#my mind's spinning and i'm making it everyone else's problem

[thetarttfuldickhead]

All right, gang, one final fanciful what-if for you to consider before the episode josses it all… (Just a fanciful what if, mind you. Not a prediction. Don’t deal in those.)

A friendly between Nigeria and England, right, with Sam and Jamie both on the pitch. Sam’s being brilliant because duh, so an English player fousl him pretty badly and maybe stands over him all mocking afterwards, get up you fucking pussy. It’s all rather nasty – but who comes bounding up but our very own shite in nining armour, getting in his teammate’s face and telling him to lay the fuck off Sam or fucking else, and yeah, it ends with a yellow card for Jamie (and for the other English player, obviously, he’s not getting away with this shit) and Jamie helping Sam up, you okay, man? There’s a hug, too, before they go back to trying to fucking devastate each other (but you know, sportsmanship like).

And then we can have Roy asked about it afterwards (he was probably there watching, you know, and as an old English player and the coach of both lads, his opinion is Sought) and him just going, “Yeah, I’ve gotten a yellow card for fighting an arsehole on my own team for being a prick to Sam, it’s the fucking right thing to do."

I mean, I don’t even want this, because I really don’t love the trouble it’d bring Jamie and Sam doesn't need anyone to save him but just, the parallel of it all…

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me- matt sturniolo

part one

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

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

your pov.

“and y/n l/n, your assigned seat is next to matthew sturniolo.” my new math teacher says with finality as his eyes sweep the room. “matthew, please raise your hand” he continues clearly acknowledging the fact that he doesn’t know any student by name yet.

while the teacher was making a rendezvous trying to figure out where matt was sitting, my eyes were bulging out of my head and matts usual stoic face turned into a scowl. we lock eyes and they harden at the sight of each other. matt scoffs before shifting his eyes to the teacher, and I already know he's going to protest before he says a word.

“teach, i know you don’t know me, but my birthdays tommorrow, and i don’t really do y/n." he says while rudely gesturing to my figure, "sooo, you gotta switch the seating chart up.” matt pierces me with his gaze before offering the teacher a very fake smile.  mr. dunn, the name I assume is his considering that its written on the whiteboard, just looks back at him clearly unimpressed with his negotiation skills. matt takes the hint and tries again. “for everyone else’s sake?” he questions and  gestures to the rest of students in the room. everyone bobs their heads up and down in silent agreement. 

its no secret that me and matthew don’t get along. ever since freshman year, we’ve had a strange animosity towards each other. matt carries himself like he’s better than everyone else. he does it even now, trying to negotiate with the teacher like he makes the rules. i can’t help but agree with him, though. if we end up sitting next to each other it will be a huge distraction. matt and i have been escorted out of classrooms for starting screaming matches before. 

“your all gonna have to deal with it. this is not my problem” mr. dunn says completely blowing everyone off. I drag my feet over to matt, sighing as i let the year ahead of us sink in. “way to go tiger, maybe if you had asked instead of demanded in the first place, he might of listened.” I say as I plop down into my seat.

“okay well, at least i said something. didn’t hear you talkin” he replies smugly and folds his arms over his chest.  Even though he’s acting like a child, i have to stop myself from openly gawking at his arm

 damn, tattoos are definitely my thing.

“the fuck you looking at.” he snaps. 

tattoos are definitely NOT my thing.

i roll my eyes.  “nothing, mop” i  smirk as soon as i say it  because i know how much he hates that stupid nickname. 

“stop calling me that!” matt says a little too loudly causing the teacher to spin around from the white board and glare in his direction. matt quickly shuts his mouth and starts to play with the strings of his hoodie in shame. i can’t stop the laugh that ripples through my chest at matts’ pussy reaction. mr. dunn swings his glare to me, but ,unlike matt, i don’t care. 

i’ll just switch out this class, simple.

 i make up my mind then and there. i'm not dealing with matt  AND a shitty teacher. 

“anywayss” mr. dunn drones on turning back to the white board  still annoyed by the disruption. i look back over at matt to make fun of him, only to see his eyes shut tight and his whole body tensed up. i can see the lean muscles in his forearms bulging from the strain. 

“um what are you doing??” i question more than a little confused. he snaps out of it and slowly opens his eyes. “mind your business” he mutters.

this is going to be a longgg year. 

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matts pov.

“chris im telling you, i almost lost it in there.” i say panicked as i pace around my room. we’ve been out of school for about 8 hours and i’m still stressed about it. about almost losing control and killing everyone in the classroom today.

 chris gets up and grabs my shoulders. 

“bro its okay. it happens, give yourself a break. not very many vampires control themselves the way you do. when they get angry, they just snap.” chris says more casually then anyone else would on the subject, like its a normal thing. but both him and i know that nothing about what we are is normal. 

i take a deep breath, my eyes straining from the stress of it all. “i just don’t know why i let her get under my skin like that, you know. i shouldn’t ever feel like i'm about to “snap”", I say frustration seeping through my tone. i continue to take quick steps around the room, paying unnecessarily close attention to each step.

 if she had any idea what i was, she’d never bother me again, a dark voice in my mind breaks through, much to my annoyance.

 its true, us vampires are monsters through and through. even ones like me, chris, and nick who try our best to be good. we may act and look the part, but our desires are always evil. we will always be evil.

“sooo, are you excited to find out who your mate is, or what?” chris' voice cuts through the quiet that settled in the room, making my thoughts reel in a different direction.

turning day. the day in which a vampire is born. once a vampire has hit 10 yrs since their turning day,  their mates are revealed to them. its like a bomb goes off in their head and suddenly they feel completely connected to someone else.  like their souls are one, or so I've heard.

“snap out of it matt! stop spacing out and shit, its getting really annoying” chris says clearly agitated i didn’t answer his question from earlier.

“sorry” i answer sitting next to him on my bed.  after that theres a brief silence, me and chris left alone with our own thoughts. 

“Are you excited though?” chris ask quietly, clearly conflicted himself. i’m not the only one getting a mate, after all, chris and nick turned the same day i did. 

you were born on the same day and you died on the same day. what a coincidence, my dark inner voice practically chuckled at the revelation. I shudder from the thought of it.

i take a deep breath and close my eyes as i feel the stress returning. 

“i just hope shes not human.” I whisper, almost more to myself then to chris.

“yeah, me too.” chris agrees and i hum in response. its late at night, me and chris have been hanging out and nicks nowhere to be found. 

“where’s nick?” i ask. chris gets up and stretches. “i have no idea bro.” he yawns. “ but i gotta go to bed, im tired as shit. tell eachother about our mates in the morning?” chris ask, turning to me before actually leaving my room. 

“yeah sure” I replied, even though we both know neither of us are going to want to talk about it.

 we are going to want to find them and claim them as ours.

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my alarm clock goes off. I threw the covers off my body, hot all of a sudden. vampires dont get hot. i roll my eyes. it must be the stupid mating bond thing, then.

i shut my eyes, knowing that the first person i see is going to be  my mate for life.

please let her be pretty and please let her not be human. 

one, two, three seconds go by, but still nothing. Then, her face pops up in my mind.

“FUCK” i scream. 

at least she’s pretty

a worried chris runs into my room. “what? what's wrong, matt?” he shakes my shoulders trying to get an answer. i look up at him slowly.

“its y/n” i whisper. 

@bbernard-03

@mattslolita

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Kiss Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, I'm very dyslexic so idk witch which is witch, not proof read, I wrote this in an hour? Help, kiss, idk what else to put, this may not make sense but I just needed to write something and all my wips bored me so ✨️tada✨️

Summary: a witch cursed Sam to only awake with a true loves kiss, so naturally Dean calls you, the only problem is you haven't seen the Winchesters in 5 years.

You swore that you would never see the Winchesters again.

That was the only thing that you promised yourself. The one rule you could never break.

As a hunter you don't get a lot of garentees in life, you get close to zero, but this was your one none negotiable rule and everyone knew that.

Which is why you were cursing yourself as you drove down the highway, going at a very illegal speed trying to get to the winchesters as fast as possible.

Or more accurately to one spefic Winchester in particular.

Sam Winchester.

Dean had called you not even an hour ago, you hadn't picked up the fist 5 times, but on the 6th ring you figured it must be important.

He wasn't making alot of sense, but one thing was clear, Sam was in trouble and he needed you.

The winchesters being in trouble wasn't anything new, in fact it was the norm, but this seemed diffrent, it had to be diffrent otherwise you wouldn't have been called. Dean never called you even when you worked together, it was always sam. You and Dean didn't realy get along, it's not that you hated eachother, but you were both weary of eachother. And both of your concerns arose form the same factor, Sam. It was a safe assumption to say that you both cared for Sam, but unfortunately that ment that you often clashed.

But that's all in the past. Because you hadn't spoken to them in years. You hadn't seen Dean or Sam in 5 years. Yet here you were knocking on the door to the address of a motel that Dean frantically gave you over the phone.

"Hi-" you awkwardly began to sat as Dean opened the door, but you were quickly cut off.

"This is going to sound insane but right now I don’t have time to explain." Dean began, as he basically dragged you inside to where Sam lay unconscious on one of the cheap motel beds.

"Can you just kiss him?" Dean bluntly asked looking you in the eyes.

You were completely taken back by the forwardness of his request.

"What?" You muttered, glancing quickly to Sam, laying almost lifeless on the bed. He looked bad. You wouldn't have known he was alive if his chest didn't fall up and down ever so slightly.

As if reading your mind dean began to speak again. "And quickly as he might actually die soon."

"Sorry I'm a bit confused, why-" you began but were quickly cut off again.

"A witch, obsessed with fairy tales, cursed him like sleeping beauty or some princess shit and I thought killing the bitch would end the curse I was wrong so you need to kiss him."

Your head wad spinning. If it was sleeping beauty then that ment that...

That couldn't be true, could it?

No that made no sense you hadn't seen the younger of the brothers in 5 years. He was probably so diffrent. He could have lost his boyish smile. Or his perfect hair. Or his humour. Or-

"That doesn't explain why I specifically-" you began, but just as before you were cut off by Dean.

"Cut the bullshit, and just kiss him. I can waste time explaining but sammy is dieing, please. I just know that this will work, it has to, you look at him like I look-" he stopped himself, sighing almost lost in thought. "It doesn't matter just kiss him goddammit!" He practically shouted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "just hurry up, I'll be outside."

With that he turned his back and slayed the motel door behind him as he left.

He left you alone with Sam.

Sam.

He looked terrible. He looked dead. It broke your heart. You could have stopped this. If you had just been there. If you'd had stayed....

No. You couldn't have.

You and Sam said things to eachother that you should have never said, and it ended up with you waking up in his bed. And you couldn't do that. Neither of you could. So you had to leave. And that's exactly what you did.

And that's when your rule stared. You told Bobby to never put you on a hunt with them or you wouldn't show.

Your rule spread like wild fire and soon it was a common known fact that you didn't hunt with the winchesters. No one knew why, but no one questioned it, especially given the winchesters track record.

Yet here you are, 5 years down the line, breaking your one rule.

You walked over to the edge of the bed to where Sam lay.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered. You didn't know exactly what you apologising for. Kissing Sam or for everything before this moment.

Closing your eyes you tentatively leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his for a brief second before pulling away.

He didn't move.

No, no, no no. This couldn't be happening.

You reached to grab his hand, waeving your fingers between his.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." You pleaded as tears began to fill your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You left hom for 5 years, he could have been dead for that whole time and you would have had no idea.

"Please..." you sobbed as you rested your head on his chest.

You felt numb. It felt like you had just been stabbed in the chest and someone kept twisting the knife.

Gently a hand started stroking your hair.

Your head jolted up.

There he was, eyes open, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi love," he bearly whispered, half confused half over joyed.

"Sam!" You cried and you flung your arms round his neck, "you scared me you son of a bitch."

"What are you...?" He began but trailed off.

"Dean called." You answered, quickly remembering the whole situation, pulling shyly away from Sam.

"You came?" He sounded shocked.

"You needed my help."

"I thought-"

"Yeah you made me break my one rule Sam so...?"

A silence fell over the pair of you. You couldn't look him in the eyes. God you felt awkward.

"It was a pretty crap rule." He mumbled, looking directly at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"I had good reason for it I mean-" you began.

"You ran away beacsue you were scared." He said matter of fact way, his eyes showing his hurt.

"I hunt monsters for a living I doubt that I was scared of some feelings, they're hardly spooky." You laughed. It was painfully obviously forced.

"So why did you leave then?"

You couldn't answer his question. He was right. You were scared. Scared of what you felt for him. And back then it felt like a valid reason. But right now, you felt stupid.

"You know what the curse was don't you?" He asked.

"Sam I-"

"It was the cliche of a true loves kiss. The witch said it didn't exist so I was destined to die."

You stayed silent, you couldn't look at him. You knew what it ment. You both did.

"Yet here I am, here you are." He said as though he was proving evidence in court. You were evidence of true love. After 5 years of not seeing eachother, you both still were irrevocably in love with one another. It was true love.

"Here I am." You agreed, finally meeting his eyes. "So now what?" You asked tentatively.

You were both quiet then. His smile only grew as he leaned closer to you.

"I think it's time you got rid of your stupid rule." He whispered in your ear.

"Why should I do that?" You pulled away, a matching smile on your face.

His smile softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"So that way I can wake up with you beside me, instead of you just living inside my dreams. So I can hold on to you instead of just our memories. So you can kiss me all the time and not just beacsue I'm dieing."

"That does seem like a valid reason, you got anymore?"

"Because I know, even after 5 years, you still feel the same way I do"

"And what's that?"

"I love you."

You were only inches away from his face now. You could feel his breath on your skin. He leaned on closer pressing his lips to yours.

His lips felt so familiar it almost hurt. It felt right. This is where you needed to be, this is where you should have been for five whole years.

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you impossibly closer.

His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed as he deemed the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair.

You didn't want to stop,you couldn't, and judging by Sam's reaction to your touch he couldn't either.

"Have you-?" Neither of you hear the door to the motel open as Dean basically ran in. "Oh jesus my eyes, sammy I'm glad you're okay but fucking hell!" He quickly truned on his heels, overdramtically covering his eyes. "Use protection!" He shouted just before he closed the door, muttering under his breath 'these darm kids' as though he were a middle aged man.

You and Sam just looked at eachother for a singular moment before bursting into laughter.

"I might ammend my rule slightly..." you said after a few deep breaths.

"How so?" He asked leaning in closer to you once more.

"I now swear that I'll see the winchesters everyday, or at least one spefic Winchester everyday."

[osaemu]

when they hug you

PAIRING: tartaglia, xiao, venti, kaeya, diluc, zhongli x reader

SYNOPSIS: when is his embrace the most memorable?

CONTENTS: cursing. indirect mentions of death in xiao and zhongli's parts.

childe spins you around in his arms the second he returns home from another one of his missions. you two collapse in the snow, laughing like children and smiling so hard your faces hurt. being in his arms again feels like home — for both of you.

"haven't seen you in a while, hm? c'mon, let's go grab a drink while you tell me all about what's happened while i was gone, yeah?"

xiao pulls you close in the middle of the night when his mind starts to replay every battle he's ever been through, every friend he's lost, and every time he thought it was over for him. his arms find their way around you because he wants to know that you're still there – to ensure you won't slip through his fingers, just like everyone else did.

"just making sure you're stil— ah, i mean, keeping you safe. go back to sleep. oh, me? i don't need that much sleep. don't worry about me."

venti wraps his arms around you whenever he gets the chance. it's usually for comfort or out of laziness — primarily the latter. sometimes he'd just plop down next to you in the tavern and wrap his arms around your shoulders and lay there, drunkenly mumbling something you can't make out until you finally agree to take him home.

"huh, why is everything so blurry?! i can't— don't let me go, or i'll fall! and if i fall then i- huh? you won't let me fall . . . ? good!"

kaeya wraps his arms around your waist when he has a point to prove, whether it's to you or to the world. if he's trying to make a point to someone else, boom, your pretty face is in between his arms as visual credibility. and god forbid that he's trying to make a point to you, because he'll have no problem trapping you in his arms for as long as it takes to get you to agree with him on whatever the matter is.

"tch, is someone getting distracted? eyes up here, babe. look me in the eye while i tell you why i'm right about this."

diluc hugs you long and hard after a shitty day. he probably has a terrible headache and muscles in desperate need of a massage, but your hand trailing down his back makes everything a little more bearable. 

"fuck, my head is killing me. help your boyfriend out and give him a drink or two, yeah? or a massage. actually, i'd prefer that, love. you're the best."

zhongli holds you in his arms when you're about to leave. maybe it's to go to work, maybe you need groceries, and maybe you even just want to step outside. he always wants to make sure that you leave with a good memory of him — having lived for thousands of years, he knows all too well how unpredictable life is. he never wants to have the regret of seeing you for the last time without a smile on your face.

"bye, darling. i'll see you soon, stay safe... yes, i know i say the same thing every time you leave. why shouldn't i?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i had a three year long childe phase </3

[these-conquered-woodlands]

severitus incorrect quotes in chronological order of how a severitus story would go part 2

-

harry: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it snape's problem.

-

severus: I have met some of the most insufferable people. But then they met me.

-

severus: I am in charge of this disaster! harry: I have a name, you know.

-

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent. harry: And I choose to waive that right! harry: *screaming*

-

harry: You saved me! Why? severus: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

-

harry: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons. severus, deadpan: Well well, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

-

harry: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside severus: severus: I swear, if I step outside and all of my mugs are on the front lawn- harry: *Sips tea from bowl*

-

severus: ...Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? harry: Your note told me to satanize the house before you returned. severus: severus: Sanitize. I wrote sanitize, Potter.

-

harry: Professor, professor! severus, sighing: What's wrong now? harry: Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis. severus: Well then, why are you calling? harry: Well… There’s a crisis

-

harry, holding a scooter: sev- sir, can I go outside and play with this? severus, making dinner: Whatever. I'm not your parent or anything. harry, running outside: Thanks professor! severus, running out after him in a pink apron screaming: NOT ON THE STREET! STAY AWAY!

-

harry: To make up for sending you into a fit of anguish and exasperation earlier, here, have a nice hot cup of tea! severus: It's cold. harry: A nice cup of tea. severus: It's horrible. harry: Cup of tea. severus: I'm not sure if this even is tea. harry: CUP.

-

severus : I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone. harry: Mine just says "harry no." severus : I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

-

harry: So I can either do something dumb that could very well get me injured or I can listen to Professor Snape and not do the thing, harry: Well there’s a clear right answer here. harry: *proceeds to throw five packs of mentos into a barrel full of diet coke*

-

severus, looking at a photo of harry: I hate this photo. harry: I look so sweet in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. severus : You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. harry: Up to kindness.

-

harry: *running towards snape with open arms* severus: *moves out of the way* harry: Hey, why'd you move?! severus: I thought you were going to attack me? harry: I was going to hug you! severus: ...Why would you hug me? harry: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

-

severus: What's this? harry, hugging severus: Affection! severus: Disgusting. severus: ...Do it again.

-

harry: *Stubs toe* FUCK! severus: Mind your language! harry: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”??? harry: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

-

severus : What happened?! harry: Do you want the long version or the short version? severus : Short? harry: Shit's fucked. severus : Okay, long. harry: Shit's very fucked.

-

severus: Just be careful, Harry! harry: *heading out the door* I'm always careful, Severus! harry: It's everything around me that's careless.

-

harry: What’s up? I’m back. severus: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead harry: Death is a social construct.

-

harry: ...And if I run at Severus, he will most certainly catch me in his arms. *spins around and sprints at Severus* Comin' in! severus: NOWAITI'MHOLDINGCOFFEEDON'TYOUFUCKINGDARE- *mug shatters, catches Harry*

[lowkeyrobin]

Mcyts x autistic reader

•Like autistic reader, who is very open and proud about being autistic. And like openly stems, especially when happy. Hand flaping, finger wiggling, spinning, vocal stims, full body shaking ext

• reader is really bad with volume control and often either mumbles or yells. Maybe when talking about something they're interested in, they just scream mid sentence and then carry on.

• read unknowingly mimicking there s/o while masking like copying their accents, laughs, boy language or just repeat whatever they just said.

• reader info dumps and asks allot of questions (even if that seem obvious)

• reader will randomly just stop masking and give like resting bitch face and speak with more monotone voice.

•and reader quotes things a lot like shows, movies, tiktoks, and people.

<3

oooo okay okay!! I did my best here I swear 🙏 I only did Tommy, Freddie, Quackity & Nihachu bc I genuinley had no new ideas for the others so I apologize 😭🙏 ranboo and tubbo would've been mixtures of everyone and I'm trying to make them all different and it just didn't work ; also this took way too long and maybe ill do a pt2 of this w them + foolish & charlie and whoever else ; anyways hopefully this is good, I did a little bit of research just in case so yeah djsjskkaka

MCYT ; autistic reader

includes ; tommyinnit, badlinu, quackity, & nihachu

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; i'm not autistic so i referred to req above + some research, i apologize if anything is incorrect

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he's never had a problem with you being autistic and neither have you, and you're totally fine with him making little jokes or comments because you can most of the time see therough them

he finds your stimming, especially when you're happy and excited, so fucking adorable. he literally crumbles everytime.

he also loves when you have him stim with you

you two have this little finger wiggling thing you do together, reference the "dunga dunga dunga" moment in the amsterdam vlog because I can't describe it 💀

if you're spinning to stim, he'll often joke about you getting dizzy or needing to throw up, and halfway join you because you're spinning to create a damn tornado, he can't go that fast LMAO

if somewhere is too loud and you need out, you're going dw, he couldn't care less if you just automatically yell, go nonverbal, or only begin mumbling to him. he's got you

absolutely loves when you're ranting about special interests or hyperfixations

he'll genuinley listen all day long

"and it's so interesting *cue yell* because-"

he'll lightly cringe at the change in volume but don't worry, he's fine. if you ever think differently he'll 100% reassure you that he's alright and he doesn't mind it whatsoever

you'll unknowingly pick up his accent and he'll notice immediately but not point it out, because he's learned that you'll go back to normal after he points it out. he finds it so cute tho

if you're masking in public and get comfy enough, you'll have this miserable looking bitch face and he's just like "Oh they're just like that, don't worry"

you also pick up saying bitch a lot, which he finds hilarious

doesn't understand tone tags a hundred percent but he uses the ones he knows and learns a lot of the other ones as your relationship grows

youre probably quoting total drama and mean girls 24/7 let's be honest

"you're just a homeschooled jungle freak!"

"christ, okay, y/n"

"you know I was quoting mean girls"

whatever phrase he's addicted to saying, you are too

"DARLINGGGGG GUESS WHOS BACK FROM THE PSYCH WARD"

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

FREDDIE BADLINU

always smiles seeing you stim when you're happy/excited

vocal stims with him >>>

9 times out of 10 he'll repeat them after you say them to kind of make it a game, to see who can say ___ the most

you copy his accent and his frequently used phrases a lot

it makes him get all mushy inside because you're literally thinking about him 24/7

info dumping to him >>>> he's always listening bro

he doesn't mind you asking a lot of questions, even if the answer seems obvious. he understands that you don't wanna screw something up or understand something wrong

lots of quoting Garfield. I don't make the rules

"WE'RE BACHELORS, BABY" ; you both quote this often, let's be honest

"whoever moved my shit around should be dragged out onto the street and shot"

"i really hope you're quoting Garfield this time.."

your resting bitch face genuinely makes him giggle, ESPECIALLY the monotone voice

you're also constantly quoting bits from Tommy's show 💀 or replicating the little dance they learned to introduce Freddie

he apologizes a million times, he just can't take you seriously sometimes (if it's a more lighthearted situation)

he seems like the type to know most the tone tags and knows when to use them, but the ones like /nf trip him up

like wdym nf??? like the rapper?? like the guy from those gacha music videos? what's he doing here?

when you randomly yell when you're talking about a special interest/hyperfixation, he raises his eyebrows with an amused smile and nod

"and *cue yell* it's so fucked up but so good!"

"yeah?"

NIKI NIHACHU

she's picked up some stimming from you

you guys finger wiggle little whiskers, like ants or some sort of bug

spinning when you're exited >>>

she cheers you on to try and get you to go faster LMAO

bad with volume control? that's totally fine. she completely understands

giggles whenever you get loud mid-sentence and playfully throws her hands up like you scared her

"Peter... the horse is here"

"is it now?" she giggles

always quoting tik toks and vines istg

ALEX QUACKITY

"road work ahead? yeah, I sure hope it does"

"THIS IS THE BEST DAMN CHICKEN I HAVE EVER HAD"

"oooo I love that scarlet color" she smiles

"I love that scarlet color" you whisper

she loves when you info dump about your special interests/hyperfixations, especially if it's something she's not really into but will gladly hear you talk about because it's interesting

she's also very on it with tone tags just in case, whether you tell her you need them or not

"I'll kill you wtf"

"/J /J SORRY"

she knows every single tone tag, if there was a tone tag test, she'd ace it

the monotone voice and bitch face always scare her for a moment, she's gotta make sure if you're okay and just not masking or if you're actually upset about something

she always gets you gifts surrounding your special interests/current fixations

bro if you're a fanfic writer... she's ur number one reader. absolutely lovessss your writing

you'll pick up her soft tone of voice and the accent and she will do anything but point it out, she loves knowing that she's the one paying attention to it, and seeing you just catch onto something and for you to not notice

need compression for comfort? he's there, any squeezing or form of compression you need is there

need to squeeze his hand? go ahead. need a tight ass hug? he's there

always does a proud smile when he sees you stim, especially in public

generally proud that you aren't masking in public and you're comfortable being yourself

he'll even stim with you sometimes to make you not feel weird about stimming in public and shit 💔

you catch onto his mannerisms a lot, like adjusting your hair, any hats/beanies, talking with your hands, etc

like you'll catch yourself going to adjust your sunglasses and you don't have any on. you realize "wait I've been watching him do it all night, have I been doing that??"

so much info dumping and he's here for it

"wait, what then?"

"she *cue louder talk/almost yell* fucking dies! it was either die or suffer!"

"holy shit, for real?"

you guys are both quoting dumb shit let's be honest

modern family quotes.... you can't go an hour without them

always mumbling "gotta fix that step" it's a vocal stim atp

there's not even a step to fix.

"THERE IS NO DONE IN DUNPHY!!"

"YEAH BEAT HIS ASS Y/N YOURE THE BEST PVPER EVER"

y/u/n was slain by Tubbo

"oh"

"I'm the cool dad, that's my thang, I'm hip"

"y/n I can't do this today" He cackles

[photogirl894]

Ok my dear Morgan!!!! Congrats on the followers!!!!!

Bestie I'm throwing a few at you just because I can.

Hehehehehe some of these might look familiar ;D *insert Yoda laugh*

Do Fluff 1. "Do not go far from me."/"I won't." but with a twist? Maybe it's said another time in the story with "And if I do?" instead of "I won't" at a certain point. And Angst 4. and 12 “Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you?” “I need to keep you safe.”/”Then who will keep you safe?”

Angst 24 “Keep your eyes on me. Only me.” and physical affection 1. forhead touches and 19. lifting someone into the air and spinning them.

Do I even need to say his name? The beautiful one with the pretty eyes? ;D

Can't wait to see what you come up with. Will be spectacular as always!

Oh bestie, I love all of this so much!! 😍🥰

I'm gonna do two separate posts for both requests since I really like them both and want to do both 😉 though I'm actually gonna start with #2 cuz I thought of an idea for that one immediately! 😆

And ohhhh yes, I know which beautiful Clone with the pretty eyes you are referring to 😍😍

"Two Left Feet"

24. "Keep your eyes on me. Only me."

1. Forehead touches

19. Lifting someone into the air and spinning them

Pairing: Hunter x fem reader

***

Going undercover at a Republic ball was not something you were looking forward to...especially because you were being expected to dance.

There was just one problem with that...

You couldn't dance!

When you tried to dance, you were like a Gungan with two left feet. You had good rhythm, at least, but not the moves. It was embarrassing.

What was even more embarrassing was you were being paired with Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99, someone you'd had your eyes on for a while and you'd flirted with from time to time. You had to try and dance in front of him and you were mortified.

You were an analyst for the Republic and you were needed on this mission to analyze certain data the Bad Batch were trying to retrieve. This wasn't your first time working with them either. There had been reports of a spy in the Republic Senate who was going to be making secret deals with the Separatists during the ball and you and the Clones were being sent in undercover to intercept the rogue Senator. Which meant being dressed up all nice, which you didn't mind as much. That and it meant seeing Hunter in nice, formal wear, as well...which you definitely didn't mind either.

At the ball, you and Hunter lounging around on the side of the ballroom while Crosshair kept watch on the opposite end. The rest of the squad were in other parts of the building.

"Why am I one of the ones that has to be here?" Crosshair complained over comms.

"Because Wrecker sticks out too much and Tech and Echo are needed to keep watch on the cameras," Hunter answered.

The both of you heard Crosshair groan in response.

"Hey, I don't want to be here either, Crosshair, so suck it up," you scolded him on your comm.

As you put it back in a sleeve of your dress, Hunter asked you, "What? You mean you don't want to be here with me?" He grinned teasingly at you.

You could feel your cheeks flashing hot at his remark and even more so at the way he was smirking at you. It made you want to hide your face. Just as you were going to answer, the music started playing louder and people were moving onto the dance floor. The moment you dreaded the most.

"Well, guess we'd better go, too," said Hunter, offering his arm to you.

With a nervous gulp, you looped your arm through his and he led you to the dance floor with everyone else. You tried to hide your growing nerves, but to your dismay, you had forgotten Hunter had enhanced senses and could tell something was up.

"What's wrong?" he asked you.

"I...I can't dance," you anxiously admitted and then you started just rambling without thinking. "I'm going to embarrass you and draw attention to us, which could compromise the mission, and then we're gonna be--"

Hunter came up and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him and he took hold of your other hand as the dancing began. "You worry too much," he said in a soft voice, "and you won't embarrass me. Just look at me and everything will be fine."

As the music started and the two of you began to move, he stepped to the left and you immediately tripped over your own feet, apologizing right after. The two of you kept going with the dance and you stepped either on his foot or were stumbling over your dress; nothing was working. You clenched your teeth in frustration and shame, feeling everyone's eyes on you.

Then Hunter stopped and said your name. When you looked up at him, he told you, using a firm tone yet still with a gentle voice, "Keep your eyes on me. Only me. Don't think; just trust me and let me lead you."

Something about gazing into Hunter's eyes just made you forget about all of the judgmental stares surrounding you or even your own humiliation at your inability to dance. There was calm, safety and warmth in his eyes that seemed to ease your fears and anxiety.

As you both moved, he quickly explained the steps of the dance and kept you close so you could move with him easier. You let him just pull you with him, your bodies pressed closely against each other, and your gaze never left his. The eye contact you maintained was intense and electrifying, which made your heart race increasingly. Just as you came to that realization, Hunter grinned at you again, which most likely meant he could sense your rapid heartbeat, too. You became lost in his gaze that you almost forgot you were even dancing in the first place.

"I love your eyes," you stated, realizing too late that you'd said that out loud.

Hunter let out a pleased chuckle. "Your eyes are much lovelier to look at than mine," he replied.

Before you could react, he suddenly pulled a move that you didn't expect: he gripped you underneath your arms and lifted you effortlessly into the air, spinning you in a circle. You let out a small laugh of delight and smiled down at him, which made him smile up at you in return. As he slowly lowered you down, your body sliding down against his own, the music slowed down and came to an end, the crowd of onlookers watching all the dancers applauding as the music stopped. The applause was just distant noise as you couldn't pull yourself away from Hunter's gaze, the two of you staying in each other's arms. The rest of the room seemed to fade away, leaving the two of you alone. His lips parted and his breathing grew heavy along with your own as an unknown force seemed to draw you two in and you touched your foreheads together.

You wanted everything else to just cease around you and to live in this moment alone with Hunter.

Unfortunately, Crosshair's voice speaking in both your ear comms broke you out of the moment as he said, "The Senator's on the move. We need to go."

Both you and Hunter snapped out of the moment and back into reality, stepping apart and you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, feeling the heat returning to your cheeks.

"You'd better get going," you told him.

"There's one thing I need to do first," he responded. Then he pulled you back to him and you found your lips meeting his in a deep and powerful kiss that nearly made you go weak at the knees. Then when he pulled away, he had a confident smirk on his face. "Now, I'm ready to catch a Senator," he declared before running away.

Your fingers came up to your lips and you smiled. Seems like this mission hadn't turned out to be a bad thing after all...and you couldn't wait for this ball to be done.

Photogirl894's Angst prompts

Photogirl894's Physical Affection prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers fics

[ursa-tan]

Can I have a request for a wally darling x reader where the reader "captures" wally as the villain of the show and has a bit of a dom kink? This is for playfellowxxx and I am 18 years old. Is this ok to request?

You’re mine

Wally Darling x Fem!Villain!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Word count: 3,312 Reading time: ~12 mins

Part 1, Part 2

TW: None

A/N: Honestly this was the first proper request I've gotten and I got really excited to write it! I hope you like it anon! Also, the reader is approximately 6ft tall, just so everyone knows :) Also, I'm really sorry this took so long to put out, have had a lot of stuff going on in my personal life.

Wally awakens, dizzy and almost completely disorientated – just because he can’t sleep doesn’t mean he can’t be knocked out. The world around him seems to spin for a moment as he attempts to orient himself in the darkness. He tries to move his limbs yet finds himself almost unable to move, bar lightly wiggling his body. Soon, Wally comes to realise that his hands are bound behind his back, to the back of a chair. His legs are also bound, rope wrapped around his ankles to hold them together and to hold them to the chair as well.

The room is dark, murky, almost pitch black if it weren’t for the small beam of light piercing through the side of a blind and streaming into the room. It’s just enough to let Wally see what’s happening around him. The room is still around him, not much happening apart from the wind whistling gently through what he can only assume is an open window tucked behind the blind. There are boxes stacked up around the room, pushed to the edges to make way for a desk. The room itself is small, seemingly more of a storage room than anything else.

His concentration on the room is broken when a door opens from somewhere behind him. The sound of the door closing is joined by the clicking of hard bottomed shoes against the wooden floor. He feels fear course through him for a second, jolting him forwards slightly when a hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Wally, Darling,” a soft, feminine voice rings out from behind him. Wally already knows exactly who it belongs to. Its full of a sickening joy that causes a pit to open itself up in Wally’s stomach.

“(Y/n),” Wally growls, immediately becoming defensive. The presence of this puppet causes his skin to prickle, making him feel as if his hair is standing on end. “What do you want?” His voice is uncharacteristically sharp and cold, holding a malice that he reserves for when it’s just him and (Y/n).

“Oh, nothing much…” She walks round to his front, crouching down to find herself  eye level with the significantly smaller puppet. Wally stares into her eyes, its one of the few times he’s able to do so. “Just thought you looked especially adorable the other day, couldn’t help but want to snatch you up.” Her voice is playful and flirtatious, it doesn’t match the situation in the slightest.

“You just like causing problems, (Y/n).” Wally can’t help but say her name again, something about it feels good in his mouth, feels like its supposed to sit on his lips.

“Ah, maybe I do, but you love me for it,” She chuckles lightly, standing back up and patting his thigh as she does so. The sudden contact makes him shudder, causing his body to jump – practically pressing himself into her palm. It causes her to freeze, only for a moment, leaning down to stare into Wally’s eyes again.

“Do you like that, Darling?” His last name drips from her lips just like it did before, yet this time it sounds so different. Its sticky and sweet and causes his head to spin slightly.

Wally goes to speak, to say something, but the hand on his thigh halts his voice entirely. He’s not entirely sure why, but he can’t think clearly. The hand on his thigh squeezes lightly, a pressure that causes him to shudder. He wants to lean into it, his mind fogging with something he isn’t quite sue of.

“I need to hear a yes Wally, or I’m going to take my hand away.” Her voice pulls him out of his seeming trance, his head snapping upwards. He stares at her, eyes meeting with a desperation that he didn’t know he could feel.

“Yes,” Wally whispers, pupils blowing wide as he stares.

“Good boy,” She chuckles, voice dripping with that same sticky sweetness from before. Her hand squeezes again, trailing up his thigh and towards his hip. It rests there for a moment before trailing back down to his thigh. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself there”

Wally can’t find it in himself to answer, only staring into (Y/n)’s eyes, vision slightly unfocused. He doesn’t understand why his head is so foggy, but he does know that he wants more of her touch. As a result, he does his best to push his thigh up into her hand.

“Oh, you really do seem to be enjoying yourself,” The smile in her voice is obvious, “I’m going to untie you now, ok? But you have to promise not to try and run.” She seems to have an idea that he can’t think of at all.

Wally just nods, the prospect of being untied doesn’t properly occur in his mind, the idea of escape a million miles away at this very second. He feels her fingers trail down his leg, the other hand joining to untie the rope binding his ankles together. It takes her a few moments of tugging before the rope comes undone, becoming slack and falling to the floor in loose rings. Wally takes a moment to part his legs, stretching them out before returning them to their previous position.

“Good boy, you’re so good for me,” she hums, both hands returning to his thighs, giving them both a squeeze. Her hands are so big, Wally’s sure that she could wrap her hand entirely around his thigh if she wanted to. He wants her to, at least. The words make Wally feel like he’s melting, becoming absolute putty in (Y/n)’s hands.

He melts more when (Y/n) moves behind him, hands coming to his bound wrists and starting to undo them. She’s much softer this time, fingers brushing the bare skin of his wrists as she undoes the ropes. After a few seconds, Wally feels the rope unravel and drop to the floor, yet he doesn’t move. Not even as (Y/n)’s hands begin to trail up his arms, eventually coming to rest on his shoulders, lightly brushing his neck. She stays there for a moment, gently kneading his shoulders, holding him like he’s made of glass. Then, suddenly, her hands are on his face, forcing it backwards so she can stare into his eyes.

“Hi, sweet thing,” she hums, her hands gripping his face rather harshly, forcing him to stay still. She could’ve let go as soon as she tilted his head back, however, Wally wasn’t going to attempt moving. “You look so pretty like this, pupils blown all wide.” She eases up her grip, now stroking his face.

Wally lets out a short sound, something next to a whimper. He can’t tear his eyes away form (Y/n)’s. Her eyes seem to sparkle with something that only serves to draw him in. Like the lore of an anglerfish, he was walking straight into the jaws of danger, yet he couldn’t look away.

(Y/n) tilts his head forwards again, so that she can lean forwards and place her hands on his thighs. They begin to move, one trailing up and under his jumper, under his shirt, splaying across his stomach. Her finger are so warm as they press against Wally’s bare skin. The warmth from her hands bubbled up through his body until it forces a short, soft moan from his lips.

Wally, unable to look into (Y/n)’s eyes from this angle, decides he doesn’t need to keep his eyes open and so let himself relax into the sensations. Eyes fluttering shut, Wally presses himself against her hands, one of his own reaching up to hold onto her bicep. He continues to let out soft moans as (Y/n)’s hands reach up and towards his chest, dancing her fingers delicately across his skin. He finds himself completely unable to focus on anything but the hand on his chest. Until, that is, (Y/n)’s other hand moves to his inner thigh.

It rests rather high up, nearly brushing against his clothed crotch, snapping him out of his earlier fog. The sensation causes Wally to gasp, attempting to buck his hips into her hand without even thinking – its nothing but an involuntary action. He’s desperate for her touch.

(Y/n) chuckles, it’s a sick, sardonic sound that Wally still loves none the less. In fact, he wants to hear it more. More of her voice, more of her. She pulls her hands from his body at the same time, an action that makes him whimper and squirm; but he doesn’t move, he wouldn’t dare.

Footsteps ring out once again as (Y/n) walks round and stops in front of the smaller puppet, crouching down at an attempt to be eye level with him. It doesn’t work, however, as she ends up about chest height, looking up into his blown-out pupils.

“Hey, pretty thing,” She hums, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. “You enjoying yourself?” Everything about her feels like a trap, yet Wally can’t help but lean in. If he gets snatched up and captured, its worth it, as long as it’s her.

“Yes,” Wally murmurs, eyes half lidded as he leans into her palm. He reaches up, one hand coming to rest on top of hers while the other holds her wrist. “Yes… So much…”

“My good boy.” She smirks as she speaks, her voice flirty and now dripping with lust. (Y/n) pulls her hand away as she stands up, and Wally can’t help but reach out for her as she moves away. He’s desperate to have her back against his skin.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m not leaving,” She bends over, now actually being eye level with him, “get up for me, will you doll?”

Wally nods, scrambling to get himself out of the chair. (Y/n) has to take a step back as he hurries to stand so he doesn’t knock his head against hers. As soon as he’s on his feet, Wally is standing as tall as he can in front of her – something drives him to try and impress her.

“Oh baby, relax,” Her voice is sugar coated as she leans in, beginning to unbutton his cardigan. “There’s no need to be so tense.” She pulls his cardigan off, throwing it somewhere behind him. Part of him hopes it landed on the chair he had been sat on, he didn’t want it to get dirty, yet he also didn’t care.

His shirt came off next, being given the same treatment as his cardigan. Wally ignores the sound of it hitting the floor in favour of reaching up to start undoing his ascot. However, he doesn’t get far before (Y/n)’s hands are on his, pulling them away from his neck.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hums, holding his hands to her chest, cupping them near her collar bones, “that looks so cute on you, I want you to keep it on.”

“Ok…” Wally’s voice comes out as delicate whisper. His hands feel so small in hers, so warm and completely encapsulated.

 “Good boy,” She mumbles, dropping his hands and gripping his hips instead and tugging him forwards. Her hands quickly begin work on the button on his trousers, popping it with one hand and using the other to undo the zip. (Y/n) has his trousers on the floor in seconds.

“Actually…” (Y/n) pauses for a second before reaching up, leaving Wally’s painfully hard and still in his boxers. Her hands come back to his ascot and tug at it, pulling it off. The red silk glistens lightly in the soft glow from the sun, laying in her hands.

“Eyes or hands?” She asks, suddenly making eye contact with Wally. He finds himself unable to answer, only able to stare into the perfection that is (Y/n)’s eyes.

“Wally, I’m only going to ask once more. Eyes or hands?” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, brining him back to reality far to fast for his liking.

“Eyes?” Wally mumbles, hesitating a moment before speaking. He’s unsure of what she means, and despite everything that she’d done in the past, he trusts her.

(Y/n) doesn’t answer, only reaching with the ascot in her hands. He isn’t given a chance to react before the red silk is being wrapped round his eyes, obscuring his vision entirely. Wally finds himself deprived of his favourite sense, the one he treasures more than anything else in the world – it should scare him… and yet it doesn’t.

(Y/n)’s hands are back on his hips within seconds of his eyes being covered, this time tugging at the waist band of his boxers. They’re pulled down to around his mid-thigh, freeing his erection and causing him to gasp in both shock and relief. Wally can feel her hands on his thighs, still holding the fabric of his underwear. Although that doesn’t last long, as she tugs them the rest of the way down, leaving them pooled around his ankles much like his trousers.

“Step forwards baby,” She says, holding his hips and guiding him as he takes a step. He’s now completely nude, exposed to her and unable to see anything. His heart is racing yet he wouldn’t change a single thing about what’s going on.

The smaller puppet lets out a yelp as he feels his feet leave the floor. Although he doesn’t flail or worry, as (Y/n)’s hands on his hips hold him steady. He can feel her shifting, but doesn’t know what’s going on until the underneath of his thighs meet her shoulders. He can feel her hair tickling his inner thighs, the wispy strands painting feather soft patterns into the soft, sensitive flesh.

Suddenly, the flat of her tongue is pressing against the underside of his cock. Its warm and wet and has him bucking his hips upwards blindly. He feels (Y/n)’s hands slide up his back, supporting him and holding him against her. Wally leans back into her warm palms for a moment, relaxing just for a second. It is only a second thought, her tongue is back on him, sliding from the base of the shaft to half way up before pulling away and repeating the pattern.

“(Y/n)…” Wally mumbles. This time, its his turn for his voice to drip with lust thick as honey. He reaches down, fingers fumbling to intertwine themself with her hair. Struggling for a moment, Wally finally gets his hands comfortably in her hair, holding the back of her head for support. He defiantly needs it as (Y/n) pulls away, adjusting her head to slip the tip of his cock into her mouth.

Wally bucks his hips forwards, desperate to feel the warmth of her lips around the base of his cock. He partially expects (Y/n) to pull her head away, to scold him for the action – but she doesn’t. Instead, she pushes her head forwards, taking his entire length in one go. It happens so fast that Wally feels himself hit the back of her throat. (Y/n) doesn’t gag.

The warm wetness of her tongue begins to lap at the underside of his cock once more. It’s a sensation that has Wally letting out moans, sounds that bubble up from his chest and spill past his lip. They’re completely uncontrolled sounds, slipping past his lips in the same way foam bubbles out of a soda bottle.

Wally can already feel himself reaching an end. Something about the way she moved, the way she treated him, was driving him towards an edge much faster than he would like to admit. It doesn’t help that he can’t see, that he’s been deprived of his most vital sense.

“(Y/n)-“ he rasps, gripping her hair and tensing his thighs to squish her head slightly. He feels his stomach muscles tense up, causing him to curl forward, around her head.

The taller puppet only hums in response, starting to bob her head. Deliciously slick sounds fill the room. (Y/n)’s hands pressing into Wally’s back to pull him closer, keeping him in place as her tong laves at his shaft. She doesn’t stop her movements or change her pace, continuing to bob her head slightly and swirl her tongue at the pace she had already set.

“I’m- I’m- (Y/n)- I’m-“ Wally can’t splutter out much more than the first word of the sentence that he’s desperately trying to string together. (Y/n)’s pace is driving his towards an edge that he doesn’t want to fall off of – if he does, this ends. Wally is desperate for it not to end.

His hands don’t move from their spot, finding a perfect purchase scrunched up in her hair, holding the back of his head. His hips, however, begin to falter and buck forwards as if they have a mind of their own. Both his body and mind are senselessly chasing pleasure, but only his body wants to reach the finale. And it does.

Wally tenses up fully as he finally reaches his peak, thighs clenching around (Y/n)’s head. His arms pull in tight, hips pushing forwards as he desperately tries to push himself as far down (Y/n)’s throat as possible. He manages to push until he’s hitting the back of her throat, his tip touching the soft warmth in a way that has his whimpering and pleading for more.

The smaller puppet finally spills himself into her mouth, painting her throat white and filling her mouth with a slightly bitter taste. (Y/n) doesn’t recoil though, instead swirling her tongue around his length and continuing to bob her head to the best of her abilities. Wally feels like she’s trying to pull out everything he’s got.

“A-Ah!” he yelps, the sensation suddenly becoming entirely too much. Wally is whimpering, trying to pull away, wordlessly pleading for her to stop.

Eventually, (Y/n) does, pulling away from him and letting him fall from her saliva coated lips. She keeps Wally sat on her shoulders, looking up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes sparkling with mischief in what little light there is in the room.

“Too much baby?~” She purrs, voice still filled with lust.

Wally can only nod, letting out another pathetic sound as he does.

“Oh, you poor thing… Come here,” She mumbles, shifting his position until he’s got his legs wrapped around her waist. Her tone is so much softer now, as is her touch, as she comes to gently cradle his shaking body against hers. She holds him so easily, her much larger hands supporting under his ass and against his back.

“Would you like a bath darling?” (Y/n)’s voice is right next to his ear as she speaks. It’s accompanied by feather light kisses full of love. Her hands are so warm, radiating outwards and into him in a way that almost has him falling asleep where he is. Wally shakes his head. All he wants now is to curl up and sleep.

“Ok then,” she pauses again to kiss the top of his head, something she can do now thanks to his pompadour falling apart, “What about something to eat? Or drink?” Her questions are so gentle, they don’t really need answers.

Wally shakes his head once again, burying his face in (Y/n)’s neck. Her skin is so soft, he can’t help but relax against her. Although that relaxing is interrupted for a moment when (Y/n) pulls the ascot free from his eyes, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Its most likely piles up with the rest of his discarded clothes.

She continues to hold him tight against her body as she walks. Wally is far too drowsy to pay attention to where they’re going. But he takes not of it - a few short steps and a turn to the left.

Suddenly, (Y/n) is shifting the blue haired puppet. He’s sitting in her lap, partially straddling her thighs with his head resting against her chest. (Y/n) in mostly laying down, hands resting on Wally’s back, providing a pleasing weight.

(Y/n) doesn’t say anything as she begins to stroke Wally’s hair, placing many short kisses on top of his head. He can slowly feel his grip on consciousness loosening. He knows he isn’t going to fall asleep, but he’s not going to be awake anymore.

“I’ve got you, baby,” (Y/n) mumbles. It’s the last thing Wally hears before the world slips away from him.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There is a curse in me that will not sleep (and a home in you that will not leave)

Day 1 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: hinata shouyou x reader (gn) x kageyama tobio

length: 7.6k

genre: fairytale au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: very vaguely beauty and the beast inspired, a bit of miscommunication but it's all resolved in the end, I know it's angsty but I promise there's a happy, comforting ending and everybody ends up alright, basically just a lot of emotional stress but that's my trademark by now

a/n: woooow ok au week has officially begun !! I am still kinda scrambling to get all of these finished in time ahaha but this first one is monumentous so I hope everyone enjoys <3

tags: @love-and-lore

It's not often that you see Hinata Shouyou this way, weary and sullen, with his brows furrowed and his gaze turned down. It looks wrong on him, like he's wearing someone else's face - someone else problems. So, of course, you throw the rag you'd been using over your shoulder and flip the open sign by the window of the tavern, quietly sending your barback home for the evening as you make your way over to Shouyou.

He's so distracted by whatever's going on in his mind, so wrapped up in the heaviness of running a town like this that he doesn't even notice your presence until you tap your knuckles on the wood of the bar next to him. 

"Did you want a refill?" You offer gently. Shouyou just blinks, spinning on his stool to see the empty tavern before turning back to you.

"You're closed. I should go, I don't want to bother - why isn't anything cleaned or put away? Where's that new barback you hired?" You laugh at his jumble of words - the way his mind bounces around is nothing new to either of you and serves as a comfort that he isn't too far gone right now. You take his cup away from him despite his gentle protests, frowning as he lets you peel his fingers off of it so that you can dump out his ale, serving him a new, fresh pint.

"I sent him home," you say easily. "There isn't much to do tonight, I can take care of it myself."

"You work too hard."

"What were you thinking about?" Shouyou shoots you his best attempt at a scathing look when you dodge his comment, but he turns into such a lovesick puppy when you're around that the effect of it falls short. You merely cross your arms and raise your brows as you wait for him to speak.

"I'm… worried," he sighs eventually, shoulders sagging in defeat as he admits it.

"Cleary," you quip back gently, moving to begin wiping down tables. "What about, though?"

"Did you know they're raising taxes again?" He says quietly. You sigh and pause your cleaning, rolling out the tension in your shoulders - or trying to.

"I thought you had some say in that?" You ask. Shouyou scowls into his cup.

"This may be my town to look after, but I'm only a nobleman. When the royal family demands it, even I have to obey." You hum in understanding as you throw your rag onto the bar and move to begin hauling benches up and onto the tables. Shouyou makes an alarmed, disbelieving sort of sound and shoots to his feet to gently shoo you away, picking up benches in your place.

You roll your eyes, of course, making a big show of huffing and mumbling under your breath about how you can do it yourself. He just smiles in that gentle way of his and you know that the heat in your face and the honest care in his eyes as you move to put up the small chairs, instead, give away the show of it all.

Hinata Shouyou is in love with you because you let him be - desperately against your better judgment. 

"We've dealt with raised taxes before, Shouyou," you say quietly. "We'll be ok."

"For how long?" He snaps back, holding his hands up in surrender when you shoot him a look. "I just mean that there's a limit. I'm worried about… well, I'm worried about the whole town. There's only so much the people can take."

"So what will you do?" You ask as he puts up the final bench and lets you usher him back to his seat at the bar - the only chair you'd left available. 

"I'm… going to talk to the prince." That makes you pause, eyes wide as you stare at him.

"No you're not," you say quickly. Shouyou looks at you with a care that rattles you, an apologetic sort of love showing on his face.

"He's going to help me… he has to. It's the only option I have." You sigh at Shouyou's words and grip the edge of the bar.

"People are warned away from that castle for a reason, Shouyou," you say quietly. "The king banished his son there for a reason. The forest is impassible for a reason."

"I know, my beloved." You don't even have the heart to chastise him for calling you that when he pulls himself to his feet and sweeps his way around the bar to stand in front of you, the silk of his shirt shimmering under the dull, flickering candlelight. His hands grip yours firmly and he pulls them up to press kisses across your palms, making you scoff and turn your head away. The gold of his rings are cool against your skin and the jewels in them shine, reflecting their colours onto the stains of your apron. 

"I must," Shouyou goes on to say. "I must do what needs to be done to take care of this town… to take care of you."

"You will not die stupidly for me." Your voice warbles as you speak and you curse yourself for it. Shouyou just smiles, keeping his fingers intertwined with your own so that he can swing your connected hands back and forth between the two of you.

"I will not," he says firmly. "I will leave at first light tomorrow and be home by dusk. You'll see. Before the flowers on your mantle wilt, I will be back here with you, beloved."

It takes two days for the petals on your flowers to start curling and falling, two days without Shouyou's return before you've driven yourself mad enough to go after him, entrusting the tavern to your young, nervous barback and setting off on your horse. It takes another day entirely to maneuver through the dense wood that separates the town from its wretched, looming castle, the trees thick and sturdy and blanketing the forest floor in darkness. 

You wonder, in a crawling, frightened sort of way, if Shouyou's out here somewhere in the depths - if you'll stumble over his body being taken by the forest. 

But it does not happen. Nothing happens until you stumble, finally, onto the castle, dark and crumbling, with ivy crawling up the walls and moss covering the stone. Once, you can tell, it was beautiful, but that age of it seems to have died out long ago and the remnants stand haunting and silent until the end of time.

The silence, of course, you test as you shove open the great doors and stumble into the vast, arched entryway. There are no soldiers, no footmen or maids or anyone. There is only you and the silence and the sliver of light from the open doorway. 

Maybe it was the nervous whining of your horse outside, her hoof pawing at the ground, that made enough noise to draw attention. Maybe it was your own fault with the way you pushed open the doors. Maybe it was - well, it doesn't matter, you suppose, as the prince himself stomps down a spiralling, ornate staircase and towards you, regal cape flying out behind him and scowl clear on his face.

"Go," he spits angrily, the fury rolling off of him like thunder as he points out the open door behind you. You remember, somewhere far away, of the stories you've heard - of his endless pride and selfish ego, of the day he was banished by his parents, sent to live in exile while his sister was groomed to take the throne instead of him.

You should leave, you think haltingly. You should run and remind yourself how lucky to are to have a life to flee back to, you should -

"Don't be rude," you snap instead. The prince, for what it's worth, merely stares at you and holds his hand to his chest, recoiling from the way you slapped his pointed finger away from you. "I'm looking for someone."

"There's no one here," he says back, voice heated and loud. You cross your arms.

"Perhaps not now, but he would have passed through. It's Hinata Shouyou, the nobleman presiding over the town -"

"I know who my own nobleman is." Tobio''s voice is thunderous, echoing in the otherwise empty entrance hall. You snap your mouth shut for just a moment. 

"Perhaps then, you'd be helpful enough to know where he is." Surely, you shouldn't speak to royalty like this, you think distantly. But surely, an exiled prince living in a crumbling castle of a time long gone, a living ghost residing in a relic of the past, cannot threaten as much harm as you've been led to believe. 

"He is gone," he says simply before turning, his cape swinging elegantly to hit you across the knees, causing you to stumble as you chase after him.

"When? Where? Wh -" Your incessant questions have Tobio turning from halfway up the staircase, scowling down at you where you skid to a halt and look up at him.

"He, smarter than you perhaps, left when he realized that his trip was fruitless. You will, as well," he says stubbornly. You begin up the stairs again and he tips his head back and sighs.

"He never returned home," you shout back stubbornly, your voice matching the volume of his, ricocheting off the stone around you. "He could be dead because of you, lost somewhere out there and gone and -"

But not even your voice, loud as it is, is enough to drown out the crack of thunder outside, booming and quaking as dark stormclouds stir over the horizon, beginning to blanket the land in darkness. 

"The sun is beginning to set," Tobio says rather quietly. "Anyone would die trying to cross the wood at night." You turn to face the open doors at his words, your eyes wide and jaw tight at the darkening sky and the onslaught of rain that begins over the valley. Your hand grips the bannister of the staircase as you stare, as you consider the possibility of dying tonight alone in the wood, of never going home and seeing daybreak again. 

"The valley will flood," you say quietly, eyes still trained on the darkness outside. "The wood will turn to a marsh and the landslides will block the trails. I will not make it home tonight." 

"I am not so fool as to be unaware of the weather," the prince says haughtily, making your hand tighten on the gold leaf of the bannister in anguish. You wonder painfully, for a moment, if this is what happened to Shouyou, if he was sent to his death so uncaringly, as well.

But then Tobio sighs like he's been burdened by something great and turns to continue up the stairs.

"A room will be prepared for you here. You will leave at first light when the rain stops."

You realize at dinner that night, that perhaps the prince is not as alone as you'd all thought - the realization comes to you as you shift in your plush velvet seat at the large banquet table, servers appearing on either side of you to load rich, delicate food onto your plate. 

But something sits heavily in your heart as you think back to the way he'd demanded that you dine with him, the way his eyes stared hollowly at the long, empty table. It must be a curse, you think, to have such space in your heart and home and no one to fill it. You wonder if you could even tell yourself you have a home at all in such conditions.

But then you think of Shouyou, of his beaming smile and kind eyes and soft, firm hands, and the kindness you've been fostering is tampered out again. 

"How could you not help him?" You say abruptly, letting your cutlery clatter onto your plate as you sit back in your chair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your people are suffering and you sit here living in lavish solitude and turning away the one person who was brave enough to ask you for help."

"Asking is an interesting way of putting it," Tobio says dryly. You falter, unsure of his meaning and letting your words die out.

"What… exactly happened here when Shouyou came to you?" You ask eventually.

"It is none of your concern." He looks away stubbornly, the candlelight illuminating a faint dusting of blush across his cheeks. It must be from the wine, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

"He is my concern," you snap. The prince stares at you, then, something deep and looming in his eyes that you can't place - something that makes you shift again as his gaze bores into you.

"What a life you live, having someone to make you act in such a way," he says softly. You splutter out a defence about how you're friends and look away. The shadows of the pillar candles flicker and splashes of light dance over your faces, like the golden heat is trying desperately to breathe life into this cursed place.

"You have not told me why you will not help," you say in lieu of addressing his comment and his disbelief at your denial.

"And I will not," he responds stubbornly. Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're lying." Perhaps, you think desperately as he slams his fist against the abruptly, you've hit a nerve. Perhaps Shouyou was right all those times he told you that this mouth of yours will get you into trouble.

But then the prince sighs and murmurs something about this being his second tiresome overnight guest and you perk up, locking onto him again.

"The second? You mean -"

"Yes, of course, your beloved Shouyou stayed for far too long - days, in fact. What did you think happened to him?" Tobio says cavalierly. You huff and run a hand through your travel-dampened, tangled hair - much to Tobio's displeasure.

"Why didn't you lead with that?" You snap. "He was probably on his way back to me as I left - he's probably arriving home now and thinks I'm dead - or worse, stuck here with you." That comment, you think mildly, probably wasn't necessary, but the scowl on the prince's face is reward enough. 

"Then he's home," he spits the word. "And he's safe. There is nothing to be concerned about." Tobio says it like it's final, like there's no ill will that could befall the two of you now, but as you look out the stained glass window toward the night sky and the storm that stretches endlessly onward through flashes of white-hot lightning, you fear that the worst is yet to come. 

As Shouyou stands in your empty tavern, listening to your barback stammer on about how you'd left to go after him and haven't returned yet, he thinks that there is no pain like this, no fear like what he feels now, knowing that you're alone in that cursed wood because of him.

It's begun raining, thunder crashing in the sky and lightning striking down from above and illuminating the horizon as it stretches over the valley. There is no way you'll survive a night in the wood like this, Shouyou realizes as he stumbles to a bench, sagging down onto it and putting his head in his hands. There is no hope on a night like this. 

So he stands abruptly, declaring that he's going after you, when the barback all but throws himself in front of the door to stop him.

"You'll die out there," he says earnestly. Shouyou's hands tremble as he clenches them into fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

"They could already be dead," he snaps.

"And if they aren't, then you're just killing yourself." Shouyou tries to remember the name of the trembling boy in front of him. Yamaguchi, he thinks you'd said once. But then he thinks of you again and a crash of thunder rattles the glasses on the bar.

"There's no use in both of you dying tonight," Yamaguchi says quietly, his voice shaking as his eyes grow wet. Shouyou sighs and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder gently, a comforting sort of apology as his shoulders sag and defeat takes hold of him.

"At first light, then," he says stiffly, and a flash of lightning illuminates the gaunt fear on his face. Yamaguchi finds himself wishing that you'd never left home at all. 

That night, you're aware, should've been a fitful sleep with the large bed chamber and silken sheets and mounds of pillows that you're surrounded with. After dinner that night, Tobio had had you well taken care of - a hot bath drawn for you and fresh clothes laid out, the fireplace lit and glowing golden and the bed given fresh linens.

But there had been something eating at you all night, something akin to guilt clawing at you from the inside as you thought of Shouyou out there, lost and without you, while you luxuriate in bed. When you wake from your turbulent night - from nightmares of the nobleman that had you tossing and turning, all hopes of returning to him are stamped out by the darkness that still swirls overhead.

The storm, you realize when you run to the large, ornate window, is still raging, darkening the endless sky and wreaking havoc over the land. There will be no returning home for you today, and there will be no safety found in Shouyou's arms.

Three days, the cursed storm lasts, raging overhead and causing the ancient castle to shutter and sway. Three days of you trapped in this stone maze with Tobio, trailing after him to ask why, why, why couldn't he bring himself to be a good person just once? It's late in the evening, on the third night, when the two of you find yourselves having cracked open a bottle of wine and sitting on the lavish, soft rug that lays in front of the great fireplace in his lounge. It had taken some convincing - and some drinks to get him down there, but the wine has begun flowing easily and Tobio, you realize delightedly, is almost relaxed. 

He softens a bit more, much to his own displeasure, when you sway with how tipsy you are, leaning into him so closely that he can feel your breath on his lips. But then he looks down at you and the sparkling mirth in your eyes and he finds them clear and alert - not nearly as hazed from the wine as he'd expected to see.

"You're drunk," he murmurs anyway. You just smile.

"No more than you," you point out, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips for just a moment. It's enough, you learn quickly, to make him lean into you, closer and closer and melding his body to yours.

It's the wine jumbling his own thoughts, Tobio assures himself, that leads him to close the gap, pressing his lips to yours and tangling a hand in your hair. He makes a small, whining noise somewhere in the back of his throat, something burning in him at the touch of you against him - at the touch of something living against the ghost that he's become. 

When you part, your chests heaving a bit too much and your lips both kiss bitten and reddened, he sighs and tips his head back to thump against the settee that you're both leaning against. 

"No wonder the two of you are so in love when you're both so ready to use your wiles to get what you want from me," Tobio murmurs, his eyes closed enough that he doesn't notice you staring at him.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathily. He snaps his head up and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Nothing," he says hastily. "I don't know what I was saying."

"Oh my god," you say bluntly, seemingly ignoring his assurances that he was simply talking nonsense because of the wine. "You slept with -"

"It doesn't matter," Tobio all but whines, petulantly screwing his eyes shut and refusing to look at you. You just laugh, though, a loud and honest thing as you pat his shoulder comfortingly. Tobio opens one eye wearily and you're smiling at him gently, not a hint of mocking to be found in your gaze.

"I don't blame you," you shrug. "He's… well, he's Shouyou." Things quiet down significantly at that and you sober noticeably as you look out the window towards the blackened, stormy sky. 

"He will come for you," Tobio says somberly.

"He shouldn't have to," is your simple response.

"Why do you deny him?" Tobio's fingertip traces over your exposed shoulder where your shirt's slipped in your tipsy, giggly state and thinks back to when he gave you the clothes, to when you spluttered and looked away and told him how inappropriate it would be for you to wear his belongings. But you hadn't brought anything with you, as he'd pointed out, and silk often feels nicer than three-day-old cotton.

"He doesn't really love me," your quiet, sullen words make Tobio pause, his fingers freezing on your skin as he considers what you've said. "He asked me to marry me again before he left, you know."

"Again?" Tobio asks breathily, cursing himself for the weak sound of his own voice. You hum in affirmation.

"For the third time, yes." You swirl your wine in your cup as you speak, something lonely and hollow flitting through your eyes that reminds Tobio a nauseating amount of himself.

"Why?" He asks simply, pulling his hand away from you as something clenches in his heart, as something in him aches. It's loneliness, he knows, deep and penetrating. Jealousy, perhaps. 

"He's noble," you say it like it's obvious. "He can't marry someone like me. It's fun, but that's all - like a little bubble of happiness that has to burst one day." You pluck at the rug as you speak, pulling at threads that are worth more than your home. You wonder what home you'll have to return to, after all this.

Tobio, sitting next to you and reeling from your words, can't fathom why you think so lowly of yourself when you look up at him, beautiful and kind and smart as a whip. As you sigh and reach for the wine bottle, topping up your cup and then pouring into his without comment, he wonders what it must be like to find home in someone like you.

Shouyou, as he wades through the forest paths towards the end of the storm, clings desperately to any semblance of home that he once had with you. He's not sure it was worth it to wait until the weather began to clear, although if Yamaguchi had his way, he'd be waiting until the rain slowed even more before setting out. The boy had been near tears again when Shouyou'd announced that he was going now, and by foot so as not to risk his horse's safety. 

He wonders, in a nagging, guilty way, if that boy is about to inherit the life of someone else - if he's about to mourn the people who he's just begun to call home. 

But three days of wondering if you died to try to save him was enough to drive Shouyou to hysteria, pushing him out and into the cold, back towards the towering trees and wall of darkness. As he wades through broken branches and felled trees and tumbling rocks and floods, he thinks about you all the while - about every moment, every fleeting glance.

He thinks about the first time he'd asked you to marry him, earnest and honest and caught up in puppy love. You'd laughed at him then, reminded him that he'd only known you for a week since you'd moved to town and opened the tavern. You'd asked him, at the time, what your favourite flower was, and when he didn't have an answer, you asked how he could possibly know that he wanted to marry you if he didn't even know you.

You'd assumed, of course, that that would be the end of it, that he must have just been some flirt who thought his money and influence earned him the right to toy with who he pleased. But Shouyou is nothing if not persistent, and day after day he appeared by your side, his gaze only growing more lovesick as time wore on.

He thinks, as he slips on a mossy rock and stumbles into knee-deep mud, about the second time he asked you to marry him, a few years after that. You'd hired your barback, much to Shouyou's relief, and you'd chosen a shy young boy who needed coin and a bit of life experience and someone kind to help him get it. He'd watched you help Yamaguchi throughout the day, showing him how to run the tavern, how to pour the ale, how to check to see if the bread was rising well.

Shouyou had looked past you, then, at the vase of orchids that you kept by the counter, at your favourite flowers. He'd gotten them for you days ago, he'd remembered, so it must have almost been time for some new ones. When you'd come over to refill his cup, he'd asked you again to marry him. You'd laughed - again, and told him to ask again when he was sober, pressing a kiss to his cheek and stopping to water your orchids on your way past him.

The third time, of course, was the night before he'd left. He'd stopped by the tavern as the sun began to rise and bathe the town in a dripping, golden glow that stretched beyond the valley and towards the looming wood. Standing next to his horse, he'd let you clutch his hands in yours as tightly as you'd needed to, shushing your worries gently and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You were scared for him, notably, in a way that made his heart ache as he realized how foreign the sight of you trembling and nervous was. He'd asked you to marry him again, in that moment, whispering it against your hair as you let your face tuck into the safety of his chest. You'd squeezed his hands tighter at that, and Shouyou braced himself yet again for another no when you'd looked up at him earnestly, instead.

You'd made him promise to come home to you safely. You'd promised that you'd say yes when he returned to you without harm.

Alone in the wood, in the dead of night, slipping on loose rocks and mud, Shouyou desperately wishes he'll get to see you again - that he'll get to hear that yes. But something in him stirs painfully, a worry nagging at his gut. What is he to do, he wonders, without a home anymore? What is he to do without you?

Waking up in the morning with a raging wine hangover and Tobio's arms wrapped around you is certainly a jarring surprise, one that has you shooting up from where the two of you had fallen asleep on the plush rug. He's groaning and throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the light and ward off his headache, you assume, when the realization that light is streaming in through the windows catches your attention. 

The storm, you realize as you look out towards the clear, rolling horizon, is finally passing. You turn to tell Tobio, to announce to him that you can finally return home, when you're faced with him sitting up and leaning back on his hands as he looks out past you towards the shimmering, golden sun that illuminates the crumbling corners of the place he's lived in for so long.

His face, hard and solemn, has you snapping your mouth shut. You both understand the truth - you will leave and he will disappear again, returning to roam the halls of a life that should not belong to the living, eternally alone in this curse of his.

"Tobio -"

"I'll send a messenger ahead," he interrupts you. It's the first time you've said his name, he notices immediately, and it rings through his heart in a painful, abrupt way. He can't remember the last time someone said his name. He notices, rather painfully, that he'd almost forgotten someone could. "That way your beloved Shouyou will know you're safe and you can wait for the forest paths to be cleared a bit before you leave."

You should disagree, you know - you should fling yourself out the grand front doors and never look back, returning to your sunshine love and the life that you've built for yourself. But you move, instead, to sit on the settee next to Tobio's head and place a hand on his shoulder, agreeing quietly. There is a sadness that pours off of him, oozing onto the floorboards and seeping into your soul. There is something about him that makes you stay, some cursed sort of pull that brings you closer.

You stay by his side more than you should - and you know that, somewhere deep down and ignored. You don't sit opposite him at breakfast, separated by the long banquet table. You sit next to him, letting your hands brush accidentally every now and then as you eat.

"It is wrong," he says quietly, toward the end of the meal. You freeze, the closeness between you feeling sweltering as Tobio points it out. "The raising taxes, the treatment of the people… I know it's wrong."

Oh, you think slowly, right. There is more to this world than the hand that brushes against yours.  

"Then why not change it?" You ask slowly, tilting your head to look up at him. He stares ahead, at the faded family crest on the chipped wall and the dust that's collected on it.

"My family stopped listening to me a long time ago. I am… powerless, these days. There is nothing I could do."

"Oh," you say flatly, letting your hands twist in your lap. You consider that perhaps you should've known that - should've known that someone so cast out would lose any ties, watching them sever over time as the vines climbed higher over his castle walls and sealed him away from the world. "Tobio, I'm sorry -"

"My father is too old to carry the crown these days. He's stepping down… my sister's coronation will be within the month." He says abruptly, moving past your sorrow, your sympathy. You suppose it means nothing to someone whose life is already dead, already mourned for and buried. 

"Will you… go?" You ask hesitantly. He shakes his head.

"Of course not. But I will write. I love my sister, as much as I am capable. It's not enough, I know, but I hope it will be sufficient to sway her. A plea from her brother must mean something, still… and the people do not deserve to suffer by my family's hand." He says it like it's simple, like his words ring with undisputable truth. But it's in your nature to dig up mountains when you find them in your way.

"You are capable of love, Tobio," you say simply, the firmness in your voice making him pause and stare at you intently. "I've seen it." Tobio just scoffs at your words, though, earnest as they are. 

"You don't understand what you're saying," he says, his voice hard. You frown at him as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms.

"What is it that you think you are? Hm? What is it that you're so afraid of me seeing? I have spent three days with you, Tobio, and you are no more than a man." You say stubbornly. The prince looks at you hard, his eyes dark, striking against the backdrop of the golden sun pouring through the windows and into his life.

"Monsterous things don't often show themselves as monstrous things." Tobio's voice is as icy as he can make it, cold and cutting and sharp. But it wavers, ever so slightly, caught by the voice of a boy who lost everything before he'd even been given a chance to learn how to hold it.

"There is nothing monstrous in you," you respond gently, leaning towards him. He leans back, away from you, away from the light that you pour into him. "You are beloved to me and that is all."

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing his eyes shut as if your words burn through him. "Don't say that."

"What?" You push. "The truth? Don't say that I love -"

But commotions, you've found, always hit at the worst of times, and a shouting, banging disturbance down in the direction of the entrance hall draws the two of you away from each other. Tobio, for his part, sighs like a knife blade had been lifted from his neck and stands quickly to attend to the issue, leaving you to run after him and through the winding, dark halls.

Shouyou's yelling voice is what greets you when you get closer, the volume of it carrying throughout the castle as the panicked spluttering of the messenger that had been sent out hours ago follows. You nearly trip over yourself rushing to the hall to meet him, to see him looking up at you, dirty and tired and desperate. 

Shouyou meets you at the bottom of the staircase, having gotten over his initial shock of seeing you here and alive and well so that he can crush you into a hug, a hand cupping the back of your head protectively as he holds you against him and buries his nose into your hair.

You hold onto him, of course, gripping onto his shirt as tears blur your vision and wet his collar. He shushes you with all the gentleness that you remember, swaying you back and forth to comfort you as he tightens his arms around you and whispers delicate promises in your ear that he's here, that you're alright and he'll take you home. 

And Tobio… Tobio watches, looks on from the staircase at the two of you coming home to each other and feels the walls closing in on him, feels the gilded, arched ceiling press down, down, deeper into his soul. 

Shouyou pulls away from you just enough to grip your face gently in his hands, tilting your head back and forth so that he can look at you thoroughly and make sure you're unharmed. Fortunately… you're really fine. Three days of lavish living with fine meals and lavender baths have treated you well, and you look up at Shouyou with shining eyes and a bright face.

He looks just past you, then, as if he's finally noticing the prince sweep down the rest of the staircase towards the two of you. He… blushes when their eyes meet and shifts on his feet, but there's a cold, impassive stare on Tobio's face.

"You may stay as long as you need to recuperate after your journey. Then… you may be off. The tax problem will be dealt with." Tobio disappears at that, spinning on his heel and gliding up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone in the vast emptiness of the hall.

You're with Shouyou in the bedroom that you'd begun to call your own later that evening, with him freshly washed and in new clothes and sitting by your side on the settee by the window. You're curled up against him, letting him hold an arm over your shoulder and stroke up and down your arm gently. 

"What happened between you and Tobio?" You ask suddenly, causing Shouyou to freeze against you. He coughs a bit, clearing his throat and shifting as he looks out the window instead of at you. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in violets and pinks as it begins to dip below the horizon that stretches on over the valley.

"I… tried to convince him," he says carefully. "And I failed."

"Mhmm," you respond easily, a teasing note entering your voice that makes Shouyou blush. "But you tried really hard, didn't you?"

"I -" he clears his throat again. "I… yes. I did." You laugh at that, relief painting Shouyou's features as you melt further against him and squeeze his hand comfortingly.

"I got wine drunk and made out with him… if knowing that makes you feel better," you shrug. Shouyou sits up so fast that he jostles you, making you grumble as you sit up, too. He stares at you, mouth open in shock for a moment, before tipping his head back and laughing, pulling you into a close hug. 

"He's really not what he's made out to be," Shouyou says quietly, swaying the two of you back and forth where you sit, your legs tangled together on the settee.

"Yea…" you respond, tipping your head back to look up at him somberly. "Some people are like that…" Shouyou looks down at you softly, stroking a hand over your cheek as you peer up at him. He says your name quietly, an earnest sort of prayer given to you as he smooths his thumb over your cheek.

"Shouyou…" you whisper back, pulling yourself closer to him as you grip onto the front of his shirt.

"Will you marry me?"

"…What about Tobio?" Shouyou laughs at your question, letting his head drop to your shoulder and sighing before dropping a kiss to your neck.

"I think that perhaps…" he begins slowly, lifting his head to look at you again, his face serious. "Perhaps our beloved Tobio has been the lonely prince for too long." You smile in a quiet sort of way at Shouyou's declaration, pulling yourself closer to press a gentle, firm kiss on his lips. 

He makes a shocked sort of noise in the back of his throat before pulling you closer, a hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you against him. When you do finally part, he makes a point not to stray too far, resting his forehead against yours and grinning broadly.

"Do you have any idea how many years I've been waiting for you to do that?" He asks breathlessly. You giggle a bit and kiss him again, a quicker, lighter touch of your lips against his.

"Ask me again," you murmur, your lips brushing his.

"Will you marry me?" He's choked up by now, his voice warbling and eyes watery.

"Yes," you respond earnestly. Outside, the sun finally dips below the vast, reaching horizon and drowns the world in darkness, but Shouyou holds you to his chest and presses kisses to your ring finger while the fireplace glows with the heated embers of the evening's flames and the sound of home calls to you. 

The days, admittedly, start to blend after that, with you and Shouyou taking up residence in the castle under the guise of him recovering. He is recovering, you assure yourself, it's just… taking a while. Surely… surely there's nothing else keeping you here, no ghost walking these halls that's drawing you to this life.

It's over breakfast one morning, the three of you taking up space at one end of the long banquet table, when Tobio announces that he's received a letter from his sister. 

"She was… responsive," he says carefully, like the touch of joy seeping into his tone is something that he shouldn't be allowed to hold onto. "It was good to have her hear my pleas. She will be better in our parents' stead. She will be a better leader."

"And you?" Shouyou quips, a challenge rising in his voice. You shoot Shouyou a look, but he's staring determinedly at Tobio, and you're pleasantly surprised to see his gaze matched by the prince.

"It's high time I stepped up and began taking care of my people again," Tobio says firmly, a conviction ringing in his voice that has you smiling softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of his face. Tobio can't help but soften at the action, taking your hand in his to smooth his thumb over your knuckles and brush against the engagement ring that Shouyou had given you all those nights ago. 

Learning that he'd been keeping it with him, that he'd had the ring on a chain around his neck since the day he first proposed to you… well, you'd been thankful for the bedroom you'd been given that night - for the silk sheets and plush pillows and the privacy of the sprawling corridors outside. 

As Tobio thumbs over your ring, you feel your face heat at the memory of that night, and as you shift in your seat and Shouyou send you a beaming smile, you know that he's smugly aware of what you're thinking of.

"Well," Shouyou says happily. "You may need some help, you know, coming back to your people and learning how to be what they need."

"And you might need some companionship," you chime in. "What, with this big, lonely castle and all." Tobio leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, trying desperately to maintain the stern look on his face - but a blush dusts itself over his cheekbones and a smile twitches on the corner of his lips.

"And what of your beloved tavern?" He asks you.

"There is more to me that is beloved besides the tavern," you say easily, glancing between the two of them. "And besides, Yamaguchi's been doing well enough on his own. He can take care of it while I'm away, and if the forest paths are finally looked after and kept safe, then the journey back and forth isn't so bad. Maybe it's… maybe it's time to move forward in this life a bit, hm?" Tobio sighs at that, letting his shoulders drop as his smile finally breaks through as he thinks of taking a step forward, of being alive once more. Shouyou whistles happily at the sight, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"You two are getting married, or haven't you forgotten?" Tobio snipes, but there's mirth in his voice as he arches a brow.

"Well," you drawl. "A castle is such a beautiful place to hold a wedding."

"And what a perfect start," Shouyou chimes in. "There's no better way to gain back the people's love than by hosting an event like that. Open your home up to them, let them in."

"Well, sure," Tobio sighs, tipping his head back to look at the arched ceilings, the golden morning light shining in and illuminating the family crest hung on the dining room wall. "After all… this is a home now, isn't it?"

The wedding, of course, is as grand and extravagant as you could've imagined. Tobio'd fixed up the castle for the event, his sister having sent staff to make sure that everything was repaired and polished and restored to its former glory. Tobio was pleased by it, in his own way, tight-lipped and subtle and small about the whole thing. You and Shouyou would never comment on it, would never bring attention to it, but there is a life in Tobio now that wasn't there before - a colour in his cheeks and a shining light to his eyes.

But true to himself, even as he stood at the altar and officiated the wedding, he remained stoic and upright while you and Shouyou held hands and kissed, teary-eyed and trembling. It wasn't until that evening, late into the night when all of the guests had gone home, that the mask began to crack.

It's a privilege, you think as you lay in the master bedroom, to get to see Tobio like this - soft and smiling and laughing once he's really relaxed. By the end of the night, the silk sheets send cool chills across your exposed skin as you lay between your two lovers, Shouyou's hand intertwined with yours so that he can see your ring next to his, shining in the dim, golden light of the fireplace. In turn, you twist the fingers of your other hand through Tobio's matching ring - the one that you'd slipped on quietly during the festivities while the three of you snuck off somewhere private.

There had been chatter at the wedding, of course, about the prince's sudden appearance and the light that begun to fill up the corners of the valley. Even the forest, people whispered, had thinned, ground solidifying into safely travelled paths and creeping vines receding. The air had shifted, the clouds had dispersed, and the sun had risen in its endless way to shine light down to patches of the land that had not felt that warmth in years. It's like time, people began to say, is finally moving in the proper way, and life has been breathed back into the valley.

There's a sort of haze that fills the air surrounding the three of you, a comfortable safety that blankets you as you're tucked between the two of them, skin pressed against skin in the privacy of your home. You giggle at the thought, placing a kiss on Tobio's exposed chest where your face is pressed against him.

"What are you thinking of, my beloved?" Shouyou asks quietly, his voice a hushed whisper in the quiet room. 

"Just that it's nice to be home," you whisper back, your words making Tobio hum in agreement and tighten his arm around your waist.

"It is nice, isn't it?" He says lowly. "To be somewhere… to have someone's that's home."

[darsynia]

I'm gonna let you pick the Marvel man (just not anyone you've done xReader for, lol - you gotta pick someone out of your comfort zone) and do xReader for: 80. crashing your lips together during an argument

I definitely wrote out of my comfort zone here! Peter Quill/f!Reader

Summary: Ever since Peter Quill and his crew rescued you from your dying ship, the man has been an absolute menace. You wish you could get the upper hand, but somehow he's always one step ahead of you, and ogling you the whole time.

Warnings | Length: Swearing/GotG typical banter | 1,574

Bet Your Ass

“What is your problem, Quill? By the Gods!”

The guy’s been chapping your ass since you were rescued, and you’re completely over it. Sure, he’s got arms, and that face, and those thighs, but by Lumesta, you’re going to need him to shut his mouth pretty soon or you don’t know what you’ll do! It’s been three days, and every time he’s laid eyes on you, he’s made a comment about how he would have rather rescued one of your crewmates.

Your ship had sustained the most unlucky micrometeorite damage ever, and you know you’re lucky to be alive. Two ships showed up to your captain’s distress call, and your three-man crew split up, as the medical ship the other two ended up on was almost at capacity as it was.

To hear Quill bitch about it, he’s brought on a completely useless slave girl, not a mechanic who’s already upped the efficiency of his weird little ship by 4%. It’s all ‘what use does a medical ship have with two renowned fighters’ and ‘we always get stuck with the girls.’ The blue-skinned cyborg woman whose name you struggle with had actually punched him after that one.

Drax has been leaning up against the wall, and after you turn away from snapping at Peter, he nods at you. “He likes your boobs.”

“Oh, here we go!” Quill groans, throwing a food wrapper toward the garbage can. It comes nowhere close.

“I am Groot.”

“I’m getting it, I’m getting it!”

“I am Groot.”

You don’t understand what Groot says, but everyone else does. It’s a disadvantage, but an amusing one, usually. This time, it’s clear the two statements are about very different things-- Quill has straightened in the process of picking up the garbage (which is a shame, because those pants of his hug that ass), so he can look askance at the teenaged tree.

“I am not dignifying that with a response,” he snaps back. “I mean, if we’re going to nitpick, the neckline of her shirt is a little low, but just because it’s eye-catching doesn’t mean--”

You cannot believe this. “Wait, so we went from Drax saying you like my boobs to you objecting to them?”

“Hey! I do not objectify. I’m very respectful!”

“You’re looking at her boobs right now,” Rocket says sardonically from the doorway.

“Weren’t you checking Cleavage Girl’s work? Scram, I’m trying to have an argument here,” Peter says loudly. He actually makes a ‘shoo’ gesture.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling you Tight-ass from now on,” you say, crossing your arms over your breasts. You know from experience (as in, pretty much every time you do it) that Quill won’t be able to pull his eyes away.

You’ve made a calculated error, though. Up until now, you’ve left your appreciation of his physique to yourself, and now the man is laser focused on this discrepancy.

“I knew you were staring at me!” Quill crows, strutting over. “That’s why you’re all sulky sexy, you secretly want me, and it’s killing you!”

“I am GROOT.”

Drax points at Peter with the piece of fried food he’s eating. “He’s right. You’re accusing her of what you are doing.”

“Cleavage Girl is new, why are you all on her side??”

Groot shrugs. “I am groot.”

“Woah, speak for yourself!” Rocket yells, making a grossed-out face.

“He’s not wrong. I would enjoy watching them,” Drax smiles.

“Well, now I’m just horrified,” you say, shoving away images in your mind of what the others might be picturing between the two of you. You spin on your heel and start toward the door, but your forward progress is halted suddenly, like you’ve caught your jacket on something. You yank angrily, but though you get free of whatever it was, you only have a few seconds before you’re pinned boobs-first against the wall of the room, with the familiar bulk of Peter fucking Quill pressed up against you.

“Okay, I take it back. You definitely have muscles,” he says, lips close to your ear.

“Get off,” you say, but your heart rate is up, your skin tingling with the pheromone your people give off when you’re attracted to a potential mate.

“Oh, I’d love to. I didn’t think you were into me,” he says infuriatingly. You hadn’t realized the double meaning of what you’d just said, and you rest your forehead on the bulkhead in frustration.

“I’m not,” you lie, shoving back with your hips. You’ve got enough leverage on the wall that he flies back a ways, so you spin around, dropping to a fighting stance.

“Hey, hey, I’m just responding to the signals you’re giving off,” Peter says, but you can see something in his eye; respect, perhaps? Something has shifted since your display of physical dominance. He’s looking you in the eyes, not the boobs.

“You couldn’t handle me anyway,” you snap back without thinking. Instantly, Quill’s face suffuses with an interested grin, and his eyebrows go up lasciviously.

There’s a loud crinkling noise only feet away, as Drax dumps out the rest of his snack into his open mouth. “Go on, I’m not even here,” he says.

“I am Groot!”

“I do not need tips from you on how to get her to want to kiss me!” Peter shouts, clearly affronted.

“Oh, I’ll kiss you,” you say impulsively. “But you have to promise to always look at my face, not any other part of my body.” You cock your hip and arch your back in an overt challenge.

“What if I’m behind you?” he asks, crossing his own arms. The muscles on his exposed arms look so good you wouldn’t mind trying your teeth on them, for multiple reasons.

“If that happens, you have to turn around,” Rocket says. You’d thought he’d left the room, and so did Peter, because both of you look around until you see that he’s sitting faced away in the captain’s chair, which hides his whole body from behind.

“I am Groot.”

Everyone just looks at Groot, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

Their reactions freak you out. “What?”

He shakes his head.

“What?” you press, walking forward. Quill isn’t answering so you decide to remind him that you do, indeed, have strength he respects, even if it’s not your strength of character. You grab the front of his shirt, but his response is to fist pump.

“He said you want me and you’d prove it by coming over to drag me to my quarters… and--” Quill looks down at his own chest and smirks.

You let go right away and groan. “This ship is infuriating! I give up, I wish I went on the med ship, okay? You win!”

To your complete confusion, everyone, even the cyborg lady who was apparently eavesdropping from the hallway, walks in and shoves handfuls of credits at Quill, who looks incredibly smug.

“What the hell--” you start.

Groot walks over and pats your arm. “I am Groot.” Everyone else in the room starts leaving, and you’re still furious and confused.

“Quill--”

“I bet them I could get you to say you wished you were somewhere else,” he shrugged. “Easiest bet ever. All I had to do was stare at your body and be myself.”

All things considered, the man could have chosen far more miserable ways to win his bet, but you’re still het up and irritated. “Technically I won that bet for you. You should split it with me.”

“No can do, Cleavage Girl.” He folds his hands behind his back, bulging his arm muscles at you. 

You step forward to shove him onto his ass, but his arms come down lightning fast, one leg planted behind him to brace himself: he’d known you would do that, and now his lips are on yours, one hand cupping your cheek like you are lovers instead of two people who can barely stand to be in the same room together.

The thrill of contact takes you by surprise. It’s like adrenaline has chemically altered into pleasure with the addition of your anger, and suddenly you can’t get enough. The two of you wrestle across the room to the nearest wall, hands grasping at clothing, lips sucking, teeth biting, tongues swiping as if unable to trust the evidence of your attraction for longer than a few seconds.

Minutes later, he’s tracing the line of your shirt along the edge of your breasts when you finally catch your breath, and you realize what you have to do to best him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your kiss privileges are hereby revoked.”

“What? No!” Peter groans, lifting his head. His lips are red, pupils blown, out of breath, a complete gorgeous wreck of a man.

“What did I say the conditions were?” you say implacably.

He thinks. Peter’s lips twitch to one side, then the other, and then his eyes pop open and he looks horrified. “You don’t mean that. I was kissing you there, that doesn’t--”

“It counts!” you say sadly. “You weren’t looking at my face.”

You have no idea how he’ll react to your bluff (it’s totally a bluff. That kiss was amazing. You have no idea what boring shit you’d have been subjected to on that medical ship, but you definitely won Best Rescue), but what you don’t expect is for him to narrow his eyes and smile.

“This calls for a new wager.”

“You bet your ass it does.”

[abbygrabska]

Twelfth Doctor Smut ~ Territorial

For: @toastvogel Plot: Maybe 12 sees the need to "mark his territory" after someone (alien,human, doesn't matter) get a bit too friendly with reader? I really just want to let you write what gets into your mind. As long as it's got 12 in it, I'm happy with everything ;) Tags: biting, belly bulge, hand, size kink

Word Count: 1178

Pulled all of this outta my pussy

You’re excited as you get dressed, you’re going to a Hollywood party in the 60’s with the Doctor.

You weren’t sure who the host is, but the Doctor seemed to know everyone, so it didn’t really matter.

You decide on a dark blue dress with stars littered all over it, a matching necklace and earrings, paired with silver heels. Your eye makeup matches the dress, and your lips have a clear coat of gloss covering them. 

Just as you finish applying the lip gloss, the Doctor knocks on the door frame.

“Come in.” You call out.

He walks in. He’s wearing a black suit, no tie in sight, though ties never were this face’s thing.

He stares at you, a strange look on his face.

You shift nervously under his gaze, “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He shifts his eyes away from you, “You ready to go?” “Yeah.” You stand, leaving the vanity and walking towards him.

He offers an arm for you to hold. 

You grin, hooking elbows with him, “Let’s go!”

He smiles, leading you out of the wardrobe and into the console room.

The Tardis has been parked on the lawn, near the fenceline of the property.

As you walk across the grass, you realize where you are.

Your grip on the Doctor’s arm tightens in excitement, “Are we at Marilyn Monroe’s house?”

“Yes. Funny story, I accidentally married her once. Thankfully she won’t recognize me.” He gestures to his face, “I’ve regenerated since then.”

“Good for you.”

The two of you join the party seamlessly.

At some point the Doctor wanders off, you don’t question it, he does that occasionally.

“That dress sure is something.” You hear a Southern accent say from behind you. You turn around, it’s Elvis Presley.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile, fluffing the skirt slightly. He pulls out a cigarette, offering you one. 

You shake your head, politely denying it.

“Suit yourself.” He lights one, taking a drag before exhaling, “I don’t reckon I’ve seen you before. Who’d you come here with?” “My friend, the Doctor. He’s around here somewhere.” You glance around the backyard. “Why don’t I keep you company until he comes back?” He smirks, offering a hand.

You hesitate, nerves filling you.

“Is there a problem here?” You hear the Scottish lilt of the Doctor from behind you and relax.

“This is your friend?” Elvis asks.

“Date actually.” The Doctor corrects, putting a hand on your waist.

Elvis chuckles, “Sweetheart, he’s old enough to be your great-granddaddy. Why don’t you and I go somewhere and have a little fun?” The Doctor’s grip tightens on your waist, “What would Priscilla think of you having ‘fun’ with another woman?”

Elvis frowns, pulling his cigarette from his mouth, “How’d you know ‘bout Priscilla?”

“Same way everyone else does.” The Doctor responds vaguely, “Ready to go?” He looks at you.

You nod, and he starts to lead you away.

“Hold it now.” Elvis starts to walk after you two.

He grabs your arm.

The reaction is instant, the Doctor turns and punches Elvis in the face, knocking him over.

You hear several people gasp as the Doctor takes you back to the Tardis.

The doors shut and he pulls you back against his chest.

“Doctor?” He is silent, grabbing your hair and pulling your head to the side, he presses his mouth to your neck and bites down.

A cry escapes you, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure everyone will know who you belong to next time.” He grabs your waist and spins you around, throwing you over his shoulder.

You gasp, “What’s gotten into you?!”

He starts walking through the Tardis, ignoring your question as he takes your shoes off.

He kicks open a door and enters, throwing you on the bed.

You look at him bewildered as he crawls on top of you, bunching your skirt up at your waist.

He grabs your underwear and rips them apart.

Heat floods your face as he shoves two fingers in your mouth, “Suck.”

You do, taken aback.

He pulls his fingers out and starts rubbing at your clit with his thumb, sliding his fingers into your hole.

You gasp at the intrusion, going to grab his arm, only for his free hand to come up and pin your arms above your head.

He looks down at you, an angry look in his eyes, “No touching without permission.”

His thumb rubs tight circles into the flesh as his fingers fuck you.

A coil forms in your stomach, tightening rapidly as his fast pace continues.

Your eyes start to shut, a hand grips your face, your eyes shoot open.

“You’re going to look at me when I make you cum.” He grins wolfishly, sliding a third finger into your warmth.

You let out breathy pants, an orgasm rapidly approaching.

His eyes bore into yours as tears form.

Moans escape you as your walls tighten around his fingers, cumming loudly

Once your cunt releases his fingers he pulls them out, licking them clean.

He stands, stripping himself of his suit coat, unbuttoning his shirt, and unbuckling his belt.

He pushes his trousers and underwear down until his cock slaps against his stomach.

He pumps his cock slowly, flipping you over on your stomach., “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to take it, like a good little girl.”

He lines up with your cunt, pushing in until he’s balls deep.

You can feel him in your stomach.

The Doctor slides his hand underneath you, his hand flat against the subtle bulge, pushing down, watching you squirm, “Oh, am I too big for your poor little pussy?” He taunts, pulling out until the bulge disappears before pushing back in roughly.

You cry out.

He grins against your neck, biting down.

He pistons his hips against you, balls slapping your clit with every thrust.

A second orgasm is forming quickly in the pit of your stomach, walls starting to clench around the Doctor’s cock.

“Your poor little pussy. Squeezing me like a vice, it can barely take my big cock, can it?” He taunts, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slowly, “I’m so deep you’ll feel me for days after I’m done. And believe me, I’m not stopping until my cum is dripping out of you.” His thrusts get rougher, fingers rubbing faster, “Everyone is going to know who you belong to when I’m finished.” 

His hips hit your ass at a bruising pace.

“Doctor!” You cry, “It hurts.” “Oh, boo hoo.” He shoves your head against the bed, the frame shaking as he fucks you.

Your walls tighten around him, cumming with a violent moan.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head up, pressing a searing kiss to your mouth.

His hips press into yours firmly as he shoots inside your womb, continuing to fuck you through his orgasm.

Your thighs tremble as he rubs your clit hard and fast, giving you a third orgasm, screaming into his mouth.

His thrusts slow to a stop, body collapsing onto yours.

Your eyes slowly close, exhausted.

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT/FEDERATION MAGAZINE: OCTOBER 2011

THE CULT OF CM PUNK

“All it took for The Straight Edge Superstar to turn the world upside-down and ignite the WWE Universe was one microphone. HEre we’ve given the “Voice of the Voiceless” another soapbox to explore his many issues with WWE management, his epic match at WWE Money In The Bank, his fellow Superstars who deserve a better shot, and what, if anything, is going to change now that he’ back for good. 

By JOHN MIHALY PHOTOGRAPHY BY PER BERNAL, DIGITAL IMAGING BY ERIC HEINTZ

[The Second City Saint reveals his cult of personality, and shows off his new T-shirt and WWE Championship during his unexpected return to WWE a week after leaving with the title (Raw, 7/25/11).]

In your estimation, what do you feel is wrong with WWE right now, and what would you do to change it?

What’s wrong with WWE right now is that there isn’t enough youth. Most of the ideas are old. They worked in The Attitude Era or in the ‘80s-and I'm not necessarily saying that they’re bad or they’re wrong-but they need updating, they need tweaking. There needs to be some young minds spinning the webs, so to speak. I’m sick of seeing people who are excellent wrestlers get passed over for people who have abs or who were good-string linemen in a European football league. I think there are a lot of people who, on their own terms, have made their own personas and perfected their craft simply out of love for what they do. They’re not trying to be bodybuilders or football players who fail miserably and then call their uncle or their dad and say, “Hey, I’ll give that wrestling thing a shot because I suck at everything else.”

Why do you think it’s such a strike against guys who-like yourself-are fans but aren't from a sports or bodybuilding background?

Now, this is complete speculation. I can't even tell you what somebody else is thinking. I can only say what I think works. And I'm not going to be right 100 percent of the time just like they're not going to be. Somewhere along the way I think we lost the Midas touch. This whole thing became uncool. I think people who love it aren’t going to go do something else  if they get fired. Like Colt Cabana. He’s a perfect example. He is a wrestler. If he gets hired and it doesn’t work out, he’s wrestling somewhere else the next day. He’s not trying to shoehorn himself into an accounting job. He’s a wrestler. He’s always going to be here. So I just think if you love wresting sometimes-maybe-you’re punished. You’re placed last in line. The attitude is: You’re always going to be here,  maybe we can use you later if we need you, but right now we’re going to use this guy because he was good at college football, and he didn’t quite make it in the NFL.

Another one of your gripes is how the WWE Championship looks. How would you redesign the title? What is the definitive look of that particular championship for you?

Oh god. How long is this interview? Honestly, I think old Dwayne used to have a cute little blue cow on his title or something. Then, of course, Stone Cold had the Smoking Skull title. I don't know. I think I could Straight Edge the hell out of that thing. A couple of “X”’s might make it look good. Make it look like a title should look like, and not make it look like some sort of weird, rapper bling. I feel the definitive look, though, is what I like to call “Bret Hart’s Title.” I think everyone likes to call it the “Winged Eagle Title.”That’s a little bit redundant. I’m pretty sure most eagles have wings. That’s the one that always sticks out in my mind.

This anger with your job has been festering for a while. Was there one moment backstage when you felt that you’d had enough?

I can name one off the top of my head. How about main-eventing a pay-per-view as the World Heavyweight Champion against Undertaker and then, a few months later, being in a dark match against R-Truth at WWE TLC? That’s pretty ignorant in my mind. This is the problem. We do this too many times to too many of the Superstars. It’s a start-stop kind of thing. The company likes to spotlight certain people. Like, “This week, Kofi’s cool,” and then, the next week, “We changed our minds-we like Dolph this week.” It flip-flops back and forth ad nauseam, and the next thing you know, the people couldn’t give a crap about either guy.

When did the powers that be really begin to take your leaving WWE seriously?

I told them probably a year out. They would say, “Hey, how about we talk about your contract?” And I would just say, “No, I don’t really feel like it.” And they would say, “Ok, back off. Punk’s crabby and temperamental.” We’ll get him next week.” And the next week it would be, “Hey let’s talk about it.” And then maybe eight or 10 months out, it was, “Hey, I really want to sit down. We really need to sign you a new deal.” And that’s when I straight up said, “No, I’m not interested.”

[CM Punk perches on the top rope to hear out The Chairman’s final contract offer (Raw, 7/11/11).]

Take us back to your title match at WWE Money In The Bank. What did you do differently that day knowing that could have been your last day on the job?

I don’t think I did anything different that day. I’m a man of my word. I wasn’t going to skip out on my contract earlier. I was going to let it run out. These to do, and I was going to let it run out. These are the terms. I agreed to and the dates I agreed to do, and I was definitely going to finish up. But I think I talked so much about everything and everybody that all eyes were on me and it created a high-pressure situation. Thankfully, I thrive very well in those situations. I’d say I pulled it off. All this stuff i talk about, about ebony the best in the world, I certainly proved it that night. The match went near the 35-minute mark But i wrestled for 93 minutes one time back in 2002 or 2003 in a Two-Out-Of-Three Falls Match.

You mentioned on the Bill Simmons B.S. Report podcast that you had made the decision to come back and resign at WWE Money In The Bank. Do you think your decision was at all clouded a little bit too much by all the emotion going on that day?

I can definitely put it aside. I can be a robot if I need to be. Resigning was something that was on my mind day -in and day-out whether I was at the gym or sleeping. I was dreaming about it, I was really trying to figure out what was the best decision for the company as a whole. I love what we do. I ‘m not going to get along with everybody I work with. I’m certainly not going to agree with everything all the time, But at the end of the day, I want everybody’s voice to be heard. I want this place to succeed. So I had to weigh my options. 

[The conquering hometown hero wins his first WWE Championship (To add to his three World Heavyweight Titles) at WWE Money In The Bank (7/17/11).]

They say  a man’s refrigerator is a window into his soul. When you Tweeted a photo of the WWE Championship inside your fridge the night you won, we couldn’t help but notice that there was a jar of peanut butter in there. Isn’t peanut butter meant to be stored at room temperature?

Is it? Why? I'm not saying we have to end the interview now, but here’s a good wrap-up for you: WWE has stored their peanut butter at room temperature for over 30 years; I'm putting it in the refrigerator now. It’s time for a damn change. I don’t eat my peanut butter like everybody else, I suppose. I don’t spread it on anything, because I try to stay away from bread and all that, so if I’m eating peanut butter, i take a spoonful of it, and i eat it like ice cream. It tastes better a little frozen. 

Another thing we noticed is that you used the “W” word a lot in your tirades these last weeks. How much do you dislike saying “sports-entertainment”?

I don’t hate it as much as you would think, but I really do think it’s ridiculous when you’re not allowed to say “wrestling.” At the end of the day, that’s what goes on in that ring. That ring is our stage. What we do on that stage is we wrestle. I’m not playing grab-ass. I’m out there fighting to win. Wins and losses mean something. Wrestling happens to be damn entertaining.

So is it weird to call yourself a “Superstar” as opposed to a wrestler?

I don’t think it’s weird. I think we’re all Superstars. Absolutely. I don’t think there’s anybody else who can be called that. Would you call Brad Pitt a Superstar? Do I think Brad Pitt can do what we do? Absolutely not! Brad Pitt gets scripts and lines to study months ahead of time and he has a very controlled setting in which he looks the best he possibly can. He has makeup on, there’s lighting, there’s people doing the sound and everything. We go out there on live TV every Monday night and kill it. That’s where the entertainment part comes in. It’s more entertaining than a Brad Pitt movie. There are no retakes, you know? There’s no Take 1, Take 2–”I screwed that up, let me do it again.” IF we screw up, we screw up. That’s the entertaining part. 

Entertaining was your baseball analogy equating John Cena to the Yankees-which caused him to punch you. But let’s follow that analogy a bit further. Earlier this century, your Chicago Cubs and the Boston Red Sox were quite similar. Then the Red Sox were quite the equivalent of baseball’s nouveau riche, effectively placing that franchise and fan base in line with the Yankees. Won’t the same thing happen to the Cubs when they win? And what about you? If you continue to win, wont you in turn become what you hate?

Possibly. We’ll have to wait and see. Is the same thing going to happen to me? It’s quite possible. That’s life, though. I really think it depends on the person. Am I going to change? Absolutely not. I'm not changing anything. Will the WWE Universe maybe get sick of me? I think the people get sick of anything if it's shoved down their throat. I think free-thinking people like variety, and they like change. There’s no reason why multiple people can’t be marketed correctly and in everybody’s face constantly so there’s a choice. 

[Punk ruffles the feathers (and tie) of new COO Triple H (Raw, 8/1/11), and hopes for a retro design akin to, in his words, “Bret Hart’s Title” (above left).]

One thing you did change is your entrance music, to Living Colour’s “Cult of Personality.” Did you consider anything else?

No, that was the one. It was a throwback to my Indie days, but it also just fit. I have tremendous guts, I’d like to say, and it was just a gut feeling that this was the right thing to do, to change my music now. Did I like my old song? Absolutely. Was it recognizable? Sure, I had it for five years. Was it time for a change? Was it a risky thing? Yes and yes. But ultimately, I think it was the right move. I haven't been able to get the song out of my head since last Monday. It’s a song that came out in 1989, when I was on my little league team, and now it just jumped into the iTunes Top 200. That’s powerful. That should speak volumes to the WWE management. They should say, “Holy crap, this kid has the power to do something like that. Let’s see what else he can do.”

What’s really different now that you’re back? What are we going to see that’s not status quo?

I don’t want to ruin any surprises, but i will tell you that when the Ramones were voted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. This is, after all, the establishment that shunned the entire band for its entire career, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He was extremely adamant that, “No, you don’t get the privilege of having the Ramones in your little club.” My good friend, Lars Frederickson [of the band Rancid], got on the phone and said, “Marky, listen to me. You almost have responsibility to the underground to accept this award and be in the Hall of Fame to show that you are as big as the Beatles, you’re as good as Led Zeppelin, all these mainstream bands that the Ramones maybe never got credit on the same level as.” And that’s kind of how I feel about WWE right now. I’m a guy who, for all intents and purposes, never should have even made it to WWE. Then I had roadblock after roadblock thrown in my way. Not only did I get past those roadblock thrown in my way. Not only did I get past those roadblocks, I did it while flipping off the people who put up those roadblocks. I feel I have a responsibility to the younger wrestlers on the roster, the ones that aren't signed yet, and the future of wrestling as a whole, to help make this place better, and to change this place. I certainly can't change it by sitting on my couch in Chicago.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! - 2nd Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I have absolutely no patience... so here is the next part because I'm not a tease and I won't make you wait hehe. I have a lot more I might post everyday until I run out! Because like I said, no patience in my body! Also the main love is Malarkey but I have a problem and make everyone all love the OC. I'M SORRY I CAN'T NOT!! Warning is a slow burn I'm sorry I have ideas in my head and so things can't happen in the timeline without the ideas. I have to have everything ahhhhh. Anyway enjoy!

People step out of the way as the tall man pushes us through the crowd, we reach another soldier dressed in the same uniform. 

“Captain Winters, Sir!” The man's low voice carries over the commotion of the crowd, Captain Winters who is talking to another soldier turns his attention towards us. 

“Yes?” Winters replies. 

“Sir, we have a field nurse who is here somehow by herself?” The man says from behind me. I watch Winters glance over to me then back to the man.

“Sergeant Randleman there are no field nurses here and there are none meant to arrive.” Winters appears just as confused as the man, who’s name apparently is Randleman, was when I spoke to him first. Winters steps closer to me. Reading my name badge that is pinned to my top. 

“Emily Lane?” He looks at me for confirmation.  

“Yes,” I pause looking up at Winters, “Sir?” I feel compelled to also call him Sir since everyone is saying it. 

“How did you get here?” Winters asks. I let out a chuckle. I have been wondering the same thing. I sober myself when Winters gives me a confused look. I probably look crazy standing here laughing to myself. I go to open my mouth to say, oh I don’t know I was pulled through a portal of some sorts, but that coming out of my mouth in this situation might not be the best idea. My mind races. How the hell do I explain this? I open and close my mouth, Winters frowns at me squinting his eyes as if daring me to speak. 

“I, uh…” I start to say. Think! Think of something to say, these men are looking at me like I’m crazy.

“Emily, how did you get to Holland?” Winters asks again, pushing me for an answer.

“HOLLAND?!” I blurt before my brain can catch up. The two men seem shocked by my outburst. I cover my mouth with my hand before anything else can come out of my mouth. 

The two men share a look, I glance from one to the other. “Bull, why don’t you take Emily here to see Doc, she seems to be in shock.” Winters takes my shoulder turning me back to the care of Randleman aka Bull apparently. 

I am once again being pushed through the crowd by Bull. People are still dancing and cheering, a man approaches with his eyes closed and lips puckered out steering straight for me, I flinch back, my arms coming up to deflect the incoming kiss, a nervous laugh bubbles from my lips. I look back at Bull trying to gauge if he just saw that as well. He leans close to me, “They’re celebrating.” 

“I can see that.” I watch other soldiers move through the crowd; they are swarmed, being hugged and kissed as they walk. 

“What are they celebrating?” I ask. 

“The Germans have left, they are liberated.” he answers, still moving us through the crowd. 

The Germans? 

We stop at a commotion in the road, a woman next to us is grabbed by two men. They violently rip off her dress, I gasp moving forward to try and help her but Bull’s grip remains firm. I turn to face him showing my distress, “It’s not our business darlin’.” 

I continue to watch, spotting other women stripped of their clothes and their hair has been cut. The woman that was next to me cries out as a man with scissors hacks her hair. A lady is dragged by us with a symbol painted on her forehead, I step back into Bull realising what that symbol is. My hands shake and my chest heaves, the world spins. A swash sticker is painted onto the foreheads of other ladies. 

Where am I? What is going on?

“You alright there lil’ lady?” Bull notices my panic, holding me up as my legs almost give way. 

“What is the date today Bull?” I pant, my eyes darting around. I’m wrong, this is a reenactment of some sorts. This isn’t happening. 

“Well today is the 16th of September.” Bull replies looking confused, his cigar hanging from his teeth as he speaks. My breath leaves me in a short huff as the answer did not comfort me at all. 

“The year, Bull?” I ask, my words holding an ounce of hope that was soon to be extinguished as he opened his mouth to speak once more. 

“Why 1944, of course.” He says matter-of-factly, his eyebrows pulled down over his eyes even more, his expression mimicking a mix of confusion and concern as he looks at my face, trying to gauge my thoughts.

“1944?” I choke out. NO NO NO NO. I try to catch my breath, steady my heart rate but it’s no use. Black dots dance around my vision. Panic rises in my chest, my stomach twists. I spin around looking for the portal I came from. Where was it? 

“Emily take a breath.” Bull’s muffled voice says in my ear. I shake my head pushing away from him. I stagger backwards hitting people as I go. Bull follows closely, holding out his hands to catch me. This has to be some sick dream? That's right, this is a dream! I raise my hand striking it to my cheek, it stings but I am still here. Bull looks at me shocked by my actions, I raise my hand again readying myself for another blow, harder this time. My hand is caught mid-air, my other hand also captured by a very concerned Bull. 

“Bull,” I say very seriously, “I need you to hit me.”

“Hit you?” Bull questions. “I’m not going to hit you darlin’.” He keeps my hands in his, I’m sure he’s worried what I will do next if I have free reign of my hands again.  

“Bull, Emily.” Winters appears next to Bull, he glances at the position that Bull and I are in. “As you were.” He says bewildered, moving forward with the rest of the soldiers. Bull pulls me towards him, tucking me under his arm and following Winters through the crowd. I don’t struggle, I march forward like a zombie, my brain has officially shut off leaving me detached from reality. In my mind I am back in my apartment, making dinner and then sitting down to watch a show then crawling into bed to get up and do the same thing the next day.   

After some walking we leave the crowd behind moving away from the town, Bull continues to follow the rest of the soldiers still having me tucked under his arm like an injured bird. I don’t talk, I listen as the soldiers banter, most of what they say makes no sense to me. Dusk falls quickly, the group makes camp on the side of the road we have been walking for the day. I get given food and water, I slowly sip my water but I give my food to Bull, my stomach is still twisted in knots. I know none of it will stay down. Bull asks if I am sure to which I nod, he takes the food from me and quickly eats. None of the other soldiers seem to pay much attention to me, I guess since I have been so quiet and mostly hidden behind Bull for most of the day they didn’t see me. My white uniform top is now dirty and sweaty, my feet hurt from the constant walking. I'm sure I have blisters on the backs of my heels. A hand taps my shoulder, I jump swinging around to see Winters standing over me. “Emily, I need you to come with me. You too Bull.” Bull stands quickly following orders, I stand slowly and trail behind the two. We make our way through the makeshift camp, only one tent is pitched, the rest of the men are sprawled out on the grass under the stars, quietly chatting to each other. We make our way to the tent, Bull and Winters disappear inside. A thought crosses my mind, run, while no one is looking, run back to the town, find the portal and forget what you saw. I freeze glancing around the dark land that seems to sprawl for miles. No, something in my gut tells me I need to stay with these men, if I run I could find much worse. I shuffle my feet following the men into the tent. As I enter Bull and Winters sit at a table that has a map pinned to it. 

“Emily, we radioed command and there is no record of a field nurse by your name.” Winters looks up at me, I still stand wringing my hands in front of me. I wrack my brain for an explanation. 

“I’m independent, Sir.” I state. 

“Independent?” Winters hums. “And how did you get to Holland?” 

“I was signing up to be a field nurse in England, when I heard whispers of Paratroopers making their next jump into Holland. I also heard they had only a few medics, so I figured I would meet you in Holland and join you and your men, Sir.” I lie through my teeth. I keep my stare steady, and my body language relaxed to make my lies more believable. 

“Why were you so frantic in the town then?” Winters asks. 

“I got turned around in the crowd, Sir. I was worried I had missed my opportunity to join you. I was trying to tell Sergeant Randleman but I seemed to have confused him.” I glance at Bull, he watches me closely. 

“Why did you ask for the date? Specifically the year?” Winters continues with his interrogation. 

“Well I was tired from all my travels, I had fallen asleep at the place I was staying, when I awoke I was unsure of how much time had passed, since I didn’t want to miss your arrival. I felt like I had slept for years.” I internally cringe at how easily the lies roll off my tongue but I need to ensure I stay with this group.    

Winters pauses thinking about my explanation. He looks towards Bull as if trying to read his mind, they share a glance as I watch them. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth chewing on it nervously. 

“Well Emily we do need more medics. Have you been trained?” Winters turns back to me raising his eyebrows as he speaks. 

“Yes, well no technically. I am in my last semester of training, I only have a couple of months left.” I say. 

Winters brows draw together. “I guess that’s good enough, we are desperate.” he sighs, leaning back in his chair.  

“But you haven’t been trained in combat?” He continues. 

“No, Sir. I am medically trained but have not been on the frontline. I understand not all medics carry a firearm, and are just there to help the wounded.” I answer. 

“That’s correct. Well I cannot prepare you for what you are going to see on the frontline, and you understand Emily that you could also die on the front. There is no guarantee for your survival.” His strong stare pins me to the ground, I gulp. I have seen war movies, most of which I had to watch through my hands. I hated seeing the men being blown to pieces and shot down. 

But this wasn’t a movie. I couldn’t watch through my hands, I was here on the front fighting against the Nazis. The thought hadn’t sunk in. How much danger my life was currently in, like Winters said there is no guarantee for my life. But what is my life? Is this it? Stuck here in 1944? Or when the war is over, if I make it through, do I find another portal? Is there another portal? It’s strange to think how quickly it all got turned upside down, this isn’t a dream, I’m stuck in a time where I do not belong.  

I pull myself from my spiralling mind. “I understand Sir.” I say firmly, holding my ground, making my words as believable as I can. 

Winters stands a small smile spread across his face, he reaches his hand out to me, “Welcome to Easy Company Emily Lane.” I take his hand gripping firmly with a single shake he releases me. 

“Bull, get Miss Lane here some proper attire and supplies.” Winters turns to look at Bull who is already nodding and making his way out of the tent. I follow Bull as he holds the tent flap up for me to walk under. I follow him from behind, having to take double steps for his every one, he grabs things from piles, rummaging through bags, he turns holding up a shirt measuring it to my body. 

“Seems you’ll fit the small.” He says, a new cigar is hanging from his teeth. I follow him as he grabs things and passes them back to me, by the time we are done I can hardly see where I am going. “Oof” I grunt walking into something hard. 

“Hey, watch it tiny.” A man says in a thick philly accent. 

“Oh I’m sorry.” I say peeking out from behind the mountain of gear in my arms.     

“Aye, who are you?” he squints trying to get a better look at me in the dark. 

The group of men that stand around with him also pique interest, five pairs of eyes land on me. 

“Are you lost?” The man I bumped into speaks again. 

“No, not lost.” I say, staring back at him. 

“She’s our new medic.” Bull speaks from behind me. “Are these boys hassling you Lane?” He leans forward but says it loud enough for the group to hear. 

I look over my shoulder at him and smile. “No, they aren’t giving me any trouble, but I think I could take them if I wanted.” Bull lets out a laugh, patting me on my back. 

“You’re going to be trouble Lane, I can already tell.” He chuckles. “How about I introduce you to these men before you try and fight them all?” I smile up at him. 

“This right here is Bill Guarnere,” he points to the man I walked into. “And that is John Martin, but everyone calls him Johnny.” Martin raises his hand giving a small wave, I smile back politely. “And that there is Joseph Liebgott, George Luz, Webster and Donald Malarkey.” Small hello’s and hi are said as they are introduced. They all look basically the same in the dark in the same uniforms, and I have no hope I am going to remember anyone's names. 

“Hi I’m Emily Lane, but everyone calls me Emmy.” I say semi waving my hand from under the pile of clothes I am holding. 

“Emmy, what on earth are you doing here?” the man who I believe to be George Luz says smiling. 

“Well I heard you needed medics so, here I am.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I better go get changed, but I guess I will see you around?” I cringe, when was it hard to talk to a group of men? 

Luz chuckles, “I’m sure we will Emmy.” a cheeky grin forms on his face. I don’t know what that smile means but I move quickly to find somewhere to get changed. I feel the men watch me as I go, I hear them fall back into conversation once I am out of view. 

I turn around looking for a place to change, in front of me a field spans out with trees in the distance, behind me the men have made camp and are lying in the grass, huddling around in groups talking. I turn in a circle, trying to find the best spot. There are trucks parked on the grass but men sit in them as well.

“Emily.” Someone calls from behind me, I whip around to see a tall man standing in the shadows, I glance down at his arm a white band on his sleeve shows the red cross, the sign for medic.

“You must be Doc?” I say moving closer to him.  

“I am indeed, I have your medic pack here. Bull told me to give it to you.” He hands over the army green bag with the red cross mark on the front. I take it trying not to drop the clothes I am holding. 

“Thank you, Doc.” I say. 

“Call me Gene.” I nod at his response, “Do you know what is in this bag?” he asks.

“I think so? A powder that stops infections, gauze, scissors, Tourniquet, medical tags, safety pins, tweezers?” I say off the top of my head, I actually have no idea what could be used in the 40's. I am so used to modern medicine, they would have no gloves, no alcohol swabs to disinfect gear.

“That’s about right, but I will let you have a look through by yourself if you have any questions come ask me.” he says turning to leave. 

“Ok, thank you Doc. Sorry Gene.” I say loudly as he walks away. 

“Miss Lane.” I hear from the other side, OMG now what. I turn to see Winters poking his head from the tent. I straighten, this man seems to be in charge here. I can't piss him off. 

“Yes, Sir.” I make my way over to the tent. 

“Emily, are you wanting to change?” he motions his head to the armful of clothing I am carrying.

“Yes please Sir, I couldn’t find anywhere private.” I shuffle forward and into the tent. Winters steps out, closing the flap behind him. I move quickly putting the clothes down on the table, I start by taking off my shoes and socks. Then shimmy my pants down, kicking them to the side. I empty the pocket of my uniform top, my hand grips something cold. I pull it out to inspect it. My mouth drops. No goddamn way! I clutch my phone in my hand, letting out a strangled gasp. 

“Everything ok Emily?” Winters asks from outside the tent. Oh fuck! I thought he left, he’s probably making sure that no one comes in while I change. 

I clear my throat, “fine.” my voice cracks, “I’m fine.” I say in a clearer voice. OMG, OMG, OMG I mouth. How the hell did I not lose this. I tap the screen and almost shriek, it lights up. The time and date have not changed from when I was back in my own time. I open the screen, no bars. Well I would be more surprised if I did get reception. 87% battery, I need to keep this on me, I mean if I go back to my own time I don’t want to have to buy another phone. I power down my phone and place it on the table. I search through my pockets, pairs of medical gloves, I place them down next to the phone. I pull more from my pockets: pens, pencil, a mask, hand sanitiser, omg I could kiss myself for always having the most full pockets. The last thing I pull out is a small black case, I open my earphones to find them sitting in their charging ports, the green light flashes. God I am good, they’re fully charged. But unfortunately I am unsure how long they will last as I can’t power them down like my phone. I place them down on the table as well. I take my name badge and pin on watch off my top as well. 

I quickly get changed into the uniform given to me, leaving on my bra and underwear I slip into the pants doing the belt on the tightest loop so they don’t fall down and a white cotton t-shirt, I pull on my black thick socks and combat boots. The boots are a bit big but if I wear a couple pairs of socks they should be fine. I button up the long sleeve shirt, pulling on my jacket. I tuck the helmet under my arm and the medic kit is slung across my body. I gather the items from my pockets and slip them into my kit for safe keeping. 

“Almost done in there?” Winters asks from outside. 

“Yes Sir.” I reply, the tent flap opens as he walks back in. Winters scans me from head to toe, a small smirk forms on his lips. 

“You forgot one thing.” Winters reaches into his pocket pulling out the red cross band. He gestures for my arm. I reach out my right arm, he steps forward and slides the band up, I look down at him watching him intently. Winters eyes meet mine, I look away quickly embarrassed I was caught staring. Winters laughs softly pulling safety pins from his pocket pinning the band to my sleeve, as he pins the last one I gasp. He looks up worried, scanning my face, “Got you.” I smile, his face cracks into a smile. “Indeed you did.” 

He finishes pinning the band taking a step back to admire his work, I feel my face flush shy from being scrutinised by him. 

“Well now you look the part.” He steps forward again, taking my helmet from under my arm. He gently places it on my head. “You always wear this, you got it?” I nod the helmet falling in front of my eyes from the movement. He chuckles, pushing it back up.  

“Well I think you should show me how good your skills are.” Winters crosses his arms in front of him. 

“My skills?” I am confused. 

“I have a wound on my left leg, ricochet bullet. Gene was going to come dress it but you’re here now.” He sits as he talks, pulling up his pant leg for me to see the wound. I kneel down in front of him to better look at the wound, the lighting in the tent is poor but it will have to do. I pull gear from my medic bag, gauze and a fresh bandage. I pull down his sock to see the affected area better. The bandage on his leg is dirty, blood has seeped through the previous dressing. I look up at him as he watches me. 

“You should be keeping off this, no?” I ask, wondering what the other medic had told him. 

“I mean I can’t really, these men rely on me.” he sighs, he looks tired. I cannot imagine what this man has seen, his face looks young but his eyes hold scarring memories that he will never be able to unsee. 

I remove the bandage on his leg, the wound appears small, and the wound bed appears to be granulating and no slough seems to be present. There appears to be no sign of infection, I press the back of my hand over the area to feel if it is hot to the touch, which it isn’t. There is no sign of erythema around it and the edges are actively healing; they pucker up due to the trauma of the ricocheted bullet entering the skin. 

I feel Winters’ eyes on me as I assess the injury. “Do you have water?” I ask looking around. 

Winters pulls a canteen from his belt, handing it to me. I tip the water from the canteen onto a couple of pieces of gauze. Then pouring the water onto the open wound, “ah.” Winters gasps flinching. 

“Sorry.” I say continuing with my task, I clean the injury itself and around it, to help stop bacteria from entering the wound. I pat the skin dry, I apply the new clean dressing tying it around his leg to secure it. I sit back on my haunches looking up at Winters, he smiles seemingly impressed with my work.          

“So what’s the verdict nurse?” he tilts his head as he asks the question. 

“No sign of infection, which is good. Should be healed soon. It would heal faster if you didn’t walk on it so often but I can compromise with you on that. How about when you have time, you elevate your legs, to help reduce the swelling.” I say gathering my supplies and tighten the lid back onto the canteen before handing it back to him. 

“Well I guess I can do that for you.” he says, taking the canteen from my hands. I stand making my way to the exit. 

“Goodnight Captain Winters.” I say. 

“Dick.” he replies.

“Where?” I exclaim. 

The man looks confused, I stare at him eyes wide. My hand lifts to point at him. 

“Yo..” I mumble. 

“Me.” He says pointing at himself. 

My eyes are big as saucers at this point, what is this man asking me?

“Right now?” I ramble.

“What?” his face scrunches in confusion. I mean he’s cute, but like I just met him. I reach my hands up to my top button undoing one. 

“I mean I guess.” I say slowly unbuttoning my top, unsure if this is the request he just made. 

“Emily what are you doing?” He seems genuinely concerned.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” I stop unbuttoning, I think I have read this situation very wrong. 

“My name is Dick, Richard Winters.” He states.

My mouth falls open and my cheeks become hot, I’m sure my whole face has turned the darkest shade of red. 

“Dick short for Richard.” I gape, the cogs in my brain finally turning. 

“Your name is Dick.” I half shout, covering my mouth. I hastily do up my buttons. I am so dumb what is wrong with me, I could hit myself. 

“Well… ah… goodnight Dick” I mumble hurrying out the tent. The cool breeze brings relief to my hot face, I fan myself trying to catch my breath. I need to find somewhere to sleep or hide, I need the ground to swallow me whole, that's what I need.   

I rush back to the group of men most of which are sleeping, I see Bull’s larger figure sitting quietly talking to others. I make my way to him, carefully stepping over the men sprawled on the floor. I sit next to Bull. He appears to be my comfort, not that I know him well but from the interactions I have had with him he seems to be a kind person. He smiles down at me when I seat myself next to him.

“Saw you in Winters’ tent, everything ok?” he asks, leaning closer for me to hear him. 

“Yeah, yup, oh yeah, fine I’m fine, so good, grand even, yup everything is a-ok” I ramble quickly looking back at the tent I just ran from, cringing at how the interaction ended. I wanted to curl up and die. 

“Ahh, are you ok?” Bull frowns in confusion, tilting his head to get a better look at my face that I ducked down out of view. 

“Yes, yup.” I reply, popping the p at the end of my sentence. 

“Alright, get some rest.” Bull says, lending me the blanket from his legs, I slip under it next to him relishing his heat. Exhaustion pulls at my eyes, even on the cold hard ground my body yearns to rest. Bull moves next to me coming closer so our bodies are almost pressed together, I rest my head on my medic bag, as the world around me fades.

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

Chapter 3

[catboy-artist]

I have some extended speculation about the sea monsters that might hypothetically show up, and when and how it would make sense. This is pretty wild mass guessing at this point, but it's on my mind so I'll talk about it.

When I was typing up the first version of this post, I originally was like "I know Auroraverse mermaids are probably benevolent chekov's allies but that would be boring and it's more fun to imagine them as evil", but I realized that whatever threat the mermaids could hypothetically pose, it would be more interesting and make more sense for a non-mermaid monster to do the same thing. I'm sure there's other ways in which the mermaids can contribute to the plot. So instead, this post is about sea monsters.

There's three types of sea monsters I can imagine posing a threat -sirens, a fuck you sea serpent, or a deep sea horror. All of them would make sense, and pose different kinds of threats. As for when it would make sense for one to show up... Definitely not until Dainix's emotion stuff is handled, as too much is going on right now. And also definitely not when they reach Rakhn, as again, too much would be going on for that to make sense. I do think that if Alinua succeeds in calming Dainix down enough to get his powers under control (for now) within the next few pages, that would free up a space for a different problem to take center stage. And if not Rakhn, or some other issue, then a sea monster makes the most sense. The group is pretty scattered up and distracted right now, so a sea monster showing up would probably cause chaos, which would give the group something to do until they actually reached the volcano.

So, sirens. I think sirens would be good because they're great at making people end up overboard without damaging the ship itself, and with the internal tension that's been going on, having that externally manifest via an enemy that makes you have to fight your own teammates to save them from themselves would fit what's been going on in this arc so far. For how that would play out, here's my thoughts. Kendal and Tess would be safe, as Kendal seems to be immune to mind-fucky stuff and Tess is far away enough from the water that she would notice the sirens before she could hear them. Being the physically strong party members, they could keep the weaker ones safe until they snapped out of it. Dainix is also safe if his powers are active, as we saw in the glort fight, and I honestly think he deserves to have a moment to shine in his own subplot by using his teamwork skills and monster hunting expertise to pull the group back togeter. I think the person most likely to end up overboard and having to be rescued would be Falst, as he's conveniently off by himself right now, he has better hearing than everyone else and would thus hear the sirens first, and trying to physically restrain him would be an ordeal. Him having to be rescued would also make "I'm not dumb enough to trust anyone with my life" mean something later. And this would give poor Dainix a reason to go into the water to save him, thus facing his thalassophobia and also suffering further, and also Kendal if he attempted to rescue one or both of them (mentioning him because of that chekov's gun). This could also be how the air bubble lacrima that Falst is carrying gets used, to keep them from drowning for long enough to allow them to get back to the surface. All of this is, of course, assuming that these creatures behave like standard sirens -knowing Red and her approach to monster encounters, I don't doubt she'd find some way to put a spin on it that complicates things and makes it less predictable.

Sea dragons are another possibility, because we know Red likes her dragon bossfights. I imagine a sea dragon would be a fairly standard kaiju-type creature. It's a bit hard to predict what powers it would have, as there's so many types of dragons in the auroraverse, but that's the fun part -this is a chance for Red to get creative with the details of the dragon bossfight. Given the proximity to the volcano, I think it would have fire breath, or at least some fire related thing, or maybe lightning given the weather. I also think a creature that big and powerful attacking the boat would damage it enough to break something, and thus cause the boat to sink, resulting in the group ending up underwater and for Falst's air bubble to be useful. I can also see Tess using her lightning jump to electrocute the sea dragon, another chekov's gun fired, and of course a dragon being the enemy would give Tess a chance to shine, which is always a plus. I'm not sure how Dainix would fit into this, but we'd just have to see.

And finally, deep sea horrors. I think this one is actually pretty likely. It's cloudy and dark enough that there's no sunlight to stop any deep sea creatures from surfacing, which would make Erin's Fun Drowning Facts a chekov's gun, and honestly, any creature from the deep that did end up surfacing would probably be large enough to pose a threat to the ship. If it attempted to grab the ship, Tess using the lightning jump and thus triggering the lack of insulation could come in handy to fight the monster. And if the creature broke the ship enough to cause it to start sinking, that's how the air bubble comes in handy and how Dainix ends up getting wet. And for bonus points, any creature that came from that deep in the sea would be quite horrifying, probably with more teeth than any creature should have, due to void influence, and thus it'd be more reason to trigger Dainix's thalassophobia (and probably be an uncomfortable reminder of glort). As for what kind of sea monster? Honestly, it could be any Lovecraftian nightmare with teeth and/or tentacles. Who knows what's down there, after all? I'm curious to see what sort of horrors Red could come up with, and what creative solutions the group would need to find to get through it.

All of this rambling is, of course, wild speculation -I don't think I'm completely right about any of this, as it's impossible to predict what will happen without any information on what the hypothetical random encounter even is, or if one will even happen. But I do hope we see some kind of interesting sea monster, as I'm interested to see what sort of monster Red would come up with and how the group would fight it.

If anybody wants to contribute to this post, feel free to do so -I'm interested in other takes on sea monsters that could hypothetically show up.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 25

WARNINGS: passionate kissing, British swearing

For once, you're happy to go to your classes. They'll hopefully help get your mind off of all of your problems. And, even better, today you get to continue Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. Towards the end of your second class, your excitement keeps you from focusing on the assignment. Once it is time for lunch, you gobble down your food and hurry the twins to do the same, and then the three of you head up to the Room of Requirement.

You're a little disappointed when Harry begins with the basics. Though it seems simple, Harry insists that the disarming spell, "expelliarmus", could mean the difference between life and death. He has Ron help him demonstrate the spell. They point their wands at each other, Harry speaks the magic word, and Ron's wand goes soaring across the room.

"Alright then..." Harry says, turning back to the crowd. "Let's split up into pairs. Everyone, find a partner."

Almost immediately, Fred and George latch onto each of your arms.

"Y/n is my partner!" George announces to the world, pulling you closer to himself.

Fred tugs you the other way. "No, she's mine," he chortles, as if George was joking.

"Ladies, please," you say, wrenching yourself free of the twins' hands. "Control yourselves!"

George chuckles sheepishly, running a hand through his thick, red hair. Fred merely shrugs with a shameless grin.

"Are you guys having any trouble?" It's Harry. He's been walking around, checking on his new pupils.

"Yeah," replies Fred. "Trouble picking partners."

"Oh. Well, uh..." Harry searches the room. "It looks like everyone else is paired up. I suppose I can be someone's partner... George?"

George's shoulders slump forward, and he looks at you like a sad puppy. "Yeah, alright. Lead the way, Professor Potter." You hear Harry laugh as you follow Fred over to a vacant corner of the room where you both can spar, and it makes you smile. Harry hardly ever laughs anymore.

"Alright, let's do this!" Fred exclaims, obviously happy that he got you as his partner. He points his wand at you, standing with his right foot forward, and holds his left hand out behind him.

You laugh. "We're not fencing, you know."

Fred's enthusiasm dies for a brief moment, his stance weakening. "Well, I—"

"Expelliarmus!" you shout, and Fred is left empty handed.

Fred's mouth hangs open in shock. "Y/n...!"

You shrug your shoulders and flutter your eyelashes at him innocently. "I'm only playing the game!"

The surprise on Fred's handsome face turns into a dangerously sly expression that makes your face redden. "I see," he says. He doesn't move to fetch his wand, but starts slowly toward you instead. "If that's how you want to play it..." You walk backwards, giggling giddily and wondering what he plans to do as he draws closer. When you think you've reached the wall and don't run into hard stone, you look back to find that an open doorway has magically formed behind you. You gasp in alarm while Fred grins crookedly, totally unfazed. It seems that the Room of Requirement has created a small hiding spot for just the two of you. You silently thank the Room as Fred finishes, "Then you won't mind if I cheat a little bit."

Fred corners you into the little stone cubicle with a rather fervent, perfectly intoxicating kiss. His big, warm hands cup the sides of your face gently, yet purposefully. You absolutely bask in the moment, closing your eyes and once again letting your head spin because of that delightful honey-redwood scent. You feel Fred's hands slide from your face and down your arms. It isn't until your wand slips out of your grasp that you realize what Fred is doing, and your eyes snap open.

Fred backs away and holds up your wand with a triumphant smile. "Expelliarmus," he sniggers.

You laugh out loud, but quickly stop yourself in case the Room of Requirement didn't make the walls sound-proof. "I'm not even angry," you snort, taking your wand back and tossing it aside (a soft pillow conveniently appears to catch it before it hits the floor). Fred's eyebrows rise in surprise when you grab his loosely knotted Gryffindor tie and tug on it teasingly. "But I might be soon if you don't come back here."

The tops of Fred's ears turn red and he clears his throat, grinning flusteredly. "Yes, ma'am!" he laughs and obediently proceeds to kiss you again, swiftly picking up an intense level of energy that sends your heart pounding as you do your best to match it.

But Fred's exceeding height makes it difficult for you two to reach each other. Fred has to bend down quite a bit; you want to wrap your arms around his neck, but can't entirely even when you're standing on the tips of your toes.

"You... are... too... tall!" you giggle in between kisses.

Fred lets out a low grumble that communicates something in between agreement and impatience.

Then, to your surprise, Fred clamps his large hands around your waist and lifts, carrying you like a pot of water a couple paces before sitting you down on a sort of stone bench (that wasn't there before) which protrudes from the wall about four and a half feet above the ground.

You're delighted to discover that you are now sitting at precisely Fred's height. He appears satisfied as well, smiling that handsome, crooked grin before diving for your lips once again.

Fred kisses you passionately, fiercely, hungrily, pushing you up against the wall like he can't get you close enough. Now you easily hug his neck, feeling your hands around his strong back and broad shoulders. Fred's own hands gradually come back around out of the hug and slip down your waist to rest at your hips, his forearms on your legs. His kisses slacken and begin to move.

Fred kisses the side of your mouth, then your cheek, and beneath your ear. You've closed your eyes by now and open them momentarily when you feel his fingers brush your hair aside. Fred follows with a line of lovely kisses that trail down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms, and your eyelids close again involuntarily. Fred comes to a halt when his mouth reaches the collar of your dress shirt that keeps him from going any further.

"Hmm," Fred's deep voice hums in your ear. You hold back what would be an enjoyed shiver, and feel something tug lightly at your collar. "I'd very much like to remove this..."

You feel yourself blush severely, but he can't see it so you play it off coolly with a chuckle. "Sorry, love," you say softly, petting the back of his head. "It's not the time and place for it."

"I suppose you're right," Fred sighs in mild disappointment. He plants one more kiss on your neck and pulls away. "Though I can't imagine—"

You gasp as the sudden realization hits you, and Fred's eyebrows lift in surprise. "The time!How long have we been here? Is lunchtime over yet? Has everyone left?"

"Ah," Fred replies, nodding once. He helps you down off of the stone seat before you can squirm off. "I doubt George would leave without us." You go to snatch your wand from the pillow and you rush out of the little room with Fred close behind.

"There you are!" It's George. Other than you and Fred, he's the only person left in the Room of Requirement. He comes trotting up to you, wearing a relieved smile. "Where in the world did the both of you bloody apparate to?"

"Over there," Fred responds, jutting his thumb back over his shoulder. You and George look to see nothing but a full, stone wall, and you wonder how no one had noticed the opening while you and Fred had occupied it. "We only stepped away for a quick peck."

A contagious, ecstatic grin spreads across George's just previously confused face, and he looks to you. You blush slightly and shrug. "It was a little more than a peck..."

Then George looks down somewhere below your gaze, and his expression morphs into one of concern. "What's that on your neck?" he asks.

Your hand immediately flies to the side of your neck where Fred had kissed you. No way. That's all it had been, right? Only kisses. There's no way Fred had given you a... a hickey without you realizing it... right? You swallow nervously and turn to face Fred with a look of partially accusatory questioning.

"No! Nope, I did no such thing!" Fred snorts, shaking his head back and forth quickly. He glares half jokingly at George who laughs.

"George!" You punch him hard in the arm. "You had me scared out of my socks!"

George rubs his bicep in pain, but continues to laugh. Fred can't help but join in and soon you have to let go of your anger and find yourself chuckling, too.

"How did you know?" you ask George as you, him, and Fred exit the Room of Requirement with your arms linked together (with you in the middle, as usual). "That I'd fall for your prank?"

"Fred always goes for the neck," George responds simply.

"Wha— I do not!" Fred defends, and you laugh.