#but I’m still getting used to this …. the glass is so slippery I might get that screen protector that makes it feel like ur drawing on

[swordmaid]

now a procreate girly….!

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up!

Past (ii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.

It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.

You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.

You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.

“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms. 

“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance. 

“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.

“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.

“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.” 

“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.

“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.

“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’ 

You nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop. 

“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”

Circus? "Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.

“Well…not in person, per se.”

Past (ii) - Finnick

[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY

Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously. 

"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.

You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.

Your words swim through his head. 

And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment. It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?

Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But.

It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod. "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh. 

“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.

"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?" 

“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "my friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky. 

He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her. 

“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.

“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Present (ii) - Finnick

[ 23 & 24] - District Four 

"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it's going to end poorly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena. 

Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place. 

His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags's concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.

-

A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.

[maraudersshit]

Remus & the Pack Meet

-this is a story i add to whenever Im trying to go to sleep and cant. its just a bunch of bits and pieces of a bigger universe. (if you see this also posted by an account called oscarthegrouch, thats also me I just accidentally posted to it and now cant delete it)-

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

“By Merlin, this is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. James, tell him he’s an idiot.” Sirius paced the sitting room, arms folded, then flailing, and folded once more. James was looking up and over his glasses from his desk chair, a pile of parchment stacked high in front of him,

“He’s right, Moony. This isn’t a very thought out plan.”

“How can it be!?” Remus threw his arms into the air, “we’ve no clue what Greyback is intending to do at the Pack meet. Who better to find out then,” he gestured to himself wildly, “a bloody werewolf!?”

“He’s right, Pads,” Peter chimed in, “We really should find out more, Greyback has always been a slippery one, and if we’re to chip away at You-Know-Who’s forces, it could help to start with one of his ‘Generals’, as we might put it.”

Remus sighed, “Thank you, Pete, I appreciate your support.”

“It’s still a stupid plan, though.” 

“Pete!” Remus groaned, “Like I said, there can’t be a plan. We don’t know enough, first of all, and second of all, I have to act as natural as possible. I have to play as an open-minded recruit. Easy as pie.”

“That’s not the point!” Sirius interjected, stepping to the center of the room. 

James cleared his throat, “We also don’t know what intel he has on you. They could very well know you're part of the order and have a trap set in place to get to the rest of us.” he added, “our lives have been connected for years now, they most definitely have all of that on us.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that you all know I’m a werewolf.”

“Bingo.” Pete sang,

“Except for Snape, that weasel.” Sirius huffed.

“And whose fault is that?” Remus muttered under his breath. Sirius whipped around, but the other man was looking pointedly away and no one else seemed to hear. Pete added on, “And he’s most definitely a death eater by now.” Quiet noises of agreement filled the stale air,

“We could just play it off as you all being prejudiced towards werewolves and I’d had enough, so I joined the pack.” Remus attempted the resolve, finally looking at Sirius with arms extended towards his biggest objector,

“You will not go about telling people we’re racists!” Sirius placed a hand on his chest in shock.

“You would be the most believed, Padfoot. You know, with your family background and all…” Peter mumbled the last bit, but Sirius had heard all the same. His mouth, agape, closed and opened multiple times with intent to make an argument, but it was no use. He had nothing in response, so he sat angrily on the settee, arms crossed and pouting.

“So, its settled th-“

“It is NOT settled!” Sirius cut Remus off,

“Yes, it is.” James followed with a sigh, “We all know there's no stopping him. He’ll go whether we support the decision or not.”

“Well, he should take into consideration what his best mates suggest, which is staying the fuck away from Greyback!”

“He is standing right here,” Remus interjected loudly, silencing the others before they could argue with him anymore, “and knows that you all are just trying to keep him safe. But I am capable of this mission.”

Sirius chewed at his cheek, arms still crossed. Remus looked to him, but Sirius avoided his gaze, instead choosing a snagged length of string on the rug to analyze.

“I leave tomorrow at dawn, but I'll make sure to write up as much information on my whereabouts before I go, just in case things head south. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to collect my things.” Remus headed towards the large oak door of the sitting room,

“Need any help?” Peter asked, looking up from his book,

“No, thanks. I should be able to handle it.” He turned the knob and exited, closing the door gently behind him. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound being James shuffling parchment and the now distant steps of Remus upstairs,

“Bloody fucking werewolves. The lot of them.” Sirius spat, “he's going to get himself killed.”

“He’ll be fine, he always is.” Peter sighed.

“Until he isnt,” Sirius mumbled, and them much louder argued, “he's not invincible! I mean, he cried in year three when you told him the seafood chowder was made from the Giant Squid. Remember, James?” James blew air through his nose in humour,

“Merlin, the guilt after almost ate me alive. It was horrendous. But we aren't thirteen anymore, Pads. We all want to do our part in this war, and he feels this is his.” James looked over the parchment in his hand once more before levitating it to where Peter was sat, “look over this for me, will you?” Peter huffed in annoyance, “if this is the menu for next week's dinner again, I swear on Merlins beard-“ the parchment stopped mid-air, then slowly started to float back to James, who was looking down sheepishly.

[snakebites-and-ink]

CW: Pet whump, institutionalized slavery, implied past abuse, caretaker is in fact the new master, I’m new at this so if there was a warning I missed please lmk.

It was a normal day, at first. A calm day. Caretaker and Whumpee were in the kitchen. Whumpee was standing casually in the kitchen space and would simply move out of the way if Caretaker had to get to something past them. The pet had come a long way since Caretaker first bought them, when Whumpee would kneel in a corner trying to make themself as small as possible, and not do anything without permission except beg.

Now Whumpee would move around the house freely and take care of their basic needs without permission, and was more-or-less comfortable asking Caretaker for other things they needed or even wanted. Caretaker was proud of them.

Unfortunately, there were still things that could bring Whumpee’s fear out from wherever it still lurked within them.

Not having been paying close attention, Caretaker wasn’t quite sure what caused it: whether Whumpee got distracted, or Caretaker moved in a startling way somehow, or if the glass was just wet and slippery. Whichever it was, the glass of water Whumpee was holding unexpectedly slid from their grasp.

Two sets of eyes widened as the glass crashed to the floor, spraying glittering clear water and glass shards everywhere. Startling, but not a serious thing…to Caretaker.

By the look of things, it was serious to Whumpee. They looked afraid, almost panicked, at how they had messed up. Face pale, Whumpee paused in shock for a single moment before immediately moving to pick up the sharp shards.

“Stop!” Caretaker shouted. Whumpee froze. “Don’t use your bare hands. Use the broom and dustpan, then go over the area with a vacuum to get all the tiny bits that the broom might have missed.” As Caretaker spoke, they leaned over the broken glass with the broom held out so that Whumpee didn’t have to risk cutting their feet to go retrieve it.

Whumpee accepted the broom and started sweeping the shards. They still looked quite afraid, but the instructions seemed to have given them something to focus on and directed them away from blind panic to a more controlled fear. Whumpee was sweeping the glass away from—never towards—where they were standing, and not touching any of it directly.

Satisfied that Whumpee was out of danger and figuring that a second body at risk of getting cut would only complicate things, Caretaker said, “I’m going to the living room. Don’t cut yourself.” Whumpee nodded obediently and Caretaker carefully stepped out of the room.

Whumpee finished cleaning up their mess, trying in vain to ignore the dread that had settled in their stomach. After putting away the vacuum, they went to where their owner had sat down and knelt in front of them.

Caretaker looked up from what they were reading and frowned in concern, noticing how tense the pet was. “What’s up, hon?”

“I finished cleaning. I’m ready for my punishment, Master.”

Whumpee’s heart raced in fear as they wondered what their owner was going to do about this mishap. Caretaker had been lenient with them so far, but they hadn’t broken anything of Caretaker’s before and weren’t sure what the punishment would be. They couldn’t help but think of how their old master would have punished them for a slip-up like this.

“Wasn’t having to clean up the mess sufficient punishment?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee froze. They were trapped. If they said yes, it could be seen as them trying to escape punishment. If they said no, they could be seen as disagreeing with their master. Either one could only make their situation worse. After a few seconds of panicked hesitation, Whumpee gave the safest answer they could: “I wouldn’t know, Master.” Caretaker’s expectant look told them that that answer wasn’t enough, so Whumpee added, “but I’m used to harsher punishments.”

Caretaker’s face did the thing it usually did when Whumpee talked about the time with their previous owner; it softened with compassion for Whumpee, hardened with cold anger towards Whumper, and got kind of sad, all at the same time somehow. “Oh, Whumpee,” they said sympathetically, “you don’t need any punishments like that. Dishes are replaceable, and more importantly, I know it was an accident. If you were to willfully rebel, I would have to be harsh with you, but otherwise I see no reason for your consequences to be anything worse than fixing the problem your mistake caused.”

Whumpee could have sobbed with relief. Not only were they not going to be punished any further for this, but now also they knew such lenience would be a pattern they could rely on for the future. “Thank you, Master,” they said, tension draining out of them.

Caretaker put an arm around Whumpee’s shoulder and drew them closer, and Whumpee leaned into the owner who was so much kinder than anything they’d known before. “You’re welcome, hon, but you don’t need to thank me for something as basic as that. I’ll never treat you like your last owner did. You’re safe here, and I hope one day you’ll understand that as a truth rather than just as a statement,” Caretaker murmured into Whumpee’s ear.

I’m starting to, Whumpee thought.

[perpetual-fool]

   I had a moment. I was idly watching this thing on programming (the specifics well outside my skillset). They omitted an 'else' statement, which simply wasn't necessary (in that language?). And suddenly that 'made sense', as a cascade of instructions. The computer doesn't need to be told where to go, it just rolls on to the next thing. And making that connection made me feel good, a little bit, briefly.

   And I was thinking, natural objects don't frustrate me or make me feel bad. Like, a rock just is a rock, nothing invalidating about a thing being itself. But an artificial object, designed and created, can. Those come with the implication that doing it that way is good. Say with a brick, a rectangular block is the simplest way to make a stackable brick. And a block with holes in it is the same thing but lighter and uses less material. But say there was a brick made from a different type of sand, which was essentially the same thing but heavier and more expensive. And this alt-brick was made with holes in it. So it has some features making it heavy and expensive and other features making it cheap and light.

   That case is simple enough that I could imagine a justification, like "people want to flaunt their wealth with the expensive thing, but they don't want to pay for it, so they're using something that only *looks* like the expensive thing". But it's the total lack of.. perspective? that I don't understand. Like, I have these stainless steel cups I like, double-walled but not fragile like the glass ones. And they're polished on the outside, making them slippery to hold, but rough on the inside, making them harder to clean. And I get that they're probably just making the part that people see pretty and leaving the rest of it rough. But they could've just not polished *all* of the outside, so it's still pretty, but not harder to hold and maybe a bit cheaper. It's as if they deliberately thought it out like: "so obviously there's a win-win solution here, but we're gonna go with the thing that's worse for both of us". Now I'm not assuming that's what happened, 'cause that doesn't make any sense. But that makes more sense than having not thought through the issue, as if they just cast lots to make design decisions. It's incredibly frustrating not being able to make any sense of it. (Aside, apparently there's one instance where's that essentially what happened. Terraria seems to have contradictory elements, and one of the devs has suggested that the whole game is an amalgamation of random ideas.)

   When people directly get involved it's overwhelmingly.. violating? (The stuff people have done to me aside; I've gone over that before.) When people just say the thing that doesn't make sense, the issue is no longer that I can't figure it out, it's that I must just be wrong. Like someone might say "this is how [thing] works", and not only is that not how [thing] works, there's no way to misunderstand [thing] such that you'd arrive at that conclusion. There is a trend in that it's mostly the results that make things not make sense. I've toyed with the idea that maybe other people just have very little ability to think things through. Sort of like if they only had half a picture, and assumed that the rest of the picture continued in the same way. As if they hypothesis about how [thing] works, see that it's plausible, and are therefore absolutely certain. And the idea of looking at the result doesn't even cross their mind. That doesn't really make sense either, as there's no way for them to have come to those assumptions. Like, there's no way to determine if something might lead to a result if you have no concept of what leads to the result.

   What was my point again? The thing with 'making sense' of code feels like it's the same thing with people, and everything else. What would really bring me joy is a eureka moment that suddenly made sense of everything.

-    But mostly I'm getting the inverse of that, things don't work already and new information confuses everything. I'm inclined to think my framing must just be wrong. But judging by some other experiences, I am much, much better at framing than most other people. I'm certainly better at it than the people I'm trying to understand. I should not be this lost. This doesn't make any fucking sense. I'd say it's as if others' behavior is specifically intended to drive me insane, but it's not consistent enough for that either.

   Tangent: there's someone I've talked to that has repeatedly dictated that I ignore trends, "missing the forest for the trees". But everything just points in the "I'm stupid and evil and I should kill myself" direction. including that. All the people I've reached out to have had more than ample opportunity to help, if they were ever going to do that. Maybe I should just accept that others want me to suffer and die. Or at least, they want to destroy me, replace me with something else. There's no reason for the dictations otherwise.

[persephonescottage]

PONY | 14. 

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: Billy buried you alive… in blankets.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: I’m aware that you waited a lot for this I’m sorry if it’s underwhelming but there’s more to come. Also 45 F is cold if you don’t use Fahrenheit. Missed you lots.

You woke up to the buzzing sound of your phone against the wooden nightstand, your hand slapping against the device stoping it from falling off the edge. You wonder who would call in the middle of the night as the sleeves of the sweater you wore made the glass phone slippery on your tired hand.

“Hello?”

Your voice sounds raspy and strained and you clear your throat soon after.

“Hi, just calling to see how you were feeling.”

“Henry?”

You feel yourself wake up immediately.

Why was Henry Dumas calling you in the middle of the night? So casually, to ask you how you were feeling?

“Yeah, hope I didn’t wake you.” His voice sounds boyish and optimistic and you wish you could reciprocate. 

“Not at all” You lie looking down at the phone on your hands and then you notice again the sweater you wore.

It’s a thin burgundy crew neck sweater.

And it’s not yours.

Flashes start to come back to your memory. Your dark room, the feeling of lips on your neck, a cold blade on you hips, his tongue on your clit, his fingers inside of you, the best orgasm you ever had. 

Was it all a dream?

Had he really been here?

“I wanted to surprise you at your supermarket job today but they told me you called in sick.”

Henry’s got your full attention now.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m actually outside the market right now I brought you lunch cause I know you always forget to eat, but they said you called in sick this morning, do you need anything? Medicine, a doctor? Or are you just hungover from last night?”

You hear his giggle over the phone and scramble to look on your screen’s clock. It’s noon, you skipped work.

You never skip work.

He really was here.

“Just a common cold, I’ll be fine, thanks for calling.”

You’re rushing to hung up now.

Your feet are still tangled in the sheets. There are and layers of sheets and blankets that cover you that weren’t there last night and you struggle to lift each one of them and release yourself from the bed. 

Your naked feet touch the floor and you feel it.

It’s freezing cold.

How can it be cold? Just yesterday this shoebox of an apartment was boiling hot and now you were putting your naked legs back in the sea of blankets of your bed and trying to ignore the couple hickeys on you thighs. Henry’s voice still came from your forgotten phone on your hand and you realize you missed half his conversation but hear just enough to piece it together.

He’s asking you to accompany him to the gala and you’re surprised.

You thought after his surprised expression last night seeing where you lived he would desist of this ridiculous pursuit of you, but apparently sometimes rich people get bored of caviar and crave some McDonald’s.

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate Henry.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Let me ask my boss and I’ll get back to you, yeah?”

“Ok, but let me know quick ok? I’d like to plan the evening with you. Maybe get some matching outfits, they’re kind of our thing.”

You laugh shyly at his joke, or you at least hope that he’s joking when you hear his sweet voice wish you a quick recovery and you thank him as you say your goodbyes before hanging up. 

You should be excited. 

An important, handsome bachelor just asked you out, he went to your minimum wage job to bring you lunch and offered to take you to a gala and here you are, tangled in blankets dreaming about a man who drugs you with baked goods and eats you out.

Hey, the heart wants what it wants.

You examine the sweater with more detail, the sleeves are too long for your arms and the cover your hands completely. The texture is soft on your fingertips and up close you can see different colors of red in the wool. 

It looks expensive, like merino wool and you close your eyes to smell it. As you suspect it still smells a little of his cologne and you feel a tingling sensation on your lower stomach that reminds you that you’re completely naked under the sweater that could probably pay for a month of your rent.

After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling letting the scent of him linger around you gather the courage to get out of bed, leaping around the cold floors until you reach your fuzzy slippers and frantically open your dresser to take out your winter pijamas.

the apartment is like a meat freezer and you rub your hands together reaching the thermostat on the hallway to the kitchen. 

You can’t help but smile.

The green fluorescent numbers on the screen read fourth five degrees, under it theres a pink post it with a rushed calligraphy you know too well by now.

‘You’re welcome. -B.’

You enter the kitchen and as you start the coffee machine you debate on calling him. Will the unknown number from last night work? Will he have disconnected it by now? Would it be stupid of you to call? 

And say what?

Thanks for fixing my AC? 

Thanks for the sweater?

Thanks for the orgasm?

But a few minutes later your coffee cup is filled up and your phone is ringing and you hear a low voice answer on the other side and you choke. He didn’t disconnect the  phone. He really is there.

“You called in sick for me?”

“Good morning Pony.”

“It’s noon.”

“Good afternoon Pony.” you can hear his smile through the phone.

“Why would you call out for me? I never skip work.”

“You had no sleep last night.”

“Thanks to who?”

“To the person who’s taking responsibility and calling in sick for you, you’re welcome.”

“What was my excuse?”

“I said that you were just too beautiful to work and they would just have to do without you.”

“I’m serious!”

“I said you had a cold.” He finally admits. “I also told them I was your husband by the way.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well they asked where you were, they thought I kidnapped you.”

“You did call without my consent.”

“Don’t be ungrateful dear, I called from the vent while I fixed you AC.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for that too.”

“Don’t thank me it’s for my own amusement. Now your nipples will always be perky.”

“Jesus.” You roll your eyes and hear him laugh on the line.

The conversation is so casual, so easy you almost forget the context. You told Gianna you’d sleep with this man and get him out of your system and now you’re not sure you’ll be able to.

You can hear the city in the background of his call, voices, phones, people, and you want to ask him were he is. 

“Are you working?

“Yeah I’m actually kinda busy here. I’ll call you later today baby.”

“Ok.” 

“Get some rest. Oh Pony, one more thing before I let you go.” His voice sounds serious and commanding and you suddenly feel small. “Don’t even think about going to the gala with Henry Dumas.

Tag list: @bxtchopolis | @profoundme444 | @adriennebarnes | @restingbitchsblog | @sm2324 |@fruityfucker | @ruleroftides | @lilacs-lavender | @dragon-of-winterfell | @virginsvicide | | @spear-bearing-bi-witch | @iiirhiane-g | @simpforbuckyb | @snowkestrel

[aemonds-sapphire]

Caution: Slippery When Wet — Dabi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Dabi just wanted to take a shower, and he didn’t care that you were in the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Quirkplay. Unprotected sex. Praise. Creampie.

Word count: 3.6k

A sudden loud bang snapped you out of your steam-induced daydream and had your heart skip a few beats in distress.

“What?!” you gnarled, eyes gazing through the foggy shower door only to be met with a pair of turquoise eyes.

Dabi.

“You done in there or what?”

Panic filled your entire body at once. “Get the fuck out!”

Any indication that you might be blessed with a peaceful shower session soon flew out the window as the young villain showed no intention of budging.

Thoughts on Dabi? You’d rather not have any. And not because you loathed him. Far from that Your body made sure that the most hostile emotion you had towards him was unquestionable sexual tension. Therefore, you really, really needed to train your mind not to fixate on him or the possibilities that might come from any interaction with him. In order to cope with this, you tried your best to mask your genuine feelings with resentment.

On the off chance your paths crossed while living together with the rest of the league, you always had your mind set on antagonizing him. You dreaded the possibility of anyone figuring out that — albeit buried deep within you —, you craved him.

“Not happening. I need a shower.”

Sliding the glass door, you peaked your head through the narrow slit only to be met with Dabi covered in... slime? From his dark hair all the way down to his boots.

“What is that awful smell?” you grimaced as the foul stench filled your nose.

“Collateral damage,” he said with a blank expression, eyes on yours. “You can thank Toga for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go wait outside. I’m almost done here.”

No answer.

“Out!” Yyou half-yelled, feeling heat creep through your cheeks, thoroughly glad that the fog glazing the shower door kept most of your body hidden from his gaze.

No answer yet again.

“Dabi!”

He shrugged and proceeded to remove his knee-length coat showing no concern that you were intensely staring at him, mouth agape in shock.

His filthy shirt went off next, revealing the uneven edges of his staple-covered skin across his upper chest. Your heart was racing at double speed and all your brain could conjure was that you most definitely should not allow your eyes to roam across his body like that. Dabi was too fucking hot — pun fully intended— for his own good, and suspected he knew that

That proved to be enough to snap you out of your trance. “Why are you taking your clothes off?!” Yyou blurted out, failing to realize how ridiculous that sounded given the context.

Dabi paused briefly as he was about to undo his belt. “Not showering with my clothes on... the fuck?” he remarked, arching a brow and glaring at you like you’d grown a third arm.

Panic hit you instantly. “Uh—Just wait!”

His slender fingers unbuckled the belt swiftly. “Doll, you’re wasting time. All that rambling and staring... could be done already.”

He was not wrong.

It suddenly dawned on you how easily he’d always manage to crawl under your skin. Whether he knew the effect he had on you or not, it remained unclear. But something inside you clung to the idea that, whatever it was that you felt for Dabi, it was somehow reciprocated.

Patches of suds began trailing down your temples and forehead, causing further distress.

“Just...” your voice trailed off, but sudden outrage burst from within you. “Don’t you have some decency?”

“No.”

He had managed to strip all of his clothes off until he was only left in his underwear, and he was about to—

“No! No fucking way!” you shrieked in dread, quickly having to wipe a few suds that were stinging your eyes. “Leave it—“

But before you could mouth further protests, you saw him yank his underwear down, which caused your eyes to reflexively close tightly.

A low chuckle was heard. “Calm down, princess. I won’t even look. Just wanna rinse off this slime.”

You were positively mortified from all this mess, and a large part of you cheered in pride as you managed to kept your feelings towards him out of the way.

For now, at least.

Immediately, you withdrew your head from the rack, and shoved the shower door shut, with one hand keeping it in place while the other reached out to grab a bottle from the corner shelf.

Dabi tugged at the door a few times before sighing. “Seriously? You gonna throw a... bottle of shampoo at me?” he drawled out, a slight hint of amusement taintIng his voice. “Terrifying. I can see why Shigaraki scouted you,” he added in blatant mockery.

The sudden confrontation had you wish some random hole in the ground would prop open and swallow you whole, effectively putting an end to this.

Your eyes flew open at once and you glared at the bottle in your hand that read: ‘Strawberry passion — let your senses be filled with bliss and calmness’. Now that was fucking ironic.

Another tug.

“Don’t make me burn this shit down.”

You scoffed. “You keep your eyes fucking shut, then. Not even a peak.”

“Sure, doll.”

Admitting defeat, you scooted to the corner of the stall, your back facing him as you heard the door slide open. You felt him brush past you, but managed to keep your composure. There was no point in stressing about this. Dabi was merely your... colleague? Coworker? Fellow... villain? It came with the territory, right?

You grasped the shower head and raised your arm to have warm water pour down on you. For a brief moment, you were able to ignore the man behind you, and just kept on rinsing as fat as you could to terminate this awkward situation.

Just a few more seconds...

But, of course, life seldom went as planned.

“Sharing is caring, doll,” his low voice rumbled, and you felt his breath fanning the nape of your neck, causing you to jolt.

The sudden proximity sent your brain into overdrive. Every single hair in your body stirred as goosebumps spread from the shiver running down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hand wrap around yours.

You tried to muster a few words, but the overwhelming sensation of having someone you felt so attracted to being so close to you, definitely proved to be a harder task than you’d imagined.

“Eyes shut...” you managed to mumble as a reminder, feeling the curtain of water shift to your back and ultimately leaving your body entirely.

Dabi let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck... this feels good.”

His choice of words had heat spread across you like wildfire. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of a heat source had your body quivering in an attempt to keep your temperature from dropping. You wrapped your arms across your chest out of reflex, but it did little to help.

That din’t go unnoticed by the young villain. “You cold?”

“Ju-just... hurry up...” you said between teetering teeth.

Silence fell between you two before you heard vague splashes of water. “I can warm you up.”

He was close to you once more. Too close. Close enough that you could feel his hot breath near your ear, and something else nudging at your backside.

Your head turned to glare at his half-hooded eyes. “No, thank you...”

His lips were dangerously close to yours, and from that angle you could see the way the metallic hoops on each side of his face strained but a little when he drew a faint grin.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

That gave you a whiplash.

As soon a those words left his mouth, you gasped in confusion. “What?!”

But there was nothing to be confused about. It was a rhetorical question from him. You were suddenly aware that he knew. That he had been able to read your signs all along.

Dabi placed the shower head back in its holder, pressing his back fully against yours in the process.

That’s when you felt all of him.

From the hardened nipples to the cool edges of his staples, and all the way to his hard cock pressed against your ass. You shuddered under his touch, causing it to settle right in between your ass cheeks.

“Dabi...”

He bucked his hips lightly, his slippery cock gliding with ease as a deep growl ripped from him. Haziness swarmed your mind, and you pressed both hands on the cold tiles for support, welcoming the water that poured on you from the shower head.

“Say my name again...”

“Why...” you mewled back, swaying your hips sensually against him.

What the fuck...

This was probably a bad idea. You weren’t even sure how you allowed things escalate this quickly. Dabi could snap anyone in half if he felt like it; he could also incinerate anything just as easily. You supposed the dangers of meddling with someone this volatile added to the allure.

And he was aware of that fact.

He fed on it and used it to get you to surrender yourself to him.

“Say it,” he repeated his request, bringing both hands to grasp your hips.

Your eyes snapped open once he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

“I hate you.”

You mentally slapped yourself for being so weak. Those words carried no weight whatsoever, and they only served to heave a taunting chuckle from him. Even though this entire situation had your face burning with heat, the rest of your body still struggled to keep your temperature up, causing you to shiver from time to time.

Dabi excelled at reading body language like no other. He took pride in being able to know someone’s true intention just from the way their body reacted to his presence. He was no stranger to the inner workings of women when it came to him; he knew precisely which strings to tug in order to get them to crave his touch.

You were no different.

In fact, you had completely and miserably failed at keeping your thirst for him at bay.

And with unprecedented expertise, Dabi had your body to bend to his will, granting you one of your deepest desires.

You felt his palms heat up against your skin.

“I... hate you...” your voice came out in a weak tremble.

Were you trying to convince him, or yourself?

His hands began sliding up your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You realized you were no longer quivering from loss of warmth; your shudders were stemmed from the way Dabi was slowly and carefully feeling you up. His heated hands moved to your breasts, and without any notice, he had both your nipples being rolled in between his fingers.

Instinctively, you bucked against him. “Fuck...”

Dabi let out a hiss in response. “Sure you hate me?”

He pinched your nipples lightly before grazing his staple-covered palms along the sensitive buds.

“Yes,” you blurted out firmly.

The metallic hoops spread across his palms teased you further.

But before your throbbing clit could welcome the new stimulus, he halted and the heat pooling on his fingertips quickly died down. “So you want me to stop.”

“No!” you protested as his hands abandoned your skin.

“Then what?” Dabi inquired, bringing one finger to trail down your spine, prompting your back to arch downwards and your ass to spring up invitingly. “All these mixed signals... tss.”

You managed to suppress a moan when you felt his slippery cock slide down to tease your entrance.

“Dabi...” you let out, trying to find a few words to say. “Eyes shut.”

He chuckled. “Doll... I have my cock pressed against your ass and leaking for you... does that even matter?”

Of course not. You weren’t even sure why you had said that... your mind was playing tricks on you.

Even so, you weren’t so lucky the second time around, and when he slapped your swollen clit with the tip, your mouth fell open in a strangled cry. You highly doubted the slick tiles would be able to support your body as he proceeded to place his cock in between your damp folds.

“Hold on tight, doll. I need to prep you for my cock first,” his voice dripped with lust. “Be a good girl and bend over.”

Your pussy clenched impulsively.

To say you were completely and ridiculously turned on was the understatement of the year. No amount of rationality would help you now. You were too far gone, and your desire for him clouded any shred of judgement in you.

There was no point in resisting him any longer.

You strongly held on to the shower faucet, in the hopes of it being enough to keep your knees from giving out on you from the overwhelming pleasure spreading across your clit.

He kept sliding his thick cock along your pussy lips coating it in your wetness. It was faintly embarrassing to think of how quickly you’d gotten soaked for him, but on the other hand, you couldn’t really blame yourself for it. Dabi was definitely a natural. You figured he had enough experience to get you all riled up in no time.

You felt him snake one arm around you as his hand travelled down to your pussy. In all honesty, you felt too empty. Even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you had felt it and you craved it more than his fingers at this point.

The palm of his hand brushed against your clit, earning an instant moan from him.

“Dabi... just... fuck me...” you panted in between groans as he teased you with the staples carved into his skin.

Those staples had long caught your attention, but you never thought in a million years that you’d find pleasure in having them brush against your most intimate parts.

His velvety voice came out in a low purr. “Patience... I need you soaked enough to take my cock.”

“I am!” you half-yelled, bucking your hips in an attempt to have his cock placed at your entrance.

The hand teasing your clit stopped abruptly. “Really? Lemme check, then,” just as soon as he whispered those words, he pulled back from you momentarily, pressed one hand on your lower back to have you at a desired angle, before shoving two long fingers inside your wet cunt.

It took all of you to hold back a guttural groan from echoing throughout the bathroom. You bit down on your lower lip, an you reckoned it wouldn’t take long to draw blood. He held you firmly in place with his free hand gripping your hip while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You’re not just soaked... you’re fucking drenched,” he said in bewilderment, curling his digits inside you. “Think you can take a third one?”

You felt another fingertip prodding at your entrance, but you could only nod. There was no way you were going to open your damn mouth. The implications of doing so were far too severe, and you dreaded the idea of anyone outside being able to hear you moan for Dabi.

His third finger struggled at first to join the others. “Tight... just part your legs, doll...”

Doing as he instructed, he finally managed to get the slender digit to slide all the way in, until he was buried in you knuckle-deep. You’d never felt this stretched out before, and the newfound sensation was enough to finally have you let go of your lip and have your mouth fall open in a sigh of pure bliss.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he praised you, while finger-fucking you at a steady rhythm. “You’re literally milking my fingers...”

From the way his voice was starting to emerge fully strained, you figured this was also taking a toll on him. Having your walls involuntarily clench around his moving fingers and hearing him occasionally growl from it, had your ego soar dangerously high. Your entire body was urging you to cum, and as despair overcame your senses, you hand one han settle between your legs to rub your needy clit.

Dabi suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, and clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

Annoyance hit you hard from the loss of his stimulation. “Fuck!”

His hand grabbed yours. “Let me make you cum. Just me.”

As soon as your gripped the faucet again with both hands, Dabi jumpstarted his ministrations in order to help you reach your much desired high.

“Say my name.”

You truly didn’t want to do that. The fear of losing control and having your moans being heard, kept you from heeding his request once again.

But Dabi had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Both his index and middle fingers pressed against your clit, and you felt the fingertips starting to heat up. He was definitely using his quirk in order to help the heat in your lower belly to intensify. It was a neat trick coming from him, and it was most welcome as you felt the familiar coil of an upcoming orgasm build inside you with each passing second.

“Say. It.”

Obscene soppy sounds left your tight pussy as he showed no signs of faltering his pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open as you tightened around him, preparing to let a peak of pleasure wash over your body.

“Fuck... fu-fuck... I...” you mumbled incoherently, not able to muster any comprehensible thoughts.

You were so close.

Your hips jolted into his hand, and just as you were about to cum, you felt sudden emptiness and were left clenching around nothing nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You cried out indignantly. “Why?!”

The high inside your suddenly plummeted back to the ground, leaving you on the verge of tears.

Dabi gave your ass cheek a light smack. “Told you to say my name.”

You turned your head to give him a death glare. “Fuck you!”

He pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Besides, I want you milking my cock.”

With one hard thrust, he pushed himself halfway inside you, unable to hold back a satisfied growl. Right then you understood exactly why he insisted on preparing you for him. He was definitely thicker and bigger than average. The sudden discomfort had you clench tightly around him in reflex, preventing him from going balls deep at once.

“Stop... fuck... stop being so fucking tight....” Dabi growled, stilling inside you. “Relax, doll...”

Your took a few deep breaths as your pussy adjusted to his unexpected size. He placed his hands on your hips, brushing his thumbs in circles across your flushed skin. It was most likely Dabi’s own way of offering comfort.

You weren’t sure how many seconds passed, but you were genuinely grateful he was waiting for you to finally loosen up and allowed his cock to finally slide all the way in.

A sudden gasp emerged from within you as his fingers gripped your hips vigorously, guiding you along his length. He started out slowly, but his self-restraint wasn’t enough to keep him from thrusting faster and deeper into you. The pace he set resembled that of someone on the edge of losing their sanity.

“You really wanna make me cum fast with that tight pussy of yours...”

His words were like fuel to the fire that once more threatened to get out of control soon enough. Your hands desperately grasped the faucet as pleasure overwhelmed you. A few more thrusts had your thighs starting to quiver.

Dabi had his fingers on your clit once again, determined to deliver all the pleasure he could possibly provide.

“Dabi... Dabi!”

His hips faltered for a split second. “Fuck... such a good and tight girl...”

You could hardly breathe once he set a new rhythm, which nearly had your face getting pressed against your hands from the brutal force.

“Dabi...” you mewled, feeling droplets of water mix with your own saliva as strings of spit hung from the corners of your mouth. You were officially drooling for this man.

In no time, your vision started to tunnel as you were thrown into the pinnacle of sheer bliss. Your mind went blank for a brief moment, with his name coming out in broken moans. The ecstatic orgasm had your pussy ripple and squeeze around his cock mercilessly as you kept rocking your hips against his desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Fuck this...” you heard him mumble at one point, his groans overcame your own. “Fuck!”

His own release was nearing, that much was certain. He was pounding into you hard and fast, jackhammering into you like his life depended on it, driving the breath from your lungs.

You had long descended from your orgasm, but you were still left to deal with the overstimulation from his cock sliding in and out of you relentlessly.

Tears soon prickled the corners of your eyes. “Oh my... god... enough.... Dabi...”

He responded by rubbing your clit harder in unison with his thrusts.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

His long drawn out groan let you know he had finally reached his peak. Your own knees began to tremble from having to hold your body in that position for so long, but he made sure you weren’t going anywhere. With a few pumps of his hips in a broken rhythm, you felt hot sprays of cum shoot inside your pussy.

He slapped your ass cheek once he was done, enjoying the sight of your pussy still tightly wrapped around him.

“What a pretty pussy....”

Your heart was still racing and your breath coming out uneven.

In one swift motion, he fully slid from inside you, and you immediately felt his cum drip as your walls contracted. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Then we can take a proper shower.”

You were fairly certain you might regret what just happened later on, but for now, you chose to brush that aside.

Dabi wasn’t someone easy to read.

He most definitely wasn’t someone easy to get.

For the time being, you’d relish on the fact that you had made him cum. Probably not something curriculum worthy, but it was good for you and your ego.

-

Masterlist

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Part 2 baby, I'll put these up on my ao3 soon as well so they're in one place together

-------

"Dad... you're dead."

Jack laughed. He probably shouldn't have, Danny seemed to be very genuine in his assessment, and Jack recognised that he should probably take this more seriously. But still, dead?? It was laughable.

"Come on Danny be serious." Danny's face remained stoic, "I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"You're a ghost, dad." Danny's lips were pressed tight, his entire body tense. "You died."

Jack was feeling a little ill at this point, was Danny okay? Was there a ghost messing with his head? He leaned toward Danny and grabbed his hand, it was cold, Danny's hands were always cold.

"Listen to me son, you're not talking sense, there's probably a ghost somewhere tha-"

Danny stood up fast, impossibly fast, his chair skidded behind him and toppled over.

"No! Dad can you just- how did you get to bed last night?" He asked.

Jack hadn't been expecting the question, he'd gone to bed... the usual way right? Like he always did, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got into his pyjamas, kissed his wife goodnight, although for some reason the details felt a little fuzzy.

But before he could answer Danny continued.

"When did we leave the party?"

Party? Jack's brow furrowed, oh the party! It was his 50th, how could he forget his own party, had he had that much to drink?

Oh, oh of course. He'd gotten drunk and done something stupid, said something upsetting. That's why everyone was mad at him, that's why last night was foggy.

Danny kept going, he sounded frustrated, angry, but his voice cracked a little. He was upset, oh boy Jack must have done something truly awful.

"What happened after the toast?"

The toast... He had just blown out the candles on the enormous cake Vlad had bought for him, ah that's right, Vlad had been there! He'd hired the venue, planned the whole party, it had been a surprise.

He had handed him a drink...

Danny asked another question, Jack knew it was the last, it felt heavy and final, it didn't even sound like a question.

"What's the date today."

Jack knew the date, of course he knew the date, it was the day after his birthday why wouldn't he know? He'd never been particularly good with dates but not even he could forget his own birthdate.

He glanced over to the calendar on the wall, just in case, he had a sneaking suspicion this was some kind of a trick question.

Jazz was the one to mark off the days, she used it to keep track of her assignments and her tutoring sessions. Each day would be marked with a tidy little line, not an X because they had 'a negative association with failure' or... something. He didn't really understand a lot of Jazz's ideas.

The days were marked off up to June the 18th... the 18th, it should have been the 10th. His birthday was yesterday, on the 9th, today should be the 10th.

How could he have missed a whole week? Maybe this was a joke, a way to get back at him for getting drunk and embarrassing everyone.

But this... didn't feel like a joke.

Maddie's sobs hadn't felt like a joke, Jazz's silence hadn't felt like a joke.

Danny's eyes gouged into him. Danny had always been an awkward kid, he took after Jack in that way, he was shy when he was young, always had difficulty maintaining eye contact. He had no such difficulty right now. They were so bright, had they always been so bright?

It was unsettling.

Why couldn't Jack remember what happened after the toast...

The drink had tasted strange, bitter. He never particularly liked champagne, he assumed that it was normal. Vlad had been smiling, his teeth were sharp... his eyes...

Danny's hands were clasped together tightly, his knuckles bumping against his lower lip as they shook. His gaze had shifted from Jack's face to the gravy-stained tablecloth.

"You're dead. I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I know you still feel like everything is the same but it isn't. You... you're a ghost, dad. Not the kind you're used to, you're just a haunting spirit right now, nobody can see you, nobody can hear you. You can't interact with anything, not yet."

Danny dropped his hands away from his face and looked at him sadly. Jack felt as though there was more to his expression, but he'd never been particularly good at reading people. Vlad had always been better at that sort of thing, it often felt like Vlad could speak a whole other language Jack simply couldn't understand.

Vlad... something was tickling the back of his mind but he couldn't quite grasp it, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Vlad had given him a drink. Vlad had smiled. It looked like a real smile, but Jack felt like... there had been something more to it, Jack had never been good at reading people... Vlad had smiled, his teeth were sharp, his eyes... red, they were red.

The champagne was bitter. He could almost still taste it.

Jack jumped to his feet, startling Danny as he balled his hands into fists.

"Vlad." he growled, Danny breathed a sad sigh.

"Yeah, it was Vlad, he-"

"He was overshadowed by a ghost!" Jack roared, "It's still got him doesn't it? Mads is out there looking for-"

"No! Fuck, dad- SIT. DOWN."

Jack sat. Without thought or question. Danny's command was loud, not deafening but loud in a different way, like he'd heard it through not just his ears but his entire body. It reminded him a little of the concerts he and Maddie used to frequent back in their college days, where the music was so loud it vibrated through them, head to toe.

It took him a moment to realise he was shaking, Jack always considered himself fearless, and that was generally true, so true that he almost didn't recognise the feeling as it swept coldly over him.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed at them in frustration, Jack was almost certain he caught a flash of vibrant green beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry I... I didn't want to use that- I didn't mean," he sighed heavily. "You just never listen."

He was listening now, if not simply because he felt too shaken to do anything else. His thoughts rattled around trying to piece themselves together, something within him was screaming like he'd just touched a hot surface or a live wire. Danger danger danger danger.

"Vlad wasn't being overshadowed," said Danny, leaning against the kitchen bench, his body almost sagging with exhaustion. "It's... a lot more complicated than that."

"I can't be a ghost." Jack muttered, indignant, "They're monsters, they don't even look human. They don't wake up and hug their wives, they don't want to sit down and eat breakfast with their daughters."

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny's voice was quiet, it had none of that fierce intensity like before. What was that? It wasn't normal, it definitely wasn't human. Jack glared up at him as a hot flush of rage washed over him.

"How do I know you aren't the ghost. That you haven't done... something to my family, to make them think I'm dead!" Jack growled.

He wanted to stand up, but under Danny's icy stare he felt locked into his seat. His expression was mostly blank, but Jack could see a twitch in his brow and tilt to his lips. He could see it, but he couldn't read it. Ghosts were easier to read than this, ghosts weren't usually very subtle.

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny repeated, his voice was so quiet now, tentative and fragile.

He walked over to the sink, Jack wanted to get up, wanted to keep his eyes on Danny and the ghost that might be controlling him, but he couldn't seem to make his legs work. The command still rang in his ears. Sit. Down.

"We aren't going to get anywhere like this." Danny filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of Jack. "Pick it up."

It wasn't a command, Danny's expression had softened once more.

"Please."

Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he did as requested. He could feel the cold glass in his hand, the condensation on his fingers, but as he tried to lift it... the glass remained as it was. His hands simply slipping over it.

He tried again, and again, it wasn't as though it was slippery, or heavy, or even that he couldn't grip it. The glass felt normal, his hands felt normal, the glass just wouldn't... move.

Gritting his teeth in frustration he grabbed the glass and squeezed with all his strength, it didn't break. The water didn't even ripple.

"This is a trick..." said Jack. "It's just a trick..."

Red eyes and a bitter drink, people stood around him, faces blurred. He was falling, someone screamed.

Danny started rooting around in a nearby drawer, he pulled out a ragged newspaper cutout. The ink had run in some spots, he placed it down in front of Jack.

It was an obituary. It was his obituary. Tear stained and rough around the edges, torn from the rest of the paper instead of cut, he skimmed over it, almost unable to take it in.

Jack Jonathan Fenton... age 50... survived by his wife Maddie and two children Danny and Jazz...

There was a list of his degrees, complete and incomplete, engineering, physics, mathematics, it listed the names of his high school and university, his reputation as a local ghost hunter, a blurb about his dedication to his work and his love for his family. Jazz had written it, he could tell. She was so good with words.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, please." Danny's voice cracked, his eyes were bright with tears as he righted the knocked over chair and sat back down across from Jack, gripping his hand tightly.

Vlad leaning over him, Vlad gripping his hand, he was smiling, his teeth were sharp. Glass smashed, he'd dropped the drink. It was bitter.

He could almost still taste it.

"No..."

Maddie running past him in the lab, like he wasn't even there, crying. Jazz at the breakfast table, not seeing not hearing, eyes red and puffy. They hadn't looked at him, not once had they looked at him. They couldn't see him, they really couldn't see him.

But Danny could.

"If... I'm a ghost," the words tasted foul and heavy on his tongue, "and you aren't... why can you see me?"

Danny sighed, still holding tight to Jack's hand.

"It's complicated." he said, staring down at the table.

"Vlad, he did this. I'm..." Jack whispered. "But his eyes were... he was overshadowed. It was a ghost that-."

"He wasn't overshadowed." Danny kept his gaze averted, his expression was hard and cold. "It was the accident with the proto-portal, it changed him. He-"

Danny choked up, tears were slipping from his eyes, he gasped a few unsteady breaths.

"He blamed you, he blamed you and wanted to kill you, he's been trying since the attack at the reunion. I tried to protect you dad I tried I tried I'm sorry, I didn't know about the poison until it was too late I'm sorry, I couldn't get there in time I couldn't-"

Danny's sobs shook his whole body, he buried his head in his arms, shaking hands still clasped around Jack's.

Red eyes, sharp teeth, the reunion...

"The Wisconsin Ghost," how had he not seen it? "He's the Wisconsin Ghost."

Then another thought struck him. He looked at his son like he'd never seen him before, sobbing loudly, painfully, his body wracked with spasms as he choked on every breath. He had been trying to protect him, all this time he had known and was protecting him, alone.

When Jack had been told to sit, compelled to sit, unable to move and paralysed with terror, had he imagined the glint of green in his son's eyes? He knew a ghost with green eyes, who could incapacitate someone with a single terrifying scream, who was mortal enemies with the Wisconsin Ghost, who claimed to be a protector, who looked just like a kid.

Danny had been in the lab that day, when the portal turned itself on.

Had the portal turned itself on?

Jack stood, his legs finally acting of his own accord once more, and he rounded the table to pull his son into a tight hug.

"Oh Danny, it was you, the ghost boy, it was you."

"I'm sorry dad, I'm so sorry." The words wouldn't stop pouring from his lips, tumbling over and over. Jack's chest grew tight from the pain in his voice.

He ran a hand over his son's hair and shushed him gently.

"It's okay Danny-boy, it's not your fault, you did your best. I'm so proud of you son, we should have realised, you did so much all on your own, I'm so proud of you." It was Jack's turn to start blubbering.

"I should have told you." said Danny, voice muffled against Jack's chest.

He and Maddie always talked about all of the things that they would do to Phantom if they had ever caught him, they'd talked about it during family dinners. Danny had sat there listening, the whole time he had been right there listening.

"I... understand why you didn't." said Jack.

Danny had stopped shaking, he pulled away from Jack and wiped his eyes.

"Vlad told mom that he'd been overshadowed, she's been out hunting for the Wisconsin Ghost all week." Danny sniffed, "I wanted to tell her the truth, I wanted to so badly but Vlad he... he said he'd go for Jazz next. Said if he got past me once he could do it again. I couldn't risk it."

Jack had never understood why a ghost would choose to remain tethered, why they couldn't just move on and leave the living to go about their business in peace. He always told himself that when he died he would never return, he would take what was to come with open arms.

But that wasn't what happened. He'd gotten up to start his day as usual, but he was already dead. There had been no choice, and were he given one now, he didn't think he could bring himself to take it.

His family still needed him, how could he leave them behind? It wasn't wrong if he stayed to protect his family, right?

Jack placed a heavy hand on Danny's shoulder, and gently knocked his chin with a large fist.

"Buck up kiddo, I might need to get a handle on this whole bein' a ghost thing but when I do," Jack's voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl and, for just a brief moment, his eyes flashed a vibrant green, "I'm not gonna let him hurt anyone else."

[phoebe-delia]

RED TAYLOR'S VERSION IS OUT ARE YOU YOU AS PUMPED AS I AM

idk if these ones are TS songs but 👀 perhaps number 4? or number 14?

ily pheebs happy Red day ❤️❤️

@ronbinary Ellis, my love, it would be my pleasure!! And is it too late to wish you a Happy Red Day? I'm SO sorry this has taken so long I'm The Worst. It is MARCH and you sent this in NOVEMBER. I didn't even forget about the prompt, I just had no inspiration for it and then I got all intimidated by it because the song is so iconic and then I wrote it little by little and now here we are. And if you ever feel compelled to talk Taylor Swift—or anything else really—in my DMs again, please know it would make my day 💛.

I chose song 4 because it's my lucky number! So, thank you for the request, ily and I hope very much that you enjoy this fic based on "Out of the Woods" by Taylor Swift.

Enormous thank you to @lqtraintracks for being an amazing alpha for this fic, and allowing me to experience the fanfic equivalent of Julia Child offering to taste test my cooking.

Idk if I need to warn for this, but I figure I will just in case. CW: one really brief reference to homophobia, and not between H/D.

"Do you ever think about leaving?"

I freeze, the glass of wine suddenly slippery in my sweaty hand. "Leaving?"

Harry nods, lying on the living room floor, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if staring at the stars. "Yeah, just. Getting away from everything. Packing a bag and going."

I'm careful, for once in my life, setting the wine glass on the floor as I take my spot next to him, brushing our shoulders together. "As in...taking a spontaneous trip somewhere together? Or..." I swallow. "Not."

He finally turns to me, head tilted in a soft curiosity. "You're the reason I'm here," he murmurs. "You're the reason this is worth it. If I were to go anywhere else it would only be with you."

Relief, as an emotion, a physical sensation, is vastly underrated. It's the relaxing of a tight grip around your throat, it's cracking sore muscles in your back, it's putting on socks after a day of wearing tight shoes, it's the cold rush of ice water down your throat on a day when the world is melting from the heat. I close my eyes, letting the feeling roll through my body like wind over a field. I wonder if the imaginary breeze would take me, too.

His hand in mine is an anchor. "It won't be like this forever," he whispers. "Only as long as we choose. We can make out in the middle of Diagon Alley, or move to a Muggle town in rural Italy and become sheep farmers tomorrow if that's what you want."

I chuckle and watch his eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile. "Potter, do you honestly see me in a field?"

"Oh, come now," his eyes twinkle. "It might not be that ba-a-a-a-ad," he giggled.

I roll my eyes but don't bother to suppress my smile. "You're incorrigible."

"No, that's ewe," he throws his head back, wincing slightly when it thumps against the floor but still laughing. "Get it? 'Cause a 'ewe' is a female sheep and—"

"I got it, Potter."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"Are ewe sure?"

"I swear to Merlin," I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I swear to Merlin I will never again use a homophone."

"Good, I don't like your father anyway."

"My wh—oh, a homopho—oh, honestly, it's not that funny!"

But I can't help but grin indulgently at him, my irritation fading at his open mirth toward his own joke. I rest my head on his shoulder as it shakes with laughter. I close my eyes and squeeze his hand. He brings my knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss there that feels like a promise.

***

I keep a polaroid folded in my wallet. The edges are worn and I’m still not used to an unmoving photo, but I can almost feel my lips pressed against his light stubble and his arm around my waist. I can almost feel the firewhiskey heavy in my blood, almost hear the symphony of our friends’ laughter in the background. I don’t dare look at it when I’m walking through Diagon, but knowing it’s there is a reminder of why we’re putting ourselves, our friends, and our family through this.

It’s easier when I use glamours; it was especially useful right after the trials because an acquittal in the courtroom isn’t redemption in the public eye. But I’m done hiding. If I’m good enough for him to fall in love with, even knowing me in my darkest moments, I must be good enough for everyone else to forgive.

But they don’t know that. I’m not hiding myself, but we’re hiding us, and it aches to be constantly looking over my shoulder for—something. Danger, maybe, Or for a sign that it’s safe, now, to let our love seep from our flat and fill the world with color.

***

At the time, it seemed so sudden, but the quickest moments move like molasses in my memories.

Now, I can remember the exact second that our carefully-divided worlds merged together, intersecting the universes we'd worked so hard to make parallel. The photographer hiding in the bushes snapped a photo of us, our faces bright and blushing, love hidden in plain sight. The man captured us with a click and a flash, a glimmer of color against a monochrome world.

I remember the bright bulb in my eyes, Harry's features screwed up in fury, the photographer shaken and terrified. I remember the image in the paper the next day and how he looked at me, both in the picture and now, standing next to me in the kitchen.

He clears his throat, lips twisted in a sheepish smile. "So. Italy?"

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I think we're past that, now."

"Yeah," he says ruefully. "I just wish it had been on our terms—our choice."

I nod. "Me too. But it's still our decision, right? To be together? It's a photo in the paper. Whether the rest of the world knows what our choice is doesn't change it."

"Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah. Now, c'mon, let's go to Diagon Alley."

His eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

I smirk, sharp and heavy with promise. "So we can make out."

***

Later, I clip the photo from the Prophet and have it framed for display on my desk. The polaroid, though, stays in my wallet. I look at it when I need a reprieve from gloomy, gray-skied days, reminding me of love, in all its brightest colors.

I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Check my masterlist to see what's been done, then pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[americxn]

hi can i please request a kai x female reader imagine where the reader dies in his arms and its just pure angst with him screaming and crying and clutching her dead body? and him telling her he loved her.

kinda like your other imagine (his darkness) but instead she dies.

okay thanks <3

Too Late (Kai Anderson x GN!Reader)

a/n: this is basically just an alternative ending to an older fic: 

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/648019215903784960/his-darkness-kai-x-reader

and I hadn’t realised how much my writing had changed until I changed the original fic but damn, my old writing was so messy (it still is but you get my point).

wordcount: 2k warnings: angst, death (idk what that’s like so this is definitely not accurate), grief, bullet wound, blood 

The gun shot echoed through the large warehouse, Kai’s shout falling on deaf ears as time seemed to warp and slow. You paused, blinking stupidly, your brain seeming to fall utterly silent as Kai sprinted for you, his face a contorted mix of fury and terror as the bullet cut through the air, right at you.  The pain didn’t register at first, just the sickening impact as flesh and tissue was shredded, the small piece of metal burrowing itself into you, ripping through sinew and slamming into bone. Your breath rushed from you as you looked down, your hands seeming to move in slow motion as they raised to cradle your stomach, your legs giving out beneath you. Finally, with another blink, the world became coherent again, time righting itself once more as the concrete of the floor rose up, up, your body cold as it slammed into the hard ground. Another series of gunshots notified that you your assailant had been shot down, too, Kai abandoning his troupe of cult members as he hurtled for you, lunging just in time to shove his hand between your head and the hard floor as you fell. “Holy shit, y/n?” He cried frantically, moving to support your head in his lap, his own hands batting yours out of the way to press over the perforation in the lower quadrant of your stomach.

He yelled something over his shoulder, the words inaudible to you as you blinked up at Kai, your own breaths too loud in your ears as your hands fell limply to your sides, the slipperiness of your own hot blood coating your fingers making your head spin and your chest constrict. “Y/n?” Kai spoke down to you a shade quieter, his face just as gaunt as yours as he yelled another order to his followers across the large space of the warehouse before glancing down at you once more, his eyes wide and teary in panic.  “Hold on, y/n, you’re okay. Just give me a minute.” He half instructed, half pleaded as he removed his hands from your wound momentarily to tear off his shirt. Suddenly, another somewhat familiar face appeared before yours, but you kept your eyes on Kai, feeling sickeningly helpless as he pressed his shirt to your stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. “Kai,” you whispered, panic creeping into your tone as the pain finally began to register, a splitting, burning sensation beginning to work its way from the site of the bullet outwards. His wide eyes found yours, one of his hands leaving your stomach to rest on your cheek, his own palm clammy against the thin sheen of sweat coating the skin there, some of your hot blood being smeared onto the side of your face. “I’m fine.” You gritted out on a sharply exhaled breath, trying to convince yourself as prickling alarm began to work its way into your consciousness at the pain unfurling within you, hot and searing.  “I know. You’re absolutely fine.” Kai said, glancing to his frantic squad of cult members to ensure that they did as they were instructed. You nodded shallowly, the back of your head rubbing against his thighs. Gasping, your forced yourself to relax, clenching and unclenching your fingers as Kai continued to bark orders above you. “But it hurts.” You whimpered, beginning to shiver. A tear fell onto Kai’s cheek and he turned his head to wipe it away hastily on the shoulder of his shirt, praying that you wouldn’t notice the single salty droplet. “I know. It’s okay for it to hurt.” He reassured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. In the midst of your pain your heart warmed as his hand began to rub your cheek. After all the shit you and Kai had done and said to one another, it sometimes amazed you how much he still cared for you. Blinking slowly, you opened yourself up to him, allowing him to behold your gratitude and the care that you had for him, too, your eyes gleaming with wordless emotion. A stabbing pain radiated from your core as your shivering began to get more aggressive and you yelped quietly, you head titling back as you forced yourself to breathe through the pain. “Y/n? Please, just give me a minute, help is coming.” You groaned lowly in response, nausea unfurling in your stomach. Kai’s voice seemed to get quieter, as if he were getting further away and your eyelids began to feel heavy. How long had you been lying here? How long did it take for life to evade you if the bullet had torn through something vital? “Y/n, keep your eyes open.” Kai instructed, his tone still so painfully gentle but firm, his hand patting your cheek softly as your eyes drifted closed. Opening them again, you met his gaze, your fingers going utterly cold. “I’m tired.” You muttered. Kai nodded, a single tear falling as he blinked harshly, his voice breaking as he reassured you that feeling tired was also okay but “you have to stay awake until help gets here.” When your eyes closed again, a wrenching gasping breath sounded from above your head, Kai bending over to rest his forehead on yours. Hot tears fell onto your forehead as Kai sobbed over your body, the hand on your cheek patting your face again as he composed himself, lifting his face slightly from yours. “Please.” He begged. Your eyes opened in answer, fighting against the devastatingly strong urge to give into the black void calling your name, begging you to let go and give yourself to the darkness. Your teeth gritted as you focused with all your might on Kai’s hand on your cheek, allowing his touch to ground you. Kai whispered soft words of encouragement as you forced yourself to gasp one breath after another.  “I’m not ready for you to leave me yet.” Kai admitted in a whisper above you, his tears hot as they continued to roll off his chin, landing on your clammy forehead. Words evaded you but your eyes locked with his, blinking slowly up at Kai, a surge of icy panic washing through you as you felt your grip on consciousness beginning to slip, dangling over the yawning void that opened up beneath you and whispered quietly, beckoning you to let go of the man cradling you and fall into it’s endless depths.  Your chest rattled as you sucked down another hitching breath, your heart pulsing firmly within your chest, it’s rhythm faltering, struggling to sluggishly continue pumping your life source through you.  The void whispered to you again, calling your name, louder this time. Your body was falling numb. Kai’s name was poised on your dry tongue, struggling to fall from your lips as the pit of nothingness opened wider beneath you, it’s tendrils of darkness reaching for you, weaving through your fingertips and licking softly at your face with cool flames. You had so much to say to him. To the man leant over your body, his eyes bright with tears as they desperately scanned your own, watching in terror as the light slowly dissipated from your gaze, irises glassing over. But you couldn’t push any of the words from your tongue, a hot tear of your own leaking down the side of your face and disappearing into the hair at your ear as the ribbons of velvety blackness crept further over your body, whispering sweetly to you as they snaked over your limp frame. A weak grunt was all you could muster, your hand too heavy to place over the one he used to stroke your cheek, your heart splintering as all energy evaded you.  You couldn’t even say goodbye. You had left it too late, his desperately spoken words having convinced you that you could remain with him, filling you with cruelly false hope. What little grip you clung onto him with faltered, sending you toppling into the void that sang with warm delight, welcoming you as you fell. Kai’s lips moved as you watched your body sag completely in his hold, his face crumpling with raw, undiluted panic as you chest fell, never to rise again. Time seemed to slow, allowing you to drink in the sight of his face one final time, his scream of agonising anguish quiet to your ears as you fell and fell and fell before being swallowed entirely by the cocooning darkness.

His face contorted into a broken cry, dread like he had never known taking him in it’s grip as he shook the body draped limply across his lap. He couldn’t bare the sight of the blood crusted hands, once so lissom and soft, falling away from the body, their backs colliding with the blood smattered concrete floor of the warehouse, utterly lifeless, all colour draining from the face that he had grown completely smitten for, the eyes cold and staring unseeingly back at him. It felt as if his chest had been cleaved in two, shredding and ripping a chasm cutting through his being, taking away his ability to do so much as take a full breath as he folded over the vacant body, his forehead hot as it rested against the one which was rapidly cooling. The small group of cult members had fallen quiet, going utterly still as they watched their leader collapse over the body, his rasping screams chilling them to the bone; they had been too late. Help hadn’t arrived in time. And now it was all that they could do but watch as their divine ruler was ripped apart by anguish, the trembling of his fingertips that clutched onto the body evident even from across the large, cold space as he gathered the corpse to him, rocking pitifully back and forth and sobbing hoarsely into the limp strands of hair.  His tears were hot as the dripped onto the absent face, frozen in wide eyed unease, a declaration of love still poised on the cooling lips, parted slightly from the final breath that had been pulled from the stony air in a futile attempt to cling to the life that had been torn from the ailing fingertips. He, too, struggled to heave down hitching breaths of air, a mumbled string of words tumbling from his quivering lips as he continued to shake the body beneath him, clinging to the little warm still staining the dull skin, barely audible over the hoarse cries breaking out of him. A terrible nausea settled over his tremoring body, so full of overbearing emotion in comparison to the husk clasped into his warmth. He willed the body to hear, to listen to his voice and take one more gasping breath, if only so that he could offer the faded life the parting words that he hadn’t had courage to say when the body glowed with feeling. “I love you.” He moaned into the body, his chest igniting in agony as he struggled to push the words out past the sobs racking through his body. “I love you.” He repeated, groaning in despair, choking on his own anguish as he murmured those three words over and over, each repetition growing increasingly abhorrent on his tongue; if only he had been struck by that bullet. If only he could take the place of the body clutched in his grasp. If only he hadn’t been such a coward and had told the body the same words that now poured from his cracked lips when it was still occupied by life. They had to pry the body away from him, his fingers grappling with the clothes hanging limply around it in an effort to take it with him, to find a way to breathe the life back into it and tell it what he hadn’t been daring enough to tell it before. That he loved them.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @sanni333 @mossybank (dm to be added or removed <3)

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part iv

~

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

~

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

~

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

~

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

~

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.” 

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

~

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

~

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

~

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.08

11/07/2020

The Warriors Three

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,298

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, sex, smut, very slight angst, jealousy

A/N: Enjoy! Not much to say about this one except that I’m setting things up! Get read for the roller coaster y’all! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me sprad my work! xoxo

Tuesday morning you open your eyes and catch Thor watching you sleep.

You stare right back at him, eyes searching his pleasant smile. What is he thinking that’s making him give you such a sappy look? Not that you mind it. You’re a little seduced by it. Emotionally seduced.

Fucker’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

His smile grows wider, almost as if he can read your mind.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You wonder, a whisper so quiet you’re not sure he can hear it.

“Yes.” Thor admits, supporting his head with his hand, elbow buried in his pillow.

“Was I snoring?”

“Yep.” Thor chuckles. “You most certainly were.”

Groaning, you reach down to yank the blanket up over you. It gives you a peek at his glorious naked body lying beside you as it drifts up and falls slowly back over you.

Your mind is attacked with images, memories of last night’s needy bout of lovemaking. Thor had been hungry for it. For you. For his promise to fill you up and get you knocked up with his babies.

The very idea of you pregnant with his heir had him so excited he’d accidentally bitten a little too hard a time or two, then apologized by kissing the assaulted spots until you were trembling and quaking beneath him.

He’d kissed every inch of your body and taken you up and down the room, devouring you in every way he could.

The bed had been the most visited spot, but his desk is still a mess. One of the long flowing curtains that lines the wall of windows is torn and abandoned on the floor.

He pushes you against the wall, as flowing yet slightly scratchy fabric slides across your naked back, you realize he’s got you pinned to the wall of windows.

It’s taking your mind and body a second to catch up to what the other is doing or feeling. It’s been a night of ecstasy. Of orgasms and sweet kisses and the hope that this will last forever. That this isn’t just sex. That maybe it started out as just that but now that your futures are so set in stone, that Thor is committing to this just as much as you are.

He’s invested. He has to be.

Your mind suddenly realizes that even if this floor is high up, the palace tall and looming, someone might be looking up. Someone might be hoping for a chance to get a look at Thor, King of New Asgard, God of Thunder. Instead, they’ll get a full moon. Your ass plastered against the glass.

You twist in his grip, turning to look out and see the distant ocean, black and endless. Thor kisses your neck, his hands reaching down between your legs to pull another whimper.

You’re slick and slippery in his hands. Your knees go weak, and you fall forward. You brace yourself on the window and your eyes are brought to the flickering lights of a house close to the palace walls.

Palace staff probably. Maybe even Estrid’s home? She’ll have a nice view of your tits at this angle.

“Mmmf, Thor…” You gasp, pushing back against him, suddenly embarrassed.

He eases up, giving you space. It’s enough that you slip out from between him and the window. You turn and scamper towards the bed. You jump on it, pulling the sheets up around your body to cover yourself in a delayed attempt at modesty.

As you look at your future husband, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a burst of sound, a hiccup of amusement as you watch him struggle against the curtain. It’s tangled around his left arm and hips. Wrapped around one leg as he steps on the end with the other.

He’s gotten himself all covered in it when he’d suddenly thrown himself around to follow your escape.

“Looks like I’ve caught you, God of Thunder.” You tease, and chuckle again.

Thor’s brow furrows, a deep guttural growl ripping through his throat as he simply walks forward. A simple flick of his wrist across his body where the curtain is wrapped tears it and he’s tackling you onto his mattress before you can understand what’s happened.

You give one small yelp before his lips are pressed to yours and with his kiss, he takes all your shyness.

“Hey,” He begins, gripping the edge of the sheet and he pulls it down until he can see your eyes. “Don’t hide from me so early in the morning.”

He pouts, folding the sheet up just above your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and then leaning down to kiss your clavicle.

You shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling.

“I love the way you kiss me.” You tell him, suddenly feeling bold.

Probably because it’s early and your body is still reeling from last night.

“Is that so?” Thor asks, laying down properly with his arms still around you.

His eye is trained on yours, searching them for proof that you’re lying.

“Yes.” You nod, reaching over to caress his bearded cheek, turning onto your side to look at him better. “I love your kisses and your touch. I love your voice and the way you laugh.”

Thor’s cheeks are suddenly bright red, barely hidden by his golden scruffy beard. He hasn’t trimmed it in a few days. It’s getting thicker.

“That’s a lot of things to love, cherub. One might think you’re falling for me.” It’s a tease, but hopeful.

The way his voice leaves it open for you to respond to despite being a statement makes your heart pound. You scoot closer, moving until your nose tip is touching his.

You shut your eyes because admitting this face to face is hard. If only because you don’t want to remember saying it and then regretting it later if he should ever hurt you. Because with this arrangement the two of you have made, this marriage? How can you not get hurt at some point?

“I am falling for you, Thor. I’ve already fallen for you.” You whisper that last bit, afraid to speak it too loud. What if someone else hears you say it?

He doesn’t say anything and for several really long seconds, you just wait.

Unable to take it anymore, you open your eyes and find him staring at you still, his brow scrunched, a little pucker between his eyes.

The look is intense, but mostly vulnerable. He looks almost insecure, which is stupid because he’s Thor! How can he look the way you feel?

“What? What did I say?”

Thor gives his head one shake, then he rolls you over, laying over you as his hands push the hair at your temples back, loving your face the way he’s been doing all night.

“How is it that I’ve always needed you and never knew it? How is it that I’ve been searching for you my whole life, and only now just realize it’s you I was searching for?” Thor sighs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You take a deep shaky breath, inhaling until your lungs give up. When you exhale, your voice is surprisingly relaxed, a playful tone in comparison to the intensity of these confessions.

“You’re such a sap.” Voice at a decent volume with a bit of exasperation thrown in.

Thor buries his face against your chest and his body begins to shake with laughter.

You laugh with him, bringing your hands to the back of his head to stroke his messy short hair. You absolutely love the way it sticks at odd angles when he wakes up in the morning.

“You’re making it awfully easy for me to love you, cherub.”

There’s that word again. And it steals your breath just as much as the first time he’d said it, though before, it hadn’t been so straight forward.

“You’ve known me for less than a week, Thor.” You’re absolutely stunned.

You’ve heard of whirlwind romances, but never in true life. None that ended well.

“I know.” Thor sighs, laying on you more snugly. “And I know that it makes no sense, but when you told my friends at dinner that it was inevitable for you to fall for me, I had no idea that the possibility of being with you and knowing that you could love me would make me so happy.

“So, I made up my mind to try. Just as I told you. And then those kisses in your room…”

He drifts off, thinking back to those first liplocks when the two of you had been surprised by the chemistry that had suddenly shot off between you.

“I know.” You nod, bringing your hands down to rest along the sides of his neck. “I felt it too.”

Given that it was your first few kisses ever, even you’d felt something click beyond the initial pleasure they gave you.

“And you’ve been so open, so understanding. Jealous a bit—which I like, to be honest. Probably shouldn’t.” Thor admits, and you think you know what he means.

It’s nice to feel like you’re wanted, so long as it doesn’t smother and hurt.

You smile, despite the anxiety of the moment.

“You’re much more than I ever hoped you’d be, cherub. Much more.” He sighs, placing his index finger on your temple and running it down to your chin. “I’m starting to love you. And I’m certain that with time, that will only grow.”

“Thor…” You’re apprehensive about taking him at his word, fearful that you’ll wake up and it’ll have all been a dream.

“Why don’t you believe me?” He asks, exasperated as he grabs you and rolls over onto his back.

You land on top of him, your legs automatically straddling his hips, hands pushing against his chest to sit up.

“You just broke up with Jane, Thor. A woman who you’d wanted me to pretend you weren’t going to be having an affair with if we got married.” You remind him, and he screws up his face.

A knowing grimace as your anxious timidity makes an appearance again.

“I-I know that I made a mistake.” He nods, hands finding your hips to give them a firm squeeze. “I never should have asked you to do something so deceitful. It was heartless of me. I’m sorry.”

He means it, and his sincerity brings your body down further, hands placed on his bearded cheeks again.

“I don’t make excuses for myself. The only thing I can say is that I wanted Jane and I to work. I have loved her for a long time. For humans.” He clarifies, “And if there was a chance to make us work, I wanted to be certain that I tried. I didn’t want it to end without me having given it a good try.

“But Jane and I have been over for almost half a year. Her true love will always be her work. As admirable as that is, I’ve known that I would need a wife who could give not only myself, but the people of Asgard her full heart.

“That doesn’t mean that I don’t know that your work as a writer is important. I will give you time and space to do what you love. Because I want you to be happy here, cherub. I want you to love living here with me and our people. I want you to love being here. I want you to love me.”

His voice suddenly cuts off, slightly surprised at the honesty of that last sentence.

You’re not. In fact, you know exactly how he feels. You hadn’t expected him to feel it or be the one to say it out loud. You’re so glad he did though, and you lay over him, holding his face still as you press your lips to his softly.

He shuts his eye, kissing you back as his hands find your waist to take firm, possessive handfuls.

When you pull back, he follows you up a little, stretching his neck until you’re sitting too far up to reach, and he falls back onto his pillow.

“I already do, Thor.” You shrug one shoulder, giving into what’s been growing since the moment you met him, and he made you picture both of you together. “I think I’ve loved you since you downed an entire stein of ale and then went for a refill.”

Thor’s smile is small at first but grows as you wait for him to respond.

“I won’t waste it.” He gushes, sitting up and taking you with him, wrapping one arm around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. “I won’t waste your love.”

He’s so determined, how can you not believe him?

“Promise?” You whisper, licking your lips.

“I swear it.” He replies, pulling you towards him to kiss you softly.

Wet lips lap over yours, massaging softly before you slide your tongue into his mouth, and he groans against you.

You slide one hand down between your bodies, searching until you take hold of his cock and lead him in.

He goes rigid beneath you, body tight as his hands squeeze you hard as you sink down onto him.

He grunts, reaching down to grab a handful of your bottom as you lift yourself up and drop down again slowly.

“You said you wanted a baby.” You remind him, voice nothing but air as he stretches you and hits a delicious spot inside you that makes your hips twitch. “Let’s make a baby.”

That guttural growl from last night rips through Thor’s throat again, and he flips you, tossing you onto your back never once slipping out of you as he rails you into the mattress.

~~~~~~~~~~

It shows up in ways you don’t expect it to.

Quick peeks from across the garden. Sweet smiles over people’s shoulders. A quiet kiss shared before you both leave an empty room.

You and Thor have decided to try and be lukewarm in public. Respectful. Decent.

In private, this morning’s session of lovemaking is a good example of what you two would rather be doing together.

However, since duty calls, you and Thor are currently making your way onto a large stretch of land at the center of New Asgard.

With your arm around his elbow, he waits patiently for you to carefully gather your skirts a little so that you can walk without stomping on the bottom.

It’s a beautiful gown, black with an illusion bodice absolutely covered in beautiful pink, red, white, and orange florals. The same pattern is prevalent throughout the tulle skirt, a thicker cotton skirt underneath keeps you warm. Over the spaghetti strap bodice, you wear a black cloak. It feels more like a cape.

An intentional choice by Thor, it turns out, because you match. Thor in his black Asgardian suit, the same one he wore on the night of your dinner with his closest friends.

The two of you make a lovely pair and the crowd that has gathered around the plot of land you’re on seem to notice and approve.

Some of them wave at you, others simply stare and share excited conversation.

“They’re staring at us.” You smile nervously, waving at a pair of beautiful Asgardian boys no older than ten who wave at you with such enthusiasm, you can’t help yourself.

“They’re staring at you, cherub. You’re the pretty jewel on my arm.” He flatters, and you laugh at him.

“You really don’t like being complimented.” He observes, his eye only for you.

“It’s not that.” You shake your head, meeting his gaze. “I’ve just never been told such…no one’s ever talked to me like that before. It’s super weird.”

“Weird? Then I will have to do it with more frequency.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you. “And you can’t fight me on it.”

You bite your bottom lip, giving him a quick and private glare.

He chuckles, amused by your reaction.

“Are you warm enough?” He checks, reaching to adjust your cloak.

“Enough.” You nod. “I’d rather be in bed with you, though.”

Thor clears his throat, his hand brushing gently along your bottom.

A mere coincidence that he was adjusting the cloak there when you said that.

“You’re much warmer than this cloak.”

Thor sighs heavily, taking his hand back to scratch at his head.

“Are you trying to torture me?” He wonders, avoiding your gaze and waving at his people.

“No.” You protest. “But you are. It’s a simple fact.”

“You’ve grown increasingly bold in these past few days.” Thor whispers, leaning in towards you to speak quietly.

“Whose fault is that?” You wonder, feeling shy in front of the Asgardians, not so much Thor in this aspect after the way you spent the early morning. “I think I’ve had more sex in two days than most women have in two years.”

After a moment to consider, you smile and meet his eye.

“Can we keep trying for a baby after this? I read somewhere that if you do it on your side, it helps with a girl. Or if we want a boy, you can take me from behind again.”

Thor’s face is crimson as he coughs loudly, choking on his own spit probably since he’d opened his mouth to respond but your question seems to have rendered him speechless.

“Is that a yes?”

Thor takes a minute to catch his breath, clearing his throat before reaching up to pull at the neck of his shirt and armor.

“Vixen.” He accuses. “When I get you back to our room, I’m not letting you out until the morning of our wedding.”

This time, it’s your turn to be speechless. You stare at him, eyes searching, heart pounding, completely emotional. You’re the true sap.

“I’m…Our room?” Had you heard him correctly? “I don’t have to go back to my bedroom?”

“My bedroom is your bedroom. I’m not letting you out of it ever again.” Thor assures you. “I need you there to sleep now, cherub.”

You wrap your arm around his elbow more tightly, tucking yourself in against his side.

“Can I have a kiss?” You ask him, unsure if it’s polite or normal for the two of you to be so affectionate before you’re married or if it’s frowned upon by the Asgardian people.

“Of course, you can, love. You never have to ask.” He leans down as you push yourself up onto your toes, lips puckered and eager.

His kiss is gentle, just as pleasing as ever, but chaste, and innocent.

It’s perfect for what you’re feeling, and you have to pull back first but go in for a second, quicker kiss.

“Well, it looks like you were worried for no reason.” You turn to watch David walking up to you both.

“David!” You gasp, excited at the sight of him. “I thought you’d left back to London.”

You release Thor and hug David, who happily returns the gesture. He pushes you back to get a look at you in your pretty dress, and nods with approval.

“I did but came right back after my meeting. I wanted to make sure the God of Thunder was keeping his word. It appears he’s exceeded it.” David says the tone of approval to accompany the pleased smile on his face. “Might I borrow the future Queen of Asgard, Your Majesty?”

David gestures at your hand around Thor’s arm.

Thor takes your hand and holds it, offering it to David with that lovable goofy smile you’ve become quickly familiar with.

“Of course.”

David takes your hand and gently wraps it around his own suited up elbow. “Thank you.”

Together, you and David walk a few feet away, Thor turning towards the nearest group of Asgardians to greet and mingle.

“It seems things have progressed quickly between you and Thor.” David observes, his voice polite but you can hear the worry.

“We’re already trying for a baby, David.” You confess, stopping and tugging on his arm so that he’ll turn to look at you.

David’s face is full of shock. He blinks, trying to clear his mind or put the words you just said together in different ways until he understands them.

“You’ve slept with him already?” David asks quietly, always the model of good sense.

“It just happened.” You sigh, catching your breath after your impromptu confession. “He kissed me the night of the dinner and then he broke up with Jane and when I went to see him in his room, to show him my wedding dress for approval, he was so open with me about everything and we kissed again. One thing led to another and we just…it felt right, David. I didn’t want it to happen because it had to. Because he had to consummate the marriage?

“I needed to feel control over something.”

David moves a step closer, taking your hand in his two, tapping them to offer comfort.

“We really click, David. Like, in bed? And personally too. We’ve been so…it’s easy with him. To a certain point. I’m not a complete idiot. But I-I’m already loving him. And I think he feels the same. M-Maybe not love, even though he says he does, but he likes me at least. I’m sure.

“He said he wanted to start on our heir. Since we’ll have to do it quickly anyway.” You shrug.

To your surprise, David actually nods. “I think having his child is for the best too.”

You’re about to ask him why, but he explains without you needing to.

“The Ambassadors are eager for your marriage to commence. And I think it’s a good idea to solidify your place in their court with a child.”

Fear and a bit of anger begins to grow in your belly. It fills your chest with worries and the tightness of your anxieties makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re afraid he’ll change his mind?” You realize, so angry at David you almost want to rip your hand out of his grip and march back to Thor’s side…but this is your fear too. Your worry.

“No.” David rushes to reassure you, but the seed—while it had already been planted—has been watered by his warning. “No, I don’t think he will. The way he looked at you just now didn’t look like the expression of a man who is having doubts. In fact, he looks downright smitten.”

This helps you relax a little, or at least cools the rage you feel towards David.

“It’s all just happening so quickly.” David frets.

“It has to happen quickly.” You reason, annoyed but also understanding of his worry.

You’re worried too. After every sweet word, touch, and especially after every moment you spend wrapped in Thor’s arms, coming to pieces beneath him. Feeling him more deeply than you’ve ever felt anyone before. Literally.

You wonder to yourself, if maybe this is all too good to be true.

“You’re not pretending?” David asks, quiet since Loki, Sif, and three men you’ve never seen before make their way towards Thor at the center of the lawn.

“No, David. I’m really not. I like him, so much. I didn’t expect it, but I do. And he seems to like me too.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him, to make certain he really returns your feelings.” David smiles. “Would you like me to send for a fertility doctor? Someone who can keep an eye on you to assure that you and Thor are doing everything you can to produce an heir?”

“Yes!” You hug him tight, so pleased that he seems to be on your team.

He laughs in your ear as you hold him, hugging you back gently.

“You’ll wrinkle your pretty gown.” David worries.

“Cherub?” Thor’s voice calls to you and you turn towards him, his hand extended towards you from where he stands with his friends.

All of them in unison, save for Sif who instead looks down at the ground, mouth his pet name for you.

David too.

“Cherub?” He asks, amused.

But you don’t hear him. You move for Thor, taking his hand, then he pulls you against his side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

David moves to stand beside you, but clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“I think I will retire to the palace. If that is alright with you Your Majesty?”

Thor looks to David and offers a quick smile. “Of course. We can offer proper introductions at dinner.”

With a nod, David takes his leave.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Volstagg, one of my oldest friends and a mighty adventurer in his own right. He also enjoys a good drink and plenty of well-seasoned food.” Thor whispers the second part in your ear, drawing your attention back to the newcomers.

“What’s that you’re saying about me to my future Queen?!” Volstagg demands, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he reaches to take your hand.

He bows his head, pulls it to his lips, and kisses it chastely.

“Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He gushes.

“Nice to meet you.”

“This here is Fandral, another close friend. He-”

“Has conquered many hearts, and had I been here when you came to meet Thor, I may have very well conquered yours, Your Highness.” He smiles at you flirtatiously, his blonde hair falling loosely over his forehead.

He is very handsome, charming. A definite flirt.

He reaches for your hand but before he can take hold of it, Thor grabs it and pulls it against his own chest.

“He’s a flirt.” Thor’s frowning at him, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip and your heart flutter at his refusal to let Fandral touch you.

“And I am Hogun of Vanaheim. It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am at your service.” The third of the Warrior’s three is calmer, though you sense a general amusement floating off of him at his companions and their quirks.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, “All of you, for such a warm welcome.”

“We’re very sad to have missed your welcome feast.” Volstagg laments, rubbing his protruding belly.

He’s in his armor which makes his large stature menacing and comforting that his girth will be on your side of any fight.

“You’re just hungry.” Hogun tells him.

“Isn’t he always?” Fandral teases.

“As charming as this impromptu meet-up is, you three have new armor to be measured for, and if you hurry you might just catch the end of the lunch hour back at the palace.” Loki informs them, and like they’ve all been electrocuted, the Warrior’s Three give you a quick bow and shuffle off bickering about some disagreement from before they arrived.

“Brunnhilde, I think maybe you should go with them. Apprise them of the need for their quick return. The sooner they start planning, the better for us all.” Loki looks to Sif, frowning at the way she’s staring at Thor holding your hand to his chest still, cradling it there as if it were something precious. “Sif? I think you should go with her. Rest up. Tomorrow’s wedding will be a long day for us all.”

Sif gives you and Thor a passing look, Loki a quick glare before she turns and marches off after the Warrior’s Three.

Hilde looks after Sif then smiles at Loki before turning her charms towards you.

“Forgive Sif, Your Highness, she’s not used to defeat.” Hilde explains.

“I’ve never met warrior women before. I wish she’d let me get to know her.” You lament, Thor’s arm tightening around your waist.

“She’ll come around, Cherub. She just needs some time.” He assures you.

“Or a boyfriend.” Hilde jokes. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to bring her around.”

“Thank you, Hilde.” You truly appreciate her and her kindness.

“I’m glad this is going well.” She points at you two, sincerely pleased, looking almost smug.

Thor’s eyes narrow, and he hugs you closer.

“So am I.” He throws at her.

She laughs once, then turns and heads after the others without another word.

“Alright, so why have you brought us out here?” Thor asks Loki, who quickly pulls a small black folder from what looks like to you, thin air.

“This plot of land has been designated as a public park. As our Queen, the council has decided that this would be the perfect first task for you.”

“For me?!”

“Yes. We’ll give you plenty of experts to do the actual work. Your job will be to oversee the park’s construction. They will give you options, you pick what you’d like, and at the end of a few months, you will unveil the park to the public.” Loki explains.

“Doesn’t it seem like too much to take on?” Thor worries, “For a first project?”

You remain silent, too stressed suddenly with the pressure to get this place just right mounting.

“You’ll help her, Your Majesty.” Loki teases, “It will be a joint project. A gift form the King and Queen to their people in honor of their wedding. We don’t have any parks yet, and with the population growing again, this one will be an excellent place for families to come and pass the time, for whatever reason families seem to want to do that.”

“So, I’ll have help.” With Thor by your side and many experts, it doesn’t feel so daunting. Still stressful, but not as scary.

“Yes.” Loki nods, handing you the folder so that you can look at the plans and options he’s already set aside for you. “After tomorrow, you’ll have a week to honeymoon, and once you’re back, you’ll begin your duties. Together. As a unified front for all the world to see.”

Suddenly, you realize what this is actually supposed to be.

“So, this is really just a PR stunt for everyone to see that Thor and I are getting along in our new marriage? Because no one can believe in the arranged marriage thing?” You sigh, feeling slightly deflated by the rude way reality seems to be encroaching on your blissful new love bubble.

“We knew this would be a concern, cherub.” Thor rubs your lower back, trying to soothe you a little. “We’ll easily give them what they want. Since I already love you, we won’t have to pretend. They’ll see us as we are.”

You’re knocked breathless again, trying hard to catch it as Thor’s stupid love declaration in front of Loki absolutely sends your body and mind buzzing.

Loki is also shocked by this. His eyes are wide, slow blinking as he stares at Thor’s feet, replaying what Thor just said.

Loki wasn’t expecting Thor to say that and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Cherub?” Thor gives your body a little shake.

“I’m okay.” You assure him, swallowing hard, almost ready to lose your mind until you look up and meet his eye.

His concern and caring is there, true and real, and it calms you. It settles your worrying heart and with a slow sigh, you nod.

“Really, I’m okay.”

Thor frowns, almost not believing you despite the fact that you can see that he means his words.

You’re not sure if he does it for himself or if he’s doing it to prove his point, but he holds you tighter, pulling your body towards his and holding your head in place as he leans down to give you a not so chaste kiss.

You can’t help yourself when his tongue begs for entrance. You open up for him and readily meet him in his passion.

“Okay…” Loki mutters, neither you nor Thor hearing him. “…I’ll just…go.”

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it’s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[corysmiles]

Giant house au! Technos had a sick day with Phil shinking down to help take care of him. They all probably thought Techno always carrying his sword even around the house was Techno being dramatic before Phil had to start using it for a lot of things.

But what about the opposite? Maybe two of the giants are out for a day or two, and the one who stayed behind got sick. Techno tries his best to take care of them despite his size.

-❤ anon

Sick Day

—————————

Giant House AU

CW: language

Notes: I’m gonna make it Tommy who stayed home with him since they haven’t had much bonding time, and so sorry it took literally forever for me to get back to this (also I’m blaming all grammar mistakes on me being sick)

—————————

Techno had no idea how to help a sick giant. He was already so tiny compared to the house he lived in, so trying to independently get medicine for his sick brother was way more difficult than it should have been.

Phil and Wilbur had left just the day before, which normally wouldn’t be a big problem. Techno was fine getting around on his own, especially since Tommy was staying with him.

He just didn’t plan on Tommy catching a fever while none of the other giants were there.

While Techno pondered how to actually get up to the giant’s medicine cabinet Tommy laid down curled up in his bed shivering every so often. He looked terrible.

And sounded awful too.

Earlier Techno had tried to crawl up to give him his shrinking potion, but everytime the boy sneezed it sent Techno flying… And the giant couldn’t hold him either since they both feared he’d cough and accidentally drop the human.

So there wouldn’t be any touching the giant.

Next Techno tried to make him soup thinking it might at least make him feel a little more comfortable. Though quickly he realized he couldn’t even get into the cabinet with human-sized pans without a giant’s help…And Tommy wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. Not even to mention that any soup he made would be nothing more than a spoonful for the giant unless he wanted to try to make him a hundred bowls.

So that left him standing on the edge of the giant’s counter staring up at the glass-panelled medicine cabinet. He’d never had to go in it himself, he had his own medicine in his room, but human-sized medicine wouldn’t do anything for Tommy. He was pretty sure Tommy would have to have at least a couple bottles of human medicine for it to do anything.

However, tilting his head up he could just barely see the jar he needed. It looked so close, but he couldn’t figure out how to get to it. The glass was too slippery so he couldn’t climb it, and he was too worried that if he used his hook he’d get stuck and have no way down until the other two giants came back home.

“Fuck…” Techno hummed, “Tommy you sure you can’t get up for just a moment?”

From the giant’s mound of blankets he heard a loud grumble followed by a cough, “No, cant move.”

Techno rolled his eyes and readjusted himself on the counter to get a better view of the medicine cabinet. He just needed a way to get up there- maybe he could pull something over to climb on. It probably wasn’t the safest bet, but it was better than listening to Tommy complain for the next few days.

Hastily he marched along the wooden counter over to a giant stack of empty cardboard boxes. They would be perfect…if he could actually move them that is.

With a loud huff he pushed his back into the side of the box, but only managed to move it an inch before his foot slipped.

“Come on,” he whined as he kicked out his legs against the counter- still no luck, “You gotta be kidding me.”

With a loud sigh he collapsed with his back pressed against the boxes. It wouldn’t work either.

“You okay up there?” Tommy’s voice boomed.

Techno sprung back up and glared at the huge boxes in front of him, “Yeah. Just fine.”

“Cool,” Tommy murmured, before throwing in, “can you get me some meds big man?”

Techno could almost feel the boiling annoyance building up in his stomach, “That’s what I’m doing.”

All he got was a low hum and another series of coughs from the giant. Not even a thank you.

He better be grateful later, Techno glowered.

It was only when Techno heard a soft chirp behind him that a thought sprung up in his mind. Quickly he turned around and sure enough one stray crow cocked its head at him from the other side of the kitchen. It’s black feathers glimmered under the morning light- it must have been left behind to watch over the house.

“Hey,” Techno cringed, “Bird? Why don’t you come over here Huh? You can help me.”

The bird chirped again and hopped forward before banging its beak against the counter. Not exactly what Techno wanted.

The human’s shoulder dropped as he waved at the crow, “Come on birdy. You can do it, just come here.”

The bird hopped along the counter again ruffling it’s tail feathers at the human. The sight of the giant crow was a bit unsettling, but after Phil trained them they behaved much better… Techno just hoped they’d still leave him alone even if Phil wasn’t there to control them.

“Come on. Just fly over here,” Techno pleaded, but the bird just stared, “I don’t know if you understand me but please just come here. I need the medicine.”

This time the bird cocked its head to the side before flapping over to Techno’s side, the small burst of air from its wings almost knocking Techno over.

“Oh hey,” Techno inched away from the crow’s sharp talons, “Uh maybe you do understand me huh… Can you get me up there?”

Techno pointed up at the cabinet and received a sharp chirp from the bird. Before he could even turn back around he felt a sharp prodding against his back. He tried to pull away but the pressure against his spine increased until he was plunged into darkness.

He was in the birds mouth.

Techno yelled out and tried to kick open the crow’s beak to no avail. All he heard in return was a disgruntled caw before the bird flapped its wings.

“Hey!” he yelped, trying to stay at the front of the animal’s beak, “Tommy help please!”

There was no response from the giant, although Techno wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to hear it from the crows mouth. He felt his chest start to tighten anxiously as he pounded at the hard beak. If he couldn’t get out he’d probably die there.

Tommy wouldn’t know where he went and there was no Phil to reel back in the crows. He felt helpless.

He sent another punch at the crease in the birds beak as he tried to keep his breathing steady. The last thing he needed was to cry.

Thankfully, this time when his fist hit the bird a small crack of light burst across his eyes. Immediately he tried to push himself through before he was regurgitated back onto solid ground.

He wiped the spit off his face and frantically tried to create space between him and the bird before his back hit a cold surface. He flinched away and turned only to find the glass panelled door he’d been looking at before.

His eyes whipped back to the crow that was now staring at Techno with its head tilted.

“You helped me?” Techno gasped.

The bird chirped a couple more times before hopping up to another shelf. Techno heard a bit of shuffling and scratching of the crow’s talons against wood before a giant plastic bottle thumped to the floor beside him.

Techno looked up at the crow with amazement as it let out another happy caw.

“You really are helping me,” Techno grinned, digging his hands into the container’s lid to pop it open, “I guess I see why Phil left you here huh?”

The bird cooed contentedly as it flew down to pitch beside the human. Every once in a while it’s wing would brush against Techno’s side as it’s picked at its feathers. He wouldn’t admit it but it was kind of cute in a “could definitely kill him” kind of way.

When he finally heard the loud snap of the bottle’s lid opening he let out a proud laugh before digging out two round pills. The medicine was almost the size of Techno’s arm.

The crow’s chirping increased as he packed both pills into his bag. This time with a lot less fear Techno let the bird grab him in its beak. The wet darkness was still unpleasant but he knew it wouldn’t be the cause of his demise now.

A loud of gust of wind reached his ears as the bird took off from the cabinet, and while Techno couldn’t see the outside he hoped the crow knew to take him to Tommy.

After a few seconds when the beak cracked open Techno grinned as he found himself right next to Tommy’s blanket cocoon. The sniffles of the giant boy could be heard loudly even through all the layers.

“Hey Tommy!” Techno yelled as he stepped out of the bird’s mouth and patted its head thankfully, “Got you your medicine.”

Immediately the giant’s head popped out of the blankets like a Jack-in-the-box.

Tommy coughed and grabbed at the human, “Really? Give it!”

Before the giant’s fingers could grab onto Techno he stepped back with a loud huff. His feet stood firmly on the ground as Tommy pouted at him.

“No thank you? Really?” he scoffed.

The giant teen rolled his eyes and shrugged off the human, “Whatever, thank you I guess. But I’m literally dying you know.”

A burst of laughter escaped Technos chest, “Uhuh, basically got a foot in the grave Huh?”

Tommy huffed and reached for the medicine again, but this time Techno careful placed the pills onto his outstretched hand. He heard a gulp as the giant downed it before he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“Ahh,” Tommy grinned as he poked at Techno’s side, “Feel better already. Like a new man.”

“Oh shut up,” Techno laughed as he pushed away Tommy’s finger.

However it only managed to urge the giant on as he pushed the human onto the counter with his thumb. Before Techno could even react he was pinned down by the heel of the teen’s hand.

Tommy’s boisterous laugh echoed throughout the house, “Awe how cute lil Techno helping his big brother.”

Techno shook his head at the boys antics and playfully wrestled against his fingers. He was annoying sure, but he always enjoyed spending time with him.

No matter how much he pissed him off sometimes, he was his brother.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 32 (01/10/21)

Brody was missing from this session so Joker filled in for him.

(also, as weird as this sounds, cw for mentions of blood IRL)

…

Astro: Joker, do you wanna vouch for me that I didn’t kill this person? Joker: Astro and Skizz didn’t, but Astro was thinking about it. So, you know, take that for what it’s worth. Etho: We all have those thoughts though.

...

Impulse: I will admit, I have a weird new role that I don’t know what it means. Astro: Poisoner? Impulse, the poisoner: No. Skizz: Jerkface McJerkyton? That’s not new.

...

*Evil and Skizz are accusing each other, Astro is the deciding vote* Astro: I have a question. Give me a number between one and twenty. Skizz first. Skizz: Wow. I go first? Astro: Yup. Skizz: Uhh… ten. Astro: Okay. Evil? Evil: Eighteen. Astro: By the… laws of the… averages, uh… *votes* Sorry, Evil.

...

Joker: I’d like to make an announcement. Skizz: Go. Joker: I’m not friends with Skizz anymore. He marinated me. I’m not talking to him anymore, so if someone can tell Skizz this information, that’d be great. Skizz, laughing: Impulse, if you could tell the Joker I don’t care.

...

Etho: I trust Evil the most this round. Evil: ...and I’m not sure I trust you, Etho. Impulse: Ooooohhh. Spicy.

...

Evil: -and when I came back up, Pearl was dead. And I only heard one other voice. And he’s a very slippery fruit. Endless: Oh dear. Impulse: Apples are slippery too. It wasn’t me, though. Tango: Go slip on an apple! Endless: I was reading way too much into that statement, okay, let’s go.

...

Impulse: I was heading to the microwave in the cafeteria to cook a burrito. Skizz: Was it bacon and egg or bean and cheese? This matters. Impulse: I didn’t make it to the cafeteria cuz this got called. Tango: How do you know it was a burrito, then? Skizz: OOHOOHOOO. VOTING IMPULSE. Impulse: Cuz that’s what I’m hungry for! Allow me to dream!

...

Joker: I was there with the body. It was Endless. The last thing he said, and I quote: “Joker is amazing. And I’m sorry that I have to die.” Impulse: Don’t buy it. Don’t buy it. Joker: That’s what he said. I held his body as he died and that was the last thing he said. *pause* Joker: He also said “make sure to let everybody know that Skizz smells like poop.” Skizz: Ah, there it is.

...

Tango: Voting Skizz. Skizz: Whoa! Impulse: Was Skizz on the stack? Etho? Skizz: I was several steps away from it. Tango: I dunno, Skizz deserves to be voted off. Joker: I mean, I have to agree with that.

...

*Skizz cut his foot on broken glass during the break* Endless: Not gonna lie, my wife would kill me if that happened. She’d be like “yeah I’m sorry about your foot but what’d you do to the carpet?” Tango: Yeah, you heal; the carpet doesn’t.

...

Impulse: Think we might have to go another round without Skizz. Joker: Are they gonna have to amputate? Impulse: Probably. Joker: Yeah, I’d imagine so. Impulse: Be cool if he got one of those peg legs. Joker: I think he’s got an extra foot in his mouth, so he can use that. Evil: Wow… Impulse, snickering: Brutal. Joker: Was- Was that too soon? Impulse: Too soon, too soon. I mean, the dude’s still bleeding, you know?

...

Tango: Is Skizz back? Skizz: I’m back. Tango: Eyyyy, Skizzleblood! Skizz: Dude, I cleaned up all the glass, I cleaned up all the blood- Tango: Tell me it’s like a crime scene in your living room right now, that’s all I wanna hear. Skizz: -and then I made myself a drink and I’m coming up the stairs - I have tile stairs - and I’m like “oh there’s blood all over the stairs- I’ll get that later.” Tango: YEAH! Priorities! That’s what I like to hear!

...

*Skizz’s colour has turned from blue to grey due to a glitch* Tango: So Skizz, you’ve been grey. Skizz: I got- I got nothin’. Tango: Did you- How much blood did you lose? Are you turning into a- Skizz: *bursts out laughing* Evil: Zombieeeee.

...

*body is reported* Tango: I did the pipes! I did the pipes! I did the pipes! I did the pipes! I did the pipes! *pause* Endless: Congratulations? Tango: I PIPED!

...

Joker: If Tango could just finish his pipe dream earlier, the game would’ve been over. Tango: Is there a kick feature in this game? Just curious, asking for a friend. Endless: Yeah, if you go into the chat, there’s a boot option. Tango: OH! Joker: Endless. Shut up.

...

Evil: Do we wanna switch maps and see if there’s more stability? Tango: Yes. I’m done with this map. Impulse: But I just took pictures! Tango: Can we play, like, the real map? Impulse: I got kicked off the ship for taking those pictures! Joker: Whoa. I dunno what I just walked into but that did not sound right. Endless, overlapping: Yeah, I’ve been there. That’s- That is not something you want on your record.

...

*Impulse saw Tango morph back from being yellow* Impulse: *calls meeting* Impulse: What’s it like when an apple tries to become a banana? Skizz: Ooh, it’s like a smoothie! Endless, chuckling: What? Skizz, in a funny voice: Put a little blueberry in there. Tango: We got a little fruit action going on there or what? Joker: How much blood did you lose, Skizz? You feeling okay?

...

Skizz: Etho. Say words. I like your voice. Etho: What’s up, buddy? What do you want to know? Skizz: I wanna know why you killed sweet Pearl. Etho: Which round? Skizz: Ohohh man. THIS round! Body’s not even cold!

...

Astro: We’re trying for our first task win. Oh, unless Joker’s not gonna do his task. Joker: I- Uh… What, Astro? Astro: Huh? What? What? Where? Huh? Joker: Tasks?

...

Skizz: Who is not doing their tasks?! What IS that? Astro: I’ll give you seven guesses. Skizz: Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker Joker. Joker: Someone called? Skizz: Are you- Are you not- Do you have tasks, Jokes? *long pause* Joker: Um… Are we talking about like, around my house? Skizz: *sighs* Okay.

...

Joker:*reports a body* Joker: OH I found this! Impulse: *laughs* “Oh I found this”? Joker, also laughing: I don’t know why I said it that way.

...

Skizz: Can you do your last task? Cuz that would just be super. Joker: Yeah, Endless. Can you do your last task? Endless: My tasks are done, dude! Joker: Oh. Then I guess you don’t need to do it. Skizz, why are you asking him to do his last task? Skizz: Talking to YOU, Jokes.

...

*Mrs Tango’s body is reported* Endless: It’s just Mrs Tango, let’s move on. Joker: That’s rude, Endless. Endless: Skipping. Moving on.

...

Endless: Whoever killed Mrs Tango, you’ve got my full support. Joker: Endless. Stop it.

...

Impulse: I wonder if Endless and Evil were both imposters and they were trying to cover it up by having a fake conversation in the upper left engine. Evil: No, it was a conversation about the fact that I miss him. Impulse: Yeaaaaah, that felt strange. Like, nobody misses Endless ever. Skizz: Yeah that’s definitely fake. Impulse: That’s what sold me, dude. I was like there’s no way he’s giving him compliments.

...

Skizz: I love you buddy but I just- I’m not even gonna vote for you, I just want to put some sus because- Impulse: You’re wrong. You’re wrong; you lost too much blood. You’re wrong. Skizz: That could be it. That could be it. Impulse: You’ve admitted that you’re off tonight, right? Skizz: No I didn’t, I’ve been crushing it. I was off on Etho ONE time and it got me a little- It shook my confidence. Impulse: Get me voted off, Skizz. I want your confidence to be crushed. Skizz: Oh…

...

Joker: You know what, I just wanna vote Endles out cuz I’m getting tired of his… poop. Endless: Do it, let’s do it. Etho: He might be jester. Endless, in an ominous whisper: Yesss, I’m jester.

...

*Joker is ejected* Endless: If this is wrong, we’re never gonna finish this game. Joker: Nope. You’re not. Now you gotta figure it out. Skizz: If we’re wrong, you gotta [do your tasks]. Do it for me. Oh, that was never gonna sell him.

...

Skizz: I think Impulse might be jester, I think the imposters are Etho and Evil, and the only legit people are me and Pearl. Impulse: *gasps* Evil: Wrong. Skizz, you are so wrong. Skizz: I KNOW I AM; I CAN’T DO THIS GAME ANYMORE! I WAS SO GOOD WHEN WE STARTED! I HATE THIS GAME! Pearl: You are wonderfully right, I had my hand on that scanner. Skizz: I BELIEVE PEARLY POP! VOTING EVIL!

...

Skizz: Hey! Tango! Why is Joker done with his tasks like three weeks before you? Tango: I dunno, man. I don’t know what’s happening right now. Joker: Yeah! Yeah! How’s that, huh?! How about now, sucker?! Skizz: *bursts out laughing* Joker: I- I dunno, I felt… I felt vindicated for some reason.

[nctsjiho]

Sticky Situation

warnings: none

era: June 2021

❀ A dumb fight over a delicious cool dessert ends up getting JiHo and Yangyang in a sticky and smelly situation

requested by @leavethemonsteralive​ <3

“Give it to me!” “Why should I, it’s the last one!” Yangyang tried to pull the ice cream bar, that both him and JiHo were holding on opposite sides, towards him careful as to not use too much force so that the slippery thin plastic wouldn’t slide from between his fingers. “And besides, this is my house! It was in my freezer, so therefor I should have it!” “Oh don’t start using fancy words now, it doesn’t fit you.” JiHo mumbled underneath her breath earing an even more intense glare from the boy.

JiHo tugged carefully at the ice cream’s packaging, hoping it would escape Yangyang’s grasp. “I went with Ten oppa to buy it for the dorm anyway, so that means I can have it.” JiHo said, but Yangyang could only groan in response. “Give it to me JiHo, it’s too hot and the ice cream is going to melt if you don’t let go.” His tone became more whiny as time passed, but JiHo didn’t waver the slightest. “No, just give it to me! I went to grab it first and you already had one before!” “That was yesterday! Just give. It. To. Me! JiHo-“

After their little game of tug and war the dorm became completely silent. The two 00’ liners looked at each other, eyes the size of saucers, as shock quickly struck their bodies. They both didn’t have a grip on the ice cream bar anymore as just a few seconds ago it flew across the kitchen, sending a very expensive something along with it. It was only when they heard the crash, as well as the shattering of glass that the two realised that their little fight over an delicious cold sweet had more consequences than one person continuing to feel hot and the other having the luxury of feeling a bit cooler for probably no longer than 10 minutes. “It’s your fault!”

Before JiHo could mutter anything or even just make sense of what just happened, she felt the accusing finger of Yangyang poke at her shoulder. “What? I-“ She looked around as if something would help her, as if something would “undo” what just happened, but that something didn’t exist.

It was clear to her that Yangyang was panicking just as much as her. His eyes wavered and he kept licking his quickly drying lips, hand already moving upwards to grip at his hair. “If you’d just given the ice cream to me.” He mumbled. “Yah! Forget about that stupid ice cream, we’re both death when Kun oppa and Ten oppa come home.” At her statement Yangyang’s eyes widened even more, absolute dread starting to settle in. JiHo sighed and grabbed the boy by his shoulders, shaking him a bit. “Come on, let’s clean this up first and then we’ll see how we can fix it.”

When JiHo realised Yangyang was still frozen in place, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the other side of the kitchen counter. “How bad is it? What does it look like?” She looked up to see the boy squeezing his eyes shut. “Well, maybe you didn’t hear the glass shattering in a million tiny pieces, but that to me definitely looks like an overly expensive essential oil diffuser broken in, again, a million tiny pieces.” With her explanation Yangyang finally opened his eyes to see exactly what JiHo had described.

“They are going to kill me.” The girl spared a glance at him only to find him already looking at her. “What should we do?” JiHo sighed at the question. “Just get me some kitchen roll and a plastic bag or something. I’ll clean it up.”

Soon enough JiHo and Yangyang were crouched down next to the puddle of intense smelling essential oils. JiHo soaked up as much of the liquid with the paper towels, while gathering the glass to dispose of it in the plastic bag Yangyang provided her. “Bad news…” JiHo mumbled, to which Yangyang almost jumped up. “What? What’s wrong? What could be more wrong than breaking this… whatever this is?!” JiHo looked up to meet Yangyang’s eyes, she could swear he’d never looked more afraid than now. “I think your kitchen, and possible your whole house might smell like cedarwood and citrus for a few weeks. But good news is you’d probably be too dead to smell it.” A fake smile found it’s ways on JiHo’s lips only to get a less than pleased look from Yangyang.

While the two idols were discussing on how to fix their not-so-little problem, they failed to hear the front door of the dorm open, but when they heard Ten’s voice they knew they were going to meet God in just a few minutes time. “It smells nice here!” The cheerful voice of Ten, and the agreeing hum from Kun came closer until it all didn’t sound to cheerful and agreeing anymore. “Wait… It almost smells too nice here…”

It was only when the two older boys saw JiHo and Yangyang crouched on the kitchen floor, plenty of kitchen towels in hand, sheepish grins on faces and the lack of a new, and sold out, essential oil diffuser on the counter, that it all clicked. “What the hell did you guys do!” The booming sound of Kun’s voice made the two younger ones flinch.

Ten, who seemed eerily “fine”, for the lack of a better word, walked closer until he crouched down next to the pair. “Is that what I think it is?” “Hyung listen, it was an accident-“ “Oh come on! The only thing we told you was to watch out for the diffuser.” And there it was. The anger, annoyance, disappointment and so on. “We’re sorry.” JiHo frowned, standing up.

Kun let out a deep sigh, leaning up against the kitchen counter. “How did that even happen?” “Well…” Yangyang trailed off and JiHo decided to continue telling what happened.

“So you’re telling me you wasted about a million won (around 900 usd) worth of essential oils because of some stupid ice cream?” Ten’s raised voice made the two youngest cower like two kicked puppies. “You could’ve just went to the convenience store not even 2 blocks away from here.” Kun added, but his tone was a lot less aggressive.

The two older ones excused themselves from the room, opting to calm down in the living room, but not without Ten muttering a hushed “You better clean this up before we walk back in here.” And so the duo did. While JiHo disposed of the glass and cleaned the floor, Yangyang opened all the windows in the room hoping that it would help get rid of the smell.

Once everything was clean the two sat down on the kitchen counter contemplating how to fix everything. However they didn’t seem to be coming to an agreement on Yangyang’s proposed solution.

“Never.” JiHo sent him a hard glance. “But JiHo. They will cave immediately. Please.” Yangyang pleaded grabbing JiHo’s hands into his. The action made the girl roll her eyes. “Fine…” “YES! Oh my God you’re the best!” He pulled her from the counter into his embrace, making JiHo slightly struggle in his arms as she tried to push herself away from him. “On one condition though.” “What do you want?” He squinted his eyes at her, now having let go of her completely. “You buy me that ice cream from that nice brand you like and I don’t have to share it with you.” Yangyang wanted nothing more than to slap that smug smile off JiHo’s lips, but he decided to just give in and agree. “Fine, but go now.” He said pushing JiHo towards the living room.

She walked in and stood in front of Kun and Ten who were lounging on the couch, eyes focused on their phones – still looking a bit upset in JiHo’s eyes. They didn’t acknowledge JiHo’s presence, probably not even realising she was there to which JiHo sighed.

“Oppa~” She sang, twisting her body from side to side. The two men looked up confused, watching JiHo intently. “I’m sorry we broke your diffuser. It was really an accident.” Her words were slightly slurred and her tone was a bit more higher pitched than usual.

Kun couldn’t help but already smile seeing JiHo act cute – a sight he really hadn’t seen that much – but Ten knew what was up and he wasn’t going to give in as fast as his friend. He nudged the leader’s shoulder, signalling him that he shouldn’t fall for it either and Kun immediately regained his composure. So when JiHo looked up and saw the two boys looking just as serious as they looked when they left the kitchen earlier, she knew she had to try harder.

“We were being really dumb and childish, but I promise I’ll be more careful in the future and something like that won’t happen anymore.” She had moved to the couch next to them, her eyes sparkling with innocence and sending guilt straight into the boys’ hearts. How could they stay mad at JiHo when she was trying “so hard” to apologise? “Apology accepted.” Kun sighed and his smile only intensified when he saw the way she beamed at his words. Ten cooed at the girl already throwing a million loving nicknames and words at her, telling her she looked “so cute”.

“But isn’t it a bit unfair that you came here and apologised all by yourself while Yangyang who is, as I understand just as guilty, is still hiding in the kitchen.” At the mention of his name, Yangyang sheepishly entered the living room. “Don’t worry, he’ll buy you a new diffuser. One that’s even nicer than the one you guys got.” JiHo promised. All heads turned towards Yangyang, who was sending the deadliest of glares at JiHo which had everyone laughing. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” Kun chuckled.

“Lim JiHo, I’ll kill you.” The young boy muttered.

---

Side Note: Yangyang and JiHo are actually siblings confirmed?