unfamiliar faces and costumes. She dodged angel and devil wings and even a long dragon tail. She also had to avoid the ass end of a donkey costume that was dancing wildly on the dance floor. 

She sighed as she got to the kitchen, reaching into a random cooler to grab a drink. She popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig, her face contorting in disgust at the taste of whatever she grabbed. 

“Hey, (Y/n).” Futakuchi said as he entered the kitchen. She smiled at him. 

“Hi Ken,” She smiled at him. “Where are the others?” 

“Ah, Terushima is dancing in the living room I think and Taichi and Atsumu are doing keg stands in the game room.” She nodded and thanked him, heading towards the livingroom to try and track down her boyfriend. 

Upon entering the living room, she immediately spotted him. There in all his glory he was dancing with their newfound friends. Suga and a bunch of people she’d never seen before were hyping him up, dancing and jumping around with him. He was in his element. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” A chant started and Terushima laughed along, rolling his eyes. There was a girl with blonde hair standing next to him that grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him down and into a kiss. 

At first (Y/n) didn’t realize what was going on. And then it clicked. 

Terushima had just kissed someone. 

Her boyfriend just kissed someone that wasn’t her. 

Her boyfriend willingly just kissed someone that wasn’t her, in front of her. 

“What the fuck.” (Y/n) said, her hand that was holding her beverage falling limp against her side. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. 

Everything aside from Terushima was blurred as he laughed and joked with the girl he’d just kissed. Like he didn’t do anything wrong. 

(Y/n) realized that the only reason everything was blurry was because of the tears gathering in her eyes. But if Terushima was going to act like nothing was wrong, then so was she. So she left. She set her bottle down on the counter as she walked towards the door. Kuroo and Semi both tried calling out to her but she ignored them, exiting the house quietly. She wrapped her arms around her bare arms as she walked down the sidewalk and towards the unfamiliar city of Tokyo. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew Kait was somewhere within the giant city. She just hoped that Kait had her phone on her.

(Y/n) walked a little further to a little empty park, sitting down on the empty swings. By now all the trick or treaters were gone and the streets were empty aside from a few small groups of teens who were laughing and teasing each other. 

“What the fuck,” (Y/n) repeated to herself as the image of her boyfriend kissing another girl replayed in her head. She didn’t want to believe that it was true, but she’d seen it with her own eyes as Terushima pressed his lips to some blonde girls. 

She didn’t realize that the tears were falling until they dripped down onto her lap and through her thin dress. She was shaking from the cold but she didn’t care. She only had to wait 15 minutes and then she’d be with Kait and they could figure things out together from there. 

Would she break up with Terushima? 

Did he not love her? 

Was he just using her? Did he get bored that fast? Maybe if she’d done more he wouldn’t feel the need to go off and kiss someone else. 

She tried to be enough, she really did. 

School and work filled a lot of her schedule but she always tried to make as much time for him as she possibly could. 

Why was this happening? 

“(Y/n)?” A voice called out. Was that Kait? Had it been 15 minutes already?

 (Y/n) looked up as she heard Kait’s voice call out to her.

“Kait?” 

“Oh (Y/n),” Kait rushed forward, followed by three other figures. (Y/n)’s lip quivered as she stood up from the swing. As she met Kait halfway the tears she’d been holding back broke free and she let out a choked sob as Kait enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, honey, no…” 

_____________

Terushima laughed as he tossed back another shot of something clear. He knew it definitely wasn’t water as it made the back of his throat burn but he was okay with that. 

It was halloween night and he was at a party, the point of this entire night was to get drunk and have fun and that’s exactly what he was doing. 

“Yo, Suga! You were holding out of us with this guy! You knew he existed and didn’t tell us?” Tanaka laughed as he danced next to Terushima. Noya was jumping around excitedly next to them, screaming the lyrics to whatever song was playing on the speaker. 

Tanaka was wearing a blonde wig, an entirely pink outfit, imitating Regina George from Mean Girls. His girlfriend, Kiyoko was Aaron Samuels, wearing a simple blue mens polo shirt and some baggy jeans with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Noya was Gretchen Weiners but his brunette wig had ended up falling off when he did a keg stand earlier and he was just too lazy to put it back on. They had convinced their friend Kinnoshita to be Karen Smith but he was currently puking his guts out in the bathroom upstairs accompanied by Ennoshita and Narita who were Cady Heron and Janis Ian. 

“Yo I could kiss this man right now,” Terushima said as Tanaka poured him another shot. Noya smirked. 

“Do it!” Suga rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. 

“Do it! Do it!” 

And soon enough the entire room was cheering for the two to kiss. Tanaka rolled his eyes but reached and grabbed Terushima by the back of his neck, pulling him down into a quick kiss. When they separated, they laughed and fist bumped, taking another shot. 

After a few more minutes of dancing, Terushima made his way towards the kitchen where Semi and Kuroo looked concerned. 

“What’s going on guys?” He asked as he pulled a beer can from a cooler. He popped the tab and took a sip as they exchanged looks of concern. “Hey, either of you two seen (Y/n)? I left her in the back with Oikawa and Iwaizumi but I haven’t been back there and-”

“Terushima, (Y/n) left.” Semi said, making Terushima freeze. 

“What?” 

“We both just saw (Y/n) take off out the door a few minutes ago. She looked like she was about to cry,” Kuroo said, making Terushima enter panic mode. 

“And neither of you tried to stop her?” 

“I- we called out to her. We thought she was just getting some fresh air or something, calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.” Semi said, making Terushima shake his head. 

“No, I gotta go find her. She doesn’t know her way around Tokyo. None of us do, what if she gets kidnapped?” 

“What’s going on in here?” Matsukawa asked as Terushima slammed his beer can on the counter. He pulled out his phone and started texting (Y/n). 

“Did you see (Y/n) leave?” 

“(Y/n) left?” Oikawa asked as he and Iwaizumi entered the kitchen. Terushima shook his head as he got no response. 

“She’s not answering me. Oikawa, text her.” 

“What? What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi asked as Oikawa pulled out his phone and began texting their friend. 

“(Y/n) took off a few minutes ago and now she’s not answering her phone.” 

“Okay so check all the rooms and stuff. And check outside. Try and find her around the house before we go out looking, yeah?” Kuroo said, making everyone in the kitchen nod and split up. Terushima and Semi went out the front door, calling (Y/n), hoping to either get her to answer or to hear her ringtone but there was nothing. 

“Fuck!” Terushima shouted. “I lost my fucking girlfriend and she’s probably scared and upset and-” 

“Do you think someone drugged her?” Terushima’s head turned at lightning speed and he glared at Semi. 

“Why would you even say that?” 

“I- what! It happens!” 

Well. That happened. 

Another post tomorrow <3 

Love you guys! I hope you had a Happy Halloween! Goodnight! 

Taglist: @kaitycole, @cosmicmermaid25, @sempiternal-amour, @99astrid, @hidden-otaku-stuff, @vicassa, @elianetsantana, @ankl3s, @newfriendjen, @oikawa-simp, @dakotacecily, @axolotleyeliner, @heyyourecute, @tchalameme, @toobsessedsstuff, @marinovakovich, @disaster-rose, @tacosforexo, @sleep3deprived, @prettyinblack231 (Open)

[hillnerd]

I don't have a particular question, but thoughts on Ron/Neville? (How they'd get together/kids/do you like the ship, etc)

Rated PG-13 Ron liked Neville just fine, of course. He was a good bloke! A mate through and through. Reliable, down to earth, steady. Sometimes he wondered how someone that meek and stodgy made it into Gryffindor, but then he'd think back to all the times Neville had kicked arse and spoken back, and it made some kind of sense. He didn't really think of those moments as 'Neville' though. It almost felt like someone else had taken over quiet-Neville's body to do the barmy brave acts. 

How could someone so unassuming do... all that?

He began to wonder about the other side of Neville as they joined the Aurors. 

Neville? Why was he there? He was meant to be potting plants and doing... whatever it was Neville got up to when he wasn't tagging along or doing plant stuff. What did Neville get up to? He had no idea, and felt a bit shit about it. They'd never hung out much. When Harry or Hermione weren’t available at Hogwarts, he normally hung about with Seamus and Dean. They were always good for a laugh, and Neville was just off somewhere doing Neville-things.

Now they were both Aurors, and instead of putting Ron and Harry together, Management changed things up and put him with Neville. Figured. They thought Ron wasn't good enough to be Harry's partner, most likely.

He and Neville had nothing to talk about after about five minutes, besides any business that needed seeing to. It was so quiet! This was why he never hung out with Neville. He was sort of boring. He wasn't arguing all the time like Hermione, or being a sarcastic prick like Harry, or laughing it up like Seamus and Dean. He looked over and gave a smile to Ron, a quiet almost apologetic one, then got back to his report. 

In the office it was horrible, but whether it was in sparring or in the field taking on escaped Death Eaters, Ron was quickly impressed with Neville. Others were going out of their way to show off or do stupid shit, but Neville? He was still quiet and unassuming- but he fucking did it. He did everything you were supposed to. He might not be the fastest, he might not be the strongest, but he was the most reliable. Solid, that’s what Neville was— and if not for him, Ron was sure he'd have done so pisspoor in his own scores. 

"Nice work out there today," Ron said, giving Neville a nod and heading to his locker. 

"Just doing my job."

He hadn't just done his job. The two of them had demolished the other teams, thanks to Neville, and were the top pair for the training scenarios each time that day. It continued like this for weeks.

"That was one wicked hit!"  "It was thanks to your shield charm." 

"Well done, mate!"  He'd duck his head and blush. "Same to you." "Naw, mine was shite- but you? Neville that was unbe-fucking-lievable!"

"That was wicked! Ron crowed, squeezing Neville's surprisingly hard bicep. Who knew Neville Longbottom had arms like that? "I can't believe how you nailed that Fitz-bastard to the floor!"

Fitz was a pisspoor Auror and only in their ranks due to Wizengamot nepotism. He was always messing up, showing off, dodging the hard work, and generally making Ron's life a bit of a nightmare.

"Thanks. But it was mostly because of your plan and fast spell work earlier that led to Fitz getting the snot beat out of him before I did that. Now that was wicked."  

After three weeks of it, Ron had little patience.

"For fucksake, Nev!" he bristled in irritation. "Why do you always have to be such a downer? You did well!"

Neville's cheeks colored. "Sorry... I'm not trying to... Sorry."

"Don't apologize! Merlin, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Ron bristled, striping off his shirt and getting ready to shower. He glanced up to see Neville biting his lip, looking unsure of what to do or say. He stayed frozen in place and gave that same apologetic smile he always gave. 

A deep chest rattling sigh left Ron, and he pressed some knuckles into his brow to relieve the tension there. 

"Look... I'm sorry, but just... Neville you've got to stop treating yourself like... like you're not any good. You're great! I'm happy to have you as my partner. More than! You've got to start believing in yourself."

He expected Neville to smile or something, buoyed up by the admittedly lackluster pep-talk.

He looked up and instead saw a thunderous expression. Ron glanced about to see if Fitz was up to something behind him. 

"You're one to talk," Neville quietly muttered, striping his own shirt off and throwing it into the locker.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he bristled, slamming the locker and heading towards the showers.

"What's got your wand in a twist? I said I was sorry," Ron apologized, following him. "Look, I know I'm a real pain to work with sometimes... Okay, probably a lot of the time. I'm a git, but I was just trying to--"

Without warning there was a giant crash as Neville's closed fist hit the metal lockers with such force a few of the unlocked ones popped open.

Despite his closed angry fists Neville let out a chuckle, shaking his head back and forth.

"The fuck, Nev?"  

"You! I just... You're a real piece of work, Weasley." 

Ron squinted at Neville, seeing if there was bruising around his head. Maybe he'd gotten a concussion during the partner duels?

"You're trying to give me a morale boost about self-worth or whatever, and couldn't be more hypocritical if you tried," he mirthlessly laughed. "Do you know how often I try to let you know how great you are?"

Ron stared at him, confused. 

"Every time we get done with some exercise or another you act like I'm the one who did everything, but I'm not. You're great, better than me by a lot, but It doesn't matter what I say! You're always telling me how shit you are, or what a git you are, or acting like you didn't do anything. It's been driving me mad!"

Ron felt his ears begin to turn red. "I don't really do that, do I?" 

"Every damn time."

"Well…” Ron began, his anger back. “Well every damn time I try to tell you how brilliant YOU are I get a rebuff. I try to compliment you and you're all 'Oh no it wasn't me at all. I basically took a shit on the floor as you did everything! Sorry I exist!'"

Neville's cheeks turned pink. The blushing men stared at one another.

"I guess we both have some improvement in the self-confidence department."

"I'd say so..." Ron said with a sheepish grin. He put his hand out. "Let's agree we're both the best partners in the world and leave it there?"

"I'll agree to that," said Neville, firmly grasping his hand.  _______________________________________________________

After their talk Neville began to loosen up. Ron never would have thought he could laugh and shoot the shit with him so easily.

Every time Ron said something sarcastic or went for a laugh, he found himself looking to see if Neville was laughing. Sure it was nice when the rest of the recruits laughed, but getting Neville to? It was more of a challenge, so that made it all the sweeter. 

Neville would sometimes try to keep from smiling, but Ron could see the corners of his lips twitch, or that look in his eyes that made them twinkle with good humor, and that was all he needed.

They'd go for drinks after work and he could make Neville actually curl his head over and laugh so hard he was wheezing and slapping the table. Sometimes Neville would surprise Ron and get him to laugh just as hard.

It was a nice little pattern they had. They'd spend all day together at work then spend the evenings together too, either at a pub, or occasionally hanging out at one another's flats.

They didn't just laugh together.

When Ron got rattled from a nasty spell that behaved a lot like a fucked up nightmare fueled Boggart-Dementor had taken over his brain. He couldn’t see anything but the memories, and felt his knees go out from him. He was left a crying mess as his worst memories from the war tormented him.

“Ron?” he heard a voice cut through the panic. Neville. He was solid and there. He could feel his partner holding him through it. Ron gripped back like his life depended on it. Later when Ron had recovered, Neville’s arm had a series of fingerprint sized bruises on it, but he didn’t flinch or complain.

Later that night as they quietly dressed in their locker room, Ron noticed Neville's build was much like his personality- solid. Like when did Neville start getting so fit? He looked a bit fat, but you hugged him and he was solid as a fucking oak tree. Right under that layer of pudge around his middle was a firm set of abs. His arms weren't flabby at all, and were getting big. His shoulders were broader than he'd realized too, and his bum—

What the fuck?

Ron hadn't been thinking about Neville's bum. He hadn't been thinking about his body and how built he was getting. Well... He was, but purely in a 'very platonically noticing things about a mate' way, and not in a 'some undetermined feeling was making him squirm and need to cover his crotch with a towel before someone noticed he had a hardon' sort of way... 

Nope. He’d put that thought in a deep dark untouchable part of  his brain, and most certainly not think or speak of it ever.

For months he was able to keep those thoughts at bay. Well, kind of. He just made a point of not looking at Neville in the locker room. Or when he leaned down to pick things up. Or when he leaned against the bar in those Auror trousers that left nothing to his imagination-- which didn't help because his imagination had tons of locker room sights to supply it. 

He continued to make Neville laugh. They continued to be the best partners. He continued to appreciate Neville more and more every day.

One night they went to a Muggle club with a few of their mates. Ron was a little bit tipsy, he had to admit. Tipsy enough that he had danced a while, and even done it near Neville. Okay, maybe he was a bit drunk. Neville had laughed and barely moved as Ron energetically bounced to the music, but it had been nice. In the dark he could more openly watch Neville. 

After a particularly robust bunch of dancing, Ron windedly went back to their table to cool off, Neville joining him. Hermione was dancing with Lee and Ginny, while Harry awkwardly moved next to them with so little grace it was almost shocking. 

"How can he be so bloody good at movement with duels and flying,” Ron slurred a bit, “but be so gob-smakingly pathetic at movement the second music is involved?"

“Look. There's a pattern to it," Neville said, conspiratorially leaning close to Ron's ear. Ron nervously swallowed feeling the warm breath against him. "First he does a hip thing, and then come out the thumbs. Watch. He's about to bite his lip and do it!"

Ron watched and sure enough Harry did a strange stilted wiggle of his hips. A horrible overbite took over his face. Wagging his elbows, thumbs began to move about like a broken hitchhiker. 

Ron snorted into his beer. "God, if I ever look that bad dancing, I give you permission to body-bind me."

"Should I do the body bind here, or...?" Neville asked, that cheeky smile on his face that made Ron's pulse quicken.

"We can do it at my place," he replied, giving his partner a shove that made beer almost spill down his front. "I'm spent on loud music anyway. I'd rather spend the evening with you."

"Fair enough," said Neville, paying their tab. They were near enough that they could take one of those Muggle pedi-cabs instead of the stomach churning Knight Bus. Ron had never taken one and was delighted when they did the bell for him.

"You two seem to be having a nice night," the sturdy woman with closely cropped hair laughed.

"I've been out dancing with the best partner in the world," Ron gushed, putting an arm around Neville who contentedly smiled back. "This guy right here. He's my partner!"

"Oh that's nice!" she said with a smile. "Me and my girlfriend love this neighborhood. It's really friendly to that." 

Ron nodded, though he wasn't sure what she meant. 

"He's really strong and muscled."

"Mmm hmm," the woman said with an amused look.

"He's my partner!" Ron needed her to know that.

The ride was too short, and Ron tried to work out the Muggle money, quite the task when he was so tipsy. Neville quickly took over and thanked the pedi-cab cyclist, passing along some bills.

"Let's get you inside, partner," Neville laughed. They didn't have to bother with keys, as Ron's door was warded to his wand. It was a good thing too, as he didn't think he'd be much use with keys at the moment.

Ron threw himself on the sofa, watching Neville get water from the kitchen. Thoughtful as usual, Neville had a glass for Ron as well.

"Drink up so you don't have a hangover."

"I have potions," Ron said with a dismissive hand gesture, but he drank the whole glass anyway. 

"I wanted to make sure you got home alright, but I probably should get going," said Neville, rising from the sofa.

"No, wait, stay a bit longer," Ron said, pulling Neville back to the couch, and this time a whole lot closer than before. Their shoulders were almost touching. 

Neville sighed before saying, "Okay..." 

"Good!" replied Ron, putting an arm around Neville's shoulder. "You're the best!"

He leaned in and kissed Neville's temple. His partner's breath hitched, and it took a moment for Ron to realize why. He let out a nervous laugh.

"Hah... yeah... The best," he repeated, straightening up a bit, but his eyes started trailing over Neville's face. The squint of his eyes, the same blue as the sky right when a storm was brewing. The set of his jaw that was pulsing a bit. The questioning look. The lips that were doing that little smile when he was holding back from laughing or saying something. Ron didn't want him to hold back. He wanted to make Neville laugh and say things, and do things with him, and he couldn't stop looking at that mouth. 

"Ron..." Neville let out, but Ron didn't want to just look anymore. He leaned in and put his lips to Neville's, turning his head just far enough for the kiss to be more than a peck. It was so much more than a peck. It was like being held in that solid embrace of Neville’s. It was like making his partner laugh. It was feeling valued. It was warm and thirst quenching, and Ron moaned.

Neville's body was against his, one of his earth-rough hands slid to hold Ron's side as the kiss deepened. They were opening their mouths and instincts were taking over that Ron didn't even know he had. They enthusiastically snogged until finally they parted, panting, and staring at one another.

"Er... Was that...?" Ron trailed off.

"It was..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

"Cause I..."

"Can we just agree we're the best partners in the world, and now that includes being good at snogging?" Neville asked, putting out a hand.

"I'll agree to that," Ron said, giving the proffered hand a shake before pulling Neville close and snogging him again.

___________________________________________

Two Years later

"This is my partner!" Ron enthusiastically told the pedi-cab cyclist. 

"Hah, yeah-- I remember you!" she laughed.

"Not that kind of partner- a husband-partner!" Ron let her know. 

"I remember that too," she said with a smile.

Ron looked at Neville with confusion. They hadn't been in a pedicab since the night they'd first gotten together. 

"Best partner in the world," Ron said quietly to Neville. 

"So are you," he said with a kiss.

[teamdoubleoh]

Boothroyd was Q’s Grandfather

vaguely (sorry) based on this post by @tamquamm and @spiritofcamelot s request. Also infused is @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin​ s gender fluid merlin, though I didn’t ask If I could use the concept, sorry.

pt. 1/2                                                                                                    wordcount: 3533                                                                                            unbeta:ed (And written by someone who can’t spell for shite in any language.)

Q has heard all about MI6 from his grandfather, Gregory, also known as Major Boothroyd. Bond’s predecessor as 007 used to annoy Boothroyd to no end so when Q meets Bond he finds himself unable to resist making one or three references to his grandfathers work at MI6. The older Minions are in on it, the younger ones think it’s hilarious and Bond thinks Q is very pretty when he smiles so he won’t ask what the hell is going on, as long as it makes Q happy.

TLTR: Q is a Holmes, the Minions treat quotes from Boothroyd like vines, Eve is a genius and Bond is in love. They get drunk, and Bond learns about Q and his family.

(This developed from a 500-word Drabble to a 3.6k monstrosity. Also Q is a Holmes and has a fourth sibling.)

When Bond had first met Q he’d still been unaccustomed to the name Q in reference to the Quartermaster. For as long as he’d been an agent the Quartermaster had been Major Gregory Boothroyd, who had been referred to by most agents as Major Boothroyd.

This had made calling the new Quartermaster Q very easy, and even though Bond liked to let of snarky remarks about Q’s age, he was well aware that Boothroyd would have never appointed anyone as R who wasn’t perfectly fit to take over as Quartermaster at any given time. And yet James had thought that this new Quartermaster would be someone who wasn’t used to the antics of agents or at least the double-oh’s and thus easier to irritate. He was wrong.

At First he had thought it coincidence.

Q had sat next to him in the national gallery, made a comment about the inevitability of time and handed him his equipment. Then, just as he was about to leave, he had reminded Bond to return the equipment in one piece.

There had been something in his eyes Bond couldn’t quite place - but it came close to a look he know from his missions - something in the eyes of someone who had just fooled everyone in a game of poker to go all in, only to reveal a royal flush.

James had dismissed it, had thought he’d interpreted too much into a single look. He should have known better, of course there had been something. Saying these words had meant more to Q than the pride of being the Quartermaster of MI6 could rectify. He had smiled his tight little smile and his eyes had shone with pure mirth.

It had happened again and again; pieces of dialogue between him and Q that seemed to light the Quartermaster up.

Once he had been going over the speed limit while on mission; not an irregular occurrence, sure, but for some reason Q had seemed delighted when he reminded Bond that he had a licence to kill, not to break the traffic laws. Bond had hesitated momentarily and answered that, yes he was aware. The pure satisfaction Q had radiated when he said »Good!« Had been clearly audible over com. So had been R’s snort in the background.

Another time they’d been standing in Q branch and Q had begrudgingly handed James a ›class four grenade‹, whatever that meant. James had been delighted to find that it looked very much like an ordinary pen and made a witty comment about how the pen was mightier than the sword. Q had smiled as he reminded Bond that that was now in fact the case and that James had to thank Q for that. James had smiled flirtily. »Did you just make joke Q?«

Q just shook his head in something that seemed to be a combination of genuine distress and mirth. »I never joke about my work 007.«

At least two senior minions had trouble to stifle their laughs while one of the new ones working nearby just grinned for the remainder of Bond’s stay in Q-Branch.

Since it was common knowledge that basically anything in Q-brach was deadly -  including any and all personnel - many of the A-list Agents and most of the double-oh’s were very careful when it came to touching things. The only double-oh who seemingly forgot this every time he appeared before and after missions was, of course, 007. He had the potentially fatal habit to pick up whatever was in his reach to twirl it around or trow it in the air.

One particular time he’d just put down a poisoned ring when he’d set eyes on a brown paper bag that looked innocent enough to him. When he went to pick it up Q turned around, lightning fast, and pulled the bag from his hands exclaiming loudly, »DON’T TOUCH THAT! That’s my lunch!« to the obvious amusement of everyone in the vicinity.

Whenever James said something remotely illogical, immature or not well thought out, Q immediately quipped »Oh, grow up 007«. After three weeks of this the phrase had become something of an inside joke between the minions and Bond, and even he could appreciate it, even though he didn’t quite understood why it was that funny.  

Bond only figured it out after Eve had invited him to one of her and Q’s monthly movie nights, though there was more drinking than movie watching.

***

They’d met at Q’s flat because it was located more or less exactly between Bond’s and Moneypenny’s. It was cozy and reasonably small, but not cluttered.  The living room was not very lived in, which made sense to James when he considered Q’s working habits, but well furnished.

There was a worn couch that could hold all three of them if they squeezed, as well as an armchair and a wooden coffee table. Next to two bookcases there was a drawer that was probably supposed to hold silverware and tablecloths but the bottom drawer was pulled open and filled to the brim with scraps and bits of old tech.

Much more interesting was what Q had placed on top of the drawer. There were photos. Photos of the Quartermaster, some of him alone with different diplomas, some together with others or groups of people.

To James’ amazement one showed Q standing next to Mycroft Holmes. Bond had been introduced once, by his M, who hadn’t actually mentioned what Holmes did - only that he was basically everyone’s superior and also on speaking terms with the Royal family.

Another picture displayed a black door adorned with golden letters, telling the passing crowd that this was number 221b. In front stood an old lady with two younger men behind her. One of them was Sherlock Holmes, Bonds realised, the genius detective who’d killed himself a few years back. The other, Bond recognised from his army days as one lieutenant John Watson. Next to the old lady there was the Quartermaster, bespectacled and wearing one of his cardigans.

One photo, at least twenty years old, displayed a younger version of M, Olivia Mansfield, next to a stern looking woman in a emerald green gown, that looked like it came straight from the late 19. hundreds, a woman that could only be described as ›motherly‹ and the woman from the picture with the detective.

The most recent picture was probably the one of the royal wedding. Bond remembered reading about it in a paper he’d nicked from a minions desk on his way to the airport. The crown prince Arthur Pendragon had caused a worldwide uproar when he’d announced he was not only bisexual but also planning to wed one Myrdinn Holmes.

The picture that stood in the very front showed a younger version of Q and Major Boothroyd. Q was standing behind Boothroyd’s motorised wheelchair in the old Q-Branch, the one that Silva had blow up, and both were smiling brightly at the camera.

Bond turned to Q who was setting down glasses on a small couch table.

»You and Boothroyd. You were close, weren’t you?« James asked softly.

Q hesitated before stepping next to Bond. He picked up the frame and showed Bond the backside where someone had written ›Q and Q - the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’

James turned to look at Q. He know how the Quartermaster looked, he had spent enough time staring at him when Q wasn’t looking but only now he noticed how similar Q and Boothroyd had been, both in complexion and behaviour.

»He was your grandfather. I’m... sorry for your loss« James stated.

»Who?« Moneypenny asked. She had appeared in the doorway to the small kitchen, holding a bottle of some alcoholic beverage in hand, which she had apparently opened already.

»Boothroyd.« James answered quietly.

Q smiled, the nostalgia in his voice barely concealed »He used to tell me stories about MI6, when I was little. About his work and the agents.«

»Did he tell you about what a great agent I was?« Bond smirked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

»By the time you were a double-oh I was already working for MI6, unofficially I mean. He told me about 007 - your predecessor that is. It was a joke between him and me, you know? The ›grow up 007‹. We would make wagers about how often he could get away with saying it to 007 before he got suspicious.«

Moneypenny snorted a little.

Q smiled his brilliant smile at her, melancholy all but forgotten now. »He told be about you, too. Said you were brilliant. He always wanted to make a bet about how you would be M some day. I never accepted because I knew he was right.«

Moneypenny put her head to one side. »I was still an agent back then…«

Q only shrugged. »He said you were too good to be an agent.«

Moneypenny blushed lightly and smiled happily. »Sounds like he was a good grandfather.«

Bond grinned. »Sounds like he was just like Q.«

Q turned to the coffee table to pour three glasses of what appeared to be Bombay sapphire and gave James and Eve one each. »You’re both right. Now, what movie shall we get drunk to?«

***

Three hours later they were sprawled on top of each other across the seating accommodations.

The only source of light was a small lamp, standing atop the drawer, which emitted a warm, candle like light.

Eve had called dibs on the armchair ages ago, eying Q and James with barely hidden mirth.

After two hours of drinking she’d picked up the framed photo of the royal wedding and waxed about the beauty of the crown princes sister, while Q and James smiled, already too intoxicated to mind the terrible puns and metaphors comparing the duchess’s hair to the night sky and her eyes to stars. In a final motion of grandeur she’d remarked that the lady looked like she could kill anyone, just by staring them down.

After half an hour she’d put the frame back and hadn’t said a thing for at least thirty minutes before exclaiming in a fit of something that Q could only call euphoria, »R is Q’s second in command because R comes after Q in the alphabet!«

Then she’d closed her eyes and started snoring softly.

Q, who had given up trying to keep his distance from James on the tiny couch and instead had now sprawled out on top of the other man like a drunk blanket, had only murmured »Bloody hell« before refraining from saying anything more and staring at the ceiling in silent contemplation instead.

Bond was silent. There was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest that could have been caused by alcohol as much as by the adorable idiot that had chosen him as his mattress and was now studying the ceiling.

Bond turned his head, slowly, as not to disturb Q, to look at the picture of Q and Boothroyd - Q’s grandfather - on the drawer next to the couch.

»Did you know M? Olivia Mansfield?« He asked softly.

Q turned his face towards the drawer too. »Why else would I keep her picture?« His answer had been barely a murmur but the voice was right next to James’s ear.

James snorted softly. »You can’t tell me you know everyone in these Photos Q.«

»You’re adorable.«Q smiled lazily against Bonds chest.

Bonds heartbeat quickened the slightest bit. »Q. You do know there is a photo of Mycroft Holmes on your drawer.«

Q wiggled a bit so he could see the frames without rearranging his vertebrae and frowned slightly. »Why wouldn’t I know Mycroft?«

Bond wanted to shrug, but Q sounded like he was almost asleep. » M - my M - introduced me once. Told me he was her superior. Said he was friends with the Royal family.« He paused for a second, before continuing »She also told me to never, ever, piss him off.«

»She knew you well, huh?«

»S’pose so.«

»Granperé told Mycroft about you too.«

»Boothroyd told Mycroft Holmes about me?«

»’Told him about all agents.« Q corrected.

Bond smiled about the absurdity. »Your Grandfather spied at MI6 for Mycroft Holmes?«

» ’course. So do I« Q slurred, before snuggling closer to James’ chest.

»Why? He’s Mycroft Holmes. ’s not like he needs outside support now, does he?«

»Outside?«

»Y’know, not family.«

»Boothroyd was Mycroft’s family, Bond.«

James chocked on air. »You’re related to Holmes? What, s’ he your uncle?«

»Don’t be daft Bond, I’m not related to a Holmes- «

»Could you stop calling me Bond all the time?«

»If you stop interrupting me I will. I’m not related to a Holmes, I am a Holmes.«

» You’re a Holmes… Mycroft Holmes is your cousin.«

»Brother.«

»…Ah.«

Q found that he was almost asleep, which was a feat in itself, considering where he was currently located.

Then James spoke up again. »That’s how you now the royal family then? Through Mycroft?«

»Why the royal family?«

»You have a picture of the royal wedding framed Q. Although I s’pose keeping a picture of your brother and your former Boss is slightly different from keeping picture of the Pendragon family, even if you were introduced. Hadn’t taken you for a royalist, Dear Quartermaster.«

»My former Boss?«

»M, Q. Olivia Mansfield?«

»Oh yeah. I don’t keep her picture because she w’s my boss.«

» ’Thought you only kept pictures of people you knew.«

»Actually not true. ’only keep pictures of Fam’ly.«

»You’re related to M?« Bond had known M had had children, but not much else.

»My mothers sister. One of the four Ms.« Q giggled like he’d made a formidable joke.

»Your’ aunt’s and mother’s names all start with M?« James asked, a smile on his lips.

» ’course not, James. You know M’s name was Olivia. They all grew up to be M though.«

Q reached out to grab the picture displaying M and what apparently were her sisters but failed.

James picked it up and handed it to Q, who turned so he faced the ceiling again and pointed at M to explain.

»You know Olivia Mansfield, born Holmes, who was called M for her position in MI6.«

He pointed at the woman who James had dubbed ›motherly‹ upon first glance a few hours back. »This is my mother. Her name is Violet Holmes. She kept her last name when she married my father but no one calls her Violet of even Mrs. Holmes. Everyone just calls her Mummy. Mycroft started it when we were kids and it stuck. This is her older sister, Minerva,« Q pointed out the stern looking woman. »She’s Headmistress in a… private school up north… well. And this is Martha, the youngest. She got married too, but Mr. Hudson did some illegal stuff on the other side of the pond and got himself on death trail. Martha asked Sherlock for help, of course. Now she lives in London again. Thus the four Ms; Minerva, Mummy, M and Martha.« Q trailed off.

James picked up the photo of the woman he now knew as Martha Hudson in front of the door and showed it to Q, pointing out the short man standing behind her left shoulder. »John Watson, right? I know him. Used to know him, I mean, in the army.«

»Hasn’t been a Watson in some time though. Goes by John Watson-Holmes now. ’S my brother in law.«

»Mycroft is married?« James asked softly. ›Mycroft is gay?‹ went unsaid.

»He’s married, alright. Not to John mind you, but Lestrade. His first name is Greg, but everyone ’cept Mycroft calls him Lestrade. Gregory Lestrade-Holmes is quite a mouthful, so we collectively decided to go with the easier option.« Q grinned lazily.

James blinked a few times. Now Q had lost him. »’Thought you said John was you brother-in-law?«

»I have more than one sibling, James. John is married to Sherlock, my second brother.«

» Thought I lost you back there for a mo’. How are you related to the Pendragons then? You in line for the throne or s’mthing?« James joked.

Q laughed for a few glorious seconds before catching his breath. » Yes, very funny James.«

»You said you only kept photos of your family Q,« James answered with fake outrage. »And now I have to find out you’re not actually related to Royalty?«

»Don’t be silly James, I know what I said. And technically I am related to them, though only by marriage. Hand me the photo of the wedding and I'll show you.«

James complied happily. »I have to say Q. After the confusion with your brothers I am now genuinely interested how you could possibly complicate this further.«

Q let out a stifled groan. He pointed out the few familiar faces out of the crowd of nobility behind them. While the nobles kept in the back the King stood in the middle of the picture, right behind the happy couple. To Arthurs right there was his sister, smiling happily at her brother, who only had eyes for his husband. »It’s not that bad. Let me show you. This is the king, as I hope you realise. These are his children Morgana also known as Eve’s long-time crush and -.«

»I know you think me a fool Q, but I do recognise the King of the country I have sworn my life to.« James smiled while shaking his head in disbelief.

Q groaned. »Oh shush James. If you’re so knowledgable, why don’t you tell me who these people are and save me the effort, hm?«

James mentally shrugged. There were only four people in Britain who were actually royals at the moment and he knew their names. After all, he had legally died for one of them.

He pointed at each person as he went along. » This is, as you have so graciously explained dear Q, the King, Uther Pendragon, whom I coincidentally happen to have sworn my life too. Then there’s the crown prince, Arthur Pendragon, who I will pledge my life to should I mysteriously manage to outlive the King. This one is the lovely lady who Eve has the undeniable crush on. Huh.« He pulled the framer closer. »She really does look like she could kill me. Name’s Morgana Pendragon, illegitimate daughter to the king. I believe she a duchess but I couldn’t tell you her title if my life depended on it.«

»If it’s any consolation, I don’t know it either.« Q quipped.

James rolled his eyes fondly. »I thought you wanted to save your breath, Q.«

Q only let out a ›tsk‹ noise, so James returned to his explanation. »And that is the crown prince’s husband, of whom I only know because I nicked a newspaper from Q-Branch on my way to the airport. Should both Uther and Arthur die before me I would pledge my life to him too, I suppose.« James mused. »His name is Myrdinn Pendragon. I’m sorry to admit I don’t know his title though.«

»He goes by ›prince consort‹. Now, you see who that is standing in the far left corner, right behind the lady so-and-so?«

»Is that…Mummy?«

»Hm hm. That next to her is my father. If you squint you can even see me, right next to Mummy. I was wearing a suit, you know. Mummy confiscated all my cardigans. To my left there even are two of my siblings and their husbands.« Q seemed genuinely upset about the fact that he hadn’t been able to wear a cardigan to the royal wedding.

»Two of your siblings? You have a sister?«

»Occasionally. They’re gender fluid.« Q frowned up at James, scrunching his nose. »You do know what gender fluidity is?«

»I’m an agent, I know about people. You have another sibling then?«

»’s male that day. Name ’s Merlin. He’s right there.« Q murmured, eyes fallen shut from fatigue.

James brought the picture to his face, trying to make out another figure in the crowd he now recognised as the Holmes’.

As if sensing his confusion Q looked up. »In the middle, James.«

James’ eyes darted back to the middle where the royal family stood.

For a moment it was silent.

»Q« James asked gingerly.

»Hm?« Q’s eyes had fallen shut again.

»Are you telling me your brother is married to the crown prince?«

»Sibling. Yes.«

»…Alright.«

It was quiet for another few seconds.

»Who used to be your favourite?«

»Hm?«

»You said Boothroyd used to tell you about the agents. Who was your favourite?«

»Moneypenny.« Q answered deadpan.

»Awe, you hurt me dear Q.« James put the pile of picture frames on the floor next to the couch, then he wiggled to make himself more comfortable and slung his arms around Q. »Who’s your favourite now?«

»Oh, grow up 007.« Q murmured, face pressed against Bonds chest. For a few seconds he was silent. Then Q spoke up again. »James?«

»Q.«

»Would you mind putting out the light?«

»Not at all. If you could do us all the favour and introduce Eve to your sister-in-law.«

»I’ll invite you both for Christmas at the palace.«

»You are lovely, you know that.«

»So are you. Now shut it.«

[ala-mhinyan]

XI :: Ultracrepidarian

[ Several Months Ago: C’arha is still currently on Hiatus ]

{ TW: Mansplaining / GasLighting; Implications of Sexual Abuse }

Ul’dah was as bustling as it always was, the streets lined with the prospect of coin and carriage; the wealthy casting disgusted glares among common-folk while they bartered and bantered, coin exchanged and value pressed upon another by how silver their tongue ran. The game was one that you couldn’t enter into without gil, a prowess for being underhanded, connections in high places or incredible fucking luck.

C’arha had much of that and much of it in spades.

She had an entirely different outlook and way of carrying herself that she didn’t previously have when she first crawled her way into the city, belly first and starving. No one had paid her any mind. She was nothing but another one of the begging filth from Ala Mhigo--a stain upon not only the economy but the outlook of the pristine and rich lands of the Ul’dahn city states.

Eyes only watched her when she spread her thighs for food.

Where the rest of the sun-dried, fanciful hovel had forgotten her--for she was nothing more than an auburn colored smear in the dirt, she had not forgotten the way the city had treated her. She could see it in each of their faces, how they offered her pleasant smiles and pandered to their wares; prostrating peacocks desperate for the half-gleam of her green eyes to grace their product.

It made her gut twist, the grimace of a woman gone mad with vengeance and rage contorting to the fox-faced smirk of a merchant looking innocently through stalls for that rare ‘something’ she could never find. Their dismay that she would never afford them a second glance lit a fire in her belly that would never, truly, be stomped out and she reveled in knowing that these same men and women that domineered the Sapphire Avenue and swore by their ‘legitimate’ goods, the same who would promise her loans just to get on her feet would be the same who floundered about--squawking for her attention like pigeons waiting to be fed.

Nothing brought her deeper satisfaction than having a gavel to hold and swing at the very heads of the same people that denied her humanity, kindness and love while shouting slurs and pecking at her pride by referring to her people--her blood, as nothing but lowly.

Bastards with their hands out. Strange. Savage.

She had noted every dirty look, every cruel comment, every single one of their cocky, corrupt, filthy faces. She remembered and she remembered well.

That is why a particular stall, a man clothed in fine jewelry--tossing his hands about and making racket to garner attention--caught her eye. Ah, a face she’d remembered. Nothing stopped the clack of heel and the sweep of hips, hellfire in her walk when she curved about the crowd to the front of the pack with an authority that demanded the crowd part for her presence. The pale-skinned jeweler took note of her and her appearance; cracking an easy smirk when the smaller woman lifted her fingers and wriggled them in greeting.

“And you, the green-eyed jewel of the marketplace, may I interest you in some fine filigree to dangle about those beautiful wrists?”

C’arha’s lips curled--but she managed to push it back to a dangerous smirk and not a snarling hiss.

“You maeh.”

“Oh! I know that accent anywhere! You are quite the exotic to have roaming our fair stalls in the daylight!” His voice rose an octave on the tail-end of that statement, forcing the hackles on the woman standing before him to raise. Despite the hidden physical response, she flashed him a pretty smile and said nothing more--pointedly ignoring the whispering of the crowd behind her.

The salesman shifted back to his stall, reaching for and retrieving a golden amulet with a jade center--the chain dangling back and off from the center of his palm. He presented the piece to her, which she took and hummed over gently--interest brightening in her gaze. His reaction to her interest was all she needed, that cat-like grin growing when he noticed her flipping the amulet over in her palm several times and seemed to be pleased with it.

“Oh this, m’darlin’ flower, is an amulet of prosperity that comes directly from yer lands! Pure gold with a jade center, meant to stimulate peace on the person and within the household when maintained easily enough. Matches yer eyes like a dream, darlin’! How about I throw in a discount fer ya?”

C’arha let her sharp gaze flick from the amulet to the man.

“‘Ow much?”

“20 thousand gil! Surely somethin’ comin’ from yer land has more weight and interest to someone like yerself!” The hyur bobbed his head, gesturing with his hands to get the crowd to respond; which they did, nodding along with him. When C’arha did not immediately respond, the man cocked a brow and leaned in--voice dropping in tone and coated in false concern.

“What is it lass…? Can… Can ya not afford it?”

The runt of a Seeker couldn’t help it then--it was too much. She burst out into bright, shrill laughter that danced it’s way down the alley with about as much pompous energy as the salesman trying to sell her absolute dozo shite.

“You must fanceh yoahself an enteahtainah as much as you fanceh yoahself a snake oil salesman.”

The hyur wrinkled his nose, starting to come out of his shocked still notion to hem and haw at her. “What are ya gettin’ at, lass?”

“This shit is about as fake as yoah beahd is, fool. That is what I am getting at.”

The salesman’s eyes sharpened and he tossed his head back, letting out a whoop followed by a soft snort. “Callin’ it fake when ye can’t afford it? Bit cheap of a tactic, don’t ya think? I was even gonna throw in a discount cuz yer so plum pretty--but like this… Maybe not.”

C’arha shrugged, offering the man her same--stilled--unbothered smile. “Do you want me to prove it?”

He curled his lip, venom dripping off his teeth and tongue with each syllable that dribbled out of his foul mouth. “I -implore- you to.”

Shrugging her shoulders, C’arha let out a brief sigh. “Vereh well.” Tossing the amulet into her other hand, she rolled the jewelry between her fingers and then--all at once--crunched down on the metal with her fingers, closing her fist about it. When she opened her hand, the ‘jade’ bit of the amulet was cracked in half and in two pieces--as well as much of the chain having shucked off in… flakes?

The woman turned, showing the sham to the crowd with a tired sigh. “Crystal you painted to look like jade--no jade is cleah on th’inside. And this chain? Gold plated coppah--at best. Caeh to explain yoahself?”

The salesman stood--staring wide eyed at the runt that had just strolled up and ruined his showcase in a matter of moments, in front of a crowd no less! His hands motioned to the rest of his case and he parted his lips to explain himself before C’arha cut him off entirely and with little regard for what he -actually- had to say.

“‘Ow long ‘ave you favoahed yoahself an authentic salesman in th’Exchange? Summahs now, ‘asn’t it been? ‘Ow maneh repeat custoahmahs ‘ave you ‘ad? ‘Ow maneh came to you, screaming of ‘ow you deceived them and yoah long-time clients bailed you out of th’stickeh spot by shouting yoah praises ovah th’truth? ‘Ow maneh times ‘ave you ‘ad yoah balls tickled by th’nobel women whose feet you kiss to keep yoah pitiful shack in business?”

The hyur snarled sharply and took a step toward C’arha, looming over her with hate burning in every ounce of his body. “Now hold on th--”

“Shouldn’t you be paehing moah attention to th’crowd?”

He paused… And brown eyes flicked upward to note the crowd’s reaction. Many were watching the exchange while others were furiously talking amongst themselves--only for the man to notice the looks of disgust and anger they held toward the jeweler more than the little Ala Mhigan that had undone all his hard earned work in a matter of moments.

“N-Now now everyone! Let’s not believe hysteria!”

“But you can’t deny this! She has the proof in her hands!”

“Come now, you would trust the word of an Ala Mhigan over me? Born and bred in Ul’dah’s very heart? What of comradery for your fellow man?!”

C’arha could only laugh once more, shaking her head with glittering amusement in her eyes. “Is that naught who the betrayal often comes from? Yoah ‘fellow man’?”

He was too slow to stop the first rock lobbed at his showcase and the rest? He wouldn’t have dared to step in front of. The motion had been quick and their anger swift; for just an instance later the stall was nothing but a heep on the ground of wood, fake product and rubble. His petrified face watched as the crowd dispersed to other stalls, casting snide glances over their shoulders--his reputation would be ruined to all of the other sellers by sundown. He’d been undone.

His attention snapped to the runt still standing in place, amusement dancing like fire in her eyes--a surly grin marking her face of a huntress that’d just devoured her prey.

“I’ll… I-I’ll ruin ya fer this!”

“With what?”

“I.. I have men--”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have sponsors--!”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have f-friends! I--I have family!”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have protections!!”

“Did you naught saeh you wheah boahn and raised ‘eah? Everehthing in Ul’dah can be bought, bahtahed and sold. Even you.”

His expression crumpled, both hands coming up to catch the hot tears that rolled down his face. What was he going to tell his wife? Their daughter? How would they survive? What was he going to do--what kind of man would he be if they had to be out on the street? Beg? Beg like the rest of them?

C’arha could see his worry, watch the life drain away from him while he steeped in his own truth and she let out another long--tired sigh. “‘Ow about this--I’ll give you a discount, since you wheah so kind to give me one. ‘Ow does that sound?”

He perked up, lifting his face from his hands right as C’arha leaned down to whisper into his ear the truth of his salvation! All he had to do was listen to her, do what she said and he’d find mercy! He’d find--

He’d find--!

“Stahve.”

Honey and poison.

[oh-its-souichi]

Ultra-Violence

Part 2 

Overhaul X Reader

Yo! 

It’s still long, still angsty but this time with a dash of lime

Warning: Abusive relationship, physical abuse, drugging, angst, This gets a little citric but nothing to nuts just a make out sesh. Again grammar might be shite it’s now 0411 and I’m exhausted and... lazy...

When you woke up you were tucked comfortably into your bed. You attempted to look up and around you but found your view blocked by your fluffy white comforter. Internally you argued if it was really worth sitting up to look out and around at the room you knew would be the exact same. Eventually you caved and awkwardly sat up finding your face adjourned with your face mask. You toughed it lightly with your fingertips trying to remember how it had gotten there but you couldn’t remember. In fact you didn’t remember how you had gotten into bed. 

“Your awake darling?” you heard him say having just stepped into your room. 

Oh that’s right

 You remember now 

Faintly you nodded your head yes refusing to meet his gaze, noticing the two cups in his hands. “Yes I just woke up” you said speaking cautiously. He stood motionless at your bed side before running his finger along the surface of your night stand bringing it in front of his face most likely checking for dust. He studied his finger for a moment before lowering it to his satisfied. “You won’t look at me. Why is that?” he said. You hesitated attempting to think of the words you could say to rectify the situation but decided against it opting to sit quietly, your eyes staring dangerously ahead of you. 

He watched your body tense up your mouth staying stubbornly shut. In a matter of seconds you had gone completely cold to him. Deep down he knew why and understood why you were acting the way you were but.. he didn’t like it. You should have known better then to let yourself wallow in dirtiness letting it soil the skin he cared so much for. If you sat in it to long you would have gotten sick. He was only trying to help. “Y/N” he said as a warning his voice warm and kind. 

Everything inside of you wanted to turn to him and give in but you wouldn’t. You would not allow yourself to be treated like that. 

Seconds passed as he waiting impatiently for you to heed to his call but you remained still. He gently set the two cups in his hands down onto your bedside table before he tore your face mask off of your head and latched onto your face, sinking his fingernails into your skin while yanking you closer, your face inches from his mask.

 Your precious E/C eyes widened in fear water forming in them. 

“Where have you manners gone dear?” he seethed gripping onto your jaw a fury that you had never seen before burned in his eyes. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. 

Relentless tears spilled down your face and he could tell you were fighting with heavy sobs that threatened to burst out of your pretty throat. Again you didn’t answer him only staring in silent fear. ‘Worthless’ He thought and shoved you away immediately noticing the red scrape he had left on your face. 

He heart dropped in his chest. 

He ruined you.

 As he looked at you now you seemed like a different person, a shell of the girl he feel madly for at the coffee shop. “I’m sorry” he said plainly cupping his hand against your face. Suddenly you were overtaken by an awful pain before it abruptly stopped and you slumped over exhausted. The aching in your jaw from his powerful grip had ceased. 

Pleased by the absence of the marks on your face, he slipped off his mask and wrapped you in his arms, cradling your weak body. He looked adoringly down at you. 

You looked so pure, ethereal like an angel.

“I had to do it. You need to be clean I can’t risk you becoming… sick” he said resting his forehead on yours. He felt you nod agreeing to his words as he knew you would. A pleased hum left his throat as his eyes caught sight of your plushy pink lips. For some reason he felt the need to kiss them. Never in his life had he craved to feel another human being against him until now. In passing he would notice you pursing your lips or when you sat beside him at his desk you would bite the corner of your lip in thought but out of all of those times he never felt the need to touch you. The thought of being touched disgusted him but now that you were so close... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Abruptly he pushed his lips to yours. Immediately a cool sensation spread across his his face, his body being overtaken by a powerful sense of pleasure that made him deepen the kiss greedily. 

He could feel your pureness and he wanted more. 

Surprised by his actions your eyes flung open a small gasp coming from your lips but you quickly settled finding yourself becoming quickly lost in his touch. You sat up moving yourself into his lap, setting one hand on his face the other on his chest. The two of you moved listlessly together your bodies slotting together like a puzzle piece. He tangled his hand in your hair bringing you so close to him, wanting to feel every bit of your body, before suddenly pulling away. You sighed almost falling back onto your bed when the pressure of his body went away. 

“Take your medicine” He said standing to his feet. Beside you- you saw him reach a gloved hand out snatching up the two cups he had discarded earlier, one filled with water and the other filled with, from what you could see, an impressive amount of pills. You blinked slowly trying to wipe the puzzled look off of your face before he could notice. “What is it dear?” he said in a hushed voice, his eyelid drooping. “Uh- There seems to be more then usual.” you said breathlessly, still trying to recover from the head rush his kiss embrace had given you. 

He hummed sitting back down next to you on the bed, lovingly bringing the cup  to your lips. Under his spell you opened your mouth allowing him to pour the medication in, the bitter taste of the pills burning your tongue. “I’ve added another anxiety medication as well as-” Quickly he pulled the cup away and handed the cup of water to you, his golden eyes watching you drink and swallow. “-another sleep medication to help with your insomnia. I’ve noticed you’ve been waking up throughout the night” He said taking the now empty cup from your hands and setting it on your nightstand. 

You nodded at his words accepting the fact that he knew your sleep schedule despite your room being void of cameras as well as accepting this new diagnosis of ‘Insomnia’ even though you slept soundly, not bothered by the ear splitting screams that floated through the hallways at night. You heard them sometimes but they didn’t bother you.  

You were to busy being blissfully ignorant, you had your own survival to worry about. 

“Good” he said satisfied with your compliance. Slowly he drug his pointer finger along your jawline before connecting his lips again to yours. Under his affection you shuttered, shyly kissing him back. You had longed for his affection for so long, ached to feel his touch dance across your skin. Now that you finally got to experience it, you wanted more. Your desire becoming almost insatiable. 

Your cheeks flushed and out of curiosity you opened your eyes to see is he was as flustered as you felt. Upon opening your eyes you were met with his golden ones staring right back at you. They looked different then normal, they were still cold but as they looked into your half lidded, he seemed more...  relaxed. 

Gently you lifted your arm up to touch him but before you could make contact he pulled away.  “I need to go. We need to have a very important talk in the morning. Sleep well” he said coldly before flicking off your light and exiting the room, your door clicking gently behind him. As he left you clueless in your bedroom he became increasingly aware of the wooziness of his head. Brushing it off as nothing he fastened his mask around his face taking a deep breathe in, savoring the taste of you on his lips. 

[jessiewre]

Day 56

Sat 29th Feb

🧅🧅🧅 Leap Year & Day before the Run 🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏻‍♂️

The room was very, VERY hot. We were sleeping on single beds in different corners of the room and the ceiling rotating fan was only reaching the edges of our beds. I got up early to escape & headed to the roof terrace - and immediately spotted the main attraction! The clouds had cleared for a moment and there was a beautiful view of Kilimanjaro peak. So cool!

I ran down to tell Phil to get up immediately and come see it. He grunted and reluctantly agreed to, so I ran back up where I’d left my stuff...and saw that the cloud had covered it up again. Uh oh...

LUCKILY when Phil appeared 5 minutes later, it popped its lovely head out of the clouds again and Phil was suitably impressed. We sat on the rooftop and ordered breakfast enjoying the view as the sun rose, but there was a problem developing. The heat was increasing very fast and the rooftop was getting really hot. There was a large roof cover so we weren’t getting direct heat, but it felt like the roof was absorbing all the sun and heating up the area into some sort of giant oven. Phil began to sweat profusely and ended up having to leave to shower and cool down before he lost his cool completely. He came back 20 minutes later feeling much better, much cooler, but after 15 minutes he was sweating again.

I was ok though and felt quite happy chilling on the rooftop, so Phil said he’d go for a walk. He wanted to do something, so went to get some bottles of water (literally water and not beer this time wtf right) then came back.

Wasn’t enough to satisfy him though, and he decided to go to an ATM to get our cash sorted. Fine by me! We agreed that we’d go together for the run registration half hour later, once he’d returned, as I wanted to go together plus was going to potentially sign up for the 5km fun run. 
Well, half an hour came and went, and I began to wonder where he’d got to. I hoped he wasn’t stressed looking for a cash point.

Then, an hour later, a very sweaty flappy Phil burst into the room.

‘Am I in deep shit? Are you fuming?!? Oh my god, that was SO annoying!’

I felt sorry for him straight away, but then noticed - he had his race number in his hand.

‘Phil...have you been to register for the race? Why did you go and register without me??’

Phil huffed and puffed a bit before launching into it.

‘Jess, just listen, that was SO annoying cos I walked to find a cash point and then realised I was really close to registration, like 0.8km...’

At which point I interrupted to let him know that 0.8km is not ‘really close’.

‘Jess, shut up, you don’t understand, I tried to go there and there was loads of traffic...’

‘Traffic? So you had to get a tuc tuc there? Makes sense I suppose, considering it wasn’t very close’

‘Jess shut UP it was really stressful, I tried to get online to let you know where I was cos I thought you’d be fuming I’d taken so long, and I couldn’t get online and so rushed back here, and I didn’t even pick up my tshirt’.

I was baffled as to his decision making.

‘Phil. Firstly, WHY did you go to register after we agreed to go together and I specifically said I wanted to go with you to register?? Secondly, why are you talking to me like I’VE done something wrong??’

But by this point, he’d got himself in such a state that we were not able to have a sensible conversation about it. Phil’s way of dealing with how annoyed he was with himself for making shite decisions was to shout at me, a lot (at one point he actually said ‘All you want to do is your blog’ which was a low blow I thought).

So I retreated to the safety of the rooftop where I could hurl abuse of my own at him from a safe distance via WhatsApp. Ahh, you gotta love a whatsapp argument. Phil is typing... oh IS he now.

Well it worked a treat and Phil went all Gary Barlow on me, messaging me along the lines of Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn’t mean it. After admitting he’d been a grade A twat, he skulked up to the rooftop to apologise and started to laugh (the audacity of it), and we agreed to try again and head to the registration TOGETHER. I showed him the definition of the word on dictionary.com to avoid any further confusion.

We walked the (long and not close by) distance to the Keys hotel and oh thank goodness, there were still places available, so I signed up for the 5km ‘fun’ run. I had prepared my happy speech in advance ‘Oh yay, there are spots left, fantastic news, I’m so relieved, I thought they might all be gone by now and that would have been terrible’.

Fun run eh? We’ll see. Other suitable names for it could be the ‘5km Why Try’ or the ‘5km Pain Train’. Look, I KNOW its only 5km but I hadn’t run for ages so felt a little unsure as to how it was going to go.

Phil walked me over to a counter where he had seen a running hat for sale on his first trip there and he wanted to try it on. I managed to convince him that this red monstrosity of a hat looked super duper cool, was not a crime against fashion on every level and was the PERFECT match to accompany his wonderful & sexy running waistcoat. I wasn’t the only one thinking it, the guy selling them couldn’t get rid them quick enough and practically gave it to Phil, offering a 5000Tsh discount for no apparent reason. I know the reason. We all know the reason.*

While Phil was chatting to this guy about running and other boring things to do with running, we were approached by a guy with a camera woman asking if he could do an interview with Phil. I think it was the hat that did it. They obviously thought Wow look at those gullible fools, they’ll do anything. And they were right of course. I lolled while Phil answered a few questions and told them something about London being cold. Then the tables turned and they asked me to answer some question too. I was like No no no, I’m only doing the 5km, I’m not a runner runner like.

But they didn’t seem bothered, asking me too to say my name, how far I was running and how I’d prepared. ‘Well I haven’t prepared’ I said ‘But I’m only doing the 5km so I think I’ll survive!’.

I then could not for the life of me get ‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Estefan out of my head.

Enos the interviewer took our number and said he’d send us a link when it went live. Sure mate, course you will - I fully expected to never hear from him again.

We left to go find some lunch and asked our tuc tuc driver to take us to the Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge. But he was utterly clueless and we pulled up outside a completely different cafe called Union Cafe. Handily though, it was really close to our hotel so we thought Screw it, Union cafe it is then. It was pretty good, had a nice bagel with cheese, tomato and avocado plus a Mediterranean platter - houmous, pitta and two minuscule bowls of other dips.

My ice coffee shake was like pure syrup though and despite the first sip tasting delicious, by the end of it, it was positively nauseating. It was all a bit expensive too.

Back to the hotel where we watched the Crown with a Safari beer (so many great beer names here) and tried to take it easy ahead of tomorrow’s race. Loads of last minute sponsors came flying it which was really nice and gave us a much appreciated boost of support. They’d probably heard the news about my 5km run and thought I was a legend.

Out of pure laziness, we wandered round the corner back to Union Cafe to grab a takeaway pizza but decided to sit there instead when we saw there were tables available. As we sat there, Phil suddenly looked behind me and said ‘Jess...is that...is that a cricket on that mans shoulder??’.

Sure enough a huge locust was just sat on this guys shoulder, like it was his pet, joining him for dinner. I was fairly certain it was not his pet and it looked hilarious sat there like his pal. I got the mans attention and said ‘Excuse me, you have a cricket on your shoulder’. He stared at me with confusion and when he eventually realised what I was saying, he started to do a shimmy shake with his shoulders leaning over his table in a panic to try and get his mate to flick the cricket off him 😂😂😂. His mate finally got it and the man tried to look all calm as he casually turned to us and said ‘Thank you’ through a forced smile.

We enjoyed this incident very much.

The chips and Greek salad were ok but the pizza was rubbisssshhhh. The pizza looked like it had been sat for ages, like it had been cooked twice. Being the feminist that I am (aren’t we all?) I used a ring of onion to mock propose to Phil (ITS A LEAP YEAR Y’ALL) and he said yes! But please, don’t get excited guys, it was a piece of onion yeah 🧅. We took the carbs and headed back our crazy hotttt room. We got all our running gear ready, though I had my doubts about wearing running leggings in the heat, then did a bit of bed shifting to catch the fan breeze a bit more. We’d learnt from the night before and both put ear plugs in to drown out the crazy loud road noises before attempting sleep.

*Look Phil, I was kidding about the hat. I thought it would be funny to diss it on the blog and I actually think its a wonderful and very fantastic practical addition to your running kit. Please wear it with pride and enjoy the shade it gives you. I certainly will.

[melissagt]

Find the Word Tag Game

I was tagged by @greencrusader13​ - thank you!

Rules: find the four words in your writing, and then pick four more that other people need to find in theirs. I’m going to do both of these here in this post.

I’m tagging: @tishinada​ and @cinlat​

Greencrusader13′s Words: beacon, light, child, and fortune

My Words: rich, articulate, pierce, regret

Beacon

(From “The Mystic’s Dream”) “I watched as the phoenix rose once again from the ashes of conflict,” he continued, almost in a chant, his voice rising along with the impact of his words. “I watched as it brought with it a promise of new life, and a new beginning…a shining beacon for all…even you, Sith.” Valen-Da narrowed his gaze at the much taller man, and despite the height difference, somehow managed to appear even taller, so much so that Raz felt Scourge hesitate beside her. “And finally, I watched as it was chased straight out of the void by the fires of that same dragon.”

Light (gl, this one is everywhere...even in my smut apparently...I’ll just pick a few significant ones)

(From “Not Afraid Anymore”) Nox had always had strong feelings regarding the topic of personal choices and beliefs. She carried them with her from her old life, having lived under the yoke of another's control for so long. During that more-than-dark part of her life, she'd been forced to say and do things that had left many scars, both mentally and physically. The idea that a weak-minded Sith would needlessly strike down an ally simply for having inclinations toward the Light side served to incite her rage. The entire concept of being Sith was to break chains, not forge new ones, and that meant interpreting the Code however one saw fit. Her eyes narrowed in barely-contained anger, and she laid her palms flat on the table for support. “I don't care if a Sith is as pure as new-fallen snow, so long as their intentions align with the advancement of the Empire.”

She saw a man clad in brilliant white and gold, the light reflecting off of his flawless armor almost searing into her vision. The majority of his face was covered in an expressionless mask, save for a single eye turned on her, a golden eye wreathed in flame that was so piercing it felt like he could see straight through to her very being. She held up a hand to shield herself from the blinding light, but she couldn't escape him.

And the one thing he should have hated himself for, questioning his loyalty, he found that he didn't really give a womp rat's ass about. He would keep on with his life, going through the motions because that was what he was supposed to do. He was born in the Republic, that was who he would fight for. But he couldn't forget what she'd shown him. It had been a wake-up call, of sorts. That the only thing separating them in this war was geography. It wasn't a battle between good and evil, Light and Dark. It was a war over power, money, and greed...on all sides. Maybe that was the one good thing he'd taken away from his heartache, that his eyes were now open. But what good was it, if he couldn't do anything about it? He'd have been branded a traitor if anybody were to find out. It was bad enough that people treated him like a freak for banging a Sith, those who knew about it. And by that point, word had gotten around.

The blunt and surprisingly honest answer was that no, he couldn't make himself hate him, now that he had a story to go with the scarred face. He did have to admit to himself, though, that perhaps he was just a bit envious, and it wasn't because he had Nox...well not entirely. He'd seen the man's military record. Complete-And-Total-Poster-Boy-For-The-Republic. They could have used his picture for recruitment ads, and even then they'd screwed him over. His father had given him the behind-the-scenes insight that was never supposed to have seen the light of day. A cover-up. Captain Thompson had lost his entire squadron to an attack in neutral space after the Treaty had been signed, and his own government, the one he'd given his life over to, had done nothing. It shouldn't have been a surprise that he had walked away.

He watched the yellowish light of the hangar glint upon the blade as it spun and danced through the man’s large fingers. He was surprisingly quick with it, despite the ham hands. Andronikos supposed that he had to be. Blaster rifles couldn’t be carried everywhere, and that night was one of those occasions. A night out on the town meant no armor, and no open weapons. Well, at least not for them. Lightsabers were another thing entirely, and there was no way he wanted to be the bouncer who would dare try to part a Sith from her life-line.

“Ugh, ffffuck…” he groaned, blinking his eyes against the overly bright light shining through the shattered cockpit windows. A gust of icy air hit his face, making him shiver against the restraints of his flight harness, and each ragged puff of breath he managed to push out of his lungs could be seen for a brief moment before disappearing into the frigid atmosphere around him. Delicate flakes of snow had already begun to waft and drift into the cabin, giving every flat surface he could see a fine coating of sparkling white powder.

A light drizzle had begun to fall, fine mist-like droplets that clung to every surface like dew. It weighed down her hair, dampened their skin to a sticky sheen, and turned the world around them into a hazy, glowing symphony of color. Pinks…blues…greens…yellows…they all flashed and swum before them with a sense of choreography, almost dancing.

Nox couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as it stopped, she was back on the duracrete, welcoming the steely touch of the cold, wet ground against the pads of her feet. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering against the light breeze that had cropped up as she waited impatiently for Nik to climb out of the cab after her. And of course, that didn’t happen. Some muffled Huttese floated through the air, words she couldn’t be brought to care enough about to listen to, followed by the sharp sound of the two men sharing a laugh over something that was apparently the funniest thing ever.

(From “Thunderstruck”) The shroud wrapped around her head, leaving only her green eyes exposed. But they weren’t just green, he noticed, and not for the first time. As the light caught them, it was like looking into a pool in the ocean, one where the water was so clear you could see bits of the sun shining through it, almost dancing in the current. And when she turned away, the smile he knew she still wore reaching even those calculating emerald depths, he was left wanting more. So much more. Anything. Everything.

(From “The Mystic’s Dream”) The Mystic’s words echoed throughout the darkened chamber with a ring of finality that felt like a weight pulling at her ankles…one that tugged her forcibly away from the setting sun as it flickered above the surface of a shimmering pool of water. Away from the light, and away from the last shreds of hope she’d held close to her heart. She couldn’t breathe, and the bit of air still in her lungs escaped through a silent sigh of defeat.

“I would give anything to be able to taste you…if only once…wo’mielis ja’ti.” Hot breaths tickled at her neck, replaced with the light threat of teeth, tempting her in the worst of ways. She had no idea what that last bit meant, and frankly, she really didn't care. It sounded pretty, there was that, but her mind was quickly losing focus to something much more important. Lips. A pointed tongue. More teeth, all working together, blazing a path back up to her mouth. And despite any awkwardness, her body was starting to respond. It didn't care either.

(From “Petrichor”) She cast her gaze about for the long-forgotten robe she'd tossed somewhere when Scourge had thrown her onto the giant four-poster several hours earlier. There was just enough light left locate it, flung over a chair in a corner, as well as a pair of underwear that were thankfully still intact. She really had to teach that large red Sith of hers that they came off and didn't need to be ripped off. Once in a while was fine...hot even, but he'd shredded his way through at least five pair so far. And some pants. And some shirts. Then there was the broken settee in the far corner of the room. And the headboard that belonged to the elaborately carved wooden bed frame. If they'd been renting, they most certainly would not have gotten their deposit back. The Commander and Theron were going to be so pissed.

Child

(From “Not Afraid Anymore”) “I have…known the love a father feels for a daughter.” The sound of his synthesized voice startled her out of her reverie, and she paused for a moment before continuing with their leisurely stroll. With no expression to read, and any trickle of emotion through the Force kept tightly under wraps, Nox could only rely on the inflection of his voice. “And I feel the same pride a father feels when he sees that daughter exceed even his best expectations.” He stopped, turning towards her. “You have overcome much since I found you wandering the streets of Kaas City, a child starving and afraid. You have become all that a Sith should strive to be – powerful, determined, loyal…you refuse to involve yourself in the petty squabbles and posturing that only serve to hinder us all, and you are willing to do what needs to be done for the betterment of the Empire as a whole.”

He pulled her head away from his shoulder so that he could look at her face, which consequently, prompted her to try and get away in order to hide herself again. Like a frighted child. She was thoroughly embarrassed...ashamed of herself for losing her shite, and even angrier at herself for allowing these emotions to get the better of her. What kind of leader of the Empire could she ever hope to be, blubbering around like a spineless fool over...love?

Theron was not in the mood to deal with having to defend his actions - it seemed like that was all he'd been doing lately. He could picture it, he probably looked a lot like a pouting child right at that moment, sitting there with his shoulders hunched, his jaw set in defiance as he glared at the wall across from him.  A lot like a kid who'd gotten caught getting into fights at school. Hilarious.

(From “Petrichor”) “No...no thanks, Toovee.” Raz trotted down the stairs, one creak at a time, and when she reached the bottom, she leaned forward until she could see around the corner into the kitchen, half-expecting to find Scourge sitting at the counter, getting into Theron's cereal again. Really, who would have thought that the Big Bad Sith had a thing for kiddie cereal? It came as no surprise that her thirty-five year old man-child of a best friend did, but surely one so depraved and evil as the former Emperor's Wrath had to eat small puppies or something for breakfast, or an evening snack.

Fortune

(From “Not Afraid Anymore”) “I do hope you plan on buying me something nice with your vast fortune of winnings, my darling,” she teased, pulling herself to her feet. She let her accent roll the last word off of her tongue, knowing just how much he loved to hate any sort of pet name she gave him. 

[theycallmemoosey]

Friday

Phil x Reader 

A/N: Morning, Peeps! Here is another request I have completed for the wonderful @tomesandrosebud. I’m not sure how I feel about how this one turned out and I feel like it’s a little bit shite, but my writer's block is worse than ever and something is way better than nothing. Please keep the requests coming as I have literally no ideas of my own! Moose :)

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

“Hey, thank you for coming. Please come in” Dan welcomed you, stepping to the side of the front door, letting you into his apartment.

“No worries at all. Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N” 

“Dan. So how do you know Mary?” He asked, leading you to his bedroom where the piano was. 

“I’m a student of hers as well. I’ve known her since I was 19 years old after I moved to England and she’s been my piano teacher since. I’m honoured she’s recommended me actually” 

“Oh, I thought you weren’t from here. I’m assuming you’re from America?” 

You chuckled, “Did the accent give it away? Yeah, I’m American. I had to move here after some family issues. It's not all bad over here” 

“Well, you have your work cut out now. I’m not very fancy” 

“That’s not an issue” you laughed, “We all start somewhere. Oh gosh, this is gorgeous. Where did you get it?” 

“Antique shop. It does the job” he shrugged, remembering finding the piano in the local antique shop near his parents. 

“So how did you get on with Mary?” You asked, taking a seat in the chair Dan had set up next to the piano stool. 

“Well, we were working on this piece here” he replied, getting a piece of sheet music from behind the stack. 

“Oh! Comptine d`un autre été! This was the first piece I did with Mary”

“It’s a lovely piece…I get the melody but I am struggling with the rhythm” 

“No worries, that’s what everyone struggles with on this piece. Let’s start then. Just play it how you usually would and I’ll help you along the way” 

The two of you continued to laugh and play - Dan was surprisingly good at the piano, and he was clearly more advanced than you first anticipated. Your hour soon came to an end, and Dan was just showing you out the door when it opened suddenly, making you jump. 

“Oh my - I am so sorry” you laughed, placing your hand on your heart. 

“It was my fault, I’m really sorry” Phil laughed, shuffling past you into the hallway, “I’m Phil, by the way. Dan’s roommate”

“I’m Y/N, Dan’s new piano teacher” you smiled, feeling yourself blush slightly at his bright smile. 

“Lovely to meet you” 

“Yes. You too” you smiled back, the two of you staring at each other contently for a minute, making Dan feel very awkward. 

Dan cleared his throat, “Well, I will see you next week then Y/N?” 

“Yes! Yes. See you next week, Dan. See you Phil” you waved, quickly rushing out of the door. 

“Wow. She’s a bit different to Mary, isn’t she Dan?” Phil asked, still staring at the door. 

“She’s insane. She’s younger than me, so talented and she is nothing like evil Bloody Mary“

“And she comes every week?” 

“Every Friday at 10” 

“She’s so pretty,” Phil said, clearly not have recognising that he said it out loud. 

“What?” Dan laughed, looking at Phil quizzically. 

“Did I just say that out loud?” 

Dan just laughed and walked away to continue editing the latest gaming channel video. 

You returned each Friday for your weekly piano session with Dan, teaching him new techniques and pieces and really helping him improve and each week, Phil would always manage to find a way to speak to you, even if it was only a quick hello. 

“Well done today, Dan. You are really improving…so much so that you may even be better than me by the end of the year” 

“That’s impossible” you heard a voice behind you, “No one is better than you” 

You turned around to find Phil, who quickly broke eye contact with you and awkwardly coughed, “At piano. You’re amazing at piano. No one is better at piano than you.”

You laughed awkwardly, “Thank you, Phil…that’s very sweet of you” 

You walked past him and head towards the door, Dan following behind you but stopped to slap Phil behind the head. 

“Absolutely pathetic, you know that? Ask her if she wants to stay for coffee or something” 

“Was it really that bad?” 

“Dude, you came across as a weird, creepy, old man, stalker! ‘No one is better than you’?  Really? Go on, ask her out like a normal person” 

“I recovered” Phil mumbled as he headed towards the front door where you were collecting your coat.

“Recovered” Dan scoffed, shaking his head as he followed. 

“Y/N!” Phil called to you as you were doing your shoe lace up. 

“What’s up, Phil?” You smiled. 

“I - We…we were wondering if you would like to stay for a coffee?” 

“Oh, I would absolutely love to but unfortunately I have another lesson. I get to go and teach this lovely little boy called James. Reminds me a lot of Dan actually” you laughed, pulling your bag up your shoulder. 

“Dan’s middle name is James” Phil blurted out, not entirely sure why he shared that information. 

“That’s…great” you nodded, smiling politely as Phil awkwardly stood in front of you, “well, I should get going now” 

“Oh! Oh of course, yes. Sorry. I’ll move” 

“Thanks. Good work today, Dan and I’ll see you two next week” you waved, springing down the steps of their apartment block to the front door. 

“Bye Y/N!” Dan shouted, looking at Phil and singling that they should go after you. 

“What do I say?” Phil hissed, cautious that he may be too late.

“Just ask her out for god sake! GO!” Dan pushed him out the front door, and Phil rushed down the stairs to find you. 

“Y/N!” 

Turning around, you saw Phil burst through the front door of his apartment block, “Hey Phil”

“Listen, I um…I was wondering if…” 

“Yes?” You urged him on, sensing that he was struggling to get the words out. 

“If you would like to…go out with me sometime?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Sure. Hows Friday at 8? We could go to the bar down the street from here.”

“Amazing. Yes. Thank you” Phil smiled, nodding furiously.

“Okay” you chuckled, “I’ll see you Friday”

Phil waved as you walked towards your car, “Friday”

—————————————— 

“Woah, looks at you. Someone’s fancy” Dan whistled as he walked into Phil’s room. 

“Am I overdressed?” 

“You sound panicked” Dan laughed, “Where are you going?” 

“The bar down the road” 

“Then yes. A bit overdressed. Lose the tie. And the suit jacket. And the white shirt.” 

“You want me to get changed completely, Dan?” 

“Go and shower, your hair is greasy. I’ll get an outfit together for you” 

Phil scoffed, “How would you know what would impress Y/N?” 

“Surprisingly, she’s my friend. I know I don’t have a lot of those, but Y/N is actually one of them. Go” Dan shoved him out the room, before heading towards the wardrobe. 

Dan went through the entirety of Phil’s wardrobe as he was in the shower, cringing at some of the items he pulled out the drawers. Eventually, he settles on a pair of black, ripped jeans with a dark blue, flannel shirt.

“What did you pick out for me, mum?” Phil asked, walking into his bedroom with a towel around his waist. 

“Ha. Ha. I picked out something simple, but not too casual”

Phil inspected the clothes laid out on his bed, nodding in silent agreement. Dan took this as his approval and took a deep breath. 

“Well, I’m going to edit a video. Be back by midnight and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” 

“So I shouldn’t leave the house” 

Dan paused, gasping as he clutched his chest, “Ouch, Phillip Lester. That hurt”

“Get out, I need to get dressed” Phil laughed, chucking a pair of socks at his head.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He surrendered, laughing as he left the room.

————————————

Phil bounced his knee in anticipation, his eyes fixed on the door in fear that you would never turn up. To his relief, you eventually turned up. He thought you looked beautiful in your blue jeans and an off the shoulder chiffon blouse, your hair slightly wet from the rain outside. 

“Y/N!” He called over to you over the noise fo the bar, noticing you look around the bar for him. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My last lesson over-ran slightly” you apologised, placing your bag at your feet as you sat down on the bar stool next to Phil. 

“It’s ok. What can I get you to drink?”

“Peach Bellini Mocktail please,” you asked the bartender, who nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

“No alcohol?” Phil questioned, taking a drink from his G&T. 

“Oh, no. I don’t drink” 

“Can I ask why?” 

“I don’t think you want to hear about that this early on” you laughed nervously, smiling at the bartender in thanks as he handed you your drink.

“I can handle it” 

You sighed, taking a sip from your drink before setting it down and looking at Phil, “My parents were very, very fond of alcohol. They would drink pure alcohol if they could. Anything with alcohol in, they would drink it. Which, in turn, made them quite violent…” 

“Is that why you moved over here when you were younger?” 

“How did you-“ 

“Dan. He said you moved from America when you were 19” 

“Yeah, I…I had to. I was so sick of being treated so badly by the only two people in my life that I had to leave. I had tried to move in with my friends and even move states, but I was too close to my parents. I had to get off the grid completely so…London it was”

“That’s insane. All by yourself?” 

“All by myself” you nodded, smiling contently. 

“That’s so brave. You’ve done so well for yourself” ‘

“Well,” you laughed, “I certainly like to think so” 

“I do” Phil smiled, looking at you sympathetically for a moment before quickly reverting his attention back to his drink, “Let’s change the subject…” 

“Yes, let’s. I would be nice to know the basics before we delve back into the deep stuff” 

Phil laughed, “I agree” 

The two of you talked and laughed into the night, being some of the only few left in the bar at 11:30. You had learnt about Phil’s career and how he met with Dan, and how he came out as bi-sexual, whereas he learnt about your love for the piano and your time in America and your struggles with your parents. 

When you finally realised the time, you gasped, “We’ve been here ages!”

Phil looked at his phone and laughed, “seems we have”

“I should really be getting back but I really don’t want to go. This is the most fun I’ve had in years!” 

“We could do this again next week?” 

You giggled and nodded your head, “Sounds good”

“Could I get your number? Just so we can decide what to do? I hear there’s a fair in town next week?” 

“Sounds good” you said, handing him your phone. 

“Great. I’ll see you next week” He smiled, kissing your cheek as you both left the bar. 

“Friday” you repeated, embracing him before heading off towards your car, waving as you pulled out the car park. 

Phil took a deep breath, smiling widely as he turned around and headed back to the apartment, his hands deep in his coat pockets to protect them from the cold, a single word replaying in his head as he thought about the night he had with you. 

“Friday”

[ladyramora]

Shock

Ramora watched as Zenos’ body crumpled to the ground after calling her his only friend, his fall almost graceful, her hands and face speckled with her blood as the warriors held their breaths in anticipation.

Lolz was the only one who saw the despair and horror in her expression before quickly running over and checking for any sign of a pulse, not that there was much of a chance of that. The maniac had slit his own throat, for Gods sakes! But she did it anyway. She had to be sure.

She checked his wrist and a part of his neck that was still intact and checked the aether around her. As she heard Alphinaud and the others come up to see what happened.

Lolz bit back a curse as she let go of his wrist and neck, her hands shaking a bit from the blood that had gotten on them from that simple act. 

She stood up and looked to the others, doing her best not to look her shaken friend in the eye as she announced, in a tone that was as steady and even as she could make it that, “He’s dead.”

The others cheered and danced, Lyse seemed disgusted at the sight of him as Alphinaud congratulated them and told them that they should come down and share the news with everyone else, let the people know that another bloody royal had been slayed.

Ramora simply stood and stared at Lolz, who walked over to her, her eyes glued to the ground as she passed, grabbing the corner of her sleeve, “I’m sorry, Rammy.” She said in a voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear before she pulled her away from the body laying in a bed of flowers that were slowly being dyed red with blood. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Ramora said, her eyes welling with tears. 

Lolz said nothing and simply continued to pull her towards their friends and allies, neither of them saying a word while Alphinaud made the announcement. It wasn’t until Alphinaud finally realized the looks on their faces when Lolz finally opened her mouth to speak again, “I’ll explain later. But for now, we need a medic and a bed for her. I’d finish healing her, but my mana is so low that I’m surprised I’m not face down on the ground.”

He nodded and led the two to a medical tent and they left her there so Lolz could report what happened to the Alliance leaders.

Ramora sat down on the side of a bed while medics tended to minor wounds up and down her body. Her eyes widening slightly at them, as she hadn’t noticed them until they were being treated, and even so, she felt so numb that she welcomed the sudden pain to get her mind off of things.

“Don’t worry, Miss, your friend will be back to rest as well after she gives a report on the battle!” One healer told her.

Ramora nodded stiffly and sat there with her eyes clouded in pain and confusion.

In all her wildest and most insane dreams, watching Zenos kill himself was not anywhere near close to the ways she saw that fight ending.

—

Lolz sat in front of the Alliance Leaders, her eyes dull and the blood on her hands making them itch like crazy.

She had just told them about the long speech Zenos had given, the melding with the monster and had just finished going over what happened during the fight. 

Now she was going to have to tell them what really killed Zenos.

“So, wait.” the General said as he leaned in closer to her, his hand resting on his thigh, “You’re telling us that the separation from that blasted creature AND falling from that height didn’t kill him?!”

“It did not.” She confirmed, her voice tired and her head aching from low mana and feeling as if she was ready to collapse at any moment.

“But there were no signs of further battle on the ground in that garden.” Alphinaud chimed in.

“No, we didn’t fight him there. He started laughing, said good bye to Ramora, calling her his ‘only friend’ in the process, and…” she sucked in a breath, struggling to keep her voice even as the moment he slid his blade across his skin flashed through her mind. She’d seen many deaths on the battle field and in every day life, but watching someone end their lives in front of her like that was something she never had seen before and hoped to never see again.

“He… he cut his own throat.” She choked out. Unable to look at them, “T-that’s how he died. I checked the body myself, no one could survive a cut that deep and long and survive, but… but I had to be sure…" 

"Of course you did!” The Admiral said, “Better to be sure that bloody bastard was dead then risk him faking it and getting back up again to soak the sands with blood!”

Lolz nodded, her mouth clamped shut. She had kept Ramora’s many rendezvous with Zenos a secret, despite Asahi finding out about Zenos meeting up with her and Lolz’s feeding them, she’d always made food for Ramora after she’d had a guest, so it wasn’t really even something people saw as strange. she often made three servings when she’d do that. And Zenos and Ramora had been careful about not getting caught in public too much doing anything but challenging each other to fights or fighting.

But she couldn’t risk letting them know that those little sleepovers happened and that she’d known and never done anything about them. The two of them were Warriors of Light, they weren’t supposed to do things like that.

“Is that why Lady Ramora seemed out of it?” The Sultana asked.

Lolz nodded, being careful with her words as she spoke, “Being called his friend after all that… and watching him end his own life so eagerly…” She felt her body quake a bit at the memory of his smiling face before he sliced through his own neck.

“Is that why you requested her to go into the medical tent?” Aymeric asked, “You wanted to be sure she didn’t have to tell us about this? To relive it?”

She nodded, “And I wasn’t lying about running low on mana.” she added.

Lyse gave her a sympathetic look and a nod, “I can only imagine how many wounds you had to heal, even with such skilled warriors beside you.”

“It wa-” Lolz’s tried to say as her exhaustion finally overwhelmed her,  her body leaning forward towards the ground before Thancred grabbed her by the back of her dress and the Elder Seedseer got up to check on her.

Lolz was out like a light, a few minor wounds starting to bleed freely once more due to the sudden movement. The Kind Au Ra carefully healing the wounds before insisting that Thancred take her to a medical tent to be properly watched over as she slept.

The General gave a shake of his head, his eyes soft at the tired midlander as Thancred tossed her over his shoulder and began walking to the medical tent, “Those two certainly took a beating.”

“Physically or Mentally?” The Sultana asked.

“Both.” He replied, “Maybe more. Gods know how Ramora feels after being called a friend by that bloody demon…”

—

It took a while before Ramora began to recover from that day, mentally and psychologically. The others were all worried, but they all did their best to cheer her up, Alphinaud even telling her that she could come into his room whenever she felt like talking (even though his requests for her not to had never stopped her from doing that before). 

Even so, Lolz was glad that she finally seemed to be acting like her old self, even if it was just a little bit. She had managed to get a date home and Lolz had a basket of goodies to bring for them to eat that morning. 

She was on her way there when a familiar, annoying voice grated her ears, “Well, if it isn’t the pink wench.”

Lolz stiffened, her jaw set in an expression of pure rage.

Oh HELLS no was this little shite bag going to make Ramora upset when she just started feeling better!

“For the love of the FUCKING GODS.” She growled, making him stop pulling his sword and stare at her as she stomped up to him, her face pulled in fury, “Zenos isn’t here, he’s dead. What in the bloody hells will get it through your thick skull for you to realize that-”

“My lord isn’t dead.” Asahi said, confused.

Lolz froze mid rant for a moment before squeaking, “Say what?”

“My lord isn’t dead.” He repeated, still confused.

“Yes, he is. He slit his throat with his own damn sword, I saw him do it and I checked his body after he nearly cut his own bloody head off.” Lolz snarled, stunned at his GALL to lie right to her face… only for her to suddenly see Asahi walk into a room that smelled of antiseptic and medical herbs and see Zenos, sitting tall with a bandage around his neck.

“But… but that’s impossible…” she said softly in disbelief, “I-I saw him die…”

“I have no idea what you are talking about…” Asahi said, putting his sword back all the way into it’s sheathe, “But I think I shall come back when your mental facilities are fully recovered.”

Lolz said nothing, her mind reeling at this news. So Asahi quickly snuck away without another word. 

Lolz stood there for who knows how long until she finally shook off the shock and decided that she’d see for herself if he was still in his coffin, and if not, she’d raise the alarm with the scions.

She turned to leave, only for her to remember that she had food for Ramora and her date. She bit her lip, looking from her new direction and the direction towards her friend’s house before groaning and running to her friend’s house, knocking on the door and leaving the basket before teleporting to Ala Mhigo, determined to find out for sure.

—

Lolz felt as if she was going to throw up as she looked at the empty coffin where the Prince of Garlemald’s body was supposed to be.

This couldn’t be happening! She’d checked the body right after he cut his throat, he was DEAD! The General even had other healers, INCLUDING THE ELDER SEEDSEER OF ALL BLOODY PEOPLE, check to make sure he was dead! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!

So… where was his body and why did her Echo show him alive and well with a bandage around his neck?

“What does all of this mean?” she whispered to herself as she threaded her fingers through her hair and tried to massage her throbbing head in an attempt to ward of the headache that was brewing as she tried to figure this out.

Bodies. Death. Enemies…

She paused, recalling that she had more than just the Garleans as enemies… She also had the Ascians. 

She closed her eyes, recalling the memory of Zenos her Echo had knicked from Asahi. She had spent plenty of time with him and Ramora whenever she’d feed them the day after their fun, so she compared the Zenos she knew with the Zenos from Asahi’s memory.

After a few moments, she sighed. The mannerisms weren’t right, they were close to how he acted and spoke, but they just missed the mark. Then again, she doubted any of the other people in the empire had spent as much time with Zenos as she and Ramora had, so they probably wouldn’t know the difference. 

Great. The assholes trying to take over the world had an Ascian parading around in their future king’s body. 

Gross…

But at least only his body was running around, surely she could…

“Are you looking for something, Lalafell?”

Lolz scowled and turned, “I am not a…” she froze.

The Elezen before her was taller than any other one she’d ever seen, beefer too, with several swords strapped to his hips. He had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a similar, bloodthirsty look in his eyes and the lack of warmth in his smile…

She’d know that bloody cold grin anywhere…

“Zenis?" 

(submitted by @lolzwaitwhat )

[imagine-a-killingharmony]

Favorite V3 Cast with S/O turning into a violent Scottish Woman!

How would your favorite V3 characters react to fair s/o being a foul mouthed violent Scottish woman?

I can assume that you wish for a Female S/O with this... and considering you said favorite in the V3 Cast? I’ll just add my two favorite girls and two favorite boys! Because I’m not gonna be entirely lazy... And then I can also assume you mean this by, making the S/O seem fair but get angry when violent? Sorry if I’m off.

[Spoilers: Kiibo’s my favorite V3 and character overall, Shuichi coming in as my second favorite boy but I’m too in love with Shuichi’s sprites to not be a Mod about him... And my favorite V3 girls would be Himiko and Tenko...! Aha... you can see from the backround, from this blog can’t you?]

Also for some odd reason this gives me the vibes of that new Pokémon trainer girl, with all the memes that are being spread about her... Y’know the one, right? Or is that me... I mostly based this off those memes, with giving the S/O a high Scottish accent and dialect!

-Mod Shuichi

Kiibo

You were such a lovely lady, you treated Kiibo with the respect that he had asked for, as well as being a gentle soul to whomever you met!

Truly he felt in love with you, he thought he had understood you himself! Incredibly understood you, why you had been dating for a while...!

And then some waiter at a restaurant you were visiting had gotten particularly questioning with Kiibo, considering he IS a robot- although he had only come to accompany you the questions that came out of the waiter’s mouth were quite rude!

...

So rude that he had planned to resolve them himself, but you stood up and looked him right in the eyes before picking the waiter by the collar.

“What ye’ tryin’ to imply here mate? Why are ye’ shiteing me and me’ lovely boyfriend ye’ fokin’ posh shit!”

“Apologize to em’ otherwise you’ll regret it, ye’ bloody fockin’ schooner! Two new holes where ye’ eyes posed’ to be!”

The waiter had been struggling to get out of your death grip, and you had only let go once he had apologized and swore he say nothing else.

Once you did sit back down, he merely clapped. “What did you say to him? That clearly drove him away! How amazing S/O!” He’s not afraid! You are his lovely S/O and... plainly he didn’t understand some of what you said.

“Eh? Oh just... asked him to apologize.”

Kiibo claps gain with a smile. “I see! Thank you!”

You spent rest of your time at the restaurant with a few peoples staring at where the two of you sat with very very scared look on their face, Kiibo didn’t notice a thing and...

It’s better like that.

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi promised that he would love you no matter what and you would do the same, it was a promise between you and he that nothing could change.

And he loved that, honestly he was so happy he got to date someone like you and... he was still amazed that the two of you even got together, you seemed flawless to him...

It wasn’t until that he heard some people talking behind his back, while he was obviously flustered by the negative attention had you changed that option completely.

Some students from another class, just talking smack. You ran up to them, your face darkened as you cracked your knuckles.

“Hey! You wee lads, do you want me to kick ye’ in the faenny ye’ wee chimp! I’ll knock ya’ right in the bollux!”

Shuichi watched both horrified and amazed, he was almost too star struck to even stop you. That is until you kicked the leader of the group straight in the kneecaps and they felt to the floor, just before you were threatening to kick the others somewhere just a ‘eensy’ bit higher.

“I-It’sfine! I-I’m so sorry she’s usually not like this!”

“LET ME AT’EM! LET ME AT YE SCOONERS!!”

It took you a while to see you calm down, you apologized in the end and the students from another class ran off.

Shuichi thanked you for the support, but he asked you to hold off the violence! Which...

You swore you’ll hold off, which... which frightens him a little considering you don’t swear off of it. But he trusts you, and you trust your fists when someone insults your boyfriend.

Tenko Chabashira

Tenko had loved you with all her heart, she thought she was the luckiest person in the world to be stuck with someone like you, so fair so kind... She swore to protect you!

You told her that wasn’t needed but she promised it was completely fine, considering she was the Aikido Practioner among the two of you!

It was a normal day when you had the conversation, you were shopping for some outfits and Tenko had gone out to the nearest bathroom and needed to excuse herself...

Of course it wasn’t as if anyone was going to attack you anytime soon, that was what was presumed until that same day you had went out and some man was threatening you to give him your wallet, Tenko was still in the bathroom just a hallway away.

You felt a vein pop, as you pressed your knuckles together with a grimace. “Ye’ tryen’ to pack’ a fight ye’ wee lad? Yer’ really tryin’ to start a fight? TRY ME’! I’LL MAKE YE’ REGRET IT!”

When Tenko came back, you were pummeling in the face of the attempted-robber spewing some words that had felt very odd to someone like you but... she can safely say she’s never felt prouder!

She didn’t know why you were punching this menace, but of course she joined in on the pummeling by flipping him over!

What’s more romantic than beating people up with your girlfriend? Nothing. That’s right, exactly right you heard me.

Nothing.

Himiko Yumeno

Himiko and you had been going steady at it for a while, hand-holding, hugs, even kissing each others here and there...

Some of your classmates had often teased this relationship, or more specially Kokichi had one day been teasing Himiko: “woooow? how far have the two of you gotten?”

She was far too tired to answer any of these questions, maybe slightly even embarrassed and the more he pressed the more red your face got in pure rage.

“Heeey? Have you two done it? C’mon! Not answering in like three seconds means ya’ have! Oooone-?”

You stood up, and stared Kokichi straight in the eyes. A strange action for Himiko, who stares a bit confused at you wanting to know what you’ll do next, never seeing this side of the fair lady she made her girlfriend.

... All it took for the two small classmates of yours to realize what was going down, what you staring Kokichi down with a glare so harsh it could put Maki to shame.

“What are ye’ tryin’ to imply ye’ bloody yank’? Do ye’ want a bloody match with me? Is that it? Cuz’ yer’ pissin’ me off.”

...

Kokichi stares horrified at you, with a smile on his features. “No way, mommy! I’m just going on my waaaay...” He took about three steps back before running away.

Himiko looked at you in utter amazement. “Did ya’ cast a magic spell to change your accent like that..? A voice spell, you even put some threatening spell in it to make him go away...! Can you teach me...?”

You sat next to her, kissing her on the cheek and ruffling her hair.

“Why not...?”

[unfortunatelysirius]

Padfoot, the Big Black Dog [Sirius Black - Marauders]

💟☼💟 PROMPT 💟☼💟 ☾ ¡Requested! ☾ Y/N L/N adores dogs, and when she mistakes a certain animagus as a cuddly stray, she's in for a massive treat. 💟☼💟 A/N 💟☼💟 Hope you enjoy this, darling! This was such a nice idea, and I was so, so excited to start on it. I'm sorry you had to wait so long, but I hope the wait for worth it! If you'd like a sequel, all you have to do is ask for it when requests are opened back up, hehe. Love you! xx 💟☼💟 WORD COUNT 💟☼💟 2833 💟☼💟 TAG LIST 💟☼💟 @rageofcaliban , @kapolisradomthoughts , @saucyleftovers

WHEN Y/N'S MOM ASKED IF SHE WANTED A tabby cat for her eleventh birthday, it took all of her willpower not to flee the bloody state of England. Hogwarts had their restrictions and regulations, and according to her halfblooded mother who attended the damned school as a youth, dogs weren't allowed. Called them "mutts"— burdens. This was an absolute outrage to Y/N and she absolutely refused to even look in the direction of those yowling daemons when she came upon them in a pet-store.

This specific memory came back to Y/N when she spotted a lounging dog—right beside the Great Lake, during her fifth-year of Hogwarts. It was a gorgeous dog, especially through her peripheral vision at this specific vantage point. Thick black fur, pointed ears relaxed back to the top of its shaggy-haired head, a long tail softly brushing back and forth on the grass. Y/N couldn't help but gasp. A bloody dog—in Hogwarts!

"Oh my gosh," Y/N breathed quietly. When the dog didn't register her voice or feel the shift of energy in the atmosphere, she supposed it had to have been sleeping. Any other animal would have shot up, stared at her with petrified anxiety, then pranced away in a flurry of fur and footfalls. This particular animal—this dog—was too preoccupied with lazing about to really reflect on anything other than the soothing trickling of the Great Lake's waters. Even if it was conscious, it probably felt itself too comfortable to actually pay any real attention. What was there to fear, anyway? The Giant Squid?

Y/N ignored the urge to scurry down to the dog and tackle it with kisses and hugs, and in place of her passion, she called herself down enough to just stand there and stare at it. She wondered whether it was a girl or a boy—with the way it lounged, she proposed it was a boy. Yes, a boy. He was most definitely a male dog. And his name; did he even have a name, or was he really a stray, as she originally suspected? Y/N couldn't honestly tell, and before she could protest the movement or think against her intentions, she was doing just what she originally told herself she wouldn't—shouldn't—do: scurry down the hill and attack the dog.

A great yelp escaped him the moment Y/N plopped to the ground and barreled into him. A strangled gasp came from the dog mere seconds afterward, and he began to bark with great fervor. Y/N quickly began to shush him. "McGonagall hates dogs; keep your bark down!" she whispered hurriedly, loosening her grip on his thick, furry neck. Strangely, the dog froze. To Y/N, it almost seemed as though her voice was familiar to him.

The dog jumped from her arms with a great harrumph and shook himself off. Y/N eyed him in amusement. There was something about the dog that made her just want to giggle and giggle. Was it the way he acted like the animal-version of a Marauder? Y/N supposed so, due to her strange infatuation with the group's humor and pranks.

"Listening to me, are you?" Y/N quipped smirkingly. The dog tilted his head, amusement clear in his eyes—but Y/N didn't notice. She thought he was her newly-acquired pet—her new companion—and quickly scooted closer.  "It's quite alright; I appear to have that effect on all men and all animals. Not cats, though—those little beasts can go kiss a bloody hog's arse than be anywhere near me."

The dog let out an obnoxious snort, a cross between a bark and a laugh. Y/N eyed him with curiosity. Ignoring the part of her afraid that he was born into a pack of wolves, and would scramble her body parts into disposal bits before she could even react, she reached out a hand. "You're so adorable," she cooed at the dog. His fur was black like midnight, covered in a silvered gleam from the moonlight's ominous glare. It was very soft—strange for a stray. There wasn't a single trace of grim on him, excluding any pieces of grass that laid nimbly on his torso.

"Don't worry," Y/N said to him, "I'm not like McGonagall. I love dogs!" The dog beamed at her, eyes alight with pleasure as her nails massaged the bases of his ears gently. He was a very nice dog, surprisingly. Y/N expected him to bite and nip at her like any other animal she'd known. They were all rather particular about who they let scratch their bellies, and Y/N's impatient desire to constantly pet and rub on an animal did not sit well with any of them. This dog, though, seemed to enjoy her presence.

It made her feel a bit open-hearted, and she felt she could confine anything in this dog. Maybe he could help her with her charms homework!

"Are you a magical dog?" she asked stupidly, glancing at the dog with her brow furrowed in curiosity. When the dog merely stared back at her, tongue lapping about its jaw and eyes freckled with a haze of sleepiness, Y/N grunted, "Well?"

His eyes bore into the base of her skull. She took that as a no, and she subconsciously rubbed at the temple of her cranial cavity. Part of her wondered why the dog's eyes looked familiar, but the other part of her thought it was useless to think of the animal as anything but a dog. Y/N pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, bringing a dainty hand up to the dog's black coat, smiling as she scratched him behind the ear.

Minutes passed with a comfortable silence filling the void. A shrill buzz lit itself in Y/N's head and she slowly turned to look at the figure of Hogwarts just a string of yards away. She sighed. "Seems I have to go," she said sadly. She patted the red and gold pin attached to her robes. "Prefect duties call."

The dog watched her, and strangely, his eyes were just as alight with disappointment. He whimpered, lifting up a paw and scratching at the air. The sight made Y/N's lips twist into a pout. Damn Lily Evans for giving me rounds this time of evening.

A sudden thought struck Y/N then, and she grinned wolfishly at her newly-found companion. "I'll be back tomorrow! You'll be here, right?"

The dog tilted his head. A subtle nod came from him, and to Y/N, that was answer enough.

Y/N winked. "Try not to get caught by McGonagall or Filch," she whispered, theatrically glancing behind her with an exaggerated expression of pure terror. "I swear, their robes are made of dog fur!"

With one last grin in the dog's direction, Y/N was off to perform her rounds. Behind her, the dog slinked off into the shadows and there, he materialized into the form of a human. A grin identical to Y/N's was on his face, and he just knew that he wouldn't miss their next meeting for the world.

— — —

The next day, Y/N stomped her way to the Great Lake with a scowl on her face. Her companion awaited her presence, and his chocolate eyes stared at her curiously as she came near. With an unladylike grunt, she plopped on the ground. She immediately reached out to pet on her animal friend's nape.

Y/N scowled at the ground. "Lucius Malfoy is the absolute worst!" The dog's gaze intensified and he pawed at her robed thigh. Y/N spared him a glance and released a sigh, knowing that was his way of asking for her to elaborate. "I heard him and his band of Death-Eater goons saying really rude shite about Gryffindors. He was being bloody nasty about the Marauders and Lily Evans. Calling them blood-traitors and mudbloods, and saying he couldn't wait until school ended so he'd have a chance of seeing them on the battlegrounds."

Her dog companion tilted his head in confusion. Y/N gave a mirthless chuckle. "I have a habit of sneaking around Hogwarts after curfew. Seems like that bloody git Malfoy does too. I was heading back to the common-room from the kitchens when I heard him talking. I wanted to avoid a duel with him and his idiot friends, so I hid behind that one curtain around the Room of Requirements."

Y/N rubbed a hand over her face, then dropped it to scratch behind her dog friend's left ear. "Hopefully Sirius and them will have planned a prank on him by the end of the week. Knowing him, it'll be grand."

The dog's ears perked, and he snapped his head up at Y/N. He barked loudly and boisterously, pawing harshly at her stomach area. Y/N giggled and swatted him away. A blush was forming on her face. "Oh, you know, don't you?" she said sheepishly. "Damned dogs, always sniffing out my secrets and crushes."

Again, she was pawed at through her robes, this time a scratch of the dog's claws itching her left forearm. She glared at him."Fine, fine! I'll tell you about it." With a grunt and bit of effort, she settled herself into a crisscrossed sitting position and looked at the dog expectantly. He sat himself up and stared at her. Very obedient dog, Y/N thought idly before a dreamy smile overtook her face. "Oh, Sirius Black. Handsomest guy in our year. And by far the smartest, funniest, and wittiest. Some would say Remus is the intelligent one or James is the funny one, but he's always been different for me. He hides behind these jokes and insults, but I know he's secretly a bashful little boy, blushing when he's praised and always knowing the right answers."

Her dog friend scooted closer, and it honestly felt like he was hanging onto her every word. Y/N giggled like a naive schoolgirl, feeling that he was a better friend to confine in than any of her dorm-mates—bloody psychopaths. "Yeah, we've never really talked, though. There was this one time in second year where we were both separated from our friends on the train and decided to just sit together instead, but you know. That was a long time ago—Merlin knows if he himself even remembers it. I just—" Y/N cut herself off. She swallowed down the words she was going to say and inhaled a deep, frosted breath. "He was so sweet to me—he never looked at me like all those other girls. Like I was some game to him. Maybe I'm reading the signs wrong, but I honestly feel like he respects me."

Her friend shuffled even closer. His snout nestled into her side. Y/N smiled. "I absolutely love it when he pulls pranks on that Slytherin lot—especially Severus sodding Snape. He is the worst bloke I have ever met, and believe me, I know a lot of gits. When he called Lily a mudblood last year, I didn't know what to think. If I was brave like Sirius and James, I might have hexed him myself. However—"

A call that sounded identical to Marlene McKinnon's shrill voice came from Hogwarts before Y/N could finish talking. "Y/N!"

Y/N sighed dramatically, giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "How unfortunate," she muttered. "Bet she just wants me to help her write her potions essay. Bloody girl can never get Lily's help, but apparently I have enough cowardice that I can't deny someone in their hour of need."

"Y/N! ARE YOU OUT HERE?"

Y/N turned in the direction of Hogwarts. "YES! NOW STOP BLOODY YELLING!" She turned her attention to her friend. He was already looking and her, and his eyes were pleading that she ignore her friend and stay with him. Y/N's heart broke just a little and she mentally threw out a curse at Filch and McGonagall for being so damned strict on pet regulations. "I'm sorry, boy. I'll be back tomorrow, alright?"

He softly barked in reply. Y/N's frown turned into a small smile and she rubbed his head. "Be good, okay? And don't get caught." With a cheeky wink, she was gone yet again.

And her dog companion was left to stare at her retreating back, wondering how he could ever reveal the truth.

— — —

Day after day after day passed, and Y/N grew into a routine of meeting the dog every evening after dinner. He was always there, just patiently waiting for her to arrive, and he listened to her rants. He growled at all the right places, and stared at her attentively, like there was a human nestled beneath all the fur and animalistic tendencies. Sometimes Y/N nicked a piece of steak and kidney pie or a roll for him, and she beamed at him when he devoured them contentedly.

One day, Y/N was going out to meet the dog several minutes later than usual. She'd been held up in detention after back-talking Slughorn into holding her back for a bit more dusting, and she was running towards the Great Hall at a faster speed than she'd like to. She was afraid to find her companion gone.

When she arrived, her heart dropped at seeing her dog companion nowhere in sight. She looked around hurriedly, face saturated in anxiety. "Boy? Boy, are you here?" She waited a few seconds, scrutinizing the scene, before her voice took a panicked edge. "Oh dear Merlin, did McGonagall make you into a fur-coat? I'm never going to Wizarding Heaven now!"

Y/N ran towards the Great Lake and she peered in. "Who am I going to gossip about Sirius Black with? Who can I bitch to about Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape? Oh, shite." Tears were starting to fill Y/N's eyes.

Suddenly, a throats cleared from behind her. Petrified. That's how she felt, knowing she was no longer alone and that the one figure was a person. Slowly but surely, Y/N turned around and the person she found herself faced with was not who she was expecting. It was Sirius Black and he had an enormous grin on his face. "You know, Y/N," he said huskily, his grin widening with each word, "you could always gossip about how gorgeous my hair is and how magnificent a prankster I am to me. Just a thought, though!"

Y/N gaped at him. She was too shocked to even flush, and so she stuck with blatantly staring at him. Finally, after what seemed like minutes of looking at him, she found herself capable of words. Well, partially. "W-What?" she squeaked.

Sirius sighed and stepped closer. "Okay," he said slowly, "so, there is the honest possibility that the dog you were talking to about all your problems and... crushes... wasn't actually a dog. I mean, how could a dog even make it through the barrier? You'd have better luck in chitchatting with a bloody centaur."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "So, what you're saying is that you're an Animagus?" Sirius nodded in confirmation. "Why didn't you bloody reveal yourself sooner, then?"

Sirius sighed. "In all honesty, I was nervous about it. Hearing you... talk so openly about your feelings for me was just something I enjoyed hearing so I thought, why the hell not? I know, I know—that's a really big invasion of privacy, and I feel really bad for it, but I like you a whole bloody lot myself, alright? So no harm, no foul—right? Is... is that how that saying goes?"

The girl rubbed a hand over her face. "Bloody hell, Sirius."

The moment she looked back up, Sirius was directly in front of her. It was like a scene from a Jane Austen book, one she'd always dreamed of since she was a little girl. She stared at him, flinching with surprise when he ran his nimble fingers through her hair. He smiled. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, then swiftly leaned down to kiss her.

There was no fireworks or explosions or anything like that involved in their kiss. Instead, what Y/N felt with Sirius was something so much more. His lips tasted like electricity, and with his sweet kiss came sparks—ones filled with passion and hurt and comfort. He felt like home—something that Y/N had never felt with anyone ever before.

When Sirius pulled back, they were both breathless and wanting more. Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind Sirius's ear and stared at him curiously. She still had one more question. "So... you mind explaining why you turn into a big black dog?"

Sirius's gorgeous smirk dropped into a sheepish frown. Fucking busted. "I'd rather not."

[totalfanfreak]

One of Three - Chapter 15

One of Three  Chapter 15 – Just a Holy Fool  [Thanks again to my betas – CanadianJelly and bleedingrose0688 – you guys are the best! I also want to thank everyone following and/or reviewed, special shout out to Str1der2015. I never like to ask for reviews but they really do help motivate me and let me know if what I’m doing is good or bad so thank you!]

“Do we need ice or do we heat it?”

Connor hit the couch, his eyes widening at her while Murphy cackled. “Yeah, lass, let’s have us a good nut roast.”

She narrowed her eyes at the brunette, seeing him already begin to chuck off his clothes. “I’m sorry. I can’t say I’ve dealt with this type of injury firsthand before.”

Connor took off his shirt as well, now starting of the confinements of his jeans. There was sweat gathered around his hairline, the leftover adrenaline and pain overheating him. She stepped beside Murphy, getting one of the washcloths before he turned the shower on. Connor smiled at her, though she could see the grimace in it while he closed his eyes at her soft touch.

“No heat, Sera, need ice ta take down da swellin’. Don’t need ‘em the size of grapefruits do we?”

She gave a small chuckle, forgetting to filter her words. “I suppose it would make it hard to get them in my mouth.”

She ducked her head in embarrassment, feeling the both of them tense up.

“I’ll get the ice.”

She didn’t turn around but she knew they were speaking to each other, usually using their eyes, other times she had noticed what they gathered from one another was too extensive to have gotten from one look. But she had done it with her own siblings, it was one of the reasons it never bothered her to be left out. She knew it was between them and them only. Wrapping up the ice she grabbed a beer from the fridge to toss Connor in hope that it’d help dull his senses enough to ease the tension in him and maybe the pain. She cursed herself inwardly for not getting something stronger than wine. About to sit beside him, she jumped in surprise that he had stripped down entirely. Connor grinned, taking the beer she had a death grip on.

“Ahh, Seraphine, I love that no matter how many times ye see us in da nude ye still manage ta get all flustered.”

Murphy pulled her in from behind, making her body freeze, even more, feeling that he was just as stripped down as his brother. “Aye, t’Lord sent us a pure one, didn’t He, brother?”

It was true, she had seen them like this a number of times, going a whole day in the buff around the loft with her. But sometimes, at the moment very grudgingly, she would be in disbelief that these two prime specimens were hers. And now here she was blushing at being caught for it as Murphy embraced her, able to feel all of him alongside herself.

“We’ll make a sinner outta ye, yet, made a start with it today, didn’t we, lass?”

Sera swallowed, her tongue having grown too large for her mouth to speak. Unable to answer she looked up at Connor. She didn’t know what they had said in those minutes between them, and Connor sure as hell wasn’t helping – his expression neutral and unreadable. Murphy’s hands reached up to cup her breasts, and she saw a twitch in Connor’s jaw.

Murphy's lips grazed her ear, the hot breath making her tingle. “Ye gonna tell him, aingeal? Go and tell me brother what ye let me do withcha.”

She was able to exhale in relief when the phone started ringing. Extracting herself from Murphy’s arms she went to pick up the cordless.

“Hello, MacManus residence.”

She heard them laugh at her, they always did when she answered the phone, taking the pillow from the couch she heaved it at the closest one.

“They’ll keep poking fun atcha fer as long as ye keep up with that secretary voice there.”

Sera bit into her lip, it was the boys’ mom. She had talked to the elder MacManus a few times now, but it remained an ongoing endeavor. Not being able to see her, she had no idea what the woman truly thought of the girl taking up with both her sons. But whatever the boys had told her made her seem content with it all.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, though I know your sons will pick something else to make fun of me with.”

She saw them perk up then.

“Don’t be takin’ their shite, lass. Me boys need someone ta care fer ‘em, but they need a firm hand more often than not.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve started to notice that.”

“Don’t need ta be hearin’ none of that ma’am shite either! I know ye enough from the two of ‘em so ye call me Ma or Annabelle don’t need ta hear that Mrs. MacManus and I ain’t so old I want ta be called ma’am.”

She balked, Sera wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with that, but she didn’t want to appear disrespectful. And it was definite that she had no idea if one or the other would offend her, she took one and hoped for the best.

“Okay, momma, I’ll try to remember from here on. Is everything all right there?”

Sera wouldn’t call her Ma – that was for the boys alone. Mommy or mom wouldn’t work, that name would be held for someone else even if that particular loved one would never hear it again, and mother was only used in formal settings…or in anger. Though it sounded juvenile to her ears it was all she could think of to say, but the soft kindness coming back Sera believed she picked right.

“Everything’s fine here, dearie, but I’m gonna need a favor from ye.”

“Of course.”

“Needing ye ta look perplexed like. Believe it’s time they be fucked with, aye?”

Sera held back her smile, taking Murphy’s go to and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

“I believe so, yes.”

“If ye can look a little dour it’d be a help too and nod a wee bit. It’ll drive ‘em crazy. But I’m gonna be tellin’ ye lass since yer the one ta pick up. Don’t be being afraid of me, yur not gonna say it but I know it. No girl’s ever made it this long with either one of me boys, so it’s sayin’ somethin’ that you’re there. As fer the other shite, one or the other or both makes no matter ta me. Ye need ta quit terrified, I ain’t plannin’ ta bite yer head off or anything. As long as ye treat them right and they ta you, yur family, ye understand?”

She blinked, emotion welling up in her. Family. Something she should’ve held onto tighter when she had it, she promised to now.

“Yes, momma I will. I promise.”

“Good, go on and hand da phone over ta one of ‘em. Keep it up lookin’ like somethin’ wrong. Ye take care, lass.”

“You too.”

She handed over the phone to Connor, waiting by the fridge to see what would play out.

Murphy gave her a half smile, tenderness lingering. She was glad he pleased with their mother’s acceptance. “Want ta join me in da shower, love?”

Rubbing her lips together she gave a smile back. “If you can get the hot water on.”

He pouted then. “Fuck.” He turned to Connor. “The water’s not heatin’ ye need ta go –“

“Shut it!”

The way Connor’s eyebrows slowly came down, knitting together so close that his forehead wrinkled. A tell to his twin that something was amiss. “Ma what’re sayin’? You’re talkin’ crazy.”

Murphy walked over to him then. “What’s the matter with her?”

He turned to look at her, and Sera did her best to give a limp shrug. Their mom was good, seeing the concern begin to display on their faces.

Connor leaped off the couch, holding his balls to him. “Ma! What da hell are ye doin’ with Da’s gun?”

Murphy’s jaw slackened in shock. “Da’s gun, what da fuck?”

“Pull da trigger have ye lost it, woman?”

Murphy zipped by her then, getting his coat and running back to Connor. She felt bad, yet the tickles of laughter bubbling up in her belly as they scrambled, yelling out.

“Get ahold of yerself! Listen ta Connor now! I’m talkin’ some sense here…. Ma I swear ta fucking God –“

She heard something like a pop over the receiver Connor pushing Murphy as he dropped the phone, both diving to the floor to get it both screaming at the top of their lungs for their Ma. The ice was everywhere, two bare naked men – well one in socks – rolling in it, and with all their hollering Shep had bounded in prancing around them and licking their faces. Sera let herself lose it, shrinking to the floor holding her knees to her chest to fall over sideways on the floor.

Gif by veritaas

She saw how confused they were, realization dawning on them.

Murphy took over the phone, scathing. “Lord have mercy, that was a good one, Ma.” Holding the phone out Sera could hear the cackling on the other end. “She’s quite proud of herself.”

“Of course she is!”

Sera couldn’t breathe, silent laughs continuing to come as she felt tears streaming. It was then she saw Murphy’s shoulders tighten turning to look at her.

“And she fuckin’ knew! Ye let her in on it!”

The stern looks from them both didn’t help control her, and it didn’t help as Shep thought the high octaves meant they wanted to play with him deciding to jump atop them and make himself at home; instead, it made another round rumble up in her.

“No, boy, get down, you don’t need to be on people when they’re undressed. Come on.”

She ushered him off them, going behind the showers to turn on the stove and get the pans she needed. Putting everything except what she needed away she turned back to them seeing they had hung up, yet carrying such stunned expressions.

“That’s yer fuckin’ mother talkin’ like that!”

“It’s yer fuckin’ mother.”

She held in her laugh but smiled. “I believe she’s both of yours. I see where you two get it from.”

Murphy got to his feet. “And ye knew about it! Let us think our Ma had lost her shit like that!”

Her smile fumbled then. “I am sorry. But I’m not going to say it wasn’t funny. Besides…I think your Ma is accepting me, maybe starting to like me, do you really want me to say no to her?”

She went to help Connor up, one hand remaining on his damaged privates. Paying attention she saw the edge leaving their eyes. Connor’s cheeks pursed out, exhaling loud from the exertion when he was up. Taking a few breaths he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Nah, love, we understand, Ma’s can be a force ta reckon with. But you’ve already bypassed all that about bein’ accepted. Ye think she just lets anybody call her Ma? Or momma fer ye, aye? Somebody ups and does that is askin’ fer a dent in da skull. Yer an honorary MacManus, aingeal.”

She felt pride welling inside her hearing this, thinking of the night before her heart fluttered in her chest making her dizzy.

“You really want to give me that name, don’t you?”

Connor gave a toothy smile, leaning into her. “Might be so, but what I want right now, love is ta know what ye were doin’ with me brother today.”

She gaped. “We, uh, we…”

She could hear Murphy chuckling. “Can’t ye take a guess? Ye heard Ma ‘bout it, our lass was wanting da OLDER brother.”

Murphy said his brother wouldn’t be upset, but there was something there to her that was saying otherwise. It wasn’t anger, not at her, but she could feel the stiffness in Connor’s arms, a fleeting glint passing in those baby blues. Jealousy could be mixed with it but if Sera had to name it she’d say that Connor looked predacious. Yet the softness was ever present.

“That means yer wantin’ a turn with me then?”

She was able to shrug, her body starting to whir with static. “I’ll take a turn with whichever of you wants me, Connor. I like having you both with me, but like before, with Murphy, I think it’d be good with the two of us too. But I think with you injured the way you are that perhaps we should wait.”

He smiled at her, his fingertips a teasing breath on her arms. “Et rursus cum tua. Quare non tibi sit bene ac frater ut canis ad deambulandum extra?” (You had your turn. Why don't you be a good little brother and take the dog out for a walk?)

She didn’t know what he was saying, but the hard consonants were affecting her, she had thought Italian was the language Connor had that could make her quiver but he had proved her wrong. She shivered hearing Murphy’s voice chime in with the same lilt.

“Puer cum eo. Hic vos videre potest a minima possedi scribam.” (Fuck off with that. Can see from here you got a tiny dick.)

“Sicut glacies non erat in ea! Quid putas accidere? Ut iam de portae indicavit tibi quod tua tempora tibi. ” (I just had ice on it! What did you think would happen to it? Now get out the door, told you, you had your time.)

She felt bad, the octaves escalating that told her they were arguing, she heard Murphy spurting turning to see his head down and depleted when he started to gather Shep. She let her focus go to the floor, trying to stop the xylophone solo her heart was playing on her ribcage. So she startled when Connor cupped her chin, his pointer finger stroking her cheek.

“I always enjoy seeing that rosy shade on ye, love, don’t think there’ll ever come a time that I’ll tire of it.”

“Conn –“

“I’m fine, believe ye can feel it by now. Only needs some heat ta make it better.”

Those smirks of theirs were going to kill her. Reaching out she stroked his face, driving her contentment when his nose nuzzled her palm. Connor may be operating by some primal urge of some notion that he had been outdone by his brother, but, as with both of them, had that chivalrous trait embedded in their heads. So she knew all she had to say was no, and he’d stop. She wasn’t sure about her future self but in the present, she couldn’t picture a moment with them that she’d say no to. She knew Connor was calculating things to himself, waiting for her response, giving him one by springing up to kiss him.

Day and night – sun and moon. That’s how she came to think of their kisses, their personalities really. It was as if they had two faces of each other, the one that was presented to the world, and the one that was hers alone. Connor was sporting a much bronzer coat than his twin and could easily be told he was the sun deity. But, to her, he was the opposite in his affections. The way he kissed her, savoring, taking his time reminded her of the unhurried pace of the night. The way he moved and watched, thinking, near to anticipating what will happen further on. A reminder of the way a wolf will stalk his prey for hours without making a sound, the unknowing excitement of what the dark could hold. She became aware that they were moving backward, Connor shuffling her to the couch.

She put a hand on his chest. “W-wait.”

“What’s wrong, Sera? Ye want da bed?”

She shook her head. “Can’t say I went all the way on one but, no, that’s not it. I want to make sure you’re not upset before we do anything. I tried to explain this with Murphy, I’m really not good at it – I don’t want either of you getting mad at each other because of me. You both have to know by now I care about the two of you immensely, but I told you when you first kissed me that I’d have no clue how this would work. And when Murphy started speaking French and suggested –“

He held his hand over her mouth, grinning when she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I ain’t mad at the lil dumbass, aingeal. I mean, yeah, I’m pissed as hell that I didn’t get to ye first –“

She snorted then, making him tilt his chin down, staring at her.

He dropped his hand, putting it on her neck. “Got somethin’ ta share?”

She laughed lightly. “I’m sorry, it’s just the two of you know each other too well.”

“Ahhh, so the stupid shit knew and went ahead, did he?”

“You sure you’re not mad?”

“No, lass, like all men we tend ta get a tad jealous every once in a while. Take no mind to it. Will say I’m surprised ye let him take ye in da market though, never pictured that from ya.”

She let her hand get caught in his chest hair, pulling until he started to shudder. “I think the two of you can get me to do a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do.”

He groaned, stopping her hands when her nails grazed his nipples. “Ye know you don’t have to, right? We get overexcited withcha sometimes but we’d never want ye ta do something ye weren’t okay doin’.”

“I know. It’s one of the things that’s endearing about you both. But I do enjoy the things we’ve done. A lot if you couldn’t tell it definitely surpasses some of the things I’ve fantasized about.”

“Oh? Ye daydream about us, aingeal? What kind of dirty things ye conjure up in that head of yours?”

She licked her lips - did he really want to know? She had tried to picture how many different ways and positions the three of them could fit in together without needing to be a contortionist, some of the things that passed in her mind she knew they wouldn’t like. Some of them she didn’t even like – the moment a strap on came in she tossed it out. If they were in dire need for a change up maybe it could come back in but she wasn’t in desperate need to fuck them in that particular fashion.

“Come on, aingeal, ye can’t tease like that.”

She flushed. “With the three of us or just you and me?”

Those teeth almost gleamed at her. “So ye thought about it every which way, have ye?”

She tipped her head back. “And neither of you have?”

“Touché, me brother and I both have very active imaginations, especially when it comes to ya.”

Putting on a poker face, she decided against her mind’s judgment and take the lead for once, having Connor sit back on the couch before she started to remove her clothes.

“I want to show you one of the better ones, I’ve had.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, holding back a grin. Sera would never say she was graceful. She had to work hard to keep from being a clumsy wreck. She wasn’t made with a steady hand or rhythm which is why she painted and barely sketched, why she didn’t dance out in the open unless she had drunk enough. But with her audience of one, she could sway her hips, undo her hair enough so it fell around her shoulders, unbutton her jeans and sashay until they and her underwear were on the floor. The sweater she had chosen flounced past her waist, hiding her apex, and discarding the dance she scooped her arms inside unbuckling her bra to let it fall to the floor before straddling Connor. Immediately he began to tug the material up.

“There’s no need fer it, love. Don’t want ye hiding.”

“I’m trying to be coy.”

He scoffed. “Fuck that. I believe we’re past the stage where we haveta be shy with each other.”

She shook her head. “When were you ever shy?”

Connor chuckled at her. “I can’t recall. But da fact remains is that I need ta see ya. We both have a need to see our angel, need ta see how we’re touchin’, the goosebumps on that ivory skin of yers. Like ta see how hard those pink buds of yers can get, see that wetness glistening right here, telling us ye need us as well.”

He had snuck his fingers between her open thighs, slicking them through her outer lips. She moaned, moving her hips closer to them before catching herself, taking his hand away.

“You’re supposed to be letting me show you what I’ve wanted to do to you.”

“I am, Sera, didn’t say I couldn’t help move things along.”

He brought his hand between them, showing the coated fingers. “Got ta ask though, how much of this is you, and how much of it is what my brother left in ye?”

Giving a small shrug she leaned over to engulf the fingers in her mouth to suck off the fluids, pulling back she licked her bottom lip. “Can’t say for sure, Conn, tastes good either way.”

He stifled a sound that was something close to a whimper when he bunched the bottom of the sweater of and pulled it over her head. She felt the ends of her hair frizz from the wool making it feel softer on her skin. She let him stare, the weight of his eyes making her heartbeat pick up, while her hand went to him holding him carefully watching his back arch into the couch.

“Fer everything merciful in ye, please, lass.”

She felt her core clench on his words, she’d never figured Connor would be one for begging, but it was such a lovely sound.

“What, Conn?”

“I need ye, Sera.”

That vulnerable look in his eyes is what got to her, and she let herself turn around to face away from him, her back to his chest. Pulling her hair around her shoulder she left her neck exposed for him, proceeding to guide his hands to her hips to help her find him. She tried to fold her legs up to sit on either side of Connor the reversed position causing her to lose her footing.

“D'fhéadfá a líonadh suas freisin.” (You could fill me up too.)

“Iontaobhas dom, grá, táim i gceist agam.” (Trust me, love, I plan to.)

Her wetness and what was left of Murphy made it easy for him to slide inside her, and she could feel her insides beginning to tumble when she gave a testing push back into him. Connor went for her bared neck, nipping along the hollowed line of her jaw.

“Better be careful there.”

He gave a light thrust upwards, his hands grasping her tight to keep her from speeding up.

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t take your time, Connor.”

He went to give her shallow jabs then, the tip making an appearance only to recede when she tried to get him in.

“Aye. I want ta hurry and take ye, but got a bigger part of me that wants ta remember this.”

“And you like to torture me.” He felt his teeth scrape her skin from his smiling. “That too, but ta hear the beautiful howl ye do right when yer about ta take off fer me. All sounds better than da symphony ta me.”

He started to fill her, slow and agonizing but filling her regardless. She could feel his pulse through the veins while he widened her passage, the throbbing a reminder that she needed more friction. That warm panting didn’t help her either, his grip on her becoming firmer when she tried to wrench free. He had to be lying he had to be upset to do this. The leisured movement of going in to sit there, making every nerve ending in there become a wire coming to life then to only make them dull down before starting them up again by pulling out. It was all sparks but no light. She heard him whisper, but her mind had lost its ability of intelligible thought for that second to understand what he was saying.

“Conn?”

“Want ta know one of da things we pictured withcha, love?”

“Does it involve either of us getting off?”

He bit her ear. “I promise we will.”

“And I can say no when I want.”

It was a statement. She knew the answer to that already but felt compelled to say it to remind herself.

“The second ye get uncomfortable ye better say somethin’.”

She sputtered a laugh. “Is that what you’ve thought about? Giving me orders?”

“Ye have no idea. But I will be nice an’ ask ye ta go and please spread yer legs fer me.”

There was no harm in that, but her mind flooded making her anxious as she did so.

“Wider than that, want ta see ye.”

The unexpected voice from the doorway had her head jolting back hitting Connor’s chin.

“Oh, fuck, Murph!”

Gif found on Bing Images

He was by the door frame closing the door as quietly as he opened it, a towel he must have slung on when he took Shep out draped along his waist. He let go of it when he dropped down in front of her, placing a hand on her knee. She felt Connor nudge and kiss the back of her neck.

“Trust us, Sera.”

“I do.”

She could’ve sworn she felt Connor harden further inside her from hearing that, his hips swiveling underneath her. Murphy started to part her knees, exposing her and his brother’s position to him. She let her hair fall forward to hide her face, feeling those hands climb up her thighs and over her torso in the same instant.

“Don’t be doin’ that, ár stór. Do ye have any clue how beautiful ya are right now?” (Our darling.)

She wouldn’t say what she felt was exactly beautiful, but being in similar situations with them she could always feel their eyes drinking her in the appreciation of their stares pressing her to feel so adored that she couldn’t help the pride that welled in her heart. She managed a smile, but shook her head while leaning forward to kiss her dark-haired knight; Connor’s hand heading straight to her hair, gripping it tightly to hold her onto him.

“I’m bein’ generous here, brother, think I’m more deservin’ of her attention right now.”

“Oh, fuck off, ye said –“

“Я знаю, что я сказал. Будьте к ней, вместо того, чтобы разобраться с ней!” (I know what I said. Be getting to it instead of making out with her!)

The way they kept switching languages and Murphy’s disgruntled murmuring she couldn’t help the light titter that escaped.

“Ye thinkin’ this is funny, aingeal?”

“I’m enjoying that you two are able to fight in this predicament.”

Connor’s hands circled to her front, pushing her breasts up while Murphy smirked, leaning forward to bite one of the peaks.

“Think yer da only one here in any kind of ‘predicament.’”

Murphy’s hands joined his brother’s, fingertips like cold water droplets, making her nipples stiff before his warm mouth would engulf them. She started squirming then, face turned into Connor’s neck as she whimpered. She let her hand find its way to his hair, pulling it as he had hers as she placed open mouth kisses to his throat.

“Jesus.”

She was bearing down on him now, the intervals becoming closer together when she clutched him hard.

“Better be givin’ her what she wants or we won’t be able to keep goin’ with dis.”

Sera gave a vigorous nod. Whatever they had planned, she’d milk Connor dry if they wouldn’t give her this. All she wanted was for them to take the edge off for the time being then they could do whatever they wanted. Murphy lingered with the attack on her chest, making sure him and his brother thumbed the stiff pebbles until she rocked against them. Their ministrations tuning her like the pegs on a guitar, waiting her out before she broke and let the hums of her moans guide them.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she felt Murphy descend lower, Connor pumping upward. Sera’s skin had become sensitized, the crisp chest hair that Connor rubbed against her back causing her to arch wanting to be close and being too much. She mewled, feeling Murphy take a playful bite near her navel, and she knew he was making his marks on her. She went to clasp her hand on the dark mop of hair when Connor took both her hands pinning them behind her back.

His warm breath tickled her neck, nipping her earlobe before speaking. “Uh, uh, you’re not allowed ta touch, love, we’re gonna take care of ye.”

“Please –“

“Sshh.”

She bucked her hips down, trying to relieve the pressure, but Murphy stopped her this time his hands gripping the sides of her thighs. “Don’t be gettin’ impatient. Never get what ye want that way.”

Connor chuckled, the gesture making his chest vibrate against her back. “Aye, only good girls get rewarded. Wish I had some rope though. Betcha can’t be good enough ta keep yer hands still, can ye?”

“I think I can.”

Connor moved his hands then, callused fingers coming to lie on her sternum. The other veering off in the same direction his brother was going, finding its place between her legs and resting in her curls. She tried to move closer, wanting his hand to venture further but she was hindered by being speared onto Connor.

She growled. “En av er behöver knulla göra något.” (One of you needs to fucking do something.)

They both sniggered at her.

Murphy propped his head on her knee, and she peered an eye open to look at him.

“Neither of us knows what yer saying, aingeal.”

“Well, now you know how that feels. Just…one of you needs to fucking touch me.”

She didn’t have to look behind her to know Connor was sporting the same expression as his brother, that gleeful surprise of raised brows and smirks.

“We are touchin’ ye.”

She leaned forward, minding to keep her hands behind her back. “The two of you know what I mean, please…I’m about in the mind to go and do it myself.”

Murphy kissed the inside of her thigh. “That’d be fun ta watch.”

She scoffed. “If I’m made to do it myself neither of you are watching anything.”

She felt the rumbling behind her again, Connor pulling her back against his chest. “I guess we should rectify ourselves then.”

She drifted backward as Connor let the hand closet to her apex return to her mons, her subconscious spreading her legs further apart when Connor’s fingers deftly opened her outer lips. The action so soft she shivered when the air hit past her wetness. She didn’t have to wait long then, Murphy’s mouth going straight to her clit.

“Oh, God.”

Connor kissed her temple, his free hand coming up to caress her breast. “Lord’s name, lass. You better be careful down there, don’t need yer mouth anywhere near me balls, ye hear?”

The huff Murphy blew between his lips gave her a shock wave, she cried out, tossing a leg on his shoulder to bring him closer. But then his lips moved away, making her groan. His fingers continued to touch her, stroking the hood enough that he struck the tip of her clit each time.

“Ye like dis don’t ye, Sera? The two of us withcha?”

Her teeth gritted from the tortured pleasure, but she managed to speak. “Yes.”

“Better than when you were just with me?”

Fuck sake, why’d he have to ask a question like that? During all this? Impeccable timing as always.

Her breathing slowed, the orgasm she aimed for glided back. “I very much enjoyed our time with only the two of us, just as I’m sure I would with Connor. I’m not saying what we did or what we do as a couple is any less special. But I do enjoy this. It makes me feel…that it, it makes me feel. I’m tethered.”

It had been the same, yet infinitely different with Sapph and Len. Her father had told her once that she was gravity. The force that could hold a spinning coin upright even when it stopped, that she helped to bond the three of them together. And she hoped to do the same for Connor and Murphy as they were doing for her.

“Tethered, eh?”

The hunger was still there, waiting to be sated, but she was calm now. Not in any rush to finish, she was able to open her eyes and look down at Murphy. There was no resentment or anger, those blue eyes wide and innocent waiting for her to answer him. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she smiled shyly at Connor’s lazy smile his eyes displaying that he understood, that they both did, but needed the confirmation.

“Yes, being with you both makes me feel grounded, that there’s nowhere else in this universe that matters. I feel –“

“Complete?”

A new flush made its way up her chest as she let herself lean into Connor. “As cliché as it sounds, yeah, I do.”

Connor held her up, unsheathing himself, making her whimper. “I think I can speak fer the two of us that we feel that way too. Perhaps in the sense of Taoist, we were to Yangs missing our Yin.”

She chuckled before letting her eyes wander over them. “I like that theory. But I’m going to have to ask what you’re doing.”

Connor grinned going to the arm of the couch. “Since ye like da three of us together, figured ye may prefer it this way.”

“And what way is that?”

He motioned for her to stand up, a composed smile lighting his face, the sun beginning to set and casting an orange glow with his shadow. Murphy stood to help her, and she could resist giving his collarbone a kiss on her way off the couch. She worked out the angle they were wanting before she got to Connor. His erection brushing her backside when he got behind her, positioning her over the arm of the couch, her rear end up, while the rest of her body slumped on the cushions. She trembled feeling Connor’s cool palm rub over the cheek of her ass, ushering her legs a bit apart so he could brush his fingers inside her.

“Conn.”

“Relax, love.”

Unlike on the couch, his pace became much brisker when he made sure she was wet enough. He curled them up enough to hit that spot that they only seemed able to reach making her pulse quicken before he pulled away.

“Connor!”

“You’ll have it soon, aingeal. But I am curious…” His hand began trailing in reverse, and her breath caught, a lump forming in her chest when he began to move his fingers between her cheeks finding the puckered entrance. His fingers glided over it, covering the area with her wetness. “Would ye ever let us in here?”

She groaned, letting him explore. He managed to breach through the tip of his pointer finger getting past the first tight ring inside. She moaned when he wriggled, touching the nerve endings in the muscle there.

“Maybe another time, aye?”

She felt almost deplored when he exited, leaving her empty there, though another part of her sighed in relief. She knew a finger, no matter how manly, was quite a leap to what he really wanted to put there. But yes, another time. Her eyes drifted up, feeling a dip in the adjoining seat she gazed up to see Murphy settling in front of her on his knees, his own manhood appearing as hard as his twin’s. The three of them together. She smiled in contentment. She propped on her elbows the best she could, feeling Connor moving between her swollen lips from behind before he started to enter her.

Murphy met her partway, finally able to get the rigid rod in her mouth, groaning around the mushroom head when Connor slid in. She allowed herself to become their instrument, both speeding up in filling her – Murphy meeting the back of her throat, and Connor bottoming out as the head of him slicked against the opening to her uterus. Her body was on fire, about to fall over and dive into the water, she could feel tears falling along her cheeks – she was so close. She sobbed in solace when she felt Murphy move to the side, arm coming up to go back and massage her clit; Connor mimicking his brother went the other way hands coming up to pinch her nipples. This time instead of teasing, both gave her what she longed for in earnest, borderline painful from the strain. Kisses along her arm, teeth on her shoulder blade. Her belly was curling, about to give her what she wanted but she needed another push. Connor must’ve sensed it because his hand came down hard on her ass giving her what she needed to propel over that last hill. Her body clenched during her orgasm, her body sucking them both in, her throat bearing down on Murphy leading him to burst and have her drink him down. Her channel gripped Connor, pumping him, begging him to finish when he shook behind her splattering her insides. She let her body go limp, no longer caring if she were propped up.

“You all right, love?”

She didn’t want to move but hearing the concern in Murphy’s voice had her peering up, giving him a smile to let him know she was okay. Connor moved behind her, and she gasp when the rough material of a t-shirt was tenderly used to clean off the semen that had begun dripping down her leg.

“Let’s get inta bed, lass.”

“A little too late, isn’t it?”

The boys chuckled at her. “Fer sleep, lass.”

She shook her head. “I’m waiting for my limbs to solidify then I’m going to start on supper.”

Connor lifted her, gathering her in his arms making their way to the bed. “We’ll order in tanight, no need in exerting ourselves any further.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been ordering in a lot lately.” She turned to Murphy. “What was the point of shopping today if we’re just going to order our food?”

He grinned at her. “So we can cook breakfast for ye in da mornin’. Come on, Sera, we know yer wantin’ ta cuddle in with us.”

Though it was true she snorted at them, her body’s tension melting when their skin was pressed against hers, swaddling all three of them in the comforter.

“We’ll stay like this fer a while, then we’ll get da mutt out there back in before he starts gettin’ too lonely.”

Her eyes drooped. “I might be asleep by then.”

“We’ll take care of ye.”

She smiled, happy enough to go to sleep like that when she rose up. “The stove! I need to shut it off.”

Connor rolled over, grinning. “Calm down, we’ll turn it off. Go ta sleep, aingeal.”

With that she allowed herself to relax again, her body settling when both of them laid beside her.

She yawned, their exertions reaching her. “I would let you, you know?”

Murphy sidled up to her back, Connor’s face falling into her hair as they got comfortable.

“Hmmm?”

She wasn’t sure which one said it, but she smiled in answer. “When you asked if I’d ever let you have me there, I would. It’s one of the things I’ve thought about, the three of us together like that, to feel you both at the same time.”

They both groaned aloud, Connor speaking up. “Yer gonna kill us, girl.”

She managed a soft giggle before her mind veered off, fatigue overtaking her.

She was roused by something jabbing her feet, her head was heavy, and she was about to fall back asleep when she heard a familiar whine. Turning towards the end of the bed, she saw Shep sitting up batting her feet with his paw. Her body protested, not wanting to leave the cozy swaddle. But at the light tap on her foot again she knew she’d have to force herself up.

“Okay, boy, you got to move so I can get up.”

The sheltie was happy to do so, bound on the floor, restless in waiting. She squints her eyes, seeing from the windows that morning was here, the sun’s rose-orange watercolor fading as it drew higher. “Poor thing, hope one of the boys took you out last night. Seeing how your ass of an owner passed out on you.”

Shep tilted his head to the side, one ear flopping while the other stayed upright. She smiled, petting his thick mane. She threw on some pants, grabbing a coat to throw over the shirt and panties the guys put on her last night. Gathering the leash, and stuffing her pockets with her stuff from the counter she glanced back at the sleeping figures. Meh, she didn’t want to disturb them. Seeing both her and Shep gone they’d know where she was, besides they looked too adorable when they slept to just wake them. She smiled, having Shep lead her down the stairs and outside. It had frosted again during the night, the windows and ground sparkling making her think of spider webs while it crunched beneath her feet. The air wasn’t as cold, a plus, and her nose not running or becoming numb. Thinking about it, January was almost over.

“It’ll be our birthday soon, Shep.”

Knowing that made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach, during her life the three of them never regarded it as just their day, but all of theirs. It was the day one became three, the day their parents actually became their parents. It was to be celebrated between them, not alone. And here she was without them, just a day telling her she was growing older, closer to expiring in the natural sense. She cringed at that. It was hard enough last year, her and Sapph aging another year, while Selene…Selene would stay the same age for eternity. It was a reminder that one was missing everything – one wouldn’t fall in love and get married, make them an aunt and uncle by having kids, wouldn’t find their calling and advance in their career, and then the trivial thing – one less person to call when she was sad or it was raining and wanted to chat, someone to hug and reach out for, no more holidays, no more smiles, nothing.

And certainly no more birthdays.

Except for this year Sapph was gone too, an equal reminder to how much she was missing. Her heart constricted, she was glad the boys understood, she missed her brother so much. That she was closed to breaking without him. They had entwined her with them, but where those parts were back together some of her remained frayed, and that’s where she needed Sapph. The fear of not knowing how he was doing seemed constant; she wore it like a second skin that had sunk into her. But she kept reminding herself that he said he’d call again. Her brother was many things but he wasn’t a liar, not to her, so she knew he’d keep his word. Yet there was the fact that she was still reeling from their last interaction. There were a million and a half things they needed to be worrying about, but the first on the list in her brother’s mind was apparently why she was being ‘whored’ out by two guys. His blunt truthfulness often made him a douche. It upset her knowing that’s how he was picturing the relationship. She hadn’t been like him or Len in the fact that she didn’t constantly seek out companionship, not romantically anyway.

When she had started dating Zach freshman year it didn’t bother her brother since they had grown up and been through grade school together he already knew what his character was like. Selene was the one that always had to watch herself. Neither her or Sapph could find the right person that fit within them, usually ending the relationship in less than a month. A whole month where Sapph would stick his nose where it didn’t belong, badgering the guy down or having his friends that were going to the same place keep an eye on them to see if her date fucked up. Sera even had to file herself as overprotective, hearing about the person beforehand – whether it was for said brother or sister and pestering them. But she didn’t care for this role reversal. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take much of it or she’d snap. She was hoping for sooner that her brother would learn to get over his qualms with her boys. He might not know them, but he could, and he knew her and her standards. He knew she didn’t look for a casual lay, that she sought contentment in friendship. Only this time it led to something more, that she found two good men instead of one.

Gif by ghostling

Sighing, Shep leads her around the corner, it was then she felt something. Within a millisecond, she felt her breathing pick up, her body crackling as it came to attention. By the time Shep growled and she twisted around to see the potential threat it had charged and tossed her into a deserted alleyway. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was, the man’s sour breath invading her nostrils as large hands clasped around her neck. The chain of her necklace began cutting into her skin until she couldn’t breathe. She tried to keep calm as she tugged at the man’s hands, grunting as she tried to regulate her breathing. Her heart was going rampant – she had to do better, she couldn’t have a repeat of the bar. Her brain was going fuzzy, the inside of her eyelids heavy as pressure welled on her eyes.

It’s early enough.

It was, what was happening to her were just signs that her body was panicking. But if she controlled herself her brain wouldn’t send a response to collapse on itself. She tried to exhale deep, relaxing in the grip as he began speaking.

“Вы думали, что сошли бы с того, что сделали? Что вы сделали с моим братом?”(You thought you'd get away with what you did? With what you did to my brother?)

She didn’t know what all was being said, her extent in the language not reaching that far but she knew the word for ‘brother’ and with that, she knew who he was. Opening her eyes she saw one of the men from the bar. Looking into his eyes she saw another man, one with a set of matching eyes looming at her from the seat of a police cruiser, giving her enough anger to spit in his face.

“Моя сестра.” (My sister.)

His eyes widened before he sneered at her. She was getting ready to fight back at least go limp so she could pull herself away when she felt her hand burn, the leash passing through her fingers quickly as Shep made himself able to bite into their attacker’s arm. He skittered back giving her the leeway to breathe and thought to try to make a break for it. But seeing Shep going back to the assailant pouncing on the man’s leg, she halted.

The thick accent wafted to her. “Stupid mutt.”

She heard clicking, her mind connecting to the cock of a gun, her mind became hyper-aware, anger controlling her actions, panic fleeing as she leaped onto the man’s back.

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking dog, you piece of shit! פּאַסטעך! געפֿינען!” (Shepherd! Find!)

He was smart enough to know she meant the boys, she knew that, but she saw how conflicted he was. The sheltie’s posture was hunched over, all legs stiffened, with his head lowered to the ground passing between whimpers and growls determining if he should follow her command or protect her.

“געפֿינען, יינגל! איצט!” (Find, boy! Now!)

With a glance back he took off, leaving her spinning as the man cursed in his rage to throw her off. It wasn’t that hard, especially when he pointed his gun in her side. She fell off, the back of her head bouncing off the ground. Her eyes blurred for a second, able to focus on the barrel of the pistol that was shoved in her face.

“Я не даю двух дерьмо, что они говорят - это кончается здесь. С этими твоими твоями, мы можем сказать, что нам нужно было защищаться.” (I don't give two shits what they say - this ends here. With those fuckheads of yours, we can say we had to defend ourselves.)

She had stopped paying attention to the words, deciding to concentrate on her escape. She found her chance – the way he was hovering – it gave her the opportunity to cock her leg back, shoving the heel upwards into his groin. She rolled over so he couldn’t pin her down, finding her balance to stand.

“You stupid bitch!”

Before she fully stood the mobster grabbed her ankle, yanking her backward, the sudden action leading her face to bash into the concrete. Pain blooming when she heard a crunch, she felt warmth running over her lips and cheek and knew she was bleeding. She didn’t get the chance to move again, one of his knees embedding itself in her back. Making her squelch in pain, he pulled her head back by the roots of her hair her spine about to break in half. She tried to turn over, roll him off, but her body was giving up, strength draining. She was about to scream for help when the Russian did it for her, feeling added weight on her for a second she glanced over to see Shep had come back this time going full force and sinking his teeth into the man’s neck.

You stuffed it in your pocket, you had to.

She scrambled inside the coat, feeling around as fast as she could when she heard Shep’s yelp her fingers found the scales of her gift. Gripping it tightly she pulled it out, charging as hard as she could Sera flicked open the switchblade before driving it into the wound Shep created. Locking her arm around his neck, she pulled, a curtain of red streaming to the earth. She yanked the blade out, and though her heart told her otherwise she decided to add for good measure a stab to his eye. It went into the hilt, the blood making her lose grip on the weapon as the man sputtered spit and crimson from his mouth hand trying to hold the gaping hole in his neck together until he fell to the ground. She put the back of her wrist to her mouth, keeping in her tears and the bile that threatened to come up.

His sins have made us monsters.

The tears did slip by then, she was about to cover her ears to muffle her sister’s voice when a soft echo from a shot rang out. Her heart stopped, and she grappled on the ground for the abandoned gun. Turning to her dog, she looked him over, there was blood in his mane from the struggle but she was sure it was his prey and not his. She assumed his ribs may be bruised but she would have to deal with that later.

“Where are they, Shep?”

His ears went back before he rocketed around the alley, running behind him she realized they were heading back home. She rounded the corner from the front of the building, expecting the worst, getting pretty much just that – the boys in their robes, Connor’s bloodied as he lay unconscious while Murphy stood beating the largest man from the bar with a toilet lid.

Seeing he had the upper hand she went to Connor, testing his pulse, while finding his wrists split open all the way around, a set of handcuffs attached to them. She went for the robe’s tassel, using the knife she cut it in two, circling his wrist to stop the bleeding.

Hearing a muffled groan she saw the man in blue getting up. She saw him reaching for the gun, eyeing Murphy with venomous intent.

I’m already going to hell.

With that resolve she let her shaking hands pick up the gun she took, her aim better than her stance when it shot through his head. Sniffling, she went back to Connor, seeing the lump forming on his head.

“Aingeal.”

Found on Giphy

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Taggers!

@some-daniela

@derpypenguin

@shinydixon

[P.S. I will post more gifs later on - the ones I want I can't find so meh, I'll make them myself.]

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: 2019 Training Camp Closes

Hockey is back! For real this time! The next time you read one of these New Look Sabres articles it’s going to be preceded by a Sabres regular season game! All the players we’re about to celebrate and or lament aside, if you like hockey it’s just nice to have meaningful games again! I intentionally post this before the final cuts come out and we have a clear look at the Opening Night roster. I think that reveal is something obscenely special. Not that there’s a scenario you’d hear it here first. Either way this article this morning is going to come in two parts: a somewhat tortured look back on 2019 Training Camp followed by Regular Season Predictions. I am going to try to be unconventional with my forecasts for the new Sabres season. I went back and looked at what I said last year and it’s a bit of a trip. I made 4 predictions and got 2… and a half right. I said the Sabres would be over .500 in October. That was controversial at the time, but I was right! I predicted Rasmus Dahlin would score his first goal before Columbus Day, but I was wrong about that. I predicted Jack Eichel would get the C. I’m very happy I was right about that but not too much of a crazy prediction with O’Reilly getting shipped out I suppose. I predicted the Rochester Americans would dominate the North Division which they did but they didn’t win it. Stick around or skip ahead and see what you think about my predictions this go around.

I can’t imagine we’ll look back on this Training Camp all that fondly. Yeah, we got a nice look at Henri Jokiharju and Victor Olofsson, but those guys weren’t exactly surprises. My High School Senior quote was a little Maya Angelou maxim that struck a chord for me at the time: “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget the way you made them feel.” Unfortunately I think the feelings of anxiety will stick with us in retrospect. Jason Botterill gave anyone who has watched this team for more than a couple years anxiety. Hardly anyone was shipped out. Alex Nylander and… that’s it. Hopefully as you read these words Jason Botterill is finalizing a trade or putting in final cuts with Ralph Krueger or both, but this Training Camp will forever be remembered for how we just didn’t know what the hell was going on! I could write an essay on the Rasmus Ristolainen situation. If he isn’t in the lineup Thursday night I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have been shipped out. All the drama of asking for a trade (which he definitely did) aside, that broken relationship should have been sorted out in July. I look forward to reading Jason Botterill’s memoirs or listening to him getting a little tipsy on Spitting Chicklets in a couple years because there must be a whole different level of this story that we don’t get to hear under normal circumstances. I just can’t imagine that whole situation is as dumb as it looks. They built the roster this offseason to exist without him! I literally can’t even with that. How about something, anything else.

This training camp belonged to Dylan Cozens. Our first pick in the 2019 Draft impressed mightily and he almost secured a spot on the roster. At the end of the day though you got to be thankful for another year for him to develop. At his age another year figuring it out will be helpful. John Gilmour and Will Borgen fought their hardest to get a spot but don’t make the final cuts. Gilmour especially had some hop in his stride throughout Training Camp and every Preseason game he appeared in. I will be very interested to see where he goes and what he does, whether that be Rochester or Buffalo. Almost exactly that thinking comes to mind with Curtis Lazar as well. He was a guy drafted with a role in mind on the Ottawa Senators. Like a lot of things in the last few years with that organization it went bad. Lazar tried to pull a Lazarus this Preseason and got damn close to pulling it off. How do I complete this bible joke… hmm… but I suppose he can’t raise from the dead because he’s not Jesus? Hmm, yeah I went up the stream without a paddle there. I do look forward to what happens with Curtis Lazar. Even if he needs to bounce around the AHL lineup I think he’s still got a left to give. We’ll see if he makes me look like a fool. Last season ended and I was one of those guys calling for Casey Mittelstadt and Tage Thompson to get jacked. Both guys are too important to be pushed off the puck. Mittelstadt kinda showed by the last preseason game while Thompson came to camp having added a couple dozen pounds of pure Canadian prairie beef! He made me proud and I think his second shot at the Sabres roster will be interesting if not encouraging. Evan Rodrigues was a guy I, like many, had pinned for a bigger role on the Sabres this season. Unfortunately he didn’t blow my socks off at any point during Camp. Hopefully he turns on once the games matter. Finally, what did we learn about the coaching staff this Training Camp? Well other than Ralph Krueger being a pretty good media diplomat not very much. A few interesting things were sprinkled here or there about this assistant coach or that assistant coach, but nothing jumps out except a couple of comments appeasing bad players. Unlike Phil Housley I still kinda believe Ralph Krueger won’t actually go through with overplaying bad players but I am liable to be wrong on that prediction!

Alright, enough teasing: let’s make some decisions we’re going to regret in a short while! Let’s make some predictions! The whole .500 prediction from last year, even though I was right, was a little weird. All that means is winning more games than you lose. I suppose .500 is a sorter way of writing that out but for any team that is even kinda good .500 is not exactly what you’re thinking about. For us it was special because this team has sucked for so long. Whether or not the team on the ice is stat-for-stat ready for it we have to raise our expectations to nothing short of playoffs! This season the Sabres will never crack the top 2 of the Atlantic Division but they will be defending a wildcard spot from about early November onward. There are only two wildcards in the East, I know but the outside of Montreal, Florida and Carolina I think we’re overestimating what we’re going to be dealing with to get that spot. Second prediction: Not so brave but nonetheless necessary: both of Jack Eichel and Rasmus Dahlin get over 90 points. Extension on that: Dahlin gets nominated for the Norris Trophy but loses to some washed-up old shit. How about some more wishful predictions: the Rochester Americans won’t disappoint us in the first round of the Calder Cup playoffs again. That forecast I dropped like I DGAF because its hard to care about the Amerks for me after hardcore first round playoff disappointment the last two years. Anyway, one last oracle reading: the Sabres are going to be very good against their division this year only having a losing record against Boston. I just get the feeling Ralph Krueger is going to be one of those guys who makes them treat every divisional game like a massive rivalry. So there you go: predictions! You have 82 regular season games ahead to reference back to this and grill me! I am ready, baby! Give me your worst!

You’ll notice Sabres twitter’s greatest optimist did not actually say whether or not he believes Buffalo will qualify for the 2020 Stanley Cup Playoffs. Well, observant reader, you’re right. I didn’t because that result has moved out of the realm of fun prediction fodder and into the realm of angry last-minute rant. Look I know the predictions largely have the Sabres missing the playoffs for the ninth straight year. I don’t disagree with anyone’s methodology on that. Pending another roster move which may or may not come there is a lot of a 76-point team still here locked and loaded to disappoint us. All that doesn’t matter to me. This club has used up every last year they’re allowed not to be in the playoffs in this rebuild. Never mind rebuild 1.0, in the 2.0 version since Tim Murray was fired we have arrived in year three where it needs to be playoffs or bust. I don’t care about the implications for the jobs of Botterill and Krueger, we have all season to discuss that. Playoffs are not something you can go without as an organization at this point, never mind the hockey team. It’s past the time. Now is the time. Don’t tell me about why there isn’t a bonified 2C or enough good right wingers or how player x, y and z are anchors on both the salary cap and on the ice. Those are excuses next to the towering necessity of making the fucking playoffs! I said earlier, and I’ll repeat it here as I will on twitter dozens of times this season I’m sure: Whether or not the team on the ice is stat-for-stat ready for it we have to raise our expectations to nothing short of playoffs! After all, the NHL is shite league and we all know it. The St. Louis Blues won the Stanley Cup last season after the regular season they had. Anything is possible in this ridiculous, man-swing-stick game.

Ah, that rant felt good to get off my chest. Drop a like, share and comment. Grill me for those predictions or my summation of what Training Camp was like. Hell, tell me why expecting the playoffs this season is foolish. You’re wrong, but I welcome telling you all the reasons it needs to happen again. I can’t wait for Thursday night and I especially cannot wait for Saturday night where I’m going to the home opener! Oh yeah, Captains Night! Treat of my wife, I get to go alone! You may think that sounds sad but good hockey is something a guy like me hollers and grunts and groans watching, and my wife doesn’t like all those stray sounds. Either way Hockey is back, and I have a blog to talk about it on! Thanks for reading and I promise I’ll try to make this a fun experience for every Sabres fan who reads this. This is your blog. This blog doesn’t belong to the analytics or the man-alytics or even the bloggers. This blog belongs to the fans and I hope to be your voice even more this season. Don’t ever be afraid to reach out and tell me if I’m not getting it right at any point. We can be a team just like the one we enjoy watching against our better interest sometimes. So let’s go do that hockey! Let’s Go Sabres!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. Reminder: Go read Southtowns Tickets’ Sabres Season Preview this week, I wrote it! Also, the Third Annual Pod-a-thon is Saturday the 12th and I hope to see you there!