#EVEN HIS STUPID LOOKS HAVE A REASON BEHIND IT

[foolinthera1n]

show me who you are ─

the mark of cain weighs heavily on dean's shoulders, affecting all of you. when the bloodlust becomes too much, you know you have to help him. in the only way you can think of.

cw ─ slight angst, mark of cain!dean, very slight mention of sa/non-con (not from dean), blood, gore, canon-typical violence, smut!, fem! reader, praise kink, dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected p in v, sorry if i miss anything else!

☆ 💿PORNSTAR - nessa barrett

i wanna hear you talking dirty,

i wanna see it on your face.

⭒

it was getting worse, you could all see it. you, sam, cas - hell, even crowley could see it. the mark was slowly killing dean, and it was only getting worse.

it wasn't as obvious at first, just small outbursts here and there, but surely enough, it became more obvious. he was more snappy than usual, spent more time alone, and he would zone out more, hands either clenched into fists or one was clasped tightly over the mark on his forearm.

you didn't bring it up to him, that was the silent agreement that you, sam and cas had come up with, and you obliged to it. so you didn't tell dean how the far away look in his eyes made your brow furrow and your stomach churn with worry, or how your heart broke every night when you could hear him wake himself up from his nightmares. you didn't tell him how seeing him struggle, and refuse help, was slowly but surely breaking you down, and you definitely didn't tell dean that you missed him.

sure, he was right there, just down the hall from you, close enough that you could hear him in the ungodly hours of the night, restlessly rummaging around his room, but he still wasn't there. not the real him, not the dean that you knew. the dean you knew was being held captive by that horrid mark that not only haunted his dreams, but yours now too. you missed your dean, the one who told stupid jokes that made you choke on your beer. the dean who grinned proudly whenever you correctly named a song on the radio and who would sing a long loudly to his favorite led zeppelin songs, glancing at you as he drove.

drives are mostly silent now, save for the hum of the impala, or the quiet background noise of the radio, but still never those homemade tapes that he loved so much. he doesn't drink with you anymore, though he still does it an unhealthy amount. he drinks alone in his room, or late at night by himself in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes staring somewhere far off. the only reason you even know this is because one night, when you couldn't sleep, you went to the kitchen for a glass of water and found him there, only to have him get up and leave with only a nod of acknowledgement to you.

it was killing him, and if you didn't do something about it, it was going to kill you too.

the hunt was supposed to be a cakewalk. it was just a nest of vampires not too far from the bunker, and dean insisted that he was fine, that the mark's screaming wasn't too much for him to bear and he was feeling good enough to go with you guys on the hunt.

after sharing a look with sam, you reluctantly relented, agreeing to let him come along under the condition that if he felt the bloodlust creeping in, he would back off and stay behind in the impala.

that leads to now, where you were currently kicking yourself for not doing recon before going in. the nest was bigger than you and sam had originally thought, there were probably double the amount of vamps than you had previously thought, and when you, him and dean had crept into the nest, one of the freshly turned ones - a child, no less - had spotted you and screamed, awaking the whole nest. and so here you were, wrestling with one of the female bloodsuckers on the grimy floor of the abandoned barn.

her dirt-caked nails raked down the sides of your neck, making you hiss in pain as you brought your knee up hard, hitting her in the stomach, effectively pushing her off of you. as soon as she was on her back next to you, you scrambled up, quickly grabbing your machete that the bitch had knocked out of your hands and turning back to her. without even giving her a chance to bare her fangs, you raise your bloodied machete over your head, bringing it down with a cry, cutting her head right off.

taking a second to breathe, you stand up, panting heavily as you brush some hair out of your face, turning your head to the side to spit out some blood, running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste. your moment of rests is cut short though, when you hear a loud thud and the sounds of a struggle from the room next to you.

gripping your machete tighter and taking a deep breath, you rush out of the room you had been in, leaving behind the bodies of the three vamps you had killed. you sprint out the door, crashing through the room next door, your heart racing as you see sam in a struggle with two bloodsuckers.

you rush over, cutting the head off one before he even has the chance to fully turn around. the other one drops sam in surprise, turning to you and snarling, his disgusting rows of fangs glinting in the low light. using the vampire's moment of distraction, sam grabs his own machete and raises it, slicing the vamp's head clean off.

"you okay?" you ask, chest heaving as adrenaline courses through your veins.

sam nods, raising a hand to brush his hair back from his face, his own erratic breathing evidence of the fight. "yeah. yeah, i'm good. are you?"

"one of 'em got me good with her nails, but nothing fatal," you answer, tilting your head to show him the marks. he winces in sympathy, eyes raking over the angry red marks before he bends down to pick up a vial of dead man's blood. "where's dean?"

"not sure, i lost him once they jumped on us," sam says, brows furrowing as he pockets the dead man's blood, adjusting his grip on his machete. "maybe we should-"

whatever sam was going to say is cut off as a scream comes from the floor below. you and sam share a look, fear spiking in your chest before you both turn, racing out the door. you sprint through the hallway and down the stairs, sam right on your heels as you skip steps, landing shakily at the bottom. your eyes scan the landing, and you turn to call out to sam, but before you can get a word out, a hand grabs your arm, throwing you across the room.

you hear sam call your name behind you, but he gets cut off, and you assume that he has a vamp of his own to deal with. you push yourself up with a groan, but as your sitting up, a hand grabs your arm again, hauling you up and slamming you against the wall.

"well, would ya look at this," the vamp spits, his yellow stained teeth shown in a grin as he leans in, his putrid breath in your face making you want to vomit. "the winchester's brought their little girl toy. how nice of them to bring us a gift."

"go to hell," you spit, the words strained as his hand fists in the collar of your shirt, pressing against your neck as he raises you higher against the wall.

the vamp only grins wider, running his tongue over his small, cracked lips. his dark, greasy hair falls in front of his eyes, and his bloodshot blue eyes make him look crazed. he's bleeding from a fresh cut on his forehead, and you wonder if one of the boys had already got into it with him.

"ooh, and she's feisty," he snarls, smirking cruelly. he raises his other hand to brush his grime-covered fingertips over your forehead, running them through your hair.

you turn away from his touch, struggling in his vice-like grip as bile builds in your throat, but his smirk only grins, a low, dark chuckle leaving his crusted lips.

"that's just fine," he whispers, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he leans in to nose at your neck, inhaling deeply, ignoring your struggle in his grip. "i like it when they fight back."

his words make your heart pound, your chest tightening with panic, eyes wide with fear as you struggle in his tight grasp, arms flinging and nails scratching at anywhere you can reach, but he doesn't even flinch, his grip not loosening at all. you open your mouth to scream, hoping to get the attention of one of the boys, or anyone that will help you at this point, but the hand that was in your hair slaps over your mouth just as you part your lips, your scream muffled into his palm.

"ah-ah, be a good girl and stay quiet," he tuts, pulling back to bare his fangs to you. you just stare at him, eyes wide with fear as you continue to struggle in his hold. you squeeze your eyes shut as he leans in again, a tear slipping down your cheek.

"let her go."

your eyes snap wide open at the familiar voice of dean, gaze landing on him over the vamp's shoulder, relief filling you at the sight of him. he was standing there, blood splattered all over his clothes, face and hair, his grip white-knuckled on his machete. sam stands behind him, his own eyes wide with fear as they flick between dean and you in the monster's grip. you try to call out to them, but the sound comes out as a muffled whimper against the vamp's hand.

the bloodsucker turns his head to look behind him, his smirk faltering at the sight of dean. his fangs retract, but his grip on you stays vice-like.

"well if it isn't dean winchester," the vamp snarls, his hand over your mouth tightening slightly, making you wince. "come to save your little doll?"

dean's jaw clenches, his expression darkening even further as he stares at you and the vamp, taking a menacing step forward.

"i said - let her go," he growls, something dark flashing in his emerald eyes.

the vamp's eyes widen in fear at the look on dean's face, and his grip on you loosens slightly. that's the opening you need, and with all the strength you can muster, you bite down hard on his hand, simultaneously kicking your leg as hard as you can into his crotch.

the monster cries out in pain, his hands dropping you as they fly to where you kicked him. you fall to the floor with a small thud, catching yourself before you hit your head. you quickly stand up while the bloodsucker is distracted, and sam immediately rushes over to you, grabbing you and pulling you into his arms, backing you away from dean and the vamp.

"sam, wait, dean-"

"the mark's got him right now," sam cuts you off, his voice thick with worry as he holds you to him, soothing your trembling form. "we just gotta stay out of the way, there's nothing we can do."

his words sink in, and it's then you realize that the barn is quiet. your eyes widen in realization, and you turn your head to look up at sam, heart pounding in your chest.

"he killed them all?" you ask, your voice just barely above a whisper. sam's grim nod is enough to make you feel sick.

your attention is torn from that information as you hear the vamp cry out in pain, and when you look up, you see dean's got him on the floor, the vamp's head twisted at an odd angle as dean steps on his back, machete raised over his head.

"this is less than you deserve for touching her, you disgusting son of a bitch," dean spits, and you watch in horror as he raises his machete over his head, bringing it down in one smooth stroke, blood splattering across his face as he cuts the vamp's head clean off.

the barn is silent, save for dean's heavy breath and the pounding of your heart. dean's sleeve is torn, and you can see the mark pulsing an angry red, burning into his skin, the sight making your chest tighten even more.

dean doesn't move, he just stands there, chest heaving and eyes blazing as he stares at the dead body of the vamp, his knuckles white as he grips the machete, blood dripping from the blade onto the old wooden floor.

your heart aches in your chest, and you pull yourself from sam's arms, giving him a reassuring look when he tries to stop you. taking a deep breath, you take a small step towards where dean stands, your body still shaking slightly from adrenaline.

"dean?" you call softly, your voice gentle, trying not to startle him. you don't flinch when his eyes snap up to you, and though his body is still tense, you can see something soften slightly in his gaze when it lands on you. "can you put the machete down, please?"

to your surprise, he does as you ask, the blade falling to the floor with a clatter that echoes through the empty barn. you take that as an invitation to step closer, your eyes never leaving dean's as they follow your movements, his lips parted slightly as he breathes.

when you reach him, you tentatively reach your arm up, placing your hand on his arm, but he jerks back, sucking in a breath as he seemingly snaps out of whatever haze he was in. he takes a step back from you, eyes flickering between you and the severed body of the vampire on the floor.

"let's just go," he says, his voice hoarse and cold. with one last flickering glance up to you, he bends down to grab his machete before turning on his heel and walking to the entrance of the barn.

⭒

the drive back to the bunker had been silent and filled with a suffocating tension that made it hard for you to breathe. once you were back inside the bunker, it wasn't any better, dean not saying a word as he storms ahead, rushing off to his room and closing the door abruptly behind him.

you and sam don't say much as he checks over you for any serious injuries, and you for him. he just hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before heading to his own room. you follow suit, shedding your bloodied clothing in your room before grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom, which the boys had agreed to give you as one of the few that had it's own bathroom.

in the shower, you turn the heat all the way up, scrubbing the blood from your stained skin, washing off the hands of the vamp who had grasped you. you rub until your skin is raw, and even though you did the other day, you shave, just to feel that sense of normalcy instead of the sickly unease that crawls in your nerves. you wash your hair twice, ridding yourself of the blood and dirt you had collected in the barn, sighing as the steam melted against your skin.

as you stood there under the burning stream, you thought about dean, about the look in his eyes, the empty way he had walked away from you, and all of the pain he had been going through since he had taken the god-forsaken mark. you knew that the guilt from succumbing to the blood lust weighed heavily on his shoulders, and you just wished that there was some way you could focus that anger, that need on something else. and that's when the idea came to you.

immediately, you shut off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping your hair in it, grabbing another one to wrap around your body, rushing back into your room and grabbing a different pair of clothes than you had previously chosen. you trade out the old sweatpants for a pair of sleep shorts, large sweatshirt for an old t-shirt that you stole from dean months ago, and tossing your plain panties, instead grabbing one of your nicer pairs, a dark red lace number that hugged you perfectly, foregoing a bra.

you tried not to think about how ridiculous this was as you slip on the clothes, taking your now semi-damp hair out of the towel and running your hands through it gently, getting out the leftover tangles. you splash water on your face, drying it off with a towel as you look in the mirror, chewing on your lip as you decide whether to put a bit of makeup on or not. you decide yes, just throwing on the slightest bit of mascara and eyeliner, adding just a bit of blush, and swiping over your lips with your cherry lip balm, pursing your lips to properly coat them.

you lean back and study yourself in the mirror, cringing at the bright red scratch marks on your neck before taking a deep breath as you consider what you're about to do. fuck it, you think, go big or go home, right?

with those words of wisdom to yourself and one last deep breath, you turn and walk of out the bathroom, and then out of the door to your room, heading into the hallway, your bare feet pad on the concrete floor as you make the short walk just a few doors down to dean's room. you stop in front of his door, taking a shaky breath before raising your hand, hesitating for a moment before knocking softly.

you hear shuffling, as if he's getting out of bed, and then the door opens and he's suddenly in front of you, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the doorway.

your breath hitches at the sight of him, your stomach flipping as you look up at him. his hair is spiked and damp, reflecting the shower he probably just took, his stubble highlighting his jaw. his plaid pajama pants are slung low on his hips, just enough to show a sliver of skin between the waistband and the hem of his black t-shirt that hugs his shoulders tightly, stretching over his chest.

dean says your name in a low voice, tilting his head as he looks down at you. you snap out of your trance, flushing slightly as you realize you were caught staring. "what're you doing here?" he asks, and doubt pools in your chest.

"i...i have a proposal," you say, nervously biting your lip as you look up at him.

dean's eyes track the movement, his jaw clenching as he flicks his gaze back up to your eyes, brows raising in question. "a proposal?"

you nod, shifting anxiously on your feet. you take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down as you smile nervously up at him. "can i come in?"

he doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at you, pushing off the doorway and stepping back, allowing you to walk by him. you step into the threshold of his room, forcing yourself to push away the nerves as you stand in front of the bed. your eyes follow him as he closes the door behind you, walking over to stand in front of you, arms still crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

"so, what's this proposal of yours?" dean asks, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. you snap out of it, meeting his gaze head on as you speak.

"okay, i was thinking about the mark, and the blood lust." you can see his jaw clench at the mention of the mark and your stomach flips, but you continue. "so i thought, what if...what if there was another way to channel that?"

something flickers in his eyes at your words, and he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. "what d'you mean?"

you swallow nervously, biting your lip as you consider what you're about to say. "before i say it, i just want you to know that if this makes you uncomfortable then i can just go and we'll pretend that this never happened and-"

dean cuts you off with a grunt of your name, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes at you. "just spit it out-"

"i want you to fuck me." the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, both yours and dean's eyes widening at the bluntness of them.

"you want me to-"

"fuck me," you restate, deciding to just go with your forwardness. "i was thinking about what the mark makes you feel, and how it makes you turn that into blood lust, but then i thought about what if you could channel it into something else. give you some other way to let go."

dean doesn't say anything, just stands there, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched so tight your worried he's going to break something as he stares at you, eyes raking over your features as if something in them is going to tell him that you're joking.

you look away as you flush under his stare, regret and embarrassment seeping into your chest. when he still doesn't say anything, you shake your head, biting your lip as you turn to head back towards his door. "i knew this was stupid, i'm sorry-"

dean doesn't even give you the chance to finish your apology as he grabs your arm and spins you back into his chest, pulling a gasp from your lips.

"stop doing that," he growls, and when you look up into his eyes, they're so dark it makes your breath hitch. his hand that's not gripping your arm comes up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tugging it lightly. "drivin' me fucking crazy."

you're too dazed by his sudden proximity to respond, the woody, leather filled scent that's so purely dean invading your senses and making you dizzy.

"let me get this straight," dean says, his voice low and slightly strained as he thumbs at your bottom lip, his eyes glued to the action. "you want me to fuck you, to get rid of the blood lust?"

you nod, lips parting automatically as he tugs at your bottom one, eyes wide as you stare up at him. "yea-yeah. it would still be letting that energy out, just in a different way," you tell him, your voice slightly breathless.

"and you want that?" he asks, eyes lingering on the way your lips brush his thumb as you speak before slipping back up to meet yours. "you want me to let go with you, sweetheart?"

you nod again, swallowing thickly as your mouth goes dry at the nickname. even though you'd heard it from his lips a thousand times before, this time it felt different, heavier, and you felt it weigh on your heart. "of course, if it'll help you-"

"no," dean cuts you off, growling your name and gripping your jaw tighter. "i'm asking you if you want this. not if you want to help me, i'm asking if you want me to fuck you, because if i won't touch you if you don't want this."

"i want this," you answer without hesitation, your voice breathy and your eyes wide, pupils blown with lust as you look up at him. "i wouldn't do this if i didn't want it."

dean groans, eyes clenching shut as if it's physically paining him to hold back, and his hand on your arm slides around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest. when he opens his eyes again, the sapphire green that wormed it's way into your heart is almost entirely swallowed by lust-blown black, the sight making your heart stutter.

"if we do this," he starts, his voice dangerously low. his hand caresses your waist before moving to your hip, gripping the flesh tightly through your clothes. "i'm not so sure 'm gonna be able to control myself. i don't wanna hurt you."

you shake your head, eyes determined as you hold his gaze, your hands coming up to his chest, fisting in his shirt and pulling him impossibly closer. "you're not gonna hurt me, dean," you whisper, pushing up on your tip-toes so that your lips are a breath away from his. "i want this, i want you to let go with me. i want you to use me."

dean just stares at you for a moment, his hand on your jaw moving to cup your cheek as his eyes bore into yours, jaw clenched and nostrils flared. as soon as his eyes flick back up to yours, something snaps in him and he surges forward, crashing his lips to yours.

you moan at the intensity of the kiss, your hands moving from his shirt to wind up into his hair, fingers tangling tightly in the still damp strands. his hands are suddenly everywhere, moving from your cheek to grip your hair, the hand on your hip slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin, groaning against your lips when he finds that you're not wearing a bra.

your lips part instantly as you feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, moaning into his mouth as he tilts his head, running his tongue over your teeth before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. your head is spinning as your teeth clash, your hands in his hair holding him tightly to you, arching your body into his.

when you both finally remember you need air, you pull back with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips. dean rests his forehead against yours, his hands finding a place at your hips, gripping them tightly as he catches his breath.

"last chance to back out," he breathes, looking at you with hooded eyes that make your knees weak.

"not a chance, winchester," you whisper back, your voice equally strained as you pant softly, trying to force air into your lungs.

dean groans at your words, and without hesitation, he slams his lips back to yours, one hand fisting in your hair as the other creeps up your back, pulling your shirt up with it until he has to pull away to tug it off you, throwing it somewhere. his pupils grow impossibly larger as he takes in your bare chest, your nipples pebbling as they're exposed to the cool air. his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he's on you, surging forward and capturing one of the hardened buds in his mouth.

you yelp softly at the sudden action, the sound melting into a moan as you arch into him, hands grasping at his hair to hold him to you.

"fuck, dean─" you gasp, head falling back as his tongue swirls around your sensitive skin, his hand coming up to cup your breast that his mouth isn't currently ravishing. after he's satisfied with the job he's done, he switches, bringing his mouth to your other breast, his hand moving to cup and grope the one his mouth had just been working at, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

when you whimper his name as he bites at your bud, he pulls himself away from your chest with a pop, lips slick and eyes blown as he looks down at you. you stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted as you pant, just taking in the sight of him, so worked up over you.

"fuck," he groans, jaw clenching as his eyes greedily rake over your flushed features, his spit-slick bottom lip caught between his teeth. your hooded eyes follow the movement, your faces close enough that you can feel his breath on your heated skin, which sends a shiver up your spine.

you've seen dean shirtless many times─patching him up, or when motel rooms got too hot, but this was different. now, his toned chest was heaving with heavy breaths, his tan skin flushed with desire just for you.

you're staring, lips parted as you pant heavily, your eyes greedily raking over every inch of skin he's offering to you. your hands twitch to reach out, to feel every ridge, dip and curve of his body, and you're too far gone to deny yourself.

you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and attaching your mouth to his neck. your lips trail up his neck, sucking at a spot under his jaw that has him groaning your name in a way that makes your knees weak. you're sure you would've collapsed by now if dean's arms weren't wrapped so tightly around your waist you could feel his biceps flex against your skin as your mouth ravished his neck and up to his jaw.

you're craning your neck to reach his skin, and you're body feels so hot you're worried that it's going to burst into flames if you don't do something about it. the chorus of more, more, more chants in your head, fueling your trembling legs as the walk forward, walking dean backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

he falls to sit on the bed with a grunt, his grip never loosening around you as you follow him, crawling into his lap eagerly, moaning into his neck when his bare chest presses against yours. you arch against him as you bite and suck on his neck, lips trailing down to nip at his collarbone, leaving a path of spit behind you.

"shit─need t'feel you, baby," dean rasps, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly, grinding you down onto him. you whimper in agreement, reluctantly pulling away from his salty skin, licking your lips to savor the taste of him.

you sit yourself up on your knees in his lap, cupping his face in your hands as you tilt his head back to look up at you, your thumb tugging at his bottom lip just as he did to you before. just the sight of him sends a wave of aching desire between your legs, your panties growing wetter by the second.

dean looks absolutely wrecked. his plush lips are parted and spit-slick, swollen from your bruising kisses, the white of his teeth peeking through the brightened pink as he pants heavily. his hooded eyes are so dark, the mossy green almost completely gone as he stares up at you with such reverence it makes your pounding heart stutter in your chest.

his rough hand squeezing your hips brings your attention back to the moment as he turns his head into your touch, lips ghosting your palm, his eyes staying locked on yours.

"c'mon, sweetheart," dean groans, his voice almost breathless as he squeezes your hip again, the action almost pleading. "can't take this anymore, just need you, need t'feel that pretty pussy 'round me."

his words make you moan softly, but they snap you into action. you scramble off his lap, stepping back from the cage of his legs as you hook your fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts, bending over towards him as you tug them down, shimmying them over your hips and thighs until they fall to the floor.

dean's eyes hungrily watch your every movement, jaw clenching tightly and a low groan escaping his lips as the delicate red lace of your panties is exposed to him.

"son of a bitch," he mutters, his voice a breathless whisper so quiet you almost miss it.

feeling spurred on by his words, you step out of your shorts, leaving them on the floor as you stand between his legs again and start to sink down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. but his arm shoots out to grab yours, stopping you from dropping to your knees with a grip so tight you think it might leave bruises. your pussy clenches at the thought, the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing the mark of him on your skin, as a reminder of this chance you may never have again, nearly making your eyes roll back.

"no, no," dean practically snarls, straightening you up as his hands go to the waistband of your panties, ripping them from your body with a ferocity that makes you gasp. "next time baby, i promise, i'll let you use your fuckin' gorgeous mouth on me, but right now i need to fuck that pretty pussy until you can't even think anything but my name."

a breath leaves your lungs in a shaky gasp, the filthiness of his words making your head spin.

"okay─" is all you can manage, your voice shaking as he tugs you back into his lap, groaning when he feels your bare, hot core against his still clothed and straining cock. he doesn't hold the position long though, because in a blink of an eye, he has you flat on your back, breasts heaving as you stare up at him, your eyes wide and needy.

you part your lips to comment something about how he still has pants on, but the words catch in your throat as a moan when his fingers suddenly swipe through your weeping heat. you arch your back against the mattress, trying to push yourself up against his fingers as they circle your throbbing clit, sending sparks of pleasure behind your eyes.

"that's it, that's my girl─ fuck, you're so fuckin' pretty," dean praises, leaning over you to suck one of your peaked nipples into heated mouth.

his words make you whimper, and your hips buck up desperately into his hand, chasing the burning pleasure he's making you feel. "shit, dean, please, please─"

your whines are cut off into a moan when he plunges the same fingers that had been working your aching bud into your sopping cunt, your walls instantly tightening around his digits.

"i know, pretty girl, i know," he croons, his raspy voice muffled against the heated skin of your chest. his plush lips trailing up to your neck, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin as he noses under your ear, teeth tugging gently at your earlobe. "jus' give me one before i fuck you, yeah? wanna feel you come around my fingers before i fuck you stupid on my cock."

you whimper in response, tossing your head back against the mattress with a moan as he drives his fingers into your heat again and again, curling them just right to hit that gummy spot deep within you that makes your toes curl.

"oh god, oh god─" you babble, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the band in your stomach tightening, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. "dean, close, m'so close─"

your words only encourage him, his teeth tugging at your ear once more before he trails them up to your jaw, resting his forehead against your cheek. he presses his lips to the burning skin there as his thumb moves to circle your clit, making you cry out under him, your hands flaying to his shoulders, nails digging into the taut skin as you buck against his hand.

"yeah? y'gonna cum, baby? gonna soak my fingers like the good girl you are?" dean coos, lips moving against your cheek, letting his teeth graze your skin. "c'mon, pretty girl, cum on my fingers so this perfect fucking pussy can take me like she needs to."

you fly over the edge with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you, stealing the air from your lungs. your legs tremble around him, and you can feel his smug smirk against your cheek, your mind too fuzzy to comprehend the words he mumbles against your skin.

his fingers don't stop, working your soaked pussy until your whining, squirming away from his touch as your eyes flutter open, mouth slack as you gasp for breath. your eyes flick up to dean as he moves his face to hover over yours, and his hand has moved but he's not saying anything, and he's just staring at you, and the reverence in his eyes makes you want to shrink, but there's nowhere for you to go.

"dean," you whisper, your voice still shaking and barely audible as your eyes search his, trying to read his expression. he still doesn't say anything, just watching you with his devastatingly beautiful eyes and making you feel like he's worshipping you with his gaze. "what's wrong? do-do you want to stop─"

"do you know," dean mumbles your name, cutting you off effectively. "how fucking beautiful you are?"

the unexpected compliment makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you're sure he can hear it. all you can do is stare up at him, and he's so close you can count every freckle on his impossibly perfect face, the moment so intimate it makes your heart clench in your chest.

"you drive me goddamn crazy," he continues, pushing himself up to stand between your legs that hang off the edge of the bed. his hands drift down to the waistband of his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one swift movement, his eyes never leaving yours as he kicks them away. "you make me forget everything, y'know that? you make me forget about this damn mark on my arm, you're in my head and then suddenly, all the mark wants is you."

your eyes drift down to between his legs, your mouth watering as you see his cock, hard and heavy in front of you, already red and leaking precum. when you continue to stare, dean leans over you again, grasping your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"i mean, fuck, just look at you, sweetheart," he breathes, his gaze raking over you, lingering on your heaving breasts before flicking back up to meet your eyes. "look so fucking gorgeous...all fucked out 'n stupid just from my fingers."

you only whimper in response, the sound breathless and soft as your spinning head tries to process his words. "please, dean," you rasp, your pleading eyes searching his, lifting your hips up to try and feel hi until he groans softly, eyes fluttering. "need you, please, fuck me.."

he stares at you for another moment, his jaw ticking and you can feel his cock twitch against your inner thigh. he finally moves again, reaching out and grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips and placing it under you. when he decides you're properly situated, he settles between your spread thighs, grasping one tightly in one hand while the other pumps himself slowly. he leans over you, guiding himself to your weeping entrance as your hands fly to his shoulders, grasping at the hard muscles.

he suddenly stops just before his leaking head brushed your folds, the hand on your thigh tightening as his eyes flick up to yours. "condom?" he asks, his voice strained as he forces himself to hold back.

you shake your head, biting your lip as you watch the way his pupils dilate, the sight making your aching core clench around nothing. "wanna feel you, all of you."

"fuck," he groans, his eyes slipping shut as he pumps himself faster, lining up with your aching pussy again. "baby, you're gonna be the death 'f me."

you just hum in response, your eyes glued to where he rubs his red, swollen tip through your puffy folds. with one more squeeze of your thigh, he pushes in, punching harmonic moans out of both of you. your back arches, eyes rolling back as your tight walls stretch around him, the pleasurable burn making your nails dig into his skin.

dean watches you, eyes wide and blown so dark with desire he looks almost crazed, staying still as he lets you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. "that's it, look at you, takin' me so well," he praises, rolling his hips gently to see your reaction.

"ohh shit," you moan, a gasping whimper catching in your throat when he rolls his hips again. he grasps your hips with both hands as leans over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. he stays like that, keeping still longer than he did before, and it doesn't take long until your squirming under him, whimpering softly as you grasp at his shoulders. "move, dean, please─"

as soon as the plea leaves your swollen lips, his hips snap harshly against yours, making you cry out, your eyes flying open to meet his. your mouth goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream and your brow furrowing as he pistons his hips into you, changing angles slightly until he hits that gummy spot deep in you that makes you cry out his name.

"yeah, yeah, i know, pretty girl, that's it right there, huh?" dean's voice is strained, the words a groan against your lips as he licks into your slack mouth, making you mewl under him, the sound only encouraging him to go faster. "squeezin' me so tight, shit, perfect fucking pussy was made for me, fuck─"

he pounds into you mercilessly, your tight walls tightening around his cock, sucking him in as his tip hits your cervix, making stars flash in your eyes. you swear you can feel him everywhere. his hot breath against your parted lips, calloused hands gripping your thighs and sliding up to your chest to pinch and tweak at your hardened buds, his cock making you so full you swear you can feel him in your throat.

you can feel your release creeping up on you, your hands slipping down to grip his biceps, moaning when the muscles flex under your touch. dean seems to sense that you're getting close, and he moves one hand from your chest, trailing his fingers down your torso until he reaches your clit, rubbing tight circles on the aching bud.

the sudden overwhelming pleasure makes you cry out, eyes rolling back as you claw at his skin, broken mewls and gasps leaving your lips. "dean-!"

"yeah, fuck, beautiful, say my name," he groans, dropping his head to your neck, his hips never faltering their bruising pace. "want you scream it when you cum around my cock."

"oh shit," you gasp, hands flying to his back, nails dragging down his skin as you feel yourself getting dangerously close to the edge. "close, shit, m'close dean─"

"yeah, i know, baby, can feel you squeezing me." his fingers speed up on your throbbing clit, and with just the smallest bit of added pressure, the band in you snaps. hard.

you think you scream, but your brain shuts off as your orgasm crashes through you, the pleasure mind-numbing and paralyzing. dean continues to fuck you through it, his hips faltering as he feels your walls clamp down on him with your release.

"fuck, that's it. good girl, good fucking girl," he grunts your name into your neck, his voice strained as you feel him twitch in you, his thrusts just extending your orgasm and melting into another one. "you don't know how fucking long 've wanted this. your perfect fucking pussy gripping me so tight, fuck─ you were made for me, fucking made for my cock, never gonna let you go after this, ngh, you're mine now, sweetheart. all fucking mine."

he continues to babble as his hips falter, lifting his head from your neck to crash his lips to yours, devouring your mouth with his teeth and tongue.

"gonna cum in your tight fuckin' pussy, gonna fill you up, make you feel me for days." you whimper into his mouth, the two of you more so just panting into each other's mouths rather than kissing.

"please, dean, need it, need you so bad," you moan, feeling that band tighten once more. "wanna feel you, please, please─"

"oh fuck, gonna cum," he gasps your name into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening, and somewhere in the back of your fucked out brain you register that there are definitely going to be bruises there tomorrow. "fuck, m'gonna cum─"

he thrusts once, twice, burying his face in your neck and then his hips still, pressing his cock as deep into you as he can get as he twitches, groaning loudly as he spills into you, his release hot and heavenly in your tight walls. the feelings sends you over the edge again, a weak, broken cry leaving you as your vision practically goes white with pleasure.

you stay like that, trembling and panting softly under him, your eyes hooded and hazy, your shaking hands slipping from his shoulders and falling to his biceps weakly. for a long moment, dean doesn't move, just breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin with every breath.

eventually, he shifts his hips, moving to pull out, and the movement makes you whimper from the oversensitivity. instantly, dean pulls back from your neck, his brow furrowed as he looks down at you, his gaze filled with concern.

"shit, did i hurt you?" he asks, and you can hear the panic creeping into his tone. "i'm so sorry sweetheart, i didn't mean to─"

you cut him off with a shake of your head, forcing your eyes to focus as you look up at him, a weak, fucked-out smile forming on your lips. "you didn't hurt me, dean," you assure him, your voice raspy. "i'm fine, just sensitive."

"oh okay," he says, nodding and lets out a breath as if he'd been holding it.

he takes another moment, eyes raking over your face again, and he looks like hes't going to say something, but he bites his lip, pushing down whatever it is. slowly, he lifts himself on his arms, pushing up so he's almost sitting, squeezing your thigh comfortingly as he pulls out. you wince slightly at the movement, shivering when you feel his release dripping from your spent cunt.

he pulls away from you completely, standing up and walking over to the corner of his room and your stomach sinks as you watch him rifle through his stuff. you knew this was coming, the part where he awkwardly mumbled a thank you and you take his rejection without a word, making the walk of shame back to your own room, and you never speak of this again.

you can feel the familiar burn of tears forming behind your eyelids as you push yourself up, placing your feet on the ground. you don't look up at him as you lean over, grabbing your discarded shirt from the floor. you bite your lip anxiously as you stand up from the bed, intending to put your shirt on only to stumble and sway as your weak legs shake under you.

"woah, woah─" dean's arm comes around your waist, catching you before you can fall and you lean against him without really meaning to sighing at the warmth of his chest. "where do you think you're goin'?"

he turns you in his arms so your chest to chest with him, and you keep your eyes glued to his anti-posession tattoo, not quite ready to look him in the eyes and see the rejection. "i'll just get dressed and go back to my room─"

"hey, what? no," he interrupts, confusion lacing his words. his hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head up until you have no choice but to look into his eyes. his brow is furrowed, and you have the sudden need to reach up and smooth the crease with your fingers. "why would you do that?"

your lips part to speak, but no words come out as the intense emotions in his eyes steal your breath.

dean says your name in a low voice, his gaze roaming over your face as his thumb stroked your cheek gently. "did you think i was gonna kick you out?"

"i...i didn't think you'd want me to stay," you admit in a breathless voice, eyes wide as you stare up at him.

he doesn't say anything for a moment, just gazing down at you as his hand raises to brush some of your hair away from your face, and if hekeeps looking at you like that you think you might catch on fire. "i meant what i said."

the words are so simple, so blunt that you don't know what he's referring to. "what are you talking about?" you ask, slightly breathless as your brow furrows in confusion.

"what i said, earlier, i meant it," dean repeats, the hand that's not cupping your chin raising to your forehead, his thumb stroking at the crease between your brows, the tenderness making your breath hitch. "i've wanted you, wanted this for so long, sweetheart."

his words stop your heart, and you look up at him with wide, shocked eyes. you can feel your pulse pounding in your chest, your shirt in your hand falling to the floor as your lips part in shock. "you have?"

"yeah," he mutters your name, both of his hands moving to cup your face now, and you subconsciously lean into his touch, making him smile softly. "i have. i'm honestly surprised you didn't notice before. even cas said i was bein' obvious."

your head reels from his confession, the words processing in your still slightly hazy mind. "you...what?" you ask, still staring up at him with wide eyes.

"i mean, hell, how could i not want you?" dean chuckles, almost to himself as he gazes down at you. "you're smart, 'nd funny, and you could kick my ass any day of the week. not to mention you're so fucking beautiful it makes me weak."

"you...you really mean that?" you ask, brow furrowing in doubt. "you're not fucking with me?"

he shakes his head, smiling down at you as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks affectionately. "you, this...it's all ive wanted for a long time."

"i..." you start, unsure of what to say as you search his expression for any hint of him lying. when you find none, a smile matching his spreads across your lips, and you lean into his touch, bringing a hand up to rest over his. "ive wanted this too. for a while, actually."

dean grins at you─a real, wide, boyish grin that lights up his ethereal features, making your heart stutter in your chest. "i guess we're both idiots then."

"i guess we are..." you agree, pushing up on your tip toes to ghost your lips over his. you hover there, just breathing him in, eyes flicking between his before you close the gap, pressing your lips softly to his.

its nothing like the kisses you shared before. in fact, it's really just the gentle press of your lips to his, savoring the way his smile feels against you, and you suddenly don't know how you've lived your whole life without kissing dean winchester like this. you certainly don't think you can live without it now that you've experienced it.

after a few savored moments, you pull away, smile staying on your lips as your eyes flutter open. your hand slides along his arm, and you feel him tense when your fingers brush over the mark.

"i trust you, dean," you whisper, curling your fingers over the raised skin, squeezing his forearm lightly. "i know you would never hurt me, and i need you to know that im not going to leave."

"but-" he starts, but you cut him off by raising your free hand to press a finger to his lips.

"no buts," you counter, shifting your hand to cup his cheek, smiling lovingly at him. "just because you think you're dammed doesn't mean you actually are. because you aren't. no matter what you think of yourself, it will never change the fact that you, dean winchester, are the good man. the best man ive ever known, and ill be damned if i let you think any less than that."

"sweetheart..."

"stop. don't fight me on this─"

"i wasn't gonna fight you─"

"yes you were, i could see it─"

he says your name, low and serious, but there's still a soft smile on his face. "you're too damn good for me."

"what did i just say─"

"just let me say this, will you?" he says, giving you a look that makes you shut your mouth, eyes locked on his. he sighs, just staring at you for a moment before he speaks again, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "youre too good for me, i know that. you're too smart, too kind, just too damn good. but damnit, i want to be selfish so bad and keep you for myself."

you just smile at him, eyes slipping shut as you lean up again to kiss him a little deeper than the one before, but still soft nonetheless. "you have me, dean," you whisper against his lips, your eyes still closed. "you've always had me."

"i don't want to hurt you," he mumbles, and you can feel his furrowed brow as he leans his forehead against yours.

"you won't hurt me."

"you don't know that─"

"yes, i do." your tone is sharp, and it makes his eyes snap open to meet yours again. at this proximity, you can see the specks of gold that flicker in the deep emerald that makes your heart skip a beat. "we'll figure this out, dean. we'll get through this and get that damn mark off you. we'll figure this out, together."

dean smiles at that, a soft, relieved curve of his lips that makes the corners of his eyes crease. he looks at you with so much emotion and affection that you want to just crumble into him and never let him go, hide him away from the world so that it can't hurt him more than it has. "together," he repeats, his voice a hushed whisper.

you can tell that he believes you, and the thought makes pride swell in your chest. you may not know much about your fucked up lives at the moment, but the one thing you know for sure is that you were never going to let dean go through it alone. ever.

a/n, this ended up being way longer than i intended, but oh well. anyways, i can't get moc!dean out of my head, so here we are... and happy late new years!

ps, the end was written at 3 in the morning (again) so i sincerely apologize if the ending is rushed

[steddieprompts]

Another cutesy little steddie thing. all fluff. Post vecna. 1648 words.

---

It’s not that Eddie was a wuss…

Ok maybe he was, but still this was a terrifying prospect… asking Steve Harrington out.

It didn’t help that he was getting advice from a 15 year old.

“Do you think he likes you back?”  Dustin asked, tapping a pencil against his chin.

“I don’t know, Henderson,” Eddie ran his hands over his face.  What was he doing?  “You’re supposed to be helping me figure that out.”

Dustin tapped his chin again and looked at the ceiling.

In all honesty, Eddie would usually talk to Jeff about this stuff, but he had to be visiting his family in Ohio because of stupid Thanksgiving.

“Well, you guys hang out a lot, that’s gotta count for something.”  Dustin pointed out.

“You hang out a lot with Sinclair and Wheeler.  You wanna make out with them?”  Dustin pulled a face.  “That’s what I thought.”

“I am happily in a relationship, thanks.”  Dustin pointed out.

He always had a reason to point it out.

“I know, and I would like to be as well, so if we could get back to the discussion at hand…”

“Ok, ok… Well, Steve hasn’t really been dating recently… right?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe that means something?”

“I don’t know… He says he just hasn’t met the right person yet…”

“Well… he used ‘person,’ not ‘girl!’  That’s a good sign!”  Dustin pointed his pencil at Eddie.

“Sure, but you’re missing a key point in that statement.”  Eddie sighed.  Dustin squinted at him.  “He’s met me, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up.  “Fair point.”

Eddie dropped his face into his hands.  Dustin started up again.

“Your idea that Steve might like you is a hypothesis and science dictates that the only way to conclude if a hypothesis is correct is to prove it.  To run experiments.”

Eddie let out a belabored sigh.

“So, test it,” Dustin continued. “Ask Steve out.”

Eddie stared at Dustin, knowing he was right in his own little, nerd way.

“Yeah… Ok, alright, yeah, I’ll do it.”

\\\\\\\

The next day was movie night at Steve’s with the whole crew.  The kids, Nancy, and Robin were all in the living room putting out snacks and arguing about where they would sit.  Eddie figured now was as good a time as any.  He crossed over to the kitchen, meandering over to Steve who was waiting for the popcorn in the microwave.

“Hey.”  Eddie offered once he was a few feet away.  Nailed it.

“Hey,”  Steve looked over at him, “how’s physical therapy going?  I’ve been meaning to call you, see if you needed any help.”  Steve responded with a soft smile at Eddie, the kind that made all the nervous energy in him disappear.  The microwave beeped and Steve pulled the popcorn out, hissing when he grabbed the hot part of the bag before dropping it in one of the big plastic bowls he had waiting.

Eddie grabbed another bag out of the box, unfolded it and handed it to Steve.

“Uh, good, good, I guess.  I never really know if I’m doing the exercises right.  The paper instructions are shit.”

Steve laughed at that, “Yeah, I’ve been there.  I could come over some time, help you figure them out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.  That would be great… actually.”  Eddie swallowed.  “But, uh, before that happens, I, uh, I have to ask you something.”  Eddie stumbled over the words before looking over his shoulder, making sure no one else would be witness to him getting shot down by Steve Harrington, even if he was in a house full of friends.

“Yeah?”  Steve turned toward Eddie, leaned his hip against the counter, the picture of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Eddie cleared his throat, “Would you, uh, ever consider, maybe… shit. Start over.”  Eddie clamped his jaw in a grimace before starting again.  He couldn’t look at Steve yet.  If he saw any bit of apprehension or negative emotion, he would never actually get the full question out.  “Would you like to go out… on a date… with me?”

Eddie finally looked at Steve instead of the cabinet behind his head.  His initial look gave him nothing.  Steve looked the same, if not a little more still, a little more focused.  But he wasn’t saying anything.  The nervous energy was back with a vengeance and Eddie was starting to feel twitchy the longer Steve stared at him.

And then Lucas walked into the kitchen.

“Is this one ready?”  he asked, pulling the bowl with the popcorn bag in it across the counter.  The microwave behind Steve beeped.  He was still staring at Eddie.  Eddie was still staring at Steve.

“Uh-huh.”  Steve answered.

“Should I get that one out?”  Lucas asked.

“I’ll get it in a second,” Steve said, his eyes now roaming over Eddie’s face.

“I don’t mind.”  Lucas offered.

“Dude.”  Steve’s eyes finally left Eddie and he felt himself deflate a little bit, muscles twinging from where he had been clenching them.  “I’ll get it. Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah? Sure?”  Lucas replied, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading back towards the living room.

Steve’s eyes flicked back to Eddie and he felt suddenly compelled to talk.  Like a tidal wave, his insecurities drowned him.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.  I’m not your type, I know. I—”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even know if…”  Eddie stopped to process what Steve said.  “Yes? Yes, I’m not your type or yes you… you want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Eddie finally looked at Steve, really took him in instead of concentrating on not collapsing in on himself.  Steve looked almost… shy?  Nervous?  There was the slightest blush on his neck, the smallest, guarded smile.  He, Eddie now noticed, had been white knuckling his own arm ever since Eddie asked.

Interesting.

Eddie relaxed a little.  “Yeah?”

Steve’s smile grew bigger as he nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.  He did it.  He asked Steve out. And Steve said yes!  What’s more, Steve looked caught off guard in the best way possible.  “Oh, just you wait, Harrington.  I’m gonna wine and dine you like you’ve never been wined and dined before.” Eddie grinned.

“The popcorn’s getting cold! What’s taking you guys so long!”  Dustin yelled from the living room.

Steve turned to the microwave to get the popcorn and Eddie reveled in Steve’s smile.  The way it looked like he was restraining it, the way Steve looked lighter than he had in weeks.

They walked back to the living room together, and Eddie kicked Mike off the couch so he could sit next to Steve. Halfway through the movie, Steve slipped his hand into Eddie’s.  On impulse, he pulled Steve’s hand up to kiss the back of it, before shifting closer and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.  When he felt the press of Steve’s head on top of his he thought maybe he was dead.  Maybe the bats had finished him off and he was in heaven.

He would have to thank Dustin for pushing him to ask Steve.  He would never hear the end of it.

When the movie ended and everyone was leaving, Eddie hung around the living room so he would be the last to go.  He refolded the blankets, rewound the tape and put it back in its box, and picked up the popcorn bowls and candy wrappers.  He was in the kitchen throwing things out, thinking maybe he had enough time to run to the bathroom, when Steve reappeared.

“Everyone head out?”  Eddie asked as Steve approached him.

“Mhmm.”  He replied before stepping around the kitchen island and stopping in front of Eddie. “Coast is clear.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grinned, stepping closer.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed before leaning in, pressing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie had kissed quite a few people before, boys and girls alike, but this kiss with Steve.  It was different.  It filled him up, distracted him from everything else so that when his back hit the counter it almost startled him.

“Sorry.”  Steve hummed, pulling away.

“Don’t be.”  Eddie managed to get out before pulling Steve back in.  He was definitely in heaven.  Except in heaven, he wouldn’t be almost peeing his pants.  Curse that whole bottle of coke.

Eddie pulled back with a soft, ‘shit.’

“You okay?”  Steve asked.

“Yeah, fantastic, great. Except I think I’m about to pee my pants. Don’t go anywhere, Big Boy.”  Eddie said before practically running to the bathroom, Steve’s surprised laughter following him down the hall.

When he got back, Steve was washing the popcorn bowls and pizza plates from earlier in the night, sweater pushed up to his elbows, the locks of hair hanging in his eyes swinging with his movements.  Eddie stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“No one has ever asked me out.”  Steve said after a few seconds.

“What?”  Eddie let go in surprise, moving next to Steve so he could see his face.  “Seriously?”

Steve nodded.

“The way girls talked about you I would have thought they would be lining up.”  Eddie mused.

“No. I’m the guy, you know?  I mean they definitely dropped hints, but none of them asked me.”

Eddie reveled in that for a second.  He was the first person to ask Steve Harrington out.

“So, how does it feel being on the receiving end?”  Eddie asked, nudging Steve.

“So good.”  Steve smiled at him, the sincerity of his words bleeding out of him so much that Eddie had to dart forward and peck him on the cheek.

“Where do you want to go?”  Eddie asked.

“You said you were gonna wine and dine me,” Steve replied, “I trust you.”

Those words sent a bolt of pure reassurance through Eddie.  “Oh, Steve Harrington,” he half sing-songed, half chuckled, “I’m gonna date you so hard.”

[hikidoll]

꒷‧₊˚ 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 ! (fem reader implied, fluff!!!)

your typically cold friend surprises you with a last minute christmas present. turns out he pays attention to you more than you thought..

megumi fushiguro | katsuki bakugo | tobio kageyama, kei tsukishima | & any of your favs!

this was stupid. he shouldn’t be here. of course, you weren't expecting him. it wasn’t like you guys were close, not like that. what was he even doing here? he wasn’t good at this kind of thing... being thoughtful, doing sweet gestures. it felt foreign, uncomfortable. but when he thought about your face lighting up, that little laugh you always tried to hide behind your hand, his resolve hardened. he huffed, tugging his hood tighter against the wind as he approached your apartment door. "she better fuckin' be here.." he muttered to himself, fumbling with a gift wrapped box in his hands. he stared down at the box, a flurry of second thoughts rushing into his mind. "are we even close enough for gifts?" "what if" this and "what if" that. his mind always got the best of him in these kinds of moments. it was the same reason he hadn't mustered up the courage to ask you out yet. he’d spent more time than he’d like to admit hunting it down, scouring shops and questioning every choice. was this the right one? would she even care? was this… enough? he hated how much he cared about getting it right. it wasn’t like he was trying to make an impression or anything. at least, that’s what he told himself. the small box felt heavier in his hands than it should’ve. he turned it over idly, the edges of the neatly folded paper rough against his calloused fingers. it was stupid, really—how nervous he felt about something as simple as giving you a gift. just knock, he told himself. it’s not a big deal. you’re just giving her a gift.

but it was a big deal. at least, it felt that way. he’d spent far too long debating whether or not to even buy the damn thing. and then he’d spent even longer pacing the aisle of the store, trying to decide if the wrapping paper mattered. he hesitated in the doorway, unsure of how to even start. finally, he gathered the courage to knock on your apartment door, holding the gift box behind him.

the second you opened the door, he felt sick to his stomach. fuck. it was something only looking at you could do to him. it affected him more than he'd ever admit. "hey! what're you doin' here?" you said with a smile, leaning on the doorway. you had no clue how dangerous your smile was to him. immediately, he felt his cheeks heat up. he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "i was uh, just in the area, y'know? thought i'd drop something off." he muttered, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

you blinked, glancing at the box in his hand, then back at him. “really?” your voice was soft, uncertain, and it hit him harder than he expected. why did you sound so.. surprised?

he nodded, his throat suddenly dry. “yeah.” he muttered, his usual sharpness barely masking the nerves buzzing under his skin. you nodded, stepping aside for him to come into your apartment. "well, come in! it's freezing out here.." you said, gesturing for him to follow you inside. he nodded casually, hesitantly stepping inside your warm, comfortable apartment. of course, the way you decorated your apartment was no surprise to him. it was so.. uniquely you. of course, you guys had been friends for years, but for some reason he'd never been to your apartment. he'd dropped you off a few times when you needed a ride, but truthfully, you guys hadn't spent much time alone together. this all felt so new.. but not unwelcome. you plopped down casually on your sofa, gesturing for him to sit beside you, and hesitantly, he did. "you know, you didn't have to get me anything-" you said, your voice littered with the faintest bit of nervousness, your gaze flickering between him and the neatly wrapped box. it was your favorite color, of course. he felt embarrassed that he remembered such small details. like the color of your eyes, or the way the freckles and moles were arranged on your face would make the prettiest constellation in the sky. “just open it,” he interrupted, his tone a bit harsher than he intended. he immediately winced, softening his voice. “i mean… it’s nothing big. just something you mentioned.” he shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "well, would you rather me go return it?" he teased. the way you giggled and shook your head in response made him feel off balance. "no, of course not! i love gifts." you responded with a giddy smile, hands fidgeting anxiously in your lap. he nodded, holding held the box out awkwardly, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. your fingers brushed his as you took the box, and he tried not to think too much about how warm your touch was. he shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. he watched you hesitate for a moment, like you weren't sure if you should open it right now or wait until later. he noted the way you handled it so delicately, carefully pulling away at the wrapping paper. your excited giggle cut through the tension in the apartment as you tore away the wrapping paper around the box. then, you gasped. "oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, revealing an adorable hello-kitty stuffie, a limited edition one as well. then, regardless of all his overthinking and anxiety, seeing your reaction was the best gift he had gotten. your eyes lifted to meet his, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. but he nodded, pretending like this wasn’t the best decision he’d made in a long time. "i'm guessing you like it?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest. "i love it!" you say, clutching the stuffie close to your heart. but the smile on your face faltered for a moment, "i feel really bad now.." you mutter, staring down at the plushie in your hands with a stomach full of guilt. "i wish i had gotten you something, but i-" quickly, he interrupted, "don't even start that shit. its fine." he reassured you with a small, rare smile. and even better, it was.. genuine. "just glad you liked it, i guess." he added with a nonchalant shrug. he could've sworn your eyes were glowing with pure happiness, and thought about how it would feel to get lost in them, before he mentally berated himself for being such a sappy idiot. he shrugged, trying to act indifferent even as heat crept up his neck. “it’s not a big deal.”

“it is to me,” you replied, your voice so full of sincerity that made him feel like the ground was shifting beneath him “i love it,” you said, your voice steady now, but warm in a way he wasn’t used to hearing. “thank you. really.” you clutched the stuffed animal in your arms with a small, satisfied smile. he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. you were too close, your gratitude too raw, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the way it made him feel. he expected you to tease him the way you usually did.

but what he didn’t expect was for you to set the plushie down on the small table beside you both and lean forward, and wrap your arms around him in a hug. your arms were warm, and your head rested lightly against his chest. he sat there, stiff as a board, his brain short-circuiting.

he could count the number of hugs he’d gotten in his life on one hand, and this was by far the most unexpected. slowly, awkwardly, he brought his arms up and rested them lightly around you, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. “y-yeah,” he muttered, his voice coming out way too soft. “it’s nothing.” he blinked, his mind racing. what was happening? why was he suddenly feeling like he’d been punched in the gut?

but it wasn’t nothing. not at all. as you pulled back, your smile brighter than he’d ever seen it, he felt something shift inside him. he’d thought the fluttering in his chest was just nerves or embarrassment. and as you held the plushie close, your fingers brushing over its beaded eyes, he realized something he hadn’t before.

this wasn’t just about the gift. it was about you. about the way you deserved things like this—things that made you smile, things that made you feel seen.

and then it finally hit him. god damn, he was helplessly in love with you.

and judging by the way you clutched the hello kitty plush like it was the most precious thing in the world, he was in deeper trouble than he’d ever imagined. for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like such an idiot for caring.

shit. how the hell did this happen?

just a silly little thang i procured when i was bored. haven't wrote anything in a while, so i hope its okay! did not proof read- too lazy i fear... enjoy :3 ©hikidoll inc. do not copy.

[cherrixpie]

ACCISMUS

↬ maybe it was stupid trying to make theodore nott jealous by going to the yule ball with mattheo. maybe.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.4k; cw: violence, suggestive; theo nott x reader, friends to lovers

Mattheo Riddle was a genius. At least after today he was. Though it wasn't like he wasn't sharp, it was more so the fact that his desire to punch someone got in the way of his composure that had earned him the reputation of a beater rather than a schemer. Usually, it was Theodore with the observant eyes, perfect composure and the thoroughly thought-out plans. Mattheo would know, as Theo’s quick-witted responses and excuses were likely the only reason he hadn't been kicked out yet. But today, he would turn the tables.

As usual, younger students jumped out of his way as he stormed through the halls, climbing the stairs that led up to Gryffindor tower. A group of his peers that were climbing out of their common room entrance cast him incredulous looks as Mattheo surged forward to hold it open and slip in in their wake. The second he entered the lion’s den, conversations fell silent and a sea of Gryffindors wearing expressions of varying shock stared at him, standing panting before the exit.

With a sweeping glance, Mattheo spotted you, sitting by the fire with your friends and playing chess against Weasley. When he had entered, you had looked up from your game and were now looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He called your name and motioned outside, hoping you'd get the hint. You did and rose from your seat, quelling the nervous remarks of your Gryffindor friends.

In spite of your house, you had been included in Mattheo’s friend group ever since you’d had a charms project with Enzo in fifth year, who had introduced you to them. Against all odds, it had been an instant match, and you hung out with them whenever you could, even though your housemates had been opposing the idea from the start.

Now, you stifled their complaints and slipped past Mattheo out of the portrait hole, who followed in suit, not sorry to leave the room of judging stares behind. When he let the portrait fall back into place, he found you frowning at him. “Did you run all the way up here, Mattheo?”

“Maybe,” he grinned cheekily and you rolled your eyes, though actual annoyance was missing from both your eyes and voice. “Whatever for?”

His appearance was slightly unnerving. Though completely out of breath and heaving heavily, an eager, almost crazed smile tugged at his lips and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I have a proposition for you,” Mattheo grinned and you sighed. Oh Merlin. You were going to get roped into another one of his schemes, weren't you?

“So, here’s the deal,” Mattheo whispered conspicuously and dragged you into a darker part of the corridor. “I think we can both do each other a favor that benefits both of us.” He swatted his hand at your skeptical expression. “I mean, actually benefitting both of us.”

“Let's hear it,” you replied and crossed your arms. You had your doubts wether this wasn't just an elaborate plot advantageous to exactly one person: Mattheo. That wasn't prejudice talking, but experience. Just a few years ago, you would've thought it impossible that you would be friends with Mattheo Riddle one day, but he had turned out to be a genuinely funny and easy to talk to person. But that didn't mean you trusted him when he looked at you like that. Especially because Mattheo had a way of causing trouble that rivaled Harry Potter’s.

“Be my date for the Yule ball,” Mattheo blurted out and your brows only rose higher.

During the last few weeks, nobody had known another topic of interest than the Yule ball that would take place at the end of the week, the hustle and bustle around it had been exhausting. Not to mention the drama resulting from the dating rumors. Secretly, you’d been hoping that Theo would ask you out. You had been crushing on him since even before you were properly introduced, and befriending him had only intensified your feelings for him. But he hadn't made a move. And now this.

“How would that benefit either of us?” you said, stunned. “What use could either of us possibly have to gain from stepping on each other's toes for a whole evening?”

“Well,” Mattheo started, rubbing his neck. “Ya see, I have a lot of … options, but I don't want anyone to become attached and start bugging me or expecting a relationship.” He pulled a disgusted face and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. Out of his whole friend group, who were all very sexually active, Mattheo had earned himself the title of the biggest whore, but it looked like that came to beat him in the ass for the first time.

“Why don't you go alone, then?” you asked sensibly. “I'm sure no one is going to doubt your sexual prowess just because you go solo to the Yule ball.”

Mattheo shook his head. “Not an option. I did a bet with Draco and I have to eat a hundred living flubberworms if I don't get a date.” A shudder ran through his body at the thought. “So I’m thinking I'll just ask a friend. But Pansy and Blaise are going and Draco and Daphne have made arrangements and Merlin forgive me for not wanting to go to the ball with Enzo or Theo.”

You couldn't help the snort that escaped you and turned into a laugh at the incredulous look he gave you. “God, Mattheo, I can't believe it. This is absurd.”

Patiently, Mattheo waited for you to come down from your laughing fit. “So, what do you say, angel? I can dance, I promise.”

“What's wrong with going out with Enzo or Theo?” you asked elusively. Though you had become used to the looks and stares that you earned every time your friendship to the Slytherin gang came up, you weren't keen on the attention you’d get for going out with the Dark Lord’s son, even if it was merely platonic.

“Come on,” Mattheo pleaded with you and it was a genuinely curious sight to hear him beg. “Think about what's in it for you!”

“Having to listen to you for hours on end and a public witch hunt?”

“Aha!” he called and sprung up. “That's where part two of my plan comes in.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he waved his hands to stop you. “Listen to this. I get to escape the flubberworms and the nosy girls and you get to make Theo jealous.” Ignoring your spluttered response, he continued. “That boy’s head over heels for you, and with a little luck, seeing you with me will make him explode and confess, and the two of you can ride into the sunset together yada yada yada.”

Luckily, your hidden corner was so dark the blush on your cheeks would not be visible to the eye, but in the deafening silence that followed, you could hear your heart beating faster. Finally, you broke it with a wavering laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Theo doesn't like me like that. He isn't- he wouldn't-” But Mattheo grinned wider the more you stuttered on and you glared at him. “If he likes me, why hasn't he asked me out yet?”

It was impossible. Too good to be true. Theo was stunning, he was smart and just overall great. When you first joined their friend group, he had warmed up to you the fastest, after Enzo of course, even though it was quite unusual of him to be open to strangers. But you had bonded over your shared academic interests, and once you had started recommending each other books and studying together, you were a done deal. But it was a purely platonic deal, at least from his perspective. Right?

“He will,” Mattheo interrupted your train of thought. “And he’ll give you the same spiel as me. He just needs a wake up call to realize he wants to fuck you!” Ignoring your piqued look, he gesticulated wildly. “Come on, are you just going to let him use you when you love him and he can't wrap his head around his feelings for you?”

“Like you are using me?” you reminded him but it couldn't deter Mattheo. “That's different. You don't have feelings for me, do you?”

You avoided his eye as you pondered his proposal. What if it didn't work? Well, at least you'd know and finally be able to let go of your stupid crush. There was, objectively, nothing wrong with going to the ball with Mattheo, you could just say you were helping out a friend.

Mattheo had said Theo had feelings for you- but what did he know? Why would someone as amazing as Theo be interested in you? Then again, there had been those moments, between bookshelves in the library, or in his common room, or out at the lake, shuffling closer to each other because of the cold. Moments when he had said or done something more befitting of a boyfriend rather than a friend. Rare smiles, interlaced fingers, sweet compliments, weirdly romantic Italian nicknames you had researched in a muggle library over the holidays. Was there a chance that Mattheo, who had the emotional intelligence of a tree trunk, was right about Theo’s feelings, or was he simply misinterpreting them?

“He really likes you,” Mattheo added quietly, as if he had read your thoughts. “He just needs a little push. Come on, angel, what could go wrong?”

Angel. That nickname. The first time Mattheo had called you that had been in the Slytherin common room. You had been lounging on the couch next to Theo, a book abandoned in your lap, and tried to cheer them up after a depressing quidditch practice. When Mattheo had called you an angel, Theo’s hand on your thigh had tightened and you had looked up just in time to see him throw a warning glare at Mattheo. Maybe there was something to his words.

But then again, you reminded yourself, Mattheo had an agenda with this, and when had someone else ever been more important for him than he himself? It was ridiculous to think that Theo liked you, but you were so hopeful. What if Mattheo’s stupid plan did work in your favor?

“F-fine,” you spluttered out before you could start to doubt yourself again. “I'll go with you. But it won't work because Theo doesn't like me like that. And you’re just taking advantage of my stupid schoolgirl crush. So, if it doesn't work, which it won't, you’re going to let me test my practice potions on you for a weekend. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mattheo grinned, shaking your outstretched hand. “But I fear you’ll have to find another guinea pig for your potions, because it will work.”

When Mattheo strode into the Slytherin common room fifteen minutes later, he walked in on Pansy beating Blaise at chess maliciously. The light of the flickering green fire made the shadows of their chess figures flicker over the walls in giant dimensions. Both of them looked up when he fell down on the couch with a triumphant grin and exchanged a glance. Usually, Mattheo's good mood could mean one of two things: someone was bleeding or someone was going to bleed.

“So…,” Blaise began when Mattheo made no indication of speaking. “What's got you in such a good mood?” Immediately after, he began to curse bitterly when Pansy took advantage of the distraction to get rid of his Queen.

“I’m not going to eat any flubberworms any time soon,” Mattheo said, satisfied. “y/n just agreed to go to the ball with me.”

The reaction was immediate. Pansy choked on a chocolate frog she had been eating and Blaise was too shocked to pat her back when she began to cough. In the armchair a few feet away, Enzo shot up and stared at Mattheo as if he had just announced he’d take a Hungarian Horntail to the ball. Then, he folded up his edition of the daily prophet he had been reading and sighed. “Mate, Theo’s going to kill you. Like, properly murder you.”

“That's what I'm counting on!” Mattheo retorted enthusiastically, undeterred by the skeptical looks on his friend’s faces. “Hold up, it's actually genius. I go out with y/n, Theo’s jealousy overloads, he explodes, finally confesses to her and stops yapping to us about how great she is.” He had framed his words with dramatic gestures, but they didn't have the planned effect.

“Mattheo, you absolute idiot,” said Pansy, so outraged at this display of foolishness that she didn't catch Blaise sneaking some of his chess pieces back onto the board. “You think jealousy is going to work? Have you met Theo? He’ll just brood in the corner forever.”

“She's got a point,” said Enzo, rolling up his newspaper and staggering over to his friends. “Also, Theo’s not going to confess if he thinks she’s into you!”

“You all underestimate his selfishness,” said Mattheo, still wholly convinced of this plan. The others exchanged looks. “Of course he’ll be broody and torn, but in the end, he’ll choose himself, as much as he loves her. And then he'll finally man up and tell her how he feels, she’ll confess right back and they ride out into the sunset together. Come on, it's guaranteed to work!”

A long silence followed, in which Mattheo smiled to himself giddily and the others contemplated the plan. Then- “this is why no one trusts you with anything emotional, Mattheo,” said Blaise, shaking his head. “Why not just talk to Theo instead of creating this drama? Oh, right, because you’re Mattheo.”

“We’ve tried, haven't we?” Mattheo asked in an exasperated voice. “We’ve told both of them again and again to finally get off their ass and make a move and they never listen, because they are oblivious angsty idiots.” He did have a point. Since the start of term, it had been obvious to the whole friend group how head over heels in love the two of you were for each other. Their attempts to get you together had failed miserably, however. Though the two of you were probably the smartest in your friend group, in this matter, you were wholly oblivious.

Enzo was the first to speak. “I swear, if you ruin this for Theo and y/n, I’m taking you down myself.”

“You can try, Berkshire,” grinned Mattheo, reaching for his wand, but Enzo only rolled his eyes and retreated back to his armchair, unfolding the daily prophet and continuing to read where he had left off.

“Wait,” said Pansy, narrowing her eyes at him. “y/n actually said yes to this? She's either braver than I thought or just as mad as you are.” She groaned exasperatedly and rubbed her temple, giving Blaise the opportunity to wipe a few of her chess pieces off the board without her noticing. “I give it two days before Theo starts plotting your untimely demise. Maybe less.”

“Well, that's the spirit, isn't it?” Said Mattheo, brimming with excitement. “Haven't had an equal fight in months.”

“Oh, that's what this is about,” murmured Pansy under her breath and gave Blaise a sharp look at if to say 'I've done all I can, it's your turn now’. Blaise, who wasn't one to let down his girlfriend, frowned thoughtfully. “Mark my words, this isn’t going to end well- for you, at least. I’ll enjoy watching, though.”

“Watching what?”

All four of them shot around at the sound of a drawled out voice coming from the entrance. It was Draco, covered in mud and shouldering a broom, and in his wake Theo, looking no less in need of a bath. “Why weren't you at practice, mate?” Draco asked Mattheo, who surely didn't regret ditching practice now that he'd gotten a clean shirt and a date out of it.

“I had to make a trip to Gryffindor tower,” he answered honestly, eyes roaming over their dirty forms. “Equally as unpleasant, I figure. Though it did ultimately work in my favor. Because I have a date for the ball now.” His observant eyes rested on Theo, who’s tired ones briefly flickered over and narrowed at him in suspicion.

“You’re taking a lion to the ball?” asked Draco skeptically, he seemed unable to imagine Mattheo having the audacity to ask you out, since, as everyone knew, you were Theo’s girl. “You must be really desperate. Who's the unlucky girl?”

“y/n,” grinned Mattheo simply, but the words had their intended effect nonetheless. A loud clatter silenced the common room when Draco’s broom landed on the floor, having slipped right out of his hands. His face was almost as white as his platinum hair as he gaped at Mattheo and then glanced back at Theo who had frozen mid-motion. Now, he straightened up once more to look at Mattheo. Theo, other than Mattheo, understood it to hide his reactions behind a mask of indifference, but his blue eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

“She said yes?”

“Yeah,” grinned Mattheo, failing to read the room, or he simply said the following out of madness. “She seemed pretty stoked!”

“Did she?” asked Theo tight-lipped and Mattheo only grinned in response. Teasing Theo, prodding him, holding you over his head, waiting for him to snap, for his oh-so-great composure to crack was the definition of fun. Mattheo could almost see it flicker in his eyes, the desire to punch him, to punish him, for taking what was his. And then, Theo’s annoying righteousness when it came to you, how he would remind himself that you didn't belong to him, that you could do whatever you pleased.

Mattheo could imagine both sides battling viciously in Theo’s head as he returned his gaze, it was delicious to have him squirm. He only had to watch his step, not play with the fire too much. Theodore Nott was one of the few people he knew that could actually beat his ass if they got poked too much. But he didn't take his eyes off Theo's who seemed just as determined to hold his. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his hands tighten around his broom before they relaxed, he spread his fingers like spiders and disciplined his own body into submission.

“So,” said Theo cooly, a certain bitterness tinging his tone that he kept to a minimum. Of course Theo knew Mattheo was trying to provoke him, and he was determined not to give him the satisfaction, or that was what Mattheo himself concluded. “When exactly did you decide you were into her? Before or after you knew I-” Theo paused and clenched his jaw “Never mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Mattheo asked in faux consideration and he could feel his friends holding their breath. Theo's infamous death stare fell upon him and the grin fell off his face, though the daring look in his eyes did not subside.

When Theo answered, his voice was smooth and controlled. “Doesn’t bother me. I just… didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“Why not?” asked Mattheo, his body ready for attack, every nerve tense in excited anticipation of a good fight. “She’s sweet, pretty, smart-”

“She's too good for you,” Theo cut him off with narrowed eyes, but Mattheo only shrugged. “It's the damn Yule ball, mate, I just need a date so I don't have to eat three courses worth of flubberworms, and I could imagine way worse than spending the evening with her. I mean,” a light smirk curled his lips, “she's not your girlfriend, is she?”

Oh, he could just feel Theo’s fury in his fingertips, the way he looked at him as if he wanted to take his head off. How he had to regret not asking you sooner, how confused over his anger he had to feel. Mattheo reveled in the power he had over him. But Theo smoothed out his features and stared at him through a mask of indifference. “Right.” Looking somehow a lot moodier than when he had stepped in, already brooding, he shouldered his broom and left for the boy’s showers.

His absence left behind a tense silence. Blaise was the first to speak. “Mattheo, mate… you're dead.” But Mattheo only laughed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, unbothered by his pessimistic outlook and still wholly convinced of his plan.

You wondered if Theo had caught wind of the Yule ball arrangement when you caught sight of him the next day in the Great Hall, looking more somber than ever. Even from the Gryffindor table, you could see him staring gloomily down on his porridge as if it had wronged him somehow. You were equally as unable to eat. Gnawing on your lip, you weighed the explanations in your head. Could he be jealous? No, that was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

Maybe he too had made a bet with Draco and had to eat flubberworms if he didn't find a date? Maybe there was some other explanation as to why Theo seemed to be answering all questions directed at him with either a frown or a shrug. Hunched over, his dark locks fell into his eyes as he glowered at his meal, fingers flexing around his fork. It was true, Theo was a grim person, and on bad days, he tended to glower at everyone who crossed his path- could this be just another one of his mood-swings?

“Everything alright?”

Taken aback, you looked at Hermoine who surveyed you with a cautious look in her brown eyes. “You haven't eaten.”

“I'm just not hungry,” you smiled truthfully and discarded the fork. No use pretending, you weren't getting any breakfast down today. Not when Theo looked so distractingly sinister and gorgeous.

But Hermoine didn't look convinced. “What did Riddle want yesterday? When he wanted to talk to you, what did he say?”

Your attention had been captured by Theo giving Mattheo his nastiest death glare, so you only registered the words slowly. “Huh? Oh, he only asked me to be his date for the Yule ball.” you replied, making Hermoine choke on her cereal. “He did what?”

Biting into the sour apple, you decided to come clean. “I said yes.” To escape her unbelieving and quite frankly accusing eyes, you rose from your seat. “See you in Arithmancy, Hermoine,” you said hastily and walked along the Gryffindor table in long strides. When you reached the doorway, however, you turned left and walked along the Slytherin table towards your friends.

Pansy noticed you approaching and waved, making the others look up as well. Mattheo grinned at you and blew you a kiss you rolled your eyes at. When Theo’s eyes fell upon you, however, they softened visibly. He scooted to the side, making space for you to sit down next to him. You smiled at him, albeit intimidated slightly by his bad mood, and moved closer to him. To your immense relief, he returned your smile and grabbed an empty glass to fill it with pumpkin juice and place it before you.

“Decided on a dress yet?” Pansy asked from the other side of the table and you looked at her, therefore missing the slight narrowing of Theo’s eyes at the mention of the ball. You did, however, notice his hand, reaching for yours over the table and interlocking your fingers with his. The Nott family ring on his ring finger burned cold against your skin, the calloused tips of his fingers from all the smoking burns felt even more uneven against your soft skin. You didn't know why you noticed his hands so clearly at this moment. Maybe, you realized, because you had never actually held his hand.

“Uh- yes,” you said, a little flustered, and returned your attention to Pansy who gave you a knowing look. “And you?”

The two of you slipped into a conversation about the ball and your dresses that the other boys participated scarcely in. Blaise asked questions about Pansy’s dress that he had never actually seen before. From time to time, Draco threw in a comment about his dancing skills and Enzo laughed along to Pansy’s teasing. Mattheo made flirty comments towards you when you talked about your dress, glancing at Theo to gauge his reaction.

Only Theo didn't participate in the conversation, though his fingers stayed interlocked with yours. Every now and again, they seemed to tighten, especially when Mattheo directed one of his flirty comments at you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. When everyone rose to go to class, he tugged you down again by your interwoven hands. His expression was serious. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Uh, sure,” you smiled, waving the others goodbye. Mattheo winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. You sat back down, but Theo didn't speak immediately. His eyes studied your face, roamed over your features, as if he was seeing you for the first time- really seeing you. Merlin, he was an idiot. He should have asked you before Mattheo would be able to. The thought that you had looked up at Mattheo this sweetly just a day prior, before he had gotten ahead of him and asked you, was gnawing at him.

“You're going to the ball with Mattheo?” he forced the words past his lips, but managed to make them sound casual, as if he was asking about the weather.

“Yes?” you said and immediately scolded yourself for making it sound like a question. Your tone made him lift his brow as his eyes searched yours for any hesitance. “You don't have to go out with him, if you don't want to,” he said.

You could hear your heart beat in your ears. Was he trying to tell you that you had other options? Like him? For one second, you could see yourself, in the dress you had already picked out, side by side with Theo. He had to be a wonderful dancer. But then, you remembered what Mattheo had said. It was a platonic offer, even if he had feelings for you. Which you doubted. The thought of going with him when it was a merely platonic deal for him but meant so much to you, it was almost unbearable.

“I want to,” you replied and your voice sounded steadier than you’d dared to hope. For a second, you thought you saw his expression drop, but you could never trust your eyes with him, his fleeting expressions and flashes of emotions were hard to keep up with, even for you, who could see through him better than most people, by his own admission.

Theo merely nodded and stood up. Before you could, he shouldered your book back as well. Like the gentleman he was, he fended off your protests and held out his arm for you to take, as if you were at a special occasion, when, in truth, it was just another Tuesday in the Great Hall. Both glad and disappointed that nothing had changed, you slipped your arm into his and you left the Hall on your way to the Arithmancy classroom.

The soft hum of chatter filled the entrance hall as students in glittering gowns and sharply tailored dress robes gathered beneath the glowing light of the enchanted candles. The winged doors to the Great Hall were still shut as students who had partners in another house pushed through the crowd in search of them. You, however, didn't have much of a hard time finding your group of Slytherin friends, as any sane student steered clear of them. Before they could make you out in the wave of Gryffindor students that swept over the hall just now, you spotted them in a more secluded corner.

Of course, you noticed Theo first. He looked impossibly handsome in his dress robes. They were black, but with subtle hints of dark green. A dark green that matched the color of your dress. As if you were just meant for each other. Well, in your dreams. You noticed he didn't have a girl on his arm, neither did Enzo. Pansy and Daphne both looked gorgeous in their dresses, and especially Blaise looked hopelessly smitten. Then, there was Mattheo. You were somewhat surprised to see that he was actually wearing something formal. It was already a rarity for him not to be bloody, but to wear something festive was not a sight you ever expected to be subjected to.

Mattheo was the first to spot your approaching frame, a slow grin spreading across his face as he leaned casually against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze seeped over you with an aporoving nod. “Well, aren't you dressed up nicely,” he drawled when you were in earshot, causing the others to take notice of your presence as well. Pansy, ever supportive, let out a low whistle, Blaise wiggled his eyebrows and Enzo gave you a thumbs up. But it was Theo’s reaction that you felt most acutely- a subtle shift in his posture, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he looked you over. His gaze felt hot on your body and you felt your breath hitch when his stormy eyes locked with yours, a flicker of something unspoken flashing across his face before he quickly glanced away.

Fuck. You were gorgeous. Of course, he'd always known you were pretty, but seeing you in that dress did something to him. That green was the color of his house, of his family, the color of him. You looked like his, even though Mattheo put an arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. He could have killed him, he might have, if you hadn't let out a bright laugh at something he had said that stilled every and all remains of fury in him. Your laugh was disarming, especially when you looked over at him and gifted him one of your sweet smiles. “Hey, Theo.”

He could only nod, unable to take his eyes off you, even when the doors to the great hall opened and the group slowly made their way towards them. His gaze zeroed in on Mattheo's hand on your lower back. That was not Mattheo's spot, that was where his hand lay when he was walking you to class or Hogsmeade. Unable to look anywhere else, he followed the others mechanically, unaware of the glimpses you stole at him to gauge his reaction. But all you could see was indifference.

When you stepped through the doors you were momentarily distracted from Theo. The Great Hall was alight with blue light, decked in ice crystals. The usual four house tables had made way for a multitude of smaller, round tables surrounding the dance floor that took up the better part of the hall. Mattheo led the way to one table in close proximity to the dance floor, which surprised Theo. Usually, Mattheo preferred corners over the center.

Mattheo pulled out your chair for you before Theo had the chance to and - wether by chance or because he was a snarky asshole - sat down in between Theo and you. With a sly grin at Theo, he interlocked your fingers over the table and moved closer to you. In that moment, Theo swore to himself that he would dance with you today. He'd stay up until three in the morning if necessary, but he would hold you in his arms tonight, twirl you around in that damn dress and see the light of the crystals reflected in your eyes. And if he had to hex Mattheo, he would gladly do so.

Your laughter rang in his ears and he cursed himself. Hex Mattheo, and ruin your night? What right did he even have to feel like this? As much as he hated to admit it, Mattheo was right. You weren't his girlfriend, he had no claim over you. His possessiveness was sick, twisted and entirely selfish. You were his friend and he should only want the best for you. What he had masked as ‘the best for you’ was no more than what fulfilled his desires. He was being a horrible friend to you.

“Wanna dance, angel?” Theo couldn't even find it in himself to feel anything but bitterness when Mattheo rose and offered you his outstretched hand. Over his death stare directed at the table, he missed the way you glanced over at him before taking it and allowing Mattheo to eagerly drag you to the dance floor. The music was fairly quick and as Mattheo twirled you around, you let him pull you into him and mirrored his steps. Mattheo was a fairly skilled dancer, but you struggled to keep up with his extravagant style and quick steps.

Mattheo twirled you around so fast you could barely see beyond the flashes of blue that remained of the room. And even when a more slow piece came on, he found a way to keep you on your toes. “He's looking over,” you whispered after daring a glance over your shoulder to see that Theo's brooding gaze was fixed on the two of you.

“You even have eyes in your head?” grinned Mattheo, pulling you closer by your waist. “He's been looking at you the whole evening.” A smirk curled his lip. “Told ya”

You were a little too out of breath to answer, but when Mattheo leaned close to whisper a question in your ear, you nodded, albeit a little hesitant. Your rowdy dancing partner pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you two. When he said something, anything, you giggled and he laughed along, even though neither of you remembered what he had said. In spite of the dancing, Mattheo managed to dip his head down and trail pecks up your neck to the shell of your ear. The shudder that went through your body was not as much a result of his lips, but a reaction to the way Theo’s fists clenched as you locked eyes.

Worry and stupid excitement coiled in your stomach. The way he was glaring at you through his dark locks, his fists clenching and unclenching, his cerulean eyes so dark, his posture so tense as if he was a predator ready to devour his prey, was so damn attractive that you couldn't help but stare longer than you intended to, before you managed to avert your eyes and focus them back on Mattheo. But you couldn't help but worry what his tense appearance might mean. Had he seen through Mattheo's plan to make him jealous and considered this a betrayal of your friendship?

Meanwhile, Theo had to summon up his last reserves of restraint when his best mate’s hand crept down your back, further than he was supposed to, teetering the edge of inappropriateness. But you looked so happy, laughing along to Mattheo's jokes. Though somehow, he had missed the repeated glances you cast at him all throughout the dance.

When the next number came on, you parted from Mattheo who lifted his brows. “That's enough. If he hasn't done anything by now, I must be right. You were wrong about these supposed feelings, Mattheo.” You sighed and shook your head about your own stupidity. Of course Theo hadn't reacted, you’d been right all along. Still, disappointment stung in your heart. Maybe you had held on to hope. Oh, who were you kidding, a part of you had believed Mattheo, and now you felt way worse than you had before. Before Mattheo could talk, you parted from him and left the dance floor.

Theo slowly, dangerously, lifted his head from his knuckles as his gaze followed your figure, ducking in between dancing couples to make your way back over. Your expression showed disappointment, sadness… you’d always been easy to read for him. When he asked you about it, you said you showed your emotions openly on purpose. Why, he had asked, and you'd laughed and said that you wanted to make people feel at ease and safe when talking to you, so you showed yourself to them to invite them in, make them feel welcome.

Even though he didn't fully understand, he admired you for it, recognized it as a strength when Mattheo had outright laughed at your explanation, earning him a sinister glare. But right now, Theo desperately wished he wouldn't be faced with your sorrow, it would make it easier to keep himself from walking over to Mattheo, drag him out into the hall and finally confront him. A horrible suspicion dawned on him as he locked eyes with Mattheo, who had been watching your retreating figure as well. When they locked eyes, he grinned, winked and disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies. Had he been using you to make Theo jealous, to tease him for his personal satisfaction?

His sinister thoughts were quelled when you reached the table and sat down next to him, bending over with a groan and slipping out of your heels. But before you could even grab a slice of cake to drown your sorrows in sweets, someone got a hold of your hand. You followed the arm and saw Theo, looking at you with a serious expression. His grip was soft, as if you were fragile, made out of glass, made to look pretty and shatter. But his eyes were hard as stone. “What did he say to you?”

“Huh?” you asked, genuinely perplexed at the growl in his voice. “Who- what- You mean Mattheo?” A curt nod. You understood. Theo must've misinterpreted your bad mood upon leaving the dance floor for hurt at something Mattheo had said. “Nothing,” you said quickly. “Everything's alright.” But your reassurances couldn't wipe the skepticism from his eyes. “Look, it's just my feet that started to hurt, alright? It's not Mattheo's fault.”

Though he still looked doubtful, Theo seemed to accept your explanation and reached over to cut you a large piece of cake. In spite of your expensive dress, you brought your knees to your chest as you started eating, but your sudden appetite quickly subsided. With a long sigh, you leaned your head on Theo’s shoulder and reveled in his warmth. “‘M sorry,” you murmured under your breath, unsure if he would even catch it.

He did, and frowned, you could hear it in his voice though you didn't see his face. “What for, amorina?” Amorina. It meant ‘little love’, or that was what the muggle dictionary books said. Those damn Italian nicknames. His accent, barely noticeable in everyday conversation, was thicker when he spoke hushed and you allowed yourself to revel in how it made you feel, just for a moment. Then, you shrugged, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for now. Would you ever be able to tell him why you had gone to the ball with Mattheo or would you sooner die of embarrassment?

This wasn't so bad. Actually, it was quite nice. You rocked slightly in the rhythm of the music and leaned into Theo who, in turn, leaned onto you carefully. Somehow, your hands had found each other. Draco was dancing with Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were making out in a distant corner of the room and Enzo was at the buffet to get seconds. It was quite peaceful, almost like you two were the only thing that mattered and all around you was just noise and light and colors. They would fade, he wouldn't, and you wouldn't either.

Your peace was only disturbed when Mattheo arrived, who, to your not-really surprise, had a giggling girl holding onto his arm. Unbeknownst to you, Mattheo had not given up just yet. If Theo's selfishness wasn't stronger than his desire to see you happy, maybe his knight-in-shining-armor urges would be. He grabbed your plate from in front of you, ignoring Theo's frowns, dug the fork into it and held it out to the giggling girl that was clutching his dress robes.

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” he asked and she nodded, giving him a sultry look. He cast you a deliberately indifferent look. “You don't mind, angel, do you?” Though he didn't dare look at Theo and give himself away, he could practically feel him fuming.

“Knock yourselves out,” you replied with a wave of your hand but Theo was not so quick to dismiss the scene. He rose from his seat, feeling as if all his frustration and resentment of the last week had reached its peak and was ready to boil over. In moments like these, when he allowed his anger to escape, to be felt just for a moment before funneling it towards the intended target with deliberate precision, he could feel himself getting calmer. The rushing in his ears subsided, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace as he looked down on his best mate.

“What do you think you're doing?”

“Taking a gorgeous girl to dance with me,” Mattheo answered casually, grinning at the girl on his arm. How could he act as if you weren't even there? How dare he run to another when he had taken you to be his date, was he never satisfied?

“You already have a date, scemo,” he growled. By now, a few pairs of eyes had gotten wind of the brewing storm. A few of them stepped closer to observe the scene, others pushed through the crowd to put some space between them and the two boys who now glared at each other. Mattheo was tense, brimming with excitement and pushed away the girl. Theo, on the other hand, seemed almost unnaturally calm, his hand slowly slipping into his robes in search of his wand.

“Theo,” you said quietly, in an ineffectual attempt to avoid more attention. “I really don't mind.” He cast you a quick glance and you knew it hadn't been enough. His eyes were soft all of the sudden, but you knew he wouldn't back down. And you weren't going to lie, it did warm your chest that he was so willing to stand up for you. Though you didn't want the situation to escalate into an actual fight because of your’s and Mattheo’s stupidity.

Mattheo would apologize to you for the following later, but now he had to wound Theo up so much that he’d attack him with bare hands, Mattheo's preferred method of fighting, because he knew he couldn't beat the academic weapon Theo in a wizarding duel. “Yeah, she was kind of a bore so I-” But he didn't get to finish that sentence, because Theo had abandoned the search for his wand, surged forward and tackled Mattheo so they fell to the ground in a heap of robes and fists.

You had rarely seen Theo fight. Well, that was not quite true. You'd seen him hex people, curse fellow students, but never like this. The punches he delivered to Mattheo’s face were less deliberate and full of rage. It was a show of force unlike any you'd ever seen from him. When tackling Matteo, he had discarded his robes and now his white shirt got the first red spots. Mattheo hit and kicked back with the same fervor you already knew from him, and you could see it in his eyes, this was all just a game for him.

Students screamed when a resounding crack echoed through the hall, amplified by the sudden silence that had come over the crowd as everyone formed a circle around the fighting boys. Theo had broken Mattheo's nose, you were sure of it, and for a moment, you thought Mattheo was down, but of course not. Without a sound of pain, he shot up and tackled Theo, who had hesitated for a split second too long, to the ground. Wherever they threatened to crash into the wall of onlookers, the students moved back like a coordinated swarm of fish.

Slowly, Theo seemed to get the upper hand on Mattheo who seemed slightly knocked out from the hit in the face that had broken his nose. But nonetheless, while Theo’s expression was bitter and hard as he brought his fist down on Mattheo's face again and again, the latter laughed, almost crazily, coughing up blood. His laughter was the loudest sound, and for a good minute, you doubted his sanity. In contrast, Theo was eerily silent as he beat Mattheo with the utmost concentration, jaw clenched and eyes full of disdain.

Finally, the headmaster managed to push through the crowd. Some of them were chanting, others were covering their faces with their hands. Dumbledore assessed the situation in one glance, and you thought he even winked at you, before he pulled out his wand. As if pulled apart by invisible hands, Mattheo and Theo were ripped apart and both stumbled a few feet back, making the crowd on either side burst to scramble away.

They were both heaving. Mattheo looked worse than Theo, his nose was visibly broken and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and two black eyes. Theo’s lip and nose were bleeding, dripping crimson upon his stained shirt, as were his fists, and a darkening bruise bloomed above his right jawline. Both of them looked ready to jump back into it, if it hadn't been for a very disgruntled Snape, who stepped in between and sneered at Theo especially. “What a display! You have dishonored your house with your public brawling-”

“Now, now, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly and smiled in understanding. “Tempers run high at events like these. I can remember, in my youth, there was no ball without a good duel. Of course, some choose the more direct approach.” His eyes twinkled.

Unfortunately, Mattheo chose the exact moment to send you a wink and Theo, who looked just about a hundred percent done with his bullshit, took a step towards him, only to be roughly pushed back by Snape. It couldn't stop the words leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, though. “Sei praticamente mio fratello,” growled Theo with a wild look in his blue eyes. “come hai potuto farmi questo, pezzo di merda?"

Mattheo was still gasping for breath and wincing at every inhale, but he grinned nonetheless. “non parlo italiano, you dumbass,” he sneered with what you could only assume was a heavy British accent, and Theo, still fuming, spit on the ground over Snapes shoulder who was still holding him back.

“Now, now,” said Dumbledore with a level of indulgence you could only admire him for. “I believe, Mr Riddle, you should see Miss Pomphrey. As for you, Mr Nott, how about a walk to, ah- cool off?”

Theo pushed Snape off of him who glared at him, only to be glared at right back. “Twenty points off Slytherin, Nott,” he said with clear disdain in his voice. Before Theo could protest or do something rash (you had never seen him like this, he looked like he was capable of anything), you grabbed his hand and started pulling. To your immense surprise and relief, Theo gave in immediately, following you as you pushed through the students, out of the door, through the entrance hall, and finally, out into the dark grounds where the chilly night air finally cleared your head a little.

You sat down on the stone steps and Theo followed suit, still breathing heavily and flexing his hands. For a few minutes, you didn't dare speak. When you finally managed to work up the words and the courage, it was Theo who spoke first. His voice had lost all temper, all edge, it was full of regret. “I'm sorry, fiorellino.” Taken aback, he turned your head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on his hands, covered in both Mattheo's and his blood, seeping out of his knuckles.

“What for?” you asked and he finally looked at you, albeit as if you were asking a very ridiculous question. “Cazzo, for ruining your night. You deserve better, I was a-” But you didn't let him finish, you reached over to wrap your arms around him and pull him in, needing his warmth more than ever. Immediately, his arms engulfed your form and he pulled you into him so that you were sitting halfway in his lap, but neither of you cared. Maybe even without realizing, he rocked you back and forth lightly and you breathed out, breathed in, let the smell of him consume you whole. Cigarettes had never smelled better.

When Theo reluctantly released you, his gaze trailed over the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress, as wonderful as it was, did not have sleeves. “Let's go,” he said softly. He didn't say where, but you didn't care, you trusted him. So you let him pull you up and back inside, down the staircase to the dungeons. None of you said a word. When you stepped inside, the Slytherin common room was deserted, as everyone was still upstairs, enjoying themselves.

Theo urged you towards the couch, but you had come to a halt. You knew you needed to come clean. Now. Before he had the chance to actually take Mattheo's head off. Mistaking your hesitation for doubt rather than guilt, Theo let his arms engulf you once more. It may have been a trick of your imagination, but you thought you heard him breathe in the scent of your hair. “Maleditelo, that bastard. Merlin, I could have broken his fucking jar if they'd given me one more minute. Curse him for doing that to you. I’d never have-” He fell silent.

You sighed against his chest, silently wishing you'd never taken part in Mattheo's crazy plan. “I didn't mind that,” you murmured into his blood-stained shirt, reveling in the feeling of his thumbs brushing over your shoulder as he held you. But it stopped, and Theo pulled away, face contorted into a bitter smile as he began to pace in front of you. “No, of course you didn't. Sei troppo dannatamente bonario, troppo gentile, troppo perfetto.”

“Theo!” you said loudly and that made him look down on you. Your voice was shaking slightly. “I’m sorry.” He frowned, and then it all spilled out of you. How Mattheo had proposed the idea of making him jealous because he was convinced he liked you, how you had said yes because you were a lovesick idiot, how he had been purposefully riling him up and you had went along with it all. “I'm sorry,” you said shakily, holding back tears. “I was so stupid, this is all my fault, I'm so, so sorry Theo.”

During the whole tale, Theo hadn't moved an inch. Now, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from out of his pocket, ignited one with a bit of wandless magic and took a long drag. Usually, Theo didn't smoke when you were around, because he knew you didn't like it. But desperate times seemed to call for desperate measures. Staring down at the glowing cigarette between his fingers, Theo seemed to gauge the words, weigh them on his tongue, before he spoke. “You like me?”

“I love you,” you confessed, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Theo, I'm so sorry.”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?” You peeked at him through your fingers, but he seemed calm. Sure, he was frowning, but the cigarette seemed to have helped. His gaze was fixed on you as he studied your expression, what little he could catch a glimpse of, anyway.

You let out a helpless sigh, feeling ridiculous. “Because… you know, you’re you.”

At that, his frown deepened and he took another drag of his cigarette, as if to calm himself. Then, he flicked it into an ashtray and approached you slowly. His gentle hands came up to pry your hands from your face. They fell helplessly at your sides. “What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with furrowed brows. “Are you intimidated by me, amorina?”

“N- no!” you stuttered desperately, “it's just…” You let out a long sigh, not daring to look at him. “I was scared it might ruin our friendship, it just… seemed like the best way.” As you spoke them, you realized the stupidity of your words, and Theo, too, raised his brow at you. “You thought going to the ball with Mattheo to make me jealous, letting him kiss you on the dance floor and rile me up all evening was the best way, did you?”

“Yes?” you squeaked, never having felt this abashed in your life.

Theo rolled his eyes, but he leaned down and suddenly he was so close. So close you could feel, hear and smell his breath, still reeking of cigarettes. So close you suddenly realized just how blue his eyes were, a deep cerulean blue. So close your breath hitched. Theo's voice was but a whisper, but he seemed distracted, his eyes darting between your eyes and - could it be? - down to your lips. “Stupid plan.”

“I know,” you breathed, looking at him with wide, teary eyes that Theo wanted to burn into his memory forever. He couldn't find it in him to be mad at you. Not when you looked at him like this, not when he could smell you.

“It worked,” was all he said, and you could barely comprehend the words before his lips crashed onto yours.

You'd imagined many times how it might feel to kiss Theo, too feel those soft lips on yours. Would it be messy? Gentle? Rough? It turned out to be none of those, or perhaps all of those. Kissing Theo was dizzyingly overwhelming. His lips moved in yours in a controlled passion, slow and meticulous, but at the same time, hungry. So, so hungry when he let out a groan and parted your lips with his to slip his tongue into your mouth. To explore, to discover, to make you whimper against him as he pulled you in tighter by the waist.

You suddenly felt impossibly hot and bothered, especially when Theo's lips departed from your mouth to nip at your jaw and travel down the crook of your neck, biting, sucking, caressing, worshipping. When you felt something solid poke against your thigh, you gasped, nervousness coiling in your stomach. “M-maybe,” you stuttered, “now that all is cleared up, we should maybe go look after Mattheo in the-”

You gasped loudly when Theo bit down hard on your neck, silencing you effectively with the growl that escaped his throat. “Don't say his fucking name, amorina.” You nodded frantically, biting back moans, and Theo started lapping at the bite, rubbing his tongue over it in soothing circles as his hands travelled down, further down before they reached the slit in your dress and he grabbed a handful of your thigh. “You can scream mine instead.”

Suddenly, the door burst open and you jumped, Theo took a step back from you to glare at your intruders. It was Pansy, and, following right behind, Blaise. She had her brows lifted and grinned. “Holy hell, get a r-”

“Get out, Pansy,” Theo cut her off, fingers digging into your thigh. Though she held Blaise back from standing up for her, she rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to leave. “Lock the door,” Theo called after them and you somehow found yourself giggling. “Theo, you can't just shut your whole house out of the common room.” You felt light headed, slightly dizzy, but you smiled and he managed to return it. “'Course I can.”

He let go of your thigh and walked a few steps, over to what had to be an enchanted record player. With a tip of his wand, it started playing a slow song. Theo looked back at you, extending his arm, offering you his right hand. A small smile played around his lips as he crooked his head to the side. “Dance with me, amorina.” And of course, you took it, let him pull you towards him and closed your eyes as he began to move you to the slow rhythm. Somehow, your head landed on his shoulder, his came to encircle your waist as you moved, barely taking a step.

He would make the stolen night up to you. Every single second.

[fishermon]

Okie dokie this is the last piece of art in the fic (not the last one i have or probably will draw, though), it'll be in one of the last couple chapters whenever I write them, as long as I don't do anything stupid and add in a whole new plotline again 💀 (this drawing of Simon painted live by Johnny was meant to be where the fic ended at one point... And now it's in chapter 23 and I'm currently writing chapter 42 lol)

Simon goes to visit his families graves, and Johnny sits back quietly to give him space and to draw him

I'm so proud of how this piece turned out, honestly, it's my first piece for this fic with a full background, and its the best attempt at a watercolour style so far (it's a million times better than my first attempt, the colours on that one were SO unbelievably muddy it was awful, looked like me as a 12 year old painted it lol)

Close ups and details I really liked under the thingy :]

1. This scruffy little family portrait which I find ridiculously endearing, and then only makes me sadder because look how happy they were, look how well they were doing before they were murdered.

2. The fact that Joseph died when he was only two years old in this fic :( he was so small, he was still a baby.

3. The lavender Simon left in a vase by his mum's grave, because her favourite flower was Lavender, and she wore lavender deodorant, so that smell is one Simon finds comfort in.

4. Simon's dad's grave being completely untended to, because fuck that guy, even his gravestone can rot.

5. I just generally love this broken bit of fence.

6. This little alleyway behind it all with a big bin and one of those little side chimneys/steam vents.

7. I'm weirdly proud of this window and gutter too for some reason. The buildings all look so drab and that's exactly how I wanted them.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 46

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's (Poultryman) pov*

Worm man is the first to go inside the vent, apparently he has a map of the place...you don't question why, Seraphin goes next just after him and you are honestly surprised he managed to fit considering he's a wall of a man and also has giant wings.

You look towards Flame, he motions for you to go.

"I'll be last, it's a precaution."

You nod and jump in as well, soon you hear Flame as he goes in after you.

You crawl around the extremely dusty vents for way too much time by the time that everyone stops and Worm man begins to whisper loudly.

"This stupid vent map"

"Is there... something wrong?"

"The map! It's wrong, the vent should be going left not right!"

You hear Flame groan from behind you. "What? What do you mean?"

"I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Just...pass it to me"

"Here! See??"

"... Hmmm, yeah this thing is- wait."

"Yes?"

"It's upside down? For some reason whoever made this put North on the bottom and South at the top... "

"... Well, that's not my fault, who would even do a map this way?"

"Just...take it and try to keep it in mind."

Oh... you have a thought... Did you havr something to do with that? Considering the way things are transformed when near you it wouldn't be too unlikely. You'll haveto keep that in check much more with three bodies.

You keep crawling trough vents for at least half an hour, you are starting to think it would have been better to just jump in at this point and say screw it to the plan these guys had.

"We're here!"

Nevermind, the plan was a great idea and the most fun ever.

You look down at the grate beneath you, as the others begin listening in you don't really care to do the same, after all this is all stuff you already are listening to trough your other vessel. There is something you do want to do, after a few minutes of espionage you make Mother Spore shush the villains and point to the ceiling.

"It seems we have an audience."

Oh this is so fun, It's been a while since you messed stuff up like this. Feels great.

*Mumbo's pov*

Mother Spore silences everyone again, before you can even wonder what is up with her this time around she points to the ceiling and whispers.

"It seems we have an audience"

From the ceiling vents drop Worm man jumps down and his fellow vigilantes Seraphin, Poultryman and Flame follow suit landing on the table... How long have they been there?

You aren't ashamed to say you end up hiding behind Spore as Flame's hair turn into...well, flames, And Xonorth begins a barrage of tendrils towards him... Nor that you let out a squeak when Doctor Rat turns into ink and melt into the ground...You feel like your reactions are very valid, you are an inventor villain you weren't supposed to be in the middle of a full on fight. That's why you even agreed to work with Mother Spore in the first place.

"How... We should... go Spore."

". . I'll make a way out"

And she does, in an instant most of the wall next to you crumbles... You are going to have to pay Quackity for that won't you...

That's...how did she- nevermind, no time for that.

*Grian's (Mother Spore) pov*

Mumbo tries to leave, you should have expected that, without any weapons on him It's not really fair to him to expect him to fight.

Seraphin does try to go after him but you block him mid-air and push him back...

... This room is way too small for this, you are going to need to bring this fight outside. You grab Mumbo under your arm and drag him off with you.

"Spore!??"

As you make your way outside you see people recording and making calls, you don't have long before the authorities get here... Just means you'll have to do what you can to make the most of such little time.

[whatwooshkai]

number three :D

Blades is hiding.

Yeah, he's not afraid to admit it. He'll hide all he fucking wants.

The only summons he's been giving over the past vorn have been either for random medical check-ups or more interrogations by the enforcers. And they're still having him train on a strict schedule, even though his "team" has been reduced to a solo endeavor.

A voice crackles to life over the P.A. system. "Someone find Blades, please." The voice sounds resigned and more tired than anything, lacking the usual professionalism but keeping the conciseness.

Blades curls closer to the crates he's hunched behind, knees-to-chassis, doing his best to angle his rotors so they're not visible.

They stick out so far behind his back.

The scar between them aches when he twists. Stupid rotors, stupid alt mode. He misses his wings, even though he barely had them. Helicopter is a stupid alt mode anyways, with stupid fragile rotors that could break at a moment's notice.

An odd, aching part of Blades- the one that lives in the gaping hole in his spark- desperately wants to go home.

But he is home. Or at least, the only living quarters he's ever known.

Unless home is with his gestalt... in which, he doesn't need that many more reasons to be convinced to go join them.

"Found ya."

Blades looks up from his hiding spot to meet the tired optics of one of the security-for-hires, who's doing his best to offer an inviting smile. His field brushes Blades', so he snaps it close to his frame.

Blades can't remember his name, they cycle through guards too often. Or at least more often when they used to, after a top secret government project turned into a glorified sparkling-sitting job.

The guard taps a beat on the crate he's leaning on. "You comin'?"

Blades just glares at him.

The guard sighs heavily, before walking around and reaching out a hand. "I don't wanna fight you, kiddo. Let's make it easier on both of us, alright?"

Blades doesn't move, but he lets the guard grab his arm and haul him to his pedes, then lead him down the hallway towards the Supervisor's office.

The Supervisor is an intimidating mech- black and gray plating, purple optics, and a faceplate twisted in a perpetual scowl. He must be three time the size of Blades.

Streetwise used to guess that the reason he went by the Supervisor is because he had a really stupid or embarrassing name that wasn't intimidating at all, instead of just being "classified" like he claimed.

Doesn't matter what Streetwise thinks now, though.

Blades squares his shoulders and walks into the office with his helm held high, keeping his rotors tucked close to his frame to hide their minute shaking.

"Blades," the Supervisor greets in his dark, intimidating voice. Blades frowns at him. "You're hardly a sparkling anymore, I thought you would have outgrown being a nuisance by now."

Blades, wisely, does not say anything. The less of a fuss he makes, the sooner he gets out of here.

"As you know, the Defensor project has been discontinued," the Supervisor continues, shifting slightly in his seat. "And therefore our funding for it has stopped. More specifically, our funding for you has stopped. So you are no longer of use to us."

Blades' tanks drop to his pedes. He knew this would happen eventually, but he thought they'd at least wait until the enforcers found out who- who- who's responsible for Blades no longer having brothers.

He's not even that being that much of a nuisance! He's following directions, goes to the places they order him to, shows up to training, all the stuff they need him to. He doesn't even hide half the time!

"You have three options," the Supervisor says, pulling Blades from his thoughts. "You can attempt to fend for yourself on the streets of Protihex, but you will not receive any help from us, financial or otherwise. You may join the military, which we do encourage. Minimal paperwork and it keeps you in the system."

Blades is going for the streets. He is not joining the military, he is not-

"Or," the Supervisor adds, "you can attend the Rescue Bots Academy."

Oh. That actually... that actually might not be so bad. That's a few vorns of schooling, and by that point, he could get a job and fend for himself, right? He wouldn't even half to finish. Just live there long enough to get himself on his pedes and to make sure he can get as far away from this Primus-forsaken facility as possible.

"I'll go to the Rescue Bots," Blades says, the static in his audials drowning out everything besides the Supervisor's, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Blades shutters his optics. "Send me to the Rescue Bots Academy."

[3amfanfiction]

Will you ever elaborate on how simon obtained doll like how you did john and darling, love your writing btw💗💗💗

Thanks for reaching out! I'm glad you like my work <33 I can't see him having enough social niceties to do anything other than to snatch doll up. He wouldn't be charming enough to get them in the car or to convince them to go home with him so it would have to be by force. Here's a little 2k blurb of Ghost bringing Doll home. cw: stalking, abduction, physical assault

Ghost and Doll Meet

Part of the Doll and Darling series. This is a dark series so mind the tags.

You'd like to say that you did something stupid to get yourself into this predicament. That you got into the wrong car or went home with the wrong person from the bar. Or even that you ran your mouth in front of the wrong audience.

It wasn't true though. You didn't do anything.

He would eventually tell you about the first time he saw you. You were walking out of a corner store, juggling your spoils as you reached for a ringing phone. He'd run out of cigarettes and happened to see you as you were leaving. It was a chance encounter that had your paths crossing. Chance that ruined your life.

The first time you saw him was from your living room window, standing across the street.

All you could really make out was the size of him, a solid black mass that seemed to draw in the surrounding light like a black hole. He was massive and covered from head to toe in dark fabric, not an inch of skin to be seen.

You jerked to a stop on your way past, staring into the deepening shadows trying to make the figure out. It was a fruitless endeavor so you did the only thing that seemed logical in the moment.

You closed the curtains and continued on with your night, paying no further mind to the peeping Tom that wanted to look into your home.

You considered the matter a done deal until you saw him again days later, this time leaning against the tailgate of an old truck as he smoked a cigarette.

It was fully dark this time and you were coming out of the grocery store when you noticed him. You would've glanced right over his hulking shape if the cherry red end didn't light up with his inhale. A brief glow that allowed just enough light to see that something was there.

Was he following you?

Maybe it wasn't even the same person. No need to jump to conclusions based solely on someone's size. He might just be waiting on a friend.

But then why was he staring at you?

His head turned to follow you as you continued along your way. That was fine, sometimes people stared, it wasn't the end of the world. No reason to panic.

You cursed the fact that this store was close enough to walk to. You'd packed up your reusable bags and now you were stuck hoofing it home. It was going to be okay though, you were going to get home safely and lock the door and everything would be just fine.

You refused to look behind you when you heard what might have been a scruff of a shoe against the concrete or might have been the bush of the tree branch against the side of a building. Either way you were almost there and it didn't concern you.

Your hands were shaking by the time you reached home and tried to get your key into the lock. It scraped at the opening a few times before finally catching, allowing you to unlock it and push the door open to quickly get inside. Slamming the door shut behind you, you leaned back and tried to catch your breath. Your heartbeat pounded away in your chest and your hands were still trembling.

But you were inside. You were safe. Nothing was going to happen to you.

It took an hour and a healthy glass of wine before you finally stopped shaking.

—

It was a week later that he was back across the street again.

You'd found yourself compulsively checking out the windows every time you had to cross them. A constant source of stress as you wondered if this would be the time you saw him again. After the first few days of nothing you began to relax, content to reassure yourself you had blown things a mite out of proportion.

That went out the window when you saw his shadow once more stood across the street, placed to have a direct view into your house.

Why was this happening? What did he want? You slammed the curtains shut so forcefully you heard stitches pop, fabric swinging madly where it had just been abruptly closed. You'd speak to the police tomorrow.

—

The police wouldn't do anything when you went to see them the next day. You'd begged for them to help but without anything more substantial than 'seeing a scary looking man hanging around' they said their hands were tied.

It was such a load of bullshit.

You stormed out of the building fuming. Sitting down with a huff at the bus stop you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out with a frown you were greeted with a blocked number texting you. A simple sentence that sent chills down your spine.

Better luck next time, Doll.

What the fuck? How did he get your number? Was he watching you even now? You surreptitiously looked around, attempting to find him. You hadn't come across him in the daylight before. You'd foolishly thought yourself safe to go to the station since it wasn't even noon yet. Stupid stupid stupid.

You shoved your phone into your pocket with a worried frown. What were you going to do now?

—

It went on like this for a month, catching glimpses of him when you leave stores or work, standing in shadowed alcoves that you glanced over until a cigarette lit up, drawing your eye. Your curtains stayed permanently closed now, blocking the view into your house but also keeping you from seeing what was outside the window. The uncertainty of it was almost worse.

When a sound woke you in the middle of the night you knew what you were going to find before you opened your eyes.

Still, you couldn't help the involuntary choice your body made to pry your sleep-sticky eyes open, immediately zeroing in on the man standing beside your bed. It didn't even take a thought before you were opening your mouth to scream, the endeavor cut off before it started as he muffled it in his palm.

You kicked your arms and legs out but caught under the blankets as you were they didn't do much damage, just tangled you up further, tightening your noose. You got your teeth around a portion of glove covered finger and bit as hard as you could, your jaw aching with the pressure you exerted.

It was the last thing you remembered as you glimpsed a fist making its way towards your temple in the dark.

—

Waking up, your head throbbed. Just turning to see a bit more of the room you were in left your vision swimming and nausea swirling in your gut. A whimper crawled its way out of your mouth as you took deep, steadying breaths trying to recenter yourself.

It was minutes later before you were able to pry your eyes open again, squinting against the meager light of the bare light bulb as it stabbed through your skull. What greeted you was a cold, empty room.

Concrete floor and walls, nothing present except yourself and the thin mattress you were laying on. It looked like an unfinished basement or cellar with no windows and a set of rough wooden stairs leading up to the next level. The bare bulb you'd noticed before the only light source, dangling from a thin cord in the middle of the room.

Moving to curl your knees to your chest you were met with a loud clinking as pressure increased around one ankle and you realized that you were chained to a post in the middle of the room. A leather cuff wrapped snugly just above your bare foot.

You laid there and stared at it, mind shying away from the truth even when it was right in front of you. If you ignored it then it would go away, right? You'd close your eyes and when you opened them again you'd be back in your own bed, snuggled in your thick blankets, soft pillows surrounding you.

There's no way you'd actually been kidnapped by a stupid stalker. You knew it didn't only happen in Lifetime movies but you still never expected to have it happen to you. As much as you tried to fight it, you could feel your panic rising in your chest, choking out your lungs.

What was going to happen to you?

Were you going to be killed immediately? Your body taken out to the side of the highway and dumped like trash? Would anyone be able to identify you or would you be a Jane Doe for the rest of eternity? A name that wasn't your own attached to you for all of time.

Or would you be kept instead? Forced to stay in this dank room subjected to the whims of your captor. What would he do to you? What would he make you do? Would your friends and family ever stop looking for you? Would they post your missing poster to their social media every year around this time? Or try to move on with their lives?

Was one scenario better than the other?

Your mind was spiraling when you finally noticed someone in the far corner. Letting out a small scream of fear you jerked back sending radiating waves of pain down your back and through your skull. Your muscles spasming as your vision swam in and out of focus. You tried to keep your eyes on the dark mass but your spinning vision meant you had to clench them shut, anything to stop the horrible vertigo.

It was a man. The same one that grabbed you from bed you were pretty sure. Everything had happened in a rush but it was hard to forget someone that large. He was completely covered in dark clothes, obscuring all but the general shape of him.

It made him feel less human.

"What," you croaked, fighting back nausea, "what do you want? Why did you take me?"

You focused on your kernel of anger to keep from breaking down into tears. Anything to ward off the oncoming panic you could feel building. You'd never been much of a crier but you found your eyes prickling easily now. A tingle in the back of your nose, tiny little bites of a needle.

He didn't say anything, continuing to loom in the corner. A dark spot you were already coming to equate with fear and pain. As you forced yourself to focus you realized he wasn't so much looming as he was sitting, splayed comfortably in a chair—watching you.

"You're the stalker, right?" you tried, angling for a response—any response. "The one I've been seeing around? Finally got bored with watching and decided to do something about it?" Anger. Hold onto the anger.

Silence.

"Hey!" you croaked, trying still for bravado, "what, are you ignoring me? Why am I here?"

He continued to sit there quietly, through all the abuse you hurled. A silent sentinel that never reacted no matter what you thought of to throw at him, your vocabulary growing more colorful as time passed.

Your voice was hoarse and raspy by the time he deigned to respond.

When he stood, you fell silent. All your earlier bluster draining away with a single movement. Was he larger than you remembered? He was certainly scarier, having shown he wasn't afraid to assault you to get what he wanted. Remembering it made your head throb anew, the radiating ache pushing back to the forefront of your mind now that you had acknowledged it.

His boots thumped, echoing with each step like a drumbeat inside you. Each thump bringing him closer, your fate steadily encroaching. You didn't want this, you were sorry for the things you said, you didn't mean them, please don't, you babbled, anything to stop what was coming. This impending disaster you could see building with no way to brace for.

You were barely breathing by the time he stopped beside your mattress, crouching down to reach out with one glove covered palm. You flinched away, back pressed to the wall with nowhere else to go when his fingers trailed down your cheek. Pulling back he showed you the sheen of your tears on the well-worn leather. When had you started crying?

"We're gonna get along just fine, doll," he cooed condescendingly, his voice rumbling bass deep. "You an' me? S'gonna be one for the history books."

|||

Pinned Post | All Stories

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 16

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Extra Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

“This is stupid,” Keegan groaned as he descended the stairs, his footsteps heavier than usual yet carefully dropped onto the water.

“If it works, it ain’t stupid,” you reasoned, motioning at the flooded tunnel, making it look like a river. Some cars were parked under the bridge and some Shadows lurking in the depths of the water. It was clear, considering it was mostly rain, but they also most definitely came from filthy sewers and canals. You had swam in dirtier waters, and went through the swamps Elias had thrown you into with his sons, but still, you had never agreed with it.

“Elias has deployed you on even dirtier terrains than this,” he tightened his grip around your legs, adjusting your position on his back. “If you weren’t bleeding, I would have dragged you into the water.” You wrapped your hands around his neck and squeezed, making him grunt. He quickly elbowed your side, eliciting a curse from your mouth, and whacked him on the top of his head. Just as you were about to strangle him with your arms, it dawned on you that this position you were currently in with Keegan was indeed stupid. He was holding you with both hands and him behind in front of you would make it difficult for you to use guns or blades.

“Yeah, this is stupid,” you mumbled under your breath and sighed, “Let me off.”

“Your brain finally working?” he questioned mockingly as you dropped to your feet.

You flashed him a middle finger and silently dove into the water before he could stop you. You felt a sting on your shoulder, the water sipping through the fabric to your wound, but more than anything, you didn’t want to be a burden to Keegan and let him handle the Shadows. This was your, the Vaqueros, and the Task Force’s business against Shepherd to begin with. If there was anyone you wouldn’t like to get dragged into this mess, it would be the Ghosts. But with them helping around now when you were desperately in need and needed to keep your promise to Price to make sure his boys were safe, you could get—no, you would need a bit of help.

You slowed down in the water, letting the sergeant take the lead, and with his gesture that two opponents were coming towards them, you rushed after him. But before you could go near one, he grabbed your good shoulder and motioned at you to stay at your place. You shook your head in response, but his grip tightened. He pointed at you and through his gaze, you could tell he was saying, ‘Do not engage.’

You nodded, slowly, and backed away in silence, swimming up to the surface of the water. You couldn't see his work due to the darkness of the tunnel, but once again, you heard stifled grunts echoing along the rush of the water. Yet, you stayed in your place—you trusted Keegan's skills—but he wouldn't like it if you went when he told you not to.

He was a man who would follow the rules till the end of time, the opposite of what you were. And while he follows someone else's orders, you abide by your own.

Keegan’s head popped out from under the water and nodded at you that the tunnel was clear. You paddled towards him and grabbed onto his hand that extended to you, pulling you close to him with ease.

“Keegan,” you mumbled, looked up at him, and met his eyes that seemed to glow in the dim—they had always been like that, as though lakes gazed upon by the full moon. He looked down on you, lashes dropping low as you brought his palm to your cheek. He did not bother to wait as you didn't bother to say a word. He leaned down on you, pressing a kiss on your forehead through his balaclava.

You smiled, a thought hitting your brain like lightning. “Wanna fuck is a pool?”

He put his hand over your face, easily taking over the area, and pushed you away. “Get your head outta the gutter.”

You giggled, following him behind as he started to walk, fighting through the current of the water. “Aw, come on, I know a place in Salvador.”

“No.”

“Don't you wanna see me in a swimsuit?”

He stopped in his tracks, turned around in a flash, and grabbed your vest, pulling you towards him. “I'd prefer you come naked in front of me,” he claimed, his voice dropping lower.

An ache struck your core, and you felt like laughing all of a sudden, despite the coldness of the wind and water, you felt your cheeks heating up. But this was Keegan, he didn't flirt often, but when he did, it was better to take chances no matter the surroundings. You tilted your head. “Well, why don't we hurry and get out of these wet clothes?” you patted his arm that held onto you.

But he didn't let go, his grip only tightening as you tried to pry away from his smoldering gaze. In return, you ran your hand onto his arm, going up to his shoulder, and in a small voice, you asked, “What’s the holdup, sir? Don't you want to get the mission done fast?”

“This isn't a mission.” Slowly, his hand traveled up to your neck, lightly wrapping his fingers around, and he bent to your eye level. “This is getting you back.” A smile crept on his lips, hidden by the mask as he felt your throat bob.

You opened your mouth to squeak an answer, but the comms crackled, and Hesh’s voice came. “We’re nearing the church, over.”

You flattened your lips into a thin line and rolled your eyes. At the same time, Keegan heaved out a sigh, drawing circles on your neck for a moment before turning away to answer David “Greatest Cockblocker of the History” Walker.

THIS IS THE 46TH COCKBLOCK YOU'VE GOTTEN FROM HIM FOR THE PAST FIVE YEARS!

You turned to the side, punching the air, and screamed in silence as Keegan communicated with your brother. But it didn't take long for him to grab you again and lead you out of the tunnel. You both climbed up a staircase, ducking your head,s and slowly peeked over the road ahead. A gunshot echoed among the whispers of rain and the roar of thunder, and you took a step back, waiting for another or anything to happen, yet nothing came.

The sergeant motioned a finger, and you rushed towards a gate, which he jumped over. You followed suit and staggered a bit upon landing on the concrete, making Keegan lean down in a blink.

“You alright?” He asked in a small voice, gently holding your elbow.

You nodded. “Yeah, don't mind it.”

He placed his hand on your head. “Tell me if you feel anything wrong, okay?”

Once again, you nodded in response, and he straightened up. The two of you jogged through an alley and stepped inside a house at the end. The sole of your boots slapped against the gore spreading on the floor, and the corpse of a man sat against the wall ahead of you.

You shook your head at his sight—a poor man, innocent of the conflict between foreigners. It was always the innocent who would suffer the most.

You made a quick bow at the corpse. “Lo siento.”

(I'm sorry.)

On the other hand, Keegan had already proceeded inside the house, cautiously eyeing the surroundings. You silently padded after him and halted as he raised a hand. He raised a finger, pointed at the door, and gestured at your knife.

You motioned at him, a glimpse of the Shadow behind the door through the tinted windows beside the door frame, then pointed at the knob, and slowly guided his gaze a couple of feet above it.

He nodded, knowing what you meant was an estimation of where to shoot through the door, and aimed at where you told him. In a blink, he shot, and with a thud came from outside, he turned the knob, swinging the door open. You sprinted out of the house, sliding behind a pickup truck, before rushing to an alley.

You jumped over a window of a house and from your peripheral, darkness moved. You swung your arm to the side, pushing the man against the wall, and pointed your knife at his neck. Only as you were about to plunge the blade through his throat and that you felt the warmth of a recently fired pistol against your temple, did you take note of the viridescent hues dancing on the man’s eyes.

The grip on your blade loosened just as the pistol moved away from you, and the man’s eyes reflected your expression—wide gaze, lips parted, and you stepped back. “David—”

Then you were caged in a pair of muscular arms, suffocating you in their embrace. But no, this wasn’t Hesh—you felt the tones of the biceps, the tone of his voice chanting your name, and his grip—Soap.

“Jesus, Mactavish,” you grunted as he squeezed you tighter, keeping your eyes settled on Keegan, who frowned at the scene, and Hesh, who raised a questioning brow.

Ah, shit.

“Thought we lost ye,” Soap claimed. Finally, he unwrapped his arms, letting you breathe. With one swoop forward, he elicited a squeak from you. His lips captured yours, and you groaned against his mouth, brows knitting.

Your eyes never left the Ghosts, or rather, Keegan. Watching the frown on his face disappear and merely stare at you, unblinking, made it seem his eyes—like they had always been—were glowing.

The gaze of predators. Of hunters and stalkers.

A chill ran down your spine just as heat traveled between your thighs. But bitch, seriously, were you scared and aroused in this fucking moment?! Get a hold of yourself, you dumbass whore!

Wait, Keegan wasn't even your lover. Nor any of the 141.

BUT!

You pulled away from Soap and covered his mouth. “W-Wait, wait a second, not so fast—I mean, not now—no, I mean, don't.” You removed your hand from his face and gently pushed him away, shaking your head. “Not now, Soap.”

He heaved a sigh and leaned down, resting his head on your shoulder. “Sorry.”

You winced at the sudden weight, feeling a sting on your wound, but before you could tell him to move, Keegan's hand landed on the Scot’s shoulder. Soap quickly turned to him, back straight, and gazed into his eyes. Deep blue to bright blue hues.

“She has been shot on that shoulder, be careful touching and putting load on her,” Keegan said in a calm tone, but his eyes said otherwise, and Soap was quick to catch it.

Soap, however, merely nodded and uttered, “Sure.”

You used the opportunity to turn to Hesh and move close to him. “David,” you muttered, giving him a small smile.

Hesh spread his arms wide and you did not hesitate to throw yourself at him. He hummed, wrapping his arms around you and wiggled you around. You giggled and he answered it with a low laugh, which got the sergeants to look at both of you.

Soap glanced at Keegan. “Are they really siblings?”

Keegan, without looking, replied in an instant. “Yes.” He couldn't bother explaining further, and it wasn't his place to say anything more than necessary. You, after all, had always hated it when others dug up your upbringing.

Soap kept a straight face, yet in his mind, he wanted to grimace at how much this new guy resembled the lieutenant—the type to be seemingly quiet assholes and would shoot you if you annoy them.

He glanced at Hesh and you, already diving deep into a conversation, then back at Keegan, and extended a hand to him. “Sergeant Johnny “Soap” Mactavish.”

The American slowly turned to face him and stared for a second at the hand in front of him, before looking up and down at the Scott. A couple of seconds later, he took the hand. “Sergeant Keegan P. Russ.” He gave a squeeze on which the other forced a smile.

Soap pulled his hand back to himself and crossed his arms. Yup, I don't like this guy.

Hesh pulled away from you, but quickly draped his arm over your shoulders, keeping you beside him. You, in return, put your arm around his waist. “Okay, Sergeants, let's wrap this quick, and meet up with Ghost and Logan.”

“Ghost?” Hesh echoed.

You waved a hand in dismissal. “Proper introduction shall be held later on when all of us are safe.” You sauntered towards Soap and patted his bicep. “Let's get the Lt,” you said and climbed out of the window, jumping back out into the street. Soap followed you out.

Hesh glanced at Keegan who silently repeated your actions and raised a brow at his narrowed eyes, then shook his head at your figure disappearing first into the shadow. Whatever your relationship with these Brits—or Scott, for that matter, you'd better not come ranting to him and Logan later on.

Because he had enough when you yapped about your situationship with Keegan.

You led them down another street, but Keegan quickly took over the forefront, keeping you behind him. You glanced over your shoulder to shoot a look at Hesh and a grunt came out of your lips as a hand covered your face, pushing you out of the way.

“Bastard.” You flipped a middle finger at your brother, who took over your position as well.

“Ye give out siblings energy, a’ight,” Soap mumbled under his breath following you behind.

“What? Oh, right.” You shrugged. “Well, we're not siblings but they kinda just, uh,” you smacked your lips, trying to find the right words. “Adopted me when I was already an adult at that time.”

“Adult?” Hesh scoffed. “More like a lost puppy, covered in mud. Feral, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut the fuck up, why don't you?”

“Still feral, it seems.”

“More like rabid,” Keegan added, making you gasp.

“Are you fucking—” You kicked his foot, making his breath hitch at his chest at the sudden pain. “You kissed me earlier and now, you're calling me ‘rabid’?”

“What?” Soap croaked, his accent thick and eyes widening, looking back and forth between you and his fellow Sergeant.

But his surprise was overthrown by Hesh's exaggeratedly loud gasp. “So, you two were fucking each other next to sewers—” Keegan slapped his hand over his mouth, muffling his loud voice.

“Kissing! Not—” Keegan wrapped his other hand over your trap, in an attempt to silence you. But it only muffled your shouts while pointing at Hesh, who copied your actions, gesturing between you and Keegan, then down at the canal, before the both of you shot each other with a couple of middle fingers.

Soap frowned at the scene unfolding before him. If anyone didn't tell him you were adopted, he could easily be deceived that you and this Hesh came from the same mother.

“Are you two done?” Keegan sighed, and when you and David remained silent, he nodded to himself, then let the both of you go. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at Soap. “You'll see worse.”

“Aye, can see that,” Soap nodded in agreement and smiled as he met your eyes, which got wider as you pulled a face at him. But focus once again crawled to his face as his fellow Sergeant stopped.

Keegan raised a hand for a second, then motioned at the three of you to follow him. You and Mactavish prepared your blades, whereas the members of the Ghosts readied their guns. Several footfalls echoed ahead the alley, seemingly rushing towards the group’s direction, making both you and Hesh exchange glances, knowing that your quiet friend would nag you two about it.

This was a pretty common thing between you, the Walkers, and Russ whenever Elias put you together on a mission, but no matter how much trouble you and your brothers got into  (on purpose and not), you could trust Keegan to still accompany you in the pretense of keeping you guys on track, otherwise, the mission wouldn’t be done. Despite David being a higher rank than him, it couldn’t be denied that Keegan was more experienced and more suitable to lead. 

(Hesh had never said anything about it, even as the missions were supposed to be training for the brothers as their father’s successors)

A year in, and when Keegan had begun to accept you being one of them finally, and you were always put on a mission with him and the brothers, the entirety of the Ghosts started to bet on how many white hairs Keegan had already gotten from the stress he gains from you three. And yet, no matter how many times he had removed his mask before you, raked your fingers through his dark tresses, scratched your nails on his scalp, pulled on his hair, you never spotted any white hairs on his head and not even a single line of wrinkle on his lovely face. This led you lots to theorize that the man was using a blackening shampoo or extensive skincare to keep his youthful look. But even that would be unlikely of Keegan—heck, you swore to God that you had seen a 13-in-1 bottle in his bathroom once.

Up to this day, you and the Ghosts never knew the answer. Or maybe, they already had—you were away for over a year after all, and a lot could unfold in that time. You ought to question the brothers later or sooner.

With Keegan’s motion, the four of you launched at the Shadows ahead. He and Hesh shot down a couple, while you swiftly worked with your hands, silently driving your knife through the mercenary’s neck and pulled out. Whereas Soap drove the blade onto the Shadow’s throat. Just as you raised your hands for a high five at him and Hesh, another man stepped out of the shadow. Eyes widening and reflexes acting before you could fully think, you grabbed your brother, but as you pulled him out of the way, the Shadow dropped to the ground.

You gazed up at the cathedral, where Logan and Ghost were supposed to be hiding, and several Shadows went down with splatters of blood.

Immediately, Hesh tapped into his comms. “Logan, was that you?”

A crackle echoed from the device before a muffled voice came through. “No, but it came from here.”

You heaved a sigh and turned to Soap, placing a hand on his arm. “The Lt.”

Soap scoffed. “Always the show-off.”

“I heard that,” said a gruff voice from Soap’s radio. “We’re going down. Meet y’lots there.”

You clicked onto the Scot’s device, leaning close to it. “Copy that, Lieutenant.”

Hesh raised a brow in your direction. “How come you never addressed me with that much respect?”

You stared at Hesh for a second, trying to come up with a good excuse, and shrugged. “Since when do siblings respect each other?”

He pulled a face. “Right, you just walk into my room, lay down on the floor, then fart, and then leave me with your deadly particles—”

You lunged at him, kneeing him on the torso. He grunted in pain just as you grimaced at the sudden sting on your shoulder. “That’s what you do, you son of a bitch!” you exclaimed and wrapped your hands around his neck, squeezing it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Hesh grabbed your tresses and pulled, eliciting a yelp from you.

Keegan heaved a sigh and looked at his fellow sergeant, whose expression was between disgust and confusion. He motioned at him, turning his attention to him instead, and motioned at his to follow him. “They’ll follow,” he assured, skillfully changing his mags and throwing the empty one away. They rushed through an alley, heavy footfalls echoing along the pitter patters of the rain, creating an uncanny harmony. Soon enough, you and Hesh followed behind.

“How many of them are there?” Keegan questioned, stopping around a corner, scanning the perimeter, and narrowing his eyes at the couple of black-clad figures ahead.

“Not sure,” Soap simply answered and halted next to him, wiping his knife on his thigh, removing the blood.

“Approximately a hundred,” you informed, making the men turn to you as you peeked around the corner, and glanced up, recounting the Shadows’ numbers in your head. “For now, we’ve taken care of the ones deployed in this area. Considering they captured Graves and Alejandro, they might have taken them somewhere else we can’t easily go. Definitely not in the base where this all started.” You glanced down at your boots, furrowing your brows, mapping out Alejandro’s base in your mind. “Given as it’s some sort of barracks, I doubt there will be confinements there, and the layout of the structure makes it appear only to be some sort of barracks, unless there’s something underground. Which I doubt the Shadows would be able to find or control—ah, no, they should be able to control it, the Shadows have some operators who were better than me in technology.” You pointed at Keegan. “Then again, the system of the confinements here shouldn’t be as ancient and complicated as the Gulag—that shit made my brain bleed—”

“In other words?” Keegan quipped, raising a brow under his mask.

You raised a finger. “In other words—”

“You mean in short,” Hesh commented over.

You furrowed your brows at him. “In short, they have different operators who are experts in different fields and—”

“In short short!” Hesh exclaimed, his eyes widening threateningly at you.

“Thousands of Shadows!” You shouted back at him, throwing your hands in the air.

“Could have said that from the start, Bonnie,” Soap said, his voice dropping to a monotone, exhaustion evident in his voice.

You waved your hands up in the air in disbelief at his words, looking back and forth between the three of them. “I did!”

“Enough.” Keegan heaved another sigh, feeling already tired, but somehow he didn’t feel as stressed when with you and Hesh. Mayhaps it was because the Scot with them was sharing his stress from the two of you, or mayhaps, he was just happy and glad you were with him once again, that it was overriding everything. Without hesitation, he ran towards the Shadows, slid on the ground, and in a heartbeat, put bullets on their bodies.

On that, you hurried behind him, going towards the cathedral. He remained at the bottom of the stairs whilst you climbed up, scanning the open front door of the structure, and breathed loudly as Ghost stepped out, but kept an eye out for someone else. Then, a wide smile crawled on your face as the younger Walker ran out, jumping over the gate with Ghost.

As soon as they landed and steadied themselves, you threw yourself at them, bringing the three of you in a tight hug. Logan immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face onto your shoulder, whereas Ghost remained still, as stiff as a log, breathing suddenly heavy. You let go of Ghost, feeling his discomfort and draped your other arm over Logan’s shoulder.

“I missed you.” You pulled him tighter and smiled against his shoulder as he hummed, nodding. You patted his back which he mirrored and you both stepped away from one another. You turned to Ghost, scanning his body, and bumped your fist at his stiff stature. “Glad you’re safe,” you mumbled, offering him a smile.

Keegan narrowed his eyes, but quickly shifted his attention to Logan who went down the stairs and patted the younger man’s shoulder.

He blinked and angled his body to fully face you, then bumped his fist into your head. “That’s my line,” he scoffed and glanced at the unfamiliar men at the bottom of the stairs. “You’ve brought company?” he questioned and looked over at Soap who approached him. “Soap.” He dapped his shoulder, which the sergeant returned, calling out his sobriquet.

“Friends. Family.” You put a hand over your chest. “You can trust them . . . if you trust me.” You waited for an answer but merely received another soft hit on the head. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“Found a vehicle,” Hesh announced, pointing at the pick-up truck meters ahead of the group, but you also saw several Shadows rushing towards your direction.

“Better be working,” you quipped and jumped down the flight of stairs.

“Hey!” Keegan shouted at you as a warning.

You smiled at him, winked, and smacked his ass, making him frown at you, Hesh grimacing and Logan looking away. “Showtime.” You picked up a gun and ran ahead. Meanwhile, Simon exchanged a look with Soap who was wide-eyed.

“God,” Hesh mumbled under his breath and followed suit. “You are not driving that!”

You flipped a middle finger at him.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[vandal-flower]

Saying Something Stupid, like I Love You

Poseidon x Amphitrite!Reader

Requested. @amphitriteswife

Plot: Poseidon faces a dilemma concerning his love life. Reluctantly accepting their help, he plans to make things right with (Name). Thankfully she is lonely on New Year's and needs all the company she can get.

Warnings: Poseidon is bad at feelings but it works out, angst but a happy end.

Notes: Happy new year. Here is my gift. 🐚

"You've been an awful mood lately.", Zeus teased, raking his beard as he chuckled.

His brother, Poseidon didn't dare to say anything, but instead glared at him. Not that it would do much anyways.

"Look I was right Hades! Doesn't he look like a pouting child!", at this point Poseidon nearly summoned his trident just to skewer his brother, not caring for the consequences at hand.

But before he could, Hades smacked Zeus's head, "Quit your teasing Zeus, but you do have a point. Brother what is going on with you, did something happen?", Hades glanced over at the ruler of the seas with a look of concern.

In all his years, not once did Hades ever see Poseidon be so...off. Sure he is arrogant, but he has the power to back it up. But now, he looks as if he is distressed. This whole week he has been.

From what he heard, he has been ignoring meetings with his fellow godlike beings, causing unnecessary problems, ignoring his duties on Olympus, and at one point nearly flooded the whole of Olympus when asked about it.

Since that incident, no one has been able to tell him to stop, out of fear of being killed.

"It's nothing you should concern yourself. I'm perfectly fine."

If there was anything that Hades knew better than anyone else, it was that Poseidon was a terrible liar.

Zeus sneaked behind Poseidon's chair, "Let me take a guess."

"You need my help but you don't want to admit it."

"I would never require the assistance of someone like you."

"You accidentally broke your trident and now you're throwing a fit."

"Should I smite you with said 'broken trident' Zeus?"

"Is it concerning Amphitrite?", Hades asked, breaking the dispute between his younger brothers.

Poseidon was silent. Bingo.

Zeus's laugh filled the room as Hades chuckled at the sudden realization. Poseidon has been having love problems. Should news of Poseidon's love life ever go out, the Heavens would fall apart. Maidens and potential suitors would have their dreams shattered.

Realizing he could not get out of this mess, Poseidon, reluctantly, have a brief summary of his situation.

Amphitrite or (Name), has been distancing herself from him as of late. Everytime he approached her, she would throw some reason to excuse herself. No longer could he see her glowing dark skin under the sun, or the moonlight. Stare into her eyes that put the beauty of various beings to shame. He could no longer be held by her, or even listen to her enchanting voice.

In short, he could no longer be with her.

"I never thought you would be a lovesick fool Poseidon. Never thought they day would come.", Zeus joked earning another glare from Poseidon.

"It makes sense, you have been a temper tantrum. I should've stopped your habit if I knew it was going to be this bad.", Hades said, a smile growing on his face as he too teased the King of the Seas.

Poseidon hated the reaction he received from his brothers. They were making fun of him, and had it not been for the fact that they're his most trusted pupils, he would of ended their lives swiftly long time ago.

Soon, Hades collected himself, and Zeus followed suit. "So do you want our help or not, lover boy Poseidon?", Zeus nudged Poseidon, further agitating him.

With no other option, Poseidon answered a begrudgingly "yes".

The aftermath of Christmas lingers as festive lights and decorations all around the Heavens. With the new year, brought new beginnings and although it was meant to bring joy, it had only brought more sadness to (Name).

Seeing all the couples walking around with each other in arms, or buying more fireworks to celebrate the new years at their parties. Not to mention, a sculpture of Zeus dressed up in a tuxedo with Hera beside him with a glamorous dress to showcase her beauty. How great...

As much as she wished to climb into the arms of her friends to get rid of her feelings, she couldn't. With the following reasons...

Her nymph friends were trying to get a chance to be with gods like Apollo.

Persephone was visiting Hades in the Underworld or her mother on the Overworld.

Other friends of hers were visiting family or too busy.

Nonetheless, she was alone. She sighed to herself, the cold wind gently blowing against her face."For a bright and lively season like this, you don't like you're having much fun."

(Name) perplexed at the sudden voice, turned around to see Hermes. "Happy New Year to you Hermes. Any deliveries you should be attending to?", she looked at him with suspicion. Hermes smiled wider than usual.

"No reason.", he spoke. "However if I were you, I would go to the beach to calm all my worries." He pointed towards the beach, his smile not faltering not once. (Name) frowned at his words.

Sure, the beach would be great. Sand under her feet, and a chance to relax in the cool waters. However it reminded her of Poseidon.

Something told her that he doesn't like her presence as he hardly ever responded to what she says, only answering with a nod or a hum. And with his cold attitude, it only made sense he didn't think much of her or at all. The guilt of wasting his and her time ate her inside.

So to avoid making the situation worse, she distanced herself. Sure it hurts, but it's the thought that counts.

"Any reason for you to say that? In fact, why don't you mind your business, go run errands somewhere. I'm busy.", she waved off his suggestion and continued walking.

"Oh, but you have to. Poseidon ordered for your presence. And if word got out that you rejected the Poseidon himself, what would the Heavens make of you?"

Damn. He made a good point.

With no other choice, (Name) changed course and walked towards the beach. Not without cursing Hermes.

"So...you wanted my presence, Lord Poseidon?", (Name) asked. Before her was a dinner table and multiple decorations: seashells, corals, and lights. Donned in a fine suit with a small flower in the chest pocket, was the King of the Seas with his signature cold gaze. In his hands held a bouquet.

"I would like to take you to dinner.", he answered as she still tried to process the situation. This was all too much! The dinner table, decorations, and the flowers?

It would have been anyone's dream to experience was the scene right in front of her eyes, but not her. She avoided Poseidon like the plague only for him to ask for her and present her with dinner? Romantic as it is, it seemed suspicious...

"But, why? You clearly don't like my presence, so why the sudden change, AND why did you feel the need to plan a romantic dinner?!"

His eyes glanced at a rock that hid both Hades and Zeus, the duo gave him a thumbs up. He glared at them before turning his attention back to (Name). "I wanted to make you feel special, and...to apologize for my behaviour towards you."

If there was one thing the King of the Seas was not good at doing was apologies, however it was always genuine whenever he was backed into a corner to apologize.

"Apologize?"

"Yes."

Internally, (Name) clutched her pearls. Poseidon the King of the Seas, most feared Olympian, apologizing?! "It must be a dream", she thought.

Poseidon took a deep breath, silently cursing his brothers, " (Name), for the past weeks that I was away from your presence, I had the opportunity to contemplate my actions towards you."

"Every time you make some pathetic excuse to avoid me, it...breaks my heart to see you go. Your presence makes living more tolerable, since I'm surrounded by a circus.", Zeus gasped is shock at his comment, had it not been for Hades stopping him, he would have ruined the moment.

"You are more enchanting than the stars themselves, your voice eases my heart, and even if I were to give you a thousand compliments today and ten thousand tomorrow, it would still not be enough to describe how I truly feel about you."

Despite the cold look on his face, his cheeks and ears were dusted with pink. His eyes held a hidden warmth only meant for her. He walked towards (Name), holding the bouquet of forget-me-nots to her. It looked like he wanted to propose to her.

"But why, do this all for me, why do you want me?", (Name) asked, tears about to spill from her eyes. Poseidon sighed, "Because I love you."

Zeus and Hades popped their heads from behind the rock, eyes wide open. To hear their Poseidon actually say he loves someone was a miracle of itself.

Time had stood still for a moment between (Name) and Poseidon. Without realizing, tears had already started streaming down her face. Closing the distance from the two, Poseidon wiped her tears away with his thumbs. (Name) pressed her forehead against his, her eyes looking into his own.

"I appreciate the view, allowing me to see your eyes closely once more.", he whispered causing a smile to form on her face. She wrapped her arms around his waist, before giving him a kiss on the lips. As she pulled away, she rested her hands on his cheeks.

"Come back to my palace, there's a new collection of pearls and other accessories that I believe would suit you."

"I would love to, my dearest."

The two entered the ocean together, Poseidon in the arms of (Name), and (Name) telling him of her latest adventures. Once the two were gone, Zeus and Hades left their hiding spot.

"Well that turned out better than I anticipated.", the King of the Heavens smiled. "But what to do about the dinner setup?", Hades questioned.

The two stopped and thought about, "I'll just use it as an apology to Hera, after we had our argument the other day.", Zeus said.

"You are really shameless."

Happy new years!!

Sorry if Poseidon is ooc, but we deserve a soft Poseidon at least once in a while...

[damnfandomproblems]

About 6988: (TW for sexual assault, pedophilia, death threat mentions, and zoophilia)

You got brainwashed by antis. Antis have been the ones being exposed as pedophiles and even defended them. The anti lolicon people have stuff behind EDP445 because he said lolicon is pedophilia. For those who don’t know, EDP445 is a disgraced YouTuber who was caught TWICE trying to meet up a minor for sex. Once was a guy pretending to be a 13 year old girl, twice is where he tried to meet a real life 16 year old and sexted her. He SOMEHOW got a platform again.

There are actual pedophile rings on Twitter with adults meeting actual minors and using codes and emojis to hide what is actually happening, a proshipper pointed this out, and an anti was actively looking the other way and instead focused all of their attention on what the proshipper liked in fiction. Imagine that someone points out a pedophile ring and you see someone looking the other way because they saw someone’s taste in fiction and instead put 100% of their focus on that and not children being groomed and social media.

I have seen antis get caught being creeps. One anti was sexually harassing an ex partner while they were 18 and she was 15. Another anti who is a horror themed lewd V-Tuber (ironic) interacted with minors from ages 14 to 17 years old. Idc if you knew the minors as friends or if you’re 18, you should not be interacting with minors as a NSFW account.

I’ve also seen antis ENCOURAGE proshippers, who they THINK are “pedophiles” to go hurt real children. I’ve also seen them tell people to kill themselves over fiction. I’ve seen an anti tell a recovering self harm addict to “relapse.” I’ve seen too many antis tell sexual assault victims that they “deserved their abuse,” or they invalidated them.

Antis were also the reason why a non-binary artist I liked get ran off the internet all over what? A yucky incest ship? Seriously? THAT is the reason why they get ran off the Internet, meanwhile actual pedophiles still have platforms or have been given platforms?

Antis are also the reason why most fanfic writers quit because they don’t like the content they write.

Antis have been racist to said fanfic writers. Particularly, a south Asian writer who wrote dark fetish content who used dark content as a coping mechanism.

I’ve also seen an anti who is another V-Tuber get exposed for being a rapist, as they repeatedly attempted to have sex with an ex partner against their will while they were drunk and they ONLY stopped when their partner started crying. They also got off to their ex’s photos without their consent as well and cheated on their partner by sexting a minor.

Also, antis were strangely very quiet when it came to infamous zoophile Kero the Wolf coming back as a V-Tuber. For those who don’t know, I’m sorry for the horrors I’m about to tell you. Kero the Wolf was a part of a few zoosadist and zoophilia rings and even sexually abused his OWN DOG. Then, he made a half-assed apology (like that will ever reverse the damage he did to those poor animals and his own dog…) went into hiding for a very long time, then came back as a V-Tuber model and used a voice changer. Antis have not talked about this guy, and yet it’s the people who can separate fiction from reality (aka, proshippers) who spoke up about him.

THE LIST GOES ON. Do you STILL want to paint Proshippers as the “bad guys” and Antis as the “good guys” here? If you still think Proshippers are bad even after I tell you all of this, then idk what to tell you.

I don’t label myself as a proshipper. Because I think the label is stupid. Back then, we called it, “mind your own business,” and “Don’t like? Don’t look.” But hey, because of the state of the internet from 2016 to now, those labels and the ongoing “proshipper vs anti” discourse will still continue because we’re gonna keep letting it continue.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[snalsupremacy]

Feel free to add others btw

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[dreamingaboutsakuratrees]

Dear God how I fucking hate when people dismiss s character's traits because "that's just a facade! you as the reader have to see underneath it!!" like yeah no fucking shit Sherlock, a well written character has more than one (1) defining trait but that doesn't mean their most prominent one or the one most recognized by fandom ISN'T there

yes this is about people thinking dick grayson isn't actually a ray of sunshine, that it's just a mask. he's much more than the happy one, of fucking course, all batfam members (when written well) are, but that doesn't mean that being happy and bright is not a crucial part of his personality. he brings light to people's lives, he's a beacon of hope, that's what Robin was born for, as a light to Batman's darkness. That's what Nightwing is. He can be serious, sure. He's smart, an amazing strategist, incredibly good at fighting, he can be manipulative and morally gray and sometimes an objectively bad person. But he's ALSO funny and quippy and bright and sunshine. BECAUSE HE'S WELL WRITTEN.

Like Jesus stop making him so sad and wrong all the time just because you want so bad to go against "fanon". It's not fanon if it's literally his core trait. It's not fanon if it's what the character was BORN AS. God.

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)