#He always be on that line ALWAYS PISSING HER OFF

[misayani]

MAGNETIC — SQUID GAME WOMEN + THANOS AND YOU BEING THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF THEM HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), hyun-ju (player 120), young-mi (player 195), + thanos (player 230)

𔗨 author's note — IM FUCKING BAAAAAAAAACKKKK RAWGHHRRR !!!!!! writing this had me SWEATING considering the lack of information of them in the show. anddd im closing the requests for now. id like to work on the current requests in my inbox before i open it again ♡ [lowercase intended]

mi na —

- at first you were hesitant to confess your feelings to her because why  would she want to be with someone like you?

- and then you kept avoiding her and denying your feelings to avoid getting hurt 

- then, life surprises you, she kissed you on the night she took you out for a 'girlFRIEND date'

- AND THEN BAM !!! dating

- she's feisty and confident, you're gentle and shy

- mi-na is the type to be sassy and bitchy to everyone and then when it comes to you she turns into a total softie

- "thanos, i swear if you don't shut the fuck up—" "mi-na?" "yes honey?"

- SHE LOVES CALLING YOU SWEET NICKNAMES JUST TO SEE YOU MELT

- you'd think mi-na likes to be treated like a princess and then it turns out that she's the one treating YOU like a princess

- when you're speaking and someone completely cuts you off, without a second thought, she'll speak up

- "my girlfriend is speaking??"

- when someone's rude to you, she'll handle it for you

- "excuse me? watch your words when you're talking to her."

- she doesn't do this all the time though

- she wants you to learn how to speak up for yourself 

- but she definitely doesn't let it pass when someone crosses the line

- there was this one time where mi-na legit got into a catfight after someone humiliated you in front of many people

- she got humiliated in front of the people too but she DIDNT feel humiliated at all

- the bitch just messed with her girlfriend, and she just stepped up for you. what's humiliating about that?

- (outside squid game) let's say thanos is a mutual close friend you both have

- whenever he pisses her off, he immediately runs to you for defense since mi-na has a soft spot for you

- overall, mi-na likes taking care of you and you're gentle to her sooo it's a win-win for the both of you !!!

- she loves her shy gf so much, it makes her all mushy and softie

no eul —

- she's hard, you're soft

- oops i may have worded that wrong

- GRUMPY X SUNSHINE 

- you always wake her up with kisses and she'll open her eyes to the sight of you smiling at her

- then she'll complain, grumbling about your "unreasonable" optimism. but she literally lets you kiss her the whole time anyways !!

- no-eul constantly furrows her eyebrows at your cheery attitude as if she was judging you. BUT DEEP DEEP DOWN, her heart swells for you

- she might be grumpy through words, but it's the actions that speak louder

- if someone's mean to HER sunshine, expect their face to get fucked up

- her love language is acts of service btw!!!!

- you will never ever get to hold a door ever again when you're with her cs she'll always open them for you

- AND SHE LOVES GIVING YOU 'JUST BECAUSE' GIFTS

- "here." she hands you a boquet of sunflowers with A CUTE LITTLE NOTE ON THE SIDE THAT SAYS I LOVE YOU, "awhh thank you! but, what's the occasion?" and then she just shrugs

- back then, whenever the two of you got into an argument, a bad trait she used to do is to shut you out. while you, on the other hand, always wanted to talk things through and find solutions 

- after a few attempts, you eventually break her walls down and then she finally lets you in

- "...i'm sorry" "it's okay! we're in this together, 'kay?" 

- she feels so bad because what if you're just trying to put up with her 

- and then that worry completely washes away when she feels that you're actually genuine. 

- you don't just say sweet shit, you act them out.

- and she'll forever be thankful for you

- you're the reason why she wakes up everyday, you're the reason why she takes care of herself, you're the reason why she learned to love herself

se mi —

- this woman has a sharp tongue

- which can definitely be used in multiple ways but mostly for saying sarcastic remarks

- (in the games) she's expressive but then she's emotionally guarded at the same time. she won't be scared to speak her mind but she rarely shows her expressions physically

- oh gosh. her and her fucked up humor

- others may think she never takes shit seriously, but it's actually THEM she's not taking seriously

- she absolutely doesn't like openly-vulnerable people. it's not anything personal, she just thinks that it's stupid to show emotions like that in a death game like this where anyone could literally take advantage of you.

- and then here comes you, kind and empathetic

- you're the type to put others first before you, and she hates that fact, but not you

- you're expressive with your feelings also, but instead of being like her, who masks it perfectly with her sarcastic exterior, you're genuine.

- you believe that showing real emotions is a way to connect with people

- se-mi had observed you during the six-legged pentathlon. it amuses her seeing you work well with your team.

- she fucking hates the fact that you're just so kind and open to every one, not even thinking twice to help others.

- (outside squid game) while se-mi sees the world as harsh and unforgiving, you always tell her about the bright side and hope and some happy shit. and she didn't like that

- she didn't like how you're actually starting to make her see even just the tad bit good in some things

- and then the next thing she knows is that she literally starts to think about you in every single fucking thing

- she sees sunlight, she thinks of you. she sees flowers, she thinks of you. she sees butterflies, she thinks of you. man, even whenever she buys her favourite cherry ice cream, somehow the ice cream legit reminds her of you. because apparently, to her, ice cream gives off positive vibes ????? 

- and positive vibes are YOU !!

- over time, she may not admit it but she definitely cannot deny that she's starting to soften under your influence

- and who knows? maybe she's starting to see that kindness isn't always a weakness. 

jun hee —

- she's an introvert, you're an extrovert. need i say more

- junhee mostly keeps to herself, but unlike no-eul, she isn't totally closed-off

- she's quiet and won't react unless needed

- you on the other hand, reacts to everyfuckingthing

- somebody's hand gets too close to her belly? "GET AWAY!"

- you even audibly gasp when someone gives her a dirty stare

- (outside squid game) when jun-hee gets excited about something, she'll just smile. but it immediately drops as soon as she turns her head to look at you who almost fell on the floor, face first, because of jumping around like crazy.

- it amazes her a lot how you make it look easy to just start a conversation with a complete stranger

- now whenever you make friends, she also makes new friends, because you always introduce your girlfriend to them !! <3

- between the two of you, you're the one who usually initiates physical touch

- just simple and cute hugs here and there, sometimes kisses, sometimes more than kisses

- she's the type to show her love to you through simple gestures like making you your favorite tea, playing your favorite song on the TV, writing you notes before she goes out while you're still sleeping (awwhdjsjssk)

- and then you're the type to express your feelings VERY LOUDLY

- telling her "i love yous" whenever you always get the chance to which is like every minute—but you mean every single one everytime—, giving her tight hugs, prepping soft kisses on her face, demanding her to give you cuddles.

- everything needs balance, so jun-hee learned to socialize more and have fun while you learned to be more mindful whenever she needs her own quiet time

hyun ju —

- hyun-ju tends to be cool-headed and calm in most scenarios, while you are always on your toes and stressed and just so energetic overall

- hyun-ju shows love in subtle ways, like doing your hair or giving you quick pecks on the cheek ♡

- she never fails to notice it when you're stressed. she'd grab your hand and start massaging it softly

- whenever your friends invite you to a night out, you always ask them if you could bring hyun-ju !!!!

- it's simple: they refuse, you aren't going. if they say yes, then be prepared to have one of the best nights out in your lives BECAUSE hyun-ju is fun!!!! hello ? being an introvert does not mean you're not any fun

- hyun-ju would literally chug up every drink your friends give her

- and then theres you who's worried as fuck because what if she vomits???? and you HATE vomit, eugh !!

- the next morning comes and then hangover finally hits her

- you, being a good girlfriend, always brings her water and some pills to help her with the headache

- 'hyun-ju drink this' 'hyun-ju drink that' which results to her needing to pee like every 5 minutes

- she calms you down, telling you that she's fine and all she needs is you beside her

- literally just your presence

- and then despite having a headache, she would ask you to yap for her, she just loves hearing your voice

- overall, hyun-ju is forever thankful for you. she appreciates the fact that you're always alert about things but she also reminds you to let loose sometimes.

young mi —

- she's shy, you're not

- you're so mean for always teasing the poor girl

- but you can't help it, not when you always catch her staring at you

- "do you need anything? or do you just need me?" 

- give her a damn break

- not a day goes by without you hugging the hell out of her

- "you're so flufffyyyyyy babyy" "...thank you?.." 

- she always seeks comfort in you, since you're the one who keeps things exciting

- in public, young-mi doesn't speak up much, so you speak for her when needed

- "excuse me, you got her food wrong." "it's fine i swear!!"

- it's surprising but she's actually the one who initiates affection most of the time, she'd just shyly do it

- during arguments, she might struggle to express her feelings sometimes through words, and even when you're supposed to be mad at her, you still try to keep your calm and help her speak for herself

- it always ends up with the both of you apologizing to each other. you would never let your girlfriend sleep with a heavy heart, never.

- sometimes you'd surprise her with cute gifts like small trinkets or cute plushies !!! 

- as time goes by, young-mi slowly learns to speak up for herself, because, of course, you're not always going to be by her side. 

thanos — 

- PLAYFUL BF + SERIOUS GF

- he thinks you have such a hot resting bitch face

- LIKE HE'D LITERALLY INTERNALLY SQUEAL LIKE A HIGH SCHOOLER

- babygirl bf + girlboss gf <3

- you're never scared to speak up for yourself. thanos insists on punching anyone who does you wrong but you assure him that you're fully capable of doing that yourself

- "THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND BRO!!"

- literally brags you to nam-gyu and talks about you almost all the time

- nam-gyu's fucking tired of it.

- people thinks this man fears no one?? he's fucking scared of YOU

- FOLDS WHEN U CALL HIM BY HIS FULL GOVERNMENT NAME

- "cmon baby, give thanos a kiss." "choi su-bong." "what:(("

- but when nam-gyu learns about his full name and starts teasing him about it and calling him that:

- "hey, only she's allowed to call me that. mind your business." "dang okay bro" 

- literally goes crazy when he texts you something and you reply with an "ok."

- "the fuck did i do nowww"

- he internally cheers when you're on your period because that'll mean you'll ask him for kisses and hugs

- "baby, let's cuddle please" "oh look at what we have here now—" "nevermind." "NO! yes, yes, let's cuddle"

- to others, he's tough and mighty but when it comes to you, he submits

- LMAO when he tries to call you by your full name to try and reverse the roles, you just give him a weird look and that made him want to bury himself 6 feet under.

- he's very very clingy, would literally sulk when you don't give him a goodbye kiss before you leave the house 

- when you're in a bad mood, he tries his best to cheer you up, like rapping random sweet shit to you or attempting to dance in front of you. keyword: attempting

- and as soon as he saw that small smile form on your face, he almost felt like everything went slow motion

- you're so gorgeous, he's down bad for you

- but he genuinely feels happy once he knows that you're fine now because of him !!

- he's so silly :3

@misayani

𝓜isa mentions — @joc3lynx @mymel1008 @justredsw @wlvlurvsfimmia @azansstuff @dvrk-hoon @yersang-dreams

[daryltwdixon]

hii! i dont know if you are still taking requests or not, but if you are, you think you could write something fluff with daryl at the prison era, where reader always give him kisses before he or she left the place and daryl always acts nonchalant (but he secretly loves it) and one day she forgots to do that and he acts grumpy all day?

Daryl x Reader request

fluff, established relationship, prison era

a/n: thank you for the request! I always love an angsty Daryl who is secretly a big softie

Every morning, like clockwork, it happened. No matter the chaos, no matter how many things needed to be done, you always made time for him. A quick, soft kiss on the lips before heading out to handle the day. It wasn’t anything grand or dramatic—it didn’t need to be. It was your little thing, a moment of connection that seemed to ground him in ways he couldn’t quite put into words.

And every time, Daryl would react the same way. A quiet grunt, a half-hearted roll of his eyes, like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t make his chest feel lighter or his head swim for a second longer than he cared to admit. But it wasn’t just routine for him—it had become something he looked forward to, a bright spot in an otherwise bleak world.

This morning, though, something was different.

You were busy, running around with Glenn and Maggie, prepping for a supply run. You gave him a quick wave and a distracted smile before hopping into the truck, and then you were gone.

No kiss.

Daryl blinked, standing there like an idiot, his lips still tingling from the ghost of something that didn’t happen.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That he wasn’t some lovesick puppy pining for affection like a teenager. But as the day dragged on, he couldn’t shake the nagging irritation.

Everything seemed to piss him off more than usual. The way Carl left his tools scattered around, how Rick kept asking for updates on the fence, even the way the damn wind wouldn’t stop blowing dust into his face. Carol caught on fast, as she always did.

“You’ve been stomping around all day,” she said, leaning against the fence. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothin’,” he grumbled, refusing to look at her.

Carol smirked knowingly. “You’re a terrible liar. Did your girlfriend not kiss you goodbye or somethin'?”

His shoulders stiffened for a split second—a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment—but it was all the confirmation she needed.

“Oh my god, you’re serious!” Carol burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the yard. “I can’t believe it! Poor Daryl, all grumpy ‘cause he didn’t get his smooch.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his ears turning red. He tried to play it cool, scowling as he resumed working, but he knew he’d been caught.

Carol wasn’t letting it go. “I’ll give you a kiss if it makes you feel better, pookie!” she teased, puckering her lips dramatically.

“Pfft...nah,” Daryl shot back, dropping the wire cutter and practically bolting from the fence line.

Carol chuckled in amusement, watching him stalk off toward the other side of the yard.

He didn’t stop or turn around, but the faintest mutter of “crazy woman” drifted back in response.

By the time the truck rolled back into the yard, dusk was settling over the prison. Daryl was back crouched near the gates, his gloved hands fidgeting with the wire of the fence, pretending to be engrossed in his task. He wasn’t waiting for you—not deliberately, anyway.

When you hopped out of the truck, laughing softly at something Maggie said, his eyes flickered up, but he quickly looked away, focusing harder on his work.

“Hey,” you said softly, walking up to him.

He barely grunted in response, his grip tightening around the wire. His body language screamed irritation, but his gaze refused to meet yours.

“Daryl,” you said again, your tone gentler this time. When he didn’t respond, you knelt down beside him, your voice coaxing. “Baby, look at me, please.”

He sighed heavily, begrudgingly shifting his attention to you. His stormy blue eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the tension between you hung thick in the air. He wasn’t mad at you—he could never be mad at you. He was mad at himself, frustrated that something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could gnaw at him all day. It was ridiculous. How could the absence of one fleeting kiss turn his mood so sour?

But then your hand cupped his cheek, and the roughness of his expression softened under your touch. Before he could think of something gruff to say, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. The kiss was slow, sweet, and deliberate—an unspoken apology wrapped in warmth.

It was like flipping a switch. The tension in his shoulders melted away, replaced by a low heat that spread through his chest. He kissed you back, his gloved hand tentatively rising to rest on your arm, as if grounding himself in the moment.

When you pulled away, your cheeks were flushed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry—I should’ve known.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Known what?” he rasped, his voice rougher than usual.

“That I forgot to give you a kiss goodbye this morning,” you said, your lips curving into a faint, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for that.”

Daryl didn’t respond right away. Instead, he threw off his gloves and his hands shot out, curling around yours with a firm grip. Without another word, he tugged you to your feet and led you toward the prison’s interior. His steps were purposeful, his silence heavy but charged.

“Daryl, where are we—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish the question. The moment he found an empty, shadowed room, he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you. Before you could ask again, his lips were on yours, his movements urgent and unrestrained.

Your back hit the wall as he caged you in with his body, his hands sliding to your waist, tugging you closer. His breath was hot against your mouth as he growled, “Ain’t lettin’ you forget again.”

The kiss deepened, his lips and hands telling you everything he couldn’t put into words. You clung to him, matching his intensity, feeling the fervent need behind his touch. The world outside that room ceased to exist as he lost himself in you, determined to make up for the day’s earlier frustration in a way only he could.

[sharkie06]

Chat i think that we can all collectively agree that daryl would break down infront of you if he trusts you alot.. right? Right.

A cool fic idea would be the reader going on a run and failing to return on the day she left, but the rest of the group coming back the day of? And daryl gets real pissed, but when you return, he breaks down

Thank you! (Luv ur work) 🫶❤️🎀

A/N: AAAAAAAA HII, yes i definitely agree! i love that idea sm, and thank YOU 🫶🩵:) (also idk if responding to the ask tags you so i’ll tag just in case @livviewritess )

༄ Where is She?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!Y/N

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of violence, lots of gore, lots of cursing, Y/N has she/her pronouns, the lineup, mentions of deaths (Glenn & Abraham), gun use, motorcycle crash

Background info: It’s only been a short while since the line up with Negan, not long after Daryl finally was returned to Alexandria, and the community is still taking the loss pretty badly. He was still recovering from his time at Negan’s compound, so when it was time for the next supply run, Y/N offered to go on his bike and let Daryl stay home and rest.

A/N pt. 2: Most of the beginning of this will be written in Daryl’s POV; I apologize if he’s a bit ooc at times, I haven’t written for him much yet but hope to get better over time :)

Daryl had been restless all day waiting for the group to return from the run they had gone on that morning. It was the first run Y/N had gone on since he returned home from the compound, and being apart after being together every moment possible left them both deeply uneasy. If Daryl hadn’t been bedridden by Y/N’s own orders, he would’ve been pacing the damn gate waiting for a sign, anything to hint at her return. Sitting in their shared bed, Daryl finds his thoughts drifting off, remembering the night of the lineup vividly once again.

Daryl Dixon always thought he wasn’t scared of anything, that nothing could possibly rattle him now that the world had gone to hell. In fact, the only thing he ever worried about anymore was Y/N. So when Abraham’s body hit the ground, Y/N sitting stock still and shaking on her knees beside their friend, Daryl could only hear his blood rushing in his ears, his hands itching with the urge to go pull her into his arms. He wanted to take her away from the gruesome scene, take her back home where it was safe and let her find shelter in his embrace.

The whole group had watched in terror as Negan beat Glenn to death, the scene enough to make bile rise in Y/N’s throat, fighting hard not to puke and draw Negan’s attention to herself. The man could see her struggling and had started to mock her for it, bringing up his bloodied bat to her face, close enough that she could smell the parts of her friends that clung to the wood and wire. Daryl had instinctively reacted, sitting up and leaning back like he was about to try and stand but freezing when one of Negan’s men pressed the barrel of a gun to the back of his skull.

Negan had turned to Daryl then, the archer staring him down as the man had spoken to him. When Negan ended up taking Daryl, it was like a switch flipped in Y/N. She was suddenly kicking and screaming like her life depended on it, roaring with anger and thrashing wildly, trying to free herself of her restraints. Another of Negan’s saviors had simply come forward and knocked her unconscious with the butt of a gun to her temple, and when she awoke Negan, his men, and Daryl were nowhere to be found. Michonne had nearly had to drag her back to the RV, and Y/N hadn’t been allowed to go out and look for Daryl.

It had felt like a millennia had passed by the time Daryl had seen her again, nearly knocking his tired body to the ground just inside the gates of Alexandria as he returned home, Y/N almost just as much of a mess as he was, save for the black eye and other injuries sustained during his time at the compound. Now, Daryl couldn’t help but fear what could happen to her while he was stuck at home, unable to be there to protect her and watch her back. It’s not that he didn’t trust their people, but he felt he did a better job at it than anyone else.

Daryl’s torn from his thoughts as he hears the gates open, and suddenly he’s thinking damn with her orders, ‘m goin’ out there, standing up and limping his way down the stairs of their home, heading out onto the porch and gripping the railing as he heads down the front steps. His steps speed up and his anxiety grows as he doesn’t see her amongst the group that has returned from the run. Making his way through the group until he comes face-to-face with the now closed gate, Daryl can hear the now-familiar deafening sound of his heartbeat, thumping loudly in his ears, in his head as he turns and looks across the group once again.

He limps forward, grabbing Eugene by the collar of that damned jacket he always wore. That’s right; Eugene had gone out on the run with Y/N and the others, having wanted to start learning how to be more useful and Y/N had told the man she would help him learn to shoot on their run. Now, Daryl shakes him so hard by his collar that his own injured leg threatens to give out, Rick and Michonne running up to grab Daryl by the arms, being gentle but still trying to free Eugene from his grasp. “Where is she? I said where is she, asshole?!” Daryl’s visibly upset, tears pricking his eyes as he still reaches for Eugene, grunting and growling and trying to squirm out of Rick’s hold even as his friend is now partially supporting him, Daryl’s knee having buckled from the sudden weight he was putting on it.

Rick does his best to console Daryl, the archer eventually regaining his footing and shoving his friend, his found brother, off of him, stumbling back to Y/N’s and his house. Rick eventually comes into the house as well to see Daryl trying to load his crossbow and readying an overnight pack, grumbling softly to himself. “What are you doin’?” Rick asks his friend softly, sighing quietly when Daryl grunts and loads a bolt onto his crossbow. “What do ya think, genius? ‘m gonna go get my woman. Ain’t gonna let them leave ‘er out there like that. Ain’t no way in hell.” Daryl grumbles, standing up once again and trying to shove past his friend, who in turn steps back and in front of Daryl more directly.

The pair go back and forth for a while, Daryl getting increasingly frustrated and even starting to yell after a while. Eventually Michonne makes her way into the house and the three of them determine that Daryl will stay home and Michonne and Rick will go out and look for Y/N. They leave before the sun sets, with Daryl sitting and waiting on the front steps of his house, cleaning his crossbow while he keeps an eye on the gate and keeps an ear out for the sound of his bike or the sound of Rick and Michonne’s truck.

It’s nearly 6 in the morning the next day when Daryl’s woken up off his porch by the sound of the truck, then the gate opening. He rises quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he carefully stands up, limping over to the truck with his crossbow slung across his back. He doesn’t notice that instead of two people in the truck cab there’s three, not until he sees his motorcycle in the truck bed, looking pretty banged up with the arm of a walker stuck in the front wheel. He doesn’t even have it in him to question what the hell happened when he sees Michonne and Rick carefully but quickly help Y/N out of the truck cab, Daryl’s attention immediately caught by the blood dripping down her head and her side, covering almost her whole arm on that side.

She’s rushed to the infirmary, where she gets stitched up and wiped down mostly. Michonne helps Daryl bring her back to their house and she gives Y/N a bath while Daryl does his best to clean up their bedroom. It’s nearly noon when Y/N finally wakes up, in fresh clothing and laying on her uninjured side in her’s and Daryl’s bed. Daryl himself is perched in a chair right up alongside the bed, leaning forward in a way that’s definitely gonna hurt his back when he gets up after sitting that way for so long, one of his hands holding her’s with their fingers interlinked while his other hand has his fingers on her wrist, a constant reminder to himself of her pulse, of the fact that her heart is still beating.

Y/N blinks hazily a few times, coughing quietly as she tries to sit up before laying back down right away, her coughing waking Daryl up quickly, like he had barely been asleep. “Daryl?” Her voice sounds rough, like she had been yelling so much that she was starting to temporarily lose it, though Daryl could tell by the tear streaks that were breaking through the dirt on her face when she was brought in that she had simply been crying a lot. He’s there already but her voice is like an on-switch for him and he’s sitting up quickly, wincing slightly at the pain in his back before her rises to sit beside her on the bed, leaning down and gently cupping the back of her neck.

He tilts her head forward slightly and presses the gentlest of kisses against the bandaged gash along her temple, his thumb caressing the side of her neck softly as he lightly presses his forehead to hers. “‘m here, sugar. Right here. Ain’t never lettin’ ya outta my sight again, I swear.” He knows he’s probably laying it on a little thick, but he’d damn near had a heart attack when she was brought in all bloody and bruised. “The hell happened out there, doll?” Daryl questions her softly, gently releasing her head and sitting up to give her proper space to breathe while also not moving from his spot by her side.

Y/N lets out a pained chuckle, wincing slightly as she clutches her side where she had bruised a rib. “‘s pretty funny actually, I uh.. I told the group to go ahead without me; I was just down the road a few miles with the bike, and wanted to stop at the one convenience store down there. When we went out and passed through there yesterday, I saw this damn gun behind the counter that I really wanted, but told myself I’d pick it up on the way home. Told them to go ahead cause I figured I could also loot it real quick then head home, but when I broke into the back it was full of maybe… 8, 10 walkers? Anyway, I panicked a bit, and when I got back out on the bike I took off too fast. Hit a walker when I was going maybe 30 miles an hour, the damn thing exploded all over me and the bike. His arm got stuck in the wheel and broke the chain, and the damn bike sent me flying I don’t even know how far. Felt like I broke my leg, so I got up long enough to climb up onto the store roof and waited, figured they’d send someone out for me. Then I heard the truck last night and used my flare gun, Michonne and Rick found me—” Y/N pauses in her story as she sees the deep annoyance in Daryl’s expression.

“Yer tellin’ me, you damn near died because you wanted to loot a place by yerself?!” His voice lilts off into almost a yell at the end of his question, his face growing a bit flushed with his frustration. He almost starts going on a tangent about “How could you be so reckless—” until he sees how her eyes grow misty, her bottom lip wobbling slightly in that tell-tale sign that he had gotten a bit too rough with her in the state that she was in. Daryl pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath, reaching in to gently sit her up and pull her forward into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and cradling her softly, like he was scared she would break.

“Look, ‘m sorry, doll. Just… ya jus’ had me so worried, thought I lost ya—” Daryl starts, and though Y/N can’t see his face on the account of her own being shoved into his neck, she can hear how his breath hitches at the end, can feel the tense shaking in his torso as he lets out another shaky breath. Y/N leans back carefully, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks softly. He’s crying, something she hadn’t seen since long before this all started, and just like she had done back then, Y/N leans in and kisses away his tears, his hands wrapping gently around her wrists where she cups his face but he doesn’t pull her away, just holding her there softly as she comforts him. His eyes close as she leans in and he leans into her when she pulls him in.

Soft sobs wrack his body as he cries against her, finding comfort in her warmth and she lets him hide in her shoulder and then her chest, her fingers trailing loosely through the hair at the back of his head and her heartbeat drumming quietly against his ear. Slowly, it begins to rain outside and she continues to just hold him, knowing that at times like this something as simple as being there and holding him is enough for Daryl.

[diazsdimples]

"I want to forget you." + buddietommy

"I want to forget you," Tommy slurs. The half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand clinks against the table as he sways, hiccupping. "Both of you."

The air around him is thick with the scent of stale booze and body odour, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Beside him, Buck is a line of tension, discomfort rolling off him in waves. Eddie supposes it's not dissimilar to how he and Hen found Bobby all those years ago. The similarities are bound to be confronting.

"Tommy, babe, what are you doing?" Eddie asks with a sigh. The old endearment slips out before he can stop it, a force of habit after so long. His brain hasn't quite caught up with the fact that they're no longer a them.

"Makin' a choice," Tommy replies stubbornly. He locks eyes with Eddie, and he can barely see past the alcohol-induced glaze, to the Tommy he remembers and loves.

"Not a choice we asked you to make."

Buck's voice is firm, stubborn, like he's digging his heels in. Buck hadn't given up hope that Tommy would come back to them. It had been weeks of wistful looks at his phone, baking up every spec of flour, sugar, and baking powder within a 5 mile radius. He's not going to let Tommy get away from them so easily this time.

Eddie makes a mental note to thank Lucy for her tip-off.

Have you heard from Kinard? He hasn't been on shift for almost a week.

Tommy goes to stand and he sways violently. Both Eddie and Buck rush to support him, each hooking a hand under his arm. From here, the smell of alcohol is almost overpowering, oozing from his pores. Eddie thinks he could get drunk from the fumes alone.

"'M not good enough f'r you," Tommy mumbles, his head lolling. "N'ver g'd enough."

"Maybe that's something for us to decide."

Buck takes the bottle from Tommy's hand and places it gently on the table. He slings Tommy's arm over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the bathroom. Getting the hint, Eddie follows suit, supporting his boyfriend? ex-boyfriend? as he and Buck begin to guide him down the hall.

Tommy is heavy, even more so when none of his limbs are co-operating. They half carry, half drag him into the bathroom, both men straining under his weight. They set him down on the toilet, and Eddie begins to unbutton Tommy's shirt.

"Get his shoes, sweetheart?" he asks, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to Buck's temple. Buck's eyes flutter shut at the contact, and he seems to take strength from it, a renewed resolve in his movements as he crouches in front of Tommy.

They work in tandem to undress him, movements which, in another world, would have been the precursor to a night they'd never forget. Now, Eddie thinks Tommy won't remember much of this come morning.

Eddie taps Tommy's nose, and the pilot's eyes, unfocussed, train on him.

"Arms up," he instructs, tugging at the hem of Tommy's shirt. Tommy complies, and Eddie divests him of his final article of clothing. "Now, into the shower."

Meekly, Tommy does as he's told. Buck turns the shower on full blast, and as cold as he can make it, and Tommy jolts as the icy jet hits him square in the chest.

"Thass too cold," he complains, making to leave, but he's stopped by Buck. Buck circles his arms around Tommy's waist, pulling him into a tight hug, and steps under the water with him.

"Come on, baby, let me take care of you."

Tommy probably misses it, but Eddie catches the pleading edge to his voice. Buck needs this, maybe just as much as Tommy. He needs to put his love into actions, because Tommy won't remember words. He needs Tommy to know how much he's loved, by him and by Eddie.

"You'll st'y with me?"

"Always." Eddie steps under the water with them, clothing be damned, and pulls both men into his arms. He tucks his face into Tommy's neck, his fingers clutching tightly at Buck's saturated t-shirt. The last few weeks without Tommy have been hell, and as pissed as Eddie is with him, he needs this. He needs to be close to him. He needs to feel his skin beneath his hands.

"I've got you," Buck promises, kissing Tommy's temple.

"We've got you."

Short and Impactful Prompts

[mothlau]

hello, for the kink meme, could i humbly ask you for leztappen and watersports/piss kink please? (and, if possible, with little to no desperation/humiliation?)

also, i wish you a happy new year, may it be filled with joy and good things for you!

hiii beloved!!! this one got out of control and also I hope it has enough humiliation. I tried to tone it down but honestly, it's piss play, you need the humiliation. anyway, happy new year to you too! 10 days too late but oh well! enjoy the piss play, puppy play, daddy kink and gp!max combo friends:3 (kink meme here)

6451 words :3

Most of their friends assume that it's Charles who's wrapped around Max’s finger. That she cannot say no to Max no matter how extravagant the demand may be, that whatever Max says or wants is final. To an extent, they're right. After all, she’s the femme, and according to people’s heteronormative minds, the one who is more feminine in the relationship is the one who cares more, who’s more attentive. 

Charles is wrapped around Max’s finger. But just as much, Max is whipped for Charles. If someone were to compare the amount of fondness they have for each other, people will quickly realize that it's not Charles who's wrapped around a little finger 24/7. 

It's Max. 

Max cannot deny Charles’ wishes; Max bends the whole world to give her lover the happiness she deserves. It's Max who spends nights upon nights to plan perfect getaways for their anniversaries, it's Max who gave into her wishes and got Charles the Steinway and placed the piano directly in their living room.

And, at the end of the day, it's Max who does everything in her power to make sure Charles enjoys herself. 

Whenever she notices something that Charles may find pleasure in, she stores the information away, making sure to bring it up when they're discussing scenes or new interests that may have sparked. Even with Charles’ overbearing eagerness to try new things with her, she  rarely initiates ideas. 

She's still shy, in spite of the time they've been together. It's endearing to Max, that Charles still blushes bright red when Max takes her bra off, that she’s still a mess when Max slides her hands down her thighs.

The list of things she wants to try is getting long, something that Max doesn't mind, per se. She doesn't, because in the end she can twist Charles into the perfect little puppet for her to toy with. They don't mind, because they’re certain Charles will like whatever they propose to her. 

He's toyed with an idea before, almost put it into action too, but in the end it didn't seem fit to make Charles piss herself without any rules set in stone yet. There's no doubt that the woman won't agree with it, but Max will rather postpone their play than do something that may make Charles even a little bit uncomfortable. 

So, despite her wishes and desires to break Charles, Max keeps everything under wraps. 

Whatever thoughts Charles shares with them during heated sessions and foggy mindsets, Max notes all in their head, safe to be used later on. Where to hit Charles, how to press her buttons theoretically, when to push, when to pull. Every little idea, all of them organised in Max’s brain, nicely and orderly. 

The last thing Charles told them about seemed easy enough when she first uttered her fantasy. Slap Charles’ pussy until she was cumming and begging for mercy. Simple, Max's done worse in her relationships. 

But with Charles, it wasn't as simple. She’s hit her lover before, tied her up and used whatever she fancied to break her, but it was always kept under an invisible, unspoken line. 

In spite of his cruel hands and words, Max can never truly hurt her beloved Charles. As much as it turns Max on, it pains her to cause her harm, even when Charles begs for that torture. Unless she's positive, one hundred percent and then some more, that at the end Charles will be drunk on pleasure. 

It's not unusual for their plays to be hit or miss, but Max prides herself in them being hits most of the time. 

They mention wanting to try new things during a relaxed dinner, when they’re almost sure Charles forgot about the things she's babbled on during a previous scene. And, of course, Charles agrees readily, albeit a bit timid and flushed. 

After that, it's smooth sailing on Max's side, at least. Charles is stuck with anticipation bubbling under her skin and the fear of uncertainty tearing at her conscience. 

To Max, who likes the waiting game, it's beautiful. To Charles, who is used to getting whatever she desires with minimum effort, it's hell. 

Every other day he makes Charles drink more than she can usually handle, slowly but surely trying to train the woman into holding her piss longer and longer. Most days it's a hassle which ends up with Charles whining and rushing to the bathroom, Max not bothering to stop her. But then there are some days, rare and in between, when Charles manages to go hours upon hours without running from Max's hold. 

The praise Charles gets also helps her, no matter how much she's trying to deny the humiliating claims. 

Almost a week later, Charles pushes a full bottle of water into Max's hands, making her look away from the laptop. Max doesn't need any clarification as to why she does this, nor does he need any pleas or guilty looks to nod at Charles' silent request. 

She trusts Max enough for the blonde to gain complete control over her bodily needs. Max can't help but smile fondly at it as they let the bottle rest on their thigh. Charles sits on the ground, head thrown back on the edge of the couch, minding the poorly balanced laptop. 

"Whenever you're ready," Max whispers, hand reaching out to tug at a few matted strands. Charles simply nods and allows herself to fall, Max's soothing touch being the only thing keeping her afloat. 

It takes Charles only an hour to finish the water, drinking obediently every time Max urges her to. She's even quicker to bring Max another one and one more, all whilst finishing them without any fuss. 

And then, as Max closes his laptop and opens his arms for Charles to crawl into, it only takes a few minutes for Charles' eyes to get cloudy and for her touch to get needier. The sight before her makes Max euphoric, an undeniable call to protect and please the withering woman in her lap. 

"You still with me, darling?" The words are barely above a whisper, but even so they grasp at Charles' conscience and pull her in just enough for the brunette to nod against Max's chest. All pliant and soft in their hands, Max isn't sure whether or not to move their play away from the couch and into their bedroom, where towels and mats lie specifically for what's to happen next. 

"Hurts a bit, Maxie," Charles says, voice all hushed and feeble. The hand resting on Max's bicep tugs and squeezes, a poor attempt for Charles to regain control over herself. 

"Colour, pretty?" 

It takes Charles a moment, already gone and drifting, but soon, she mumbles a simple and clear, "Green." 

"Do you want me to carry you to the bedroom, angel? I don't think we'll like our couch smelling like piss after this." 

Despite how embarrassing the words should be, Max doesn't find them shameful anymore. She’s been fantasising about this for months now, the idea of watching Charles crumble under her orders and hands, her lover losing whatever ounce of self-control she still has and letting it all loose. That's enough for Max to push away any shame that might've been left inside. 

With Charles, it's not the same. The woman’s face flushes a bright red, the color travelling under the collar of her shirt, painting the hidden skin in beautiful hues of reds and pinks. Almost as beautiful as the marks they flush over. 

Almost. 

When there's no answer coming from Charles, Max gets the unspoken message. As always, Charles wants Max to carry her, manhandle her as if she's nothing but a lightweight in Max's hold. Which, undoubtedly, she is. 

With a quick movement, Max stands, gentle hands reaching out to lift Charles with ease. Her perfect little girl whines and squirms, the sudden change already too much for her sensitive state. 

"This ok?" Max asks, voice full of worry. 

Charles can only nod again, words lost somewhere in her head, muddled by thoughts full of desire, lust, animalistic instincts. After the quick answer, Max takes her time getting them to the bedroom, mostly because with each sickeningly slow step she takes out of the living room and down the hallway, Charles becomes that much more responsive to Max's cold touch. 

In preparation for their scene, Charles spread out the puppy mats they’ve gotten, while Max took his time to make sure that nothing of value could be ruined. The pillows were all sitting on the reading nook next to the window, towels have been placed close enough to the bed that Max didn’t have to look around for them and amid the whole mess of colorful cotton and stark white paper, now lies Charles. 

Charles, her perfect girl, who looks up at Max as if she’d hung the stars in the sky and then proceeded to create a whole universe just for Charles. Charles, her lovely girl, who is barely able to hold back tears as Max refuses to touch her just yet. Charles, her divine lover, whose back arches off the puppy mats when Max's knees hit the mattress, wanton moans and whined pleas falling from between bitten lips. 

"Puppy," Max bites back a smile. "Puppy, can you sit up a bit?" They crawl on the bed, remaining above Charles without their knees touching the woman’s sides. "I want you to drink some more, can you?" 

"Yes," Charles breathes out, fingers tightening around the puppy mat underneath. "Yes, daddy. Anything for you, Maxie." 

Max's face fills with love and adoration for the woman writhing beneath. Such a perfect, responsive being, all belonging to Max alone. He couldn't be happier. 

Helping Charles sit up, back leaning on the hardboard, Max reaches for the bottle left on the bedside table. Another thing Charles prepared, in hopes that Max would make her drink it and push her to the edge. 

"You're being so good for me, Charlie. Making me so proud right now." 

"I am?" Charles asks, a look full of hope blooming on her face. 

Max kisses the smile off her face, gentle and careful. "You are. My best girl, perfect little one. That's what you are, Charlie."

"Maxie–" the human whines, pressing her face into their open palms. "Need you." 

Unable to stop herself, Max pushes with her malevolent teasing, a vicious smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You need me? How? Need me to touch your greedy cunt? Need me to slap it? Want me to press here?” Max's fingers push on the swollen bladder, light enough to simply make Charles cry out. “Or maybe you need me to fuck your dumb hole until you’re pissing all over yourself.” The woman sobs again, nodding along with Max's words mindlessly. “Which one is it, puppy?” 

“Yes,” she answers, muffled by her own hand.

“Dumb puppy,” Max smiles, feeling his chest overflow with butterflies and flowers. “Let’s finish the water first, then I’ll decide what you deserve.”

The silence that fills the room feels deafening as Max watches Charles. She is struggling to twist the cap off, fingers white with how hard she’s gripping the bottle. Max makes no move to help her, smirk still plastered on their face, eyes ranking up and down Charles' shaking body as she gets more and more annoyed. 

She lets out an exasperated whine, head hitting the wood behind him, “Max.”

“Yes, pup?”

Suddenly she has a handful of plastic to deal with, all while Charles stares at her with the same hurt expression she abuses whenever Max refuses to immediately give in. He can’t say no to her, no matter how much he’d like to watch her struggle some more. One simple twist later, the warmed liquid spills onto Charles shorts, seeping into the cotton and making Charles tremble.

Without uttering a word, Max grabs Charles face, fingers digging into the woman’s flushed cheeks to hold her mouth open. Charles tongue lolls out, expecting Max to spit on top of it, to push their finger past her lips and fuck her mouth ruthlessly. 

From her place above Charles, Max laughs. Her weight falls atop of Charles thighs, sweatpants clinging to her legs, making the restrictive touch feel worse. If he could, he’d take the pants off in an instant, but right now Max has to focus on Charles and Charles alone. 

Pink lips attempt to close around Max's fleeting forefinger, but the force Max has stops Charles before she can even whine. The water bottle feels heavy in her hand, and though it would feel rewarding to dump it over Charles' head, humiliate her further, Max knows that what’s to happen next will be even sweeter. 

“Charles,” she says, tone icy cold. Max sees her lover swallow, fear budding in her eyes. “Tilt your head back for me, mutt.”

That’s all the woman needs. Eyes fall shut, mouth slips open with little resistance and her head falls back. Max's hand still resides on top of Charles’ cheeks. She can’t stop herself from moving it lower, enticed with the beauty presented so effortlessly in front of her. It rests on the column of his neck, barely touching the trashed skin. 

Underneath him, shudders run down Charles’ spine, lips agape in a soundless moan. They’ve never seen something as beautiful before, not once in their lifetime have they witnessed such perfection falling apart mere centimeters away from them. 

Bright red spreads down Charles neck, skin hot beneath Max's hold. The woman’s cheeks, dusted scarlet and covered by a thin layer of sweat, invite Max to press kisses on the crimson expanse of her face. A promise of being able to do so after he breaks Charles consoles Max's urge to revere the angel. Her pretty girl shifts under her touch, eyes opening slightly to see why Max is not painting her skin in hues of purple and red. 

“Daddy…” Charles sounds wrecked already. “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“I am, silly,” Max answers simply, hand tightening around the brunette’s neck. “See?”

A pathetic whine rips through Charles sobs, fingers closing around Max’s wrist. It is so unbelievably easy to toy with Charles’ feelings, to push her buttons until she’s begging like a mindless, broken mutt. Max loves it, almost as much as she loves the gentleness that engulfs them after. 

“Let’s drink the water and then I promise to touch you however you wish.” His thumb presses in the neck juncture, eliciting a pitiful moan from his beautiful lover. “Colour, Charlie? You still with me?”

“Green, daddy,” Charles breathes out, her hold on Max's wrist relaxing. “Please, Maxie… Please ruin me. Need-- Need it s’ bad, baby. S’te plait”

Something about the slurred speech, the glazed look in Charles’ eyes when she pins Max under a lustful glance, the slight tremble in Charles’ hands and shoulders stops Max from pulling the woman’s head back. He’s never had Charles this far gone before they even started. Part of them wants to stop, pull their lover out and make sure she’s alright and coherent enough to know what’s happening to her. 

Reluctantly, she lets go of Charles, scooting back enough to loom over her while still presenting a form of comfort for her shaking lover. 

“Charlie, I need you to check in one more time. Can you do that for me, please?”

“‘M green, Maxie. Promise.”

The look that Charles fixes Max with is one of pure lust, undeniable desire burning hot in molten emerald. It sets Max back a few steps, a carnal desire spreading in her blood, wrapping around each and every organ inside of her. It tugs painfully at the ravenous wish to destroy Charles. 

Holding back those sinful impulses, Max leans back in, hand on Charles shoulder as she carefully presses a kiss on the woman’s nose. Soft and gentle, exactly the opposite of what Charles asked for. 

Charles mewls, fingers tightening around the material of Max's shirt. “Max. Fucking fuck me, you idiot.”

He moves without thinking, the ear splitting sound of a slap resonating in the room. “Impatient mutt, you have to wait for what you want or else I’ll leave you. Do you want to be here alone, without my help or permission to touch your pathetic pussy?”

“No!” Charles all but cries, thrashing under Max's weight. “‘M sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to be rude. Please don’t leave me.” 

The tears streaming down Charles’ cheeks ignite the fire further. Their body feels aflame, possessiveness spiraling inside their chest. Max is the only one who can make Charles cry like this, the only one who can light her body a bright vermillion with few and in between touches and stares. He is the only one who will never leave Charles, not in a time of need, not in a time of sickness. 

Never. 

“I’d never leave you, darling,” Max reminds her, voice dripping in honey. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Forever?” Charles asks, gaze shy, yet hopeful. 

“Forever,” Max easily agrees, sealing the deal with a short lived kiss. 

The tenderness is just as short lived, mean fingers wrapping around Charles locks and finally, finally pulling her head back. The woman’s lips fall open as she swallows dryly at what’s to come. 

Max wishes she could capture the work of art unraveling in front of her, keep it forever with her, tucked into her phone for her to enjoy when apart from her lover. Shaking her head, Max pushes those thoughts aside. 

“I’m going to make you drink all of this water, Charlie. Gonna make you drown on it until you’re sobbing and pissing all over yourself, understood?” Her voice leaves no room for argument and Charles can sense the strictness. She nods, attempts to despite the hand holding her head still. 

Not a single breath escapes Max while he pours the water past Charles parted lips. Mesmerized, he watches the woman struggle to swallow, her Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp she manages to take. Tears fall from her closed eyes, breathing becomes more erratic. Still, Max doesn’t stop pouring. Not when water leaks down the sides of Charles face and onto the mats, not when Charles closes her mouth to calm herself, the two simple taps the woman places on his bicep fueling Max's sadism. 

The last few drops fall on top of her closed lips, running down heated skin with ease. Flushed skin seems to make the water evaporate, heating it up and leaving Charles hot and bothered before Max. Her eyes, though shut tight, twitch with every momentary touch. 

What a sight Max made of Charles. What a beautiful masterpiece he had created, all for himself to marvel at. This angel, this holy being that’s at Max's mercy is the embodiment of deadly sins. Lust and gluttony and pride and greed, all paint the insides of Max's chest in shades of green and bleeding red. 

Hypnotized, Max stares. 

She is so in love with this woman, so in love that no one could understand her devotion. No other can compare to Charles, no other can even come close to how dear Max holds this woman.

A whimpered whisper of his name breaks him out of his day dreaming. Their eyes focus on Charles’ face, red and blotchy with dried tears, trails of water and saliva going down her chin. She’s splendid, perfect in each and every way imaginable. She’s more than Max deserves, more than what she could’ve asked for. 

In any way, shape and form, Charles is her God, her angel and muse. 

“Max, please.” And despite not knowing what Charles is begging for, what she’s holding onto Max for, he cannot deny her precious love. When she’s pleading and sobbing for Max's touch, she’d have to be mad to ignore such saccharine requests. 

“Yes, my love, I know. You want me to touch you and make you cum. Your greediness never fails to impress me,” she sighs mournfully, putting on an act to rile her pretty girl up even more. “Say, you think you deserve to cum? You really think you’ve been good?”

“Yes!” Charles sobs, digging her fingernails into Max's shoulders. “I’ve been s’ good for you, daddy! Drank everything and-- and held my piss like a good girl.” She’s crying again, choking on her own sobs and spit. It’s a pitiful image, but Max relishes in the loud weeps. 

Charles is just so bewitching when she’s reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess. 

Max hums, deep in thought as she pretends to weigh the limited options she has. They don’t want to tease Charles for much longer, doubts they even can do it without giving themself blue balls, but God, they want to. Briefly, she thinks back to the list of things she’d planned out to do with Charles today and suddenly she doesn’t care about teasing Charles. She’d rather overstimulate her until she’s blabbering nonsense and shaking. 

“Colour?” 

Charles frowns at him, pout tugging at her lips. “Green,” she mumbles, chin tucked into her chest. “Please, daddy. It hurts!”

“Oh?” Max quirks her eyebrow, smirking down at the corrupted little thing. “Where does it hurt, baby girl?”

Her hand flies from Max's shoulder, resting gently above her own bladder, careful as to not press on it. Max can’t have this. Without much care, she moves Charles hand aside, pressing her thumb into the woman’s swollen abdomen. 

Charles’ sobs rip through her body, writhing as she tries to get away from the pressure Max is putting on her. In one swift move, she pulls her lover down, shirt riding up along with the mats. He moves from his place atop Charles’ thighs, momentarily sitting on the mattress while observing her. 

Without the weight on top of her, Charles lifts his head, confused and dazzled. She spots Max quickly, and without much thought she gives Max her best puppy eyes, bottom lip jutted out to effectively pull on Max's heartstrings. 

“Daddy, please come back and touch me,” her girl demands, face smushed into the pillow. “Wanna cum, please.”

Gods, Max will never tire of hearing her beg. 

He doesn’t utter a single sound while maneuvering Charles to sit between her legs. Doesn’t sprinkle any mean comments in when Charles wraps them around Max's waist, ankles crossed behind her back to hold Max close. Even when Charles buries her face deeper into the pillow, Max doesn’t say a word. 

They’re observing, committing every detail unfolding in front of them to memory, tucking away the pictures for later. 

Charles whimpers into the cotton covers, holding back another sob. “Hurts, daddy.”

“Does it?” Max asks. Her fingers itch to touch, to claim what’s hers with dark bruises in the form of Max's palms. “Should I make the pain go away, puppy?” The woman nods minutely. Had Max not been paying attention, he might’ve missed it. “Alright, darling. I’m gonna take your shorts off now, ok?” Another easy to miss nod. “Can you check in with me real fast, angel?”

“You can take them off, daddy. I’m green, j’st really hurts. Wan’ cum but it’s too much.”

As soon as the shorts and soiled panties are off, Max holds Charles’ foot gently, bringing it to his lips. She presses a single kiss in the middle of her sole, making the woman giggle despite the discomfort she is in. It brings a smile on Max's face, hearing her pretty girl laugh like this, all shy and soft. Charles covers her face, hands hiding the beautiful blush Max's put on her cheeks. 

Still, she can’t hide her pretty pussy, bruising red and leaking down her thighs, making for the most unholy view, nor can she conceal the flush on his neck, going under the shirt and coming back on her hips and thighs. Charles blushes beautifully, Max has come to know. Her whole body turns the loveliest shade of red, from the tips of her ears when Max leans in to whisper sweet I love you’s in public, to her thighs, burning red under Max's ministrations. 

It’s truly and absolutely fascinating, to say the least. 

“How do you want this, Charlie? On your back or on your stomach?”

“Back,” Charles answers eagerly. 

Max chuckles darkly, amused by the woman’s enthusiasm to piss all over herself. “Well, pup, go ahead. Wet yourself like the dumb mutt you are.” 

It’s an interesting progression, what happens next. Charles’ eyes shut tight, a deep frown creasing her forehead. She’s silent, panting while she struggles to let go. Under Max's loving gaze, Charles breaks. Frustrated sobs wreck through her, fists balling into the mats. The image is enough to make possessiveness spark underneath Max's skin, igniting their desires to keep these moments safe and away from anyone else. To keep Charles to themself. 

“Max, I can’t.” 

In a way, Max understands her pain and frustrations. She can imagine how hard it must be to let go, how humiliating the idea of pissing herself must be for Charles. Worry seeps into her bones again. 

“What can’t you do, angel?”

“I can’t--” Charles cuts herself off with a loud mewl. “Can’t go, daddy!”

“Can’t?” The fingers rubbing soothing circles on Charles' ankle ghost over her leg, moving to her hip, touch cold and brief, before stopping on the woman’s abdomen. “Or won’t?” The press is just a brief, a green ticket for Charles to call it quits in case she changes her mind. 

She doesn’t. 

“Can’t, daddy! It’s too ‘mbarrassing,” she mumbles into her hands, hiding behind them as a form of faux-comfort. “Help, Maxie…” The hushed and broken tone makes Max blink at his lover. 

Realization floods him. “Oh, you’re such a naughty thing, love,” he says with a laugh. Her previous gentleness is gone, thumb pressing roughly into Charles bladder, making the woman squirm in discomfort and pain. “Needing me to make you piss,” Max tuts, shaking her head at the crying beauty laid before her. “Naughty, messy little one. You never fail to impress me.”

Back arching off the mattress, Charles thrusts her hips in the air, oh so close to Max, yet so far away. She humps the air, ivory teeth biting the back of her hand, canines digging into tanned skin without an ounce of self-control. And yet, she’s still not letting go. 

It’s a wonder, how she’s managed to keep it in for so long, despite Max's continuous teasing. It makes Max just that more hungry, craving to see Charles come apart at his hand. 

“Daddy--” Charles stutters, the frown on her face only deepening with each second in which Max tortures her slowly. “Can’t do it, Maxie. Need your hand on my clit, daddy! Hurts too much!” She sounds so completely and utterly broken, so distressed and in this moment, Max swears she’s never been more in love with the sounds someone makes, let alone with the person letting them out. 

“Since you’ve asked so nicely,” she agrees without a fuss, right hand moving between Charles’ thighs, finger pressing into her swollen clit, squeezing it harshly to draw out more needy noises from Charles. 

“Thank you, thank--” Charles whines loudly, teeth pulling at her fingers, bitemarks imprinted on them. Desperate sounds bleeding into the room plague Max's mind. “I’m gonna--”

But Charles doesn’t get to finish her warning. With Max's hand moving faster and faster over Charles’ clit, she finally comes undone. Her whole body goes rigid, before relaxing into the sheets as a hot stream of piss leaks down her thighs, soaking the sheets, the mats, Max’s sweatpants, everything. 

Max didn’t know what to expect when he was planning this. Piss, surely; a mess, of course. But she didn’t expect for it to be so… enticing. The idea of Charles pissing herself did fascinate her, but she never thought it will be this hot. Watching Charles break turns her on more than she’d like to admit; it’s maddening, intoxicating. 

The stream doesn’t seem to be ending, liquid glistening atop Charles skin, seeping into his shirt, the mats absorbing as much as they can. Max is surprised that not much gets on his own clothes, only his knees wet with how he’s standing on the bed, the shirt he’s wearing remaining dry, safe for the edges pooling around his waist. 

She’s impossibly hard in her sweats and the sinfully erotic image of Charles panting, eyes shut tight, pussy spasming and leaking, piss drenching her clothes and the bed she’s resting on… It takes everything out of her to not devour the woman, but despite her best efforts she can’t stop her fingers from twitching with need, moving from Charles abdomen down her thigh, squeezing the fat with brute force. 

“Charles,” Max breathes out, voice strained. “Can I fuck your thighs?”

Charles legs tighten around her waist, hands gripping at Max's forearms. They’re bound to be bruised the next day, but neither care. Max loves being marked and purple just as much as she adores putting them across Charles' perfect body. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles chants, head thrown back in pure bliss. “Please touch me, daddy. Wanna cum now, daddy.”

Laughing to herself, Max reaches into their bedside table for the lube, fingers still massaging and squeezing at Charles thighs. “What, pissing yourself wasn’t enough to make you cum?” There’s no time to wait for the woman’s response. Max needs to cum just as badly as her sweet girl. 

The pretty blush spreading across Charles' body stops them for just a moment. A moment they uses to gawk at Charles, put some more images away in their head for later. She’s gorgeous. Thoroughly and unconditionally so. 

And Max, Max whose heart beats faster each time she steals a glance at her beautiful girl, Max whose stomach fills with butterflies and whose organs are wrapped in flowers and crystals and vines so thick they're making it hard to breathe, Max who cannot do anything but fall deeper in love with Charles, falls. She falls again and again, until she’s bruised and her knees are bleeding, yet she cannot stop. She wants this perfect woman, her perfect girl forever. Wants to fall for her more and more as their bones grow weak and the soil reclaims what belongs to it. 

The lube is cold when it hits Charles’ thighs, if the hiss she lets out is any form of indication of it. Not even the hotness that Charles emanates is enough to warm it up while Max sheds her sweatpants, cock springing free. He’s redder than Charles, untouched and begging to be buried in between Charles thighs. They’re both silent as Max guides Charles to squeeze her legs together, feet thrown over Max's shoulder to make it easier for her. 

Soft moans fill the room, Charles saccharine noises coating Max's dazed mind with a thick fog. Charles is a fuel, a fuel for unprompted decisions leading to handprints bruised on a tanned neck and fingerprints atop wide hips. Charles burns her, her touch burns deep into Max's skin, melting hardened walls with ease. It feels like she's boiling alive, underneath her skin. 

All because of Charles. 

His cock aches as he pushes its head past Charles' thighs. The press is astonishingly tight, so much so that Max feels the air being knocked from her lungs the more she pushes. God, she loves Charles’ thighs; she cannot get enough of feeling them around her, squeezing her, pulling her cock farther in. They want them wrapped around their head, their waist, their cock. Everywhere. 

“Angel,” Max moans, grip on Charles hips more secure with each shallow thrust. “You feel so good around me, angel. Your thighs were made to be fucked.” As an answer, Charles whimpers, biting on her bottom lip to keep the loudest noises away. “Made entirely for me to use, isn’t that right--” Max prides herself for the amount of self-restraint she has, but once she’s touching Charles, it all dissipates. 

“Yours, daddy. Only belong to you,” the woman agrees mindlessly. 

The drag across hot skin is rough, even with the amounts of lube and piss still on Charles legs. It’s mind numbing, uncomfortable enough to make Max hiss in pleasure as he increases the speed minutely. 

Charles' eyes are glued to her own legs, watching Max's cock poke out between them hungrily. If Max didn’t know any better she’d even say she’s salivating, mouth slightly open, tongue sticking out. But she’s not, because in moments like this, when Charles gets so focused on something that she doesn’t even blink, it’s almost like all her bodily functions shut down. All but her ability to stare and burn each detail into her retina. 

“You like watching your thighs swallow me whole, baby girl?" Max asks with a soft chuckle. “You have no idea how good you feel, love,” his words get stuck in his throat, another frail whine escaping Max. 

“Want you to touch me, daddy,” Charles whispers into thick air. It takes Max a moment to realize she’s spoken and then another one to take in what Charles said, but once she does her hand immediately moves to rest against Charles' clit. 

He doesn’t move it yet, waiting for Charles to break once again and beg for Max to make her cum. The thrusts don’t slow down, each one pulling Max closer to the edge. Volatile reds bloom across Charles' body, tainting Max's pale skin in its progress. She’d rather have the woman’s teeth stain her ruby and violet instead, but this will do. 

The sight of her beautiful lover alone can make Max cum. Seeing her so transfixed on the part where her cock peeks out, eyes glazed with want and lust only adds to the carnal effect she has on Max. 

Max is close, thrusts coming to a halt every time her navel touches the back of Charles’ thighs. He’s close and Charles is surprisingly quiet, yet just as spellbound. Without hrt own accord, Max's fingers rub over the woman’s clit, drawing out a series of rich whines and sobs, each more delicious than the other. 

She swallows them all with a hungry, starved kiss. 

In a flurry of chasing their own orgasm, Max's hand begins moving faster over Charles, sweet noises escaping the woman with each thrust and every press. The position is uncomfortable, Max's neck hurting as she leans down to press kisses on Charles face. She doubts the way Charles is folded is any better, but her lover’s only complaints are about needing to cum faster and harder. 

“Max, Maxie--” Charles chokes on her own spit. “Can I cum? Please, let me, daddy!” She’s sobbing again, beautifully so. Face red, with streaks of tears upon streaks of tears, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. 

Max almost doesn’t manage to give her permission, voice dying in her throat before she can get the words out on the first try. Their movements get that more clumsy with every pull back, the hand on Charles’ pussy stopping its strokes for a brief moment.  “Yes, sweetheart,” she says after her hips still enough for Max to recompose herself. 

That is all Charles needs. The granted permission, the grazing kissing Max continues to press all over her face, the hand that resumes its fast paced stroking. All of them tilt Charles over and with a single, loud keen, she cums all over Max's hand. 

Max isn't far behind. The woman brings her legs closer, impossibly tight, wishing to have Max's cum mix with hers. Max can barely breathe, air coming out in short puffs as he struggles to keep himself above Charles, lest he wants to collapse on top of his lovely girl. 

Charles' thighs are Heavenly around him. 

"Maxie," Charles moans, a quiet sob coming out of her. "Cum for me." 

With a whimper, Max goes still, spilling all over Charles' perfect thighs. The room is silent, safe for their heavy breathing and occasional whine Charles lets out. 

Blissful afterglow seeps into Charles' features, red bleeding out and leaving only coral pink behind. She's breathtaking, basking in her own orgasm, eyes closed and head tilted back. She's breathtaking, thighs still shaking around Max, hands letting go, without meaning to, of Max's arms.

Max's hand pulls away, moving up towards the woman’s mouth. The cum is already drying on her fingers, but that doesn't stop her from pushing two of them past Charles lips, watching with so much love as she sucks them into her mouth without a single complaint. 

God, Max just keeps on falling. 

"You're so pretty, Charlie. Been so good for me today," Max's tone is quieter, scared of breaking the moment they've created. Charles stays silent, only smiling up at her lover, completely blissed out with the fingers slowly pushing in and out of her mouth, resting on the brunette’s tongue every now and again. 

“Thanks, mate,” she whispers around Max's fingers. 

Max stops altogether, a stunned expression on his face. “Did you… just call me mate after I made you piss yourself and fucked your thighs?”

The smile Charles offers him is so stupidly endearing that Max can’t even find it in her to be upset by the absurdity of it all. 

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you in the shower. You reek of piss and I’m too tired to do anything else tonight,” Max says with a soft laugh. Her fingers leave Charles mouth, and though the whine the woman gives her does tug at her heartstrings, Max doesn’t give in. Charles can always fall asleep sucking on their fingers if she really does want that, but right now they’d rather take a long, hot shower and not think about the smell seeping into their mattress. 

“You have to carry me, though,” Charles informs him, matter of factly. 

Max scoffs, but nonetheless she stands and picks the woman up, throwing her over her shoulder. “I always carry you, idiot.”

“Yes, because it turns you on that you can manhandle me,” Charles scoffs back. “I’ll blow you in the morning if you wash my hair.”

Max sighs. “Fine,” she agrees, not bothering to tell Charles that she would’ve taken care of that without the promise of a blowjob. Charles doesn’t need her ego inflated any more than it already is. “It better be the best blowjob of my life, though.”

“Oh, you’ll love it, mon chou,” Charles laughs. 

Max doesn’t doubt it, but it’s nice to play the role sometimes. 

After all, Charles still hasn’t caught up on the fact that Max is so in love with her she’d give up everything to make her happy.

[cherriefishboy]

one thing that pisses me off so much is how people misinterpret one part of "would you fall in love with me again"

after odysseus goes on his rant about wondering if penelope would still love him, penelope asks him to move their wedding bed which is literally rooted into the ground. odysseus gets upset and tells her that he lit can't and penelope replies saying that only her husband knew that therefore it must be odysseus.

a lot of people think this was penelope testing to see if this really was odysseus but IT WASNT

this was penelope trying to prove a point. she asks him to move the bed knowing that he knows he can't. she knows it's still him no matter what but odysseus thinks she no longer loves him because he's changed. this is her trying to prove the point that no matter how much he's changed, it's still odysseus. while she does play it off as though she was testing him, she wasn't. and this makes her line of "no matter how longs it's been, you're mine" so much more powerful. no matter what the circumstances are, she would pick odysseus every single time. no matter how much he's changed and no matter how long they've been apart, that's still the man she married and it always will be

the line has so much less meaning if you think about her testing him. it makes it sound like she doesn't trust him and her whole part sounds so much more ingenuine.

anyways odysseus was NOT having it when she asked him to move that goddamn bed. mans villain arc almost begun

[numbuh24insane]

Ares Mentor AU - Circe Saga

Odysseus and his crew of course land at Circe's island, in distress Odysseus will still send Eurylochus out and events play out normally. What really changes is at the end.

Odysseus fights Circe as Ares wants, but instead of securing victory he still ends up begging Circe to grant them mercy. This of course pisses Ares off, that his student should never be someone that begs, that Odysseus had the upper hand in the fight and should have leveraged it for victory, not being taken by surprise by Circe's wiles and end up squandering his upperhand. Ares:

You were careless, too soft for the field That’s not a warrior’s creed You had strength, you could’ve forced her to yield (Hey!) But you chose mercy and plead You shamed me once with Troy Where you refused to fight on the field! You're just a disappointment, boy! So now I’m gone

This way, you’ll learn what strength means This way, you’ll fall in line This way, when wars are over, you’ll keep yours and I’ll keep mine This way, you won’t embarrass me This way, you won’t waste my time This way, I’ll close the door Consider this as my goodbye

Odysseus:

That’s just like you, why should I be surprised? Violent, bloodthirsty, cruel Unlike you, I can see through the lies Mercy’s the mark of the fool? What’s a victory that costs my men’s lives? That’s a weight I’ll always bear You demand I bury my soul to survive But I don’t care

This way, you’re out of my head now This way, you can keep your war This way, when all is done, I’ll be the man I was before This way, I’ll choose my own battles This way, I’ll walk my own shore This way, I close the door and show myself out

Ares:

You should’ve killed to secure the bag! Made examples of men who’d dare betray their flags! You should’ve made Circe bled! But you fell to your knees and cried instead! When it comes to your heart, you’re blind! Like the cyclops that tore your soldiers apart!

Odysseus:

At least I know what I’m fighting for While you fight to feed your rage You’ve built kingdoms out of corpses While your heart remains a cage! You're enslaved!

[mirkwoodshewolf]

An ear for an arm; George Weasley x reader

*Author's note*

Like I said, I had some more tales of George Weasley and Sirius Black daughter fics coming your way and today I've got two more that I've been able to write due to this snowstorm that I'm dealing with. Hope you all enjoy these next two fics and for those who have been affected by the snow like me, stay safe, stay warm and keep snug :)

Taglist:

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@waddles03

@plethora-of-things

@queen-paladin

@psychosupernatural

@remussl0vers

_________________________________________________________

Tonight was the night.  Harry needed to be moved from Pivot Drive to the Burrow tonight and all of us have agreed to take the risk.  I was one of the seven chosen to become ‘Harry Potter’ while we’d move him so that Voldemort and his followers wouldn’t know who the real one was.  Alongside me were Hermione, Ron, Fleur, and the twins Fred and George.

Although there was reluctance on both George’s and uncle Remus’ side of me being a part of this but there was no time for arguing anymore. 

One; he was my godbrother and pretty much the only family I have left of not only dad but uncle James and Aunt Lily. Two; I was the fastest flyer so even if something were to happen to Mad Eye, I’d at least stand a chance and hopefully get the jump on the Death eaters.  And three; if worse comes to worse, I can always escape using my animagus form and hide until the coast is clear.

We arrived late one night at Harry’s uncle and aunt’s home and explained to him of our plan.  Of course, he didn’t go for it because he didn’t want any more of us to die for him.

“This is war Harry. Dying now or dying later is what we’re up against now. We know what we’re getting into.” I had told him.

“No, no this is different. Taking that becoming me. No!” Harry said.

“Well none of us really fancy it, mate.” Said Fred.

“Yes, imagine if something went wrong and we’d end up a scrawny, specky git forever!” George mocked dramatically.  I shoved his arm and gave him a pointed look.

“Alright Granger as discussed.” Mad Eye said to her.  Hermione then went up and yanked some of Harry’s hair from behind his head before walking up to him to put it into the Polyjuice potion.  The seven chosen then stepped forward and lined up as the potion was being mixed.  “For those of you who haven’t taken Polyjuice potion before, fair warning. Tastes like goblin piss.”

“Have enough of that experience do you Mad Eye?” Fred asked as he took the bottle from Mad Eye’s hand.  Mad Eye glared at him unamused then Fred shrugged, “Just trying to diffuse the tension.” Then he took the first sip of the potion.  Followed by George, me, Fleur, Ron and then Hermione.

Goblin piss my arse Mad-Eye you’re full of rubbish! This was worse than that.  Probably the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.  But I started to feel the effects of the Polyjuice potion starting to affect me as I grew ever slightly and my long hair began to grow short.

My face morphed as well as every other part of my body until finally I along with everyone else had now become Harry Potter.

“Wow, we’re identical.” Fred and George said as they looked at each other.

“Not yet you’re not.” Said Mad Eye.

We were all then given the same pair of clothes to wear.  A long-sleeved red shirt, and light blue jacket, black jeans and of course replicas of Harry’s glasses.  I stripped out of my clothes and grabbed a pair of the clothes.  I put on the pants first before adjusting the belt followed by the shirt and jacket.  When I went to put on the glasses last, I couldn’t help but start to feel a headache coming on.

“Harry, once we live through this, I’m going to find a spell to get your eyes fixed. Bloody hell.” I shook my head as I adjusted the glasses fully onto the bridge of my nose.

“Right then, we’ll be pairing off. Each Potter will have a protector. Ms. Black as agreed you’re sticking close to me.”

“No arguing there.” I told him.

“As for Harry,”

“Yes?” everyone else who had been turned into Harry spoke up.  Blimey I feel like I’m in the Twilight zone right now.

“The real Harry. Where the devil are you anyway?”

“Here.” Harry raised his hand as he too was ordered to change into the same outfit as us.

“You’ll ride with Hagrid.” Harry and Hagrid stood close to one another as Hagrid told him.

“I brought you here 16 years ago when you were no bigger than a Bowtruckle. Seems only right that I should be the one that take you away now.” I smiled at them softly.  Harry and Hagrid truly did have a special bond with each other throughout Harry’s entire time at Hogwarts, and vaguely recalling how it was indeed Hagrid who brought Harry here, it did seem right that he should be the one to save him once again.

“Yes it’s all very touching. Let’s go!” Mad Eye said impatiently.  We all headed outside but just before Uncle Remus and George could step out, I grabbed both of their hands and said to them.

“Watch out for each other.”

“We will darling. You watch out for yourself too.” George told me as he cupped the side of my face.  I nuzzled into his palm and the two of us embraced one another.  “I love you.”

“I love you more.” I whispered back.  As we separated I turned to Uncle Remus who looked at me solemnly but he tried to keep a brave face on.

“I know how fast of a flyer you are from seeing your Quidditch matches. If things go south, you fly as fast as you can. Do not engage any more than you have to.”

“You too Uncle Remus. Dad told me how you were a pretty fast flyer in your time at the Quidditch field.”

“Those were the old days.” He brushed off.  I shook my head before embracing him and he held me as tight as he could.  “Please be careful.”

“I promise I will. No tricks.”

“Miss Black!” I heard Mad-eye exclaimed impatiently.  I looked at the two most important men of my life and stepped out and readied my broom beside Mad-Eye.

Everyone lined up in two rows, each Potter with their protectors at their side.  Others chose to travel on the Thestrals like Bill and Fleur, and Hermonie and Mr. Kinglsey.

“Head for the Burrows, we rendezvous there. On the count of three!” Mad-eye exclaimed.  Hagrid and Harry, who rode on dad’s old flying bike stood in the middle between all of us.

“Hold tight Harry.” Hagrid told my godbrother as he revved the engine up.

“One! Two! Three!” with a slam of his staff, everyone took off flying at Mad-Eye’s command.  Once Harry and Hagrid were in the air, Mad-Eye turned to me and gave me a nod to fly on ahead.  I nodded back and urged my broom upward.

Soon enough Mad-Eye caught up with me and together the two of us flew to be lead the flight to the Burrows.  We came up to Harry and Hagrid and Harry turned to look at me.  I gave him a firm nod before Mad-Eye and I raced onward and disappeared into the storm clouds ahead.

Little did we know that that would be the last thing any of us would ever do.

I don’t even know how it happened but as we came to a clearing through the storm clouds, thousands of Death Eaters were already in waiting as they charged at all of us.

Everyone was being pursued by at least a dozen or so Death Eaters and various spells were being fired in all directions.  Death Eaters forced Mad-Eye and I to part from each other’s side so I decided to give them something to chase.  Putting my reputation as the faster flyer on Ravenclaw’s Quidditch team, I flew in multiple loops, quickly zig-zagged through the sky forcing some of the Death eaters to crash into others that were chasing my friends and loved ones, I even dared the Death Eaters into a what I call ‘the death dive.

It's where a witch or wizard on a broom dives down as fast as they can towards the ground before pulling up at just the last second, and I do mean the last second.  Most witches and wizards never dared to attempt this move since most have either died or ended up paralyzed never to ride or walk again (even with magic).

But ever since gaining some spells books of my mum’s before Dumbledore’s passing, she developed the perfect technique on how to perform such a feat.  Any Death Eater that came after me fell for that trick and they’d end up falling into the water to their demise.

Any spell that came my way, I’d deflect before giving them an offense attack.  Whether it was from all the spells that I’ve learned in school or from my mum’s spell books.

I had found out recently that on my mother’s side, her family has always been able to harness power from the Stars and at dire times, the Moon itself.  Using their power and light to enhance their spells and incantations, that’s why they were known as the Celestial Wizards.  That’s why everyone on my mother’s side had a part of Astronomy as part of their name.

Now I won’t brag and say I’m an expert (after all I’ve only had these books for barely a year) but the spells that I have been able to muster, I’ve gotten pretty good at it.  So when doing the death dive didn’t work, I’d force the Death Eaters higher than any witch or wizard had been known to fly and used the power of the stars to enhance my attacks.

But it was then my element of surprise against the Death Eaters was broken with a fire snake soon burst through the dark clouds lighting up any chance I had to keep to the shadows.  I was barely able to escape the flames unscathed but my broom, however, wasn’t as lucky.

The bristles had caught flame and I knew it was only a matter of time before it’d lose it’s magic and I’d go crashing down with no way of stopping.  A cloud of black and green soon surrounded me and I knew that Voldemort had spotted me.

“Okay Voldemort, you want me, see if you got the guts to follow me.” I muttered as I dove downward and as fast as I could feel myself fall into the Death dive once more with Voldemort’s smoke trail following right behind me.

He kept to my right but I couldn’t see his face.  Come on you bloody git, show me your face.  Give me something to fire at.  I kept up the Death dive until we were pass the clouds and I saw nothing but green down below.  I held my wand tightly as I kept looking between Voldemort and the ground.

The red lights from the Crucio curse were being fired at me but I managed to dodge them even with my busted broom.  I knew deep in my gut it wouldn’t be long before he would use the killing curse.  But right as I saw the flash of green, I didn’t feel it’s effect on me.

Instead all I saw was Mad-Eye’s body and broom fall straight to the ground.  My heart sunk, he took the hit for me.  Rage took over my body as I shot out one of my family spells.

“STELLA FULMINE!!” a lightning bolt of pure starlight soon shot out from my wand and it met with the light of the Killing Curse that now was coming for me.  The two attacks met and were pushing against each other.

‘So it is true.’ I could hear his voice in my head. ‘The Daughter of Sirius Black survives. How proud do you think he would be of you? Or your mother for that matter?’ how dare he speak about my mother.  ‘Oh yes, Pettigrew told me of her screams when he killed her, she was indeed a fool to think she could stop us. And soon child, you shall join them.’

He soon broke our two spells apart which caused a bright explosion to burst forward blinding me and sending me off my broom until all I felt was pain and myself slamming into the ground before my whole world went black.

*3rd Person POV*

It was a hard and tough journey but Harry and Hagrid were the first to arrive, barely with their lives intact.  Shortly after their arrival Remus and George apparated into the fields of the Burrow.  However George had been blasted with a curse by Snape and lost his ear.  Blood was seeping down his head as Remus struggled to hold him up properly.  Harry helped his former professor to bring George into the house and set him down on the couch.

But now knowing that they had been betrayed, Remus immediately went and pinned Harry to the wall with his wand pointed at him.  Hagrid and Ginny exclaimed at Remus but he shushed them before he asked Harry.

“What creature sat in the corner the first time Harry Potter visited my office in Hogwarts?”

“Are you mad!?” exclaimed Harry but Remus yelled back.

“WHAT CREATURE!!”

“A Grindylow.” Answered Harry.  Both of them panting heavily before Remus finally released him.

“We’ve been betrayed. Voldemort knew you were being moved tonight. I had to make sure you weren’t an imposter.” Remus’ reason for the interrogation now began to weigh heavily on everyone’s mind.  With everyone scattered during the attack, who knows if the members of the Order that will come through will be the real ones or imposters.

Thunder rumbled outside signifying the arrival of a Thestral.  Harry and Remus ran outside to see Hermoine and Kinglsey.  The two men pointed their wands at each other as they stood face to face and Kinglsey spoke their secret password to Remus.

“The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us.”

“Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.” With that answer Kinglsey lowered his wand and asked Harry. “What gave you away?”

“Hedwig, I think. She was trying to protect me.” A second thunder rumble signified and soon landing was Bill and his wife Fleur.  Almost immediately after they had landed, walking out of the fields were Tonks and Ron who was now starting to shift back into himself.

Hermione ran up to Ron and embraced him and he embraced her back as the effects of the Polyjuice potion finally wore off of him.

“Thanks.” He said breathlessly.

“He deserves that. Brilliant he was. I wouldn’t be standing here without him.” Tonks praised as she came up to Lupin and immediately embraced him.  Remus embraced his wife back and from his werewolf senses he knew he didn’t need to interrogate her, this was his wife.

“Really?” asked Hermione.

“Why is that so surprising?” Harry seeing his two best friends alive and well immediately ran up and embraced the both of them.  Finally the last to arrive were Arthur and Fred.  Fred took off Harry’s glassed and he and his dad patted each other on the shoulder.

“Are we the last back?” asked Arthur.  “Where’s George?” when no one answered, Fred’s heart raced as he ran straight into the house.  There he saw his younger twin lying barely conscious, the left side of his head stained with blood.  He came over beside his mother setting his wand down as the others gathered around the Weasley’s living room.

“How you feeling Georgie?” Fred asked softly.

“Saint like.” Croaked George.

“Come again?”

“Saint like. I’m holey. I’m holey Fred, yah get it?” he joked as he pointed to his now missing ear.  Fred and Molly shook their heads at George’s joke.

“The whole wide world of ear-related humor. And you go for ‘I’m holey’. How (Y/n) chose you I’ll never understand.”

“Because I’m the better looking one, even now reckon I’m still better looking than you. Where….where is she anyway?” that’s when Bill stepped forward and gave the grim news.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.” Everyone froze and was silent at the revealed news of one of the greatest aurors in the Wizarding world.  “I’m….I’m sorry George. (Y/n) forced Voldemort into the Death dive….and he made sure she couldn’t pull back up in time.”

Even through his dazed and weak state, George’s heart broke as he tried to stand up but his mom and Fred held him back.

“No, No! She…..she can’t be. She’s alive. I can feel it we-we have to…..”

“You’re not going anywhere George. You’re barely able to stand right now let alone go out there flying on your broom again.” Molly told her son.

“Remus please! You’re her godfather. Surely you—”

“With every ounce of my being do I wish I can race back out there and find her.” Remus told him.  “But there’s too many Death eaters out there to have a search party. If…..” he trailed off as he felt his heartbreak for even saying that word.  “We’ll give her until morning, if she doesn’t turn up we’ll…..we’ll work something out.”

“No! No she-she could be captured! Or—dying. She needs our help!”

“George, George.” Fred tried to ease his younger twin but at this point George was too hysterical to console.  Hermione and Fleur couldn’t bear to listen as it broke their hearts, Harry tried to keep his composure as he felt this was his fault.  First Cedric, then Sirius, then Mad-Eye now his own god-sister.

From the stress and blood loss, George’s frantic behavior soon caused him to pass out from exhaustion.  Molly had Fred and Bill take him up to the twin’s bedroom while everyone else contemplated on what needed to be done now that (Y/n) was MIA.

Once Fred and Bill set George down on his bed, Bill gave his younger brother a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room leaving the twins alone.

“(Y/n)…..(Y/n)…..” Fred noticed his twin brother’s lips whispering so faintly.  Fred took his twin’s hand and held onto it tightly.

“I was a witness to your unbreakable bond. If you say she’s alive, I’ll believe you Georgie. But don’t stress yourself sick mate. Especially not before she comes, she’d have both our heads.” He then rested his head against George’s bed but kept a strong hold of his brother’s hand until he fell fast asleep.

As the night went on at the Burrow and everyone had now fallen asleep, a limping figure slowly made their way through the fields toward the Burrow.  Right arm hung limp and blood dripped every now and then with each step.

The figure then soon let out an animalistic yowl.  It kept yowling every few seconds out in code, hoping and praying that someone from the Burrow would hear her.

The first to awaken hearing those yowls was Remus.  He shot up from the chair next to Tonks.  He heard the yowls again and knew there was only one puma in existence in all of England.  Soon the others began to stir awake hearing those pained yowls.

“It’s her.” Fred whispered before shooting up and quickly racing down the stairs.  Him, Remus, Harry, Arthur and Molly, Ginny, Hermoine and Ron all raced outside and soon limping out from the fields was (Y/n).

She was stuck mind-transformation out of her animagus form because of the pain so she was left having her puma ears, her tail, claws and fangs.

“(Y/n)!” Ginny exclaimed but before she could run to her, her parents stopped her while Fred was the one to go up to her being her interrogator.  He almost didn’t wish to hold his wand against her because he wanted to believe that this was his best friend and future sister-in-law.

“No one, not even our own mother, can tell George Weasley and I apart save for one. How does (Y/n) Celeste Black do it?”

“You…..Frederick Gideon Weasley maybe the oldest of the pair, but George is slightly taller than you by a width of an inch, even though you try to claim it’s a centimeter. You are also more brash than your other half which can lead you to be more reckless. But furthermore it’s because while I love you both more than anything in this world, it is George that holds my heart for he is Mine and I am His.”

Fred immediately lowered his wand and raced up and caught (Y/n) in his arms just as she was about to collapse in pain.  She let out some pained groans and Fred whispered to her.

“You’re here sister fox, it’s alright now.” He gently picked her up and carried her into the house.  Now knowing that it was indeed the real (Y/n) Black and not an imposter, they immediately made room for her and got her as comfortable as possible.

“Let’s have a look at you dear.” Molly cooed as she cupped the young girl’s face.  “Pretty nasty cut and bump to the head. And your right arm is indeed broken.” She felt around (Y/n)’s side and she let out a hiss as her claws dug into the Weasley’s furniture.  “A few broken ribs, and scraped up everywhere else I can see. Don’t you worry dear, we’ll have you fixed up in a tick.”

Remus slowly walked up and knelt down beside her and stroked through her madded hair.  Her eyes fluttered open one being her normal color while the other was stuck as her puma yellow.

“I did as you said Uncle Remus. I flew as fast as I could.”

“I know you did.”

“I even performed mum’s star bolt spell.”

“I know, I know shhh. Save your strength, kit.” He assured her.

“Where’s George? Is he…..”

“Shhh just rest. You’ll both see each other in the morning.” Remus continued to stroke through his god-daughter’s hair and cheek while Molly began healing up (Y/n)’s injuries.

As she was slowly healing up, it caused the rest of her body to slowly morph more human like.  She let out some groans as the bones that needed to morph back shifted.  Once she was finally human, she had passed out from the pain and from pure exhaustion.  Molly finished tying up her arm into a sling.

“I tried my best with her arm but the damage is too significant even with magic. We’ll need to consult Madame Pomfrey.”

“Thank you Molly. I know you tried your best.” Remus thanked her graciously.

“Fred, why don’t you take her up to Ginny’s room? Get her properly tucked into a bed.” Fred nodded at his mom’s suggestion and carefully picked her up and carried her upstairs but as Ginny opened her door for him, Fred looked towards his and George’s room.

He turned to his little sister and Ginny gave him an understanding look.  Plus with both of them severely injured, there wouldn’t be any fooling around tonight.  Fred gave his sister a nod before turning towards his room and gently placed her right beside George who was still asleep, his ear now completely wrapped up and stained red.

Gently as he could, Fred set (Y/n) beside his twin brother knowing that she should be the first thing he sees when he woke up knowing that he was frantic with worry after hearing what had happened to Mad-Eye.  He sat at his twin’s bedside and saw his two dearest friends lying side by side almost appearing dead.

Tears burned behind Fred’s eyes before he allowed them to be released.  Never before have he and George ever left the other’s side, and when (Y/n) joined with them, even after being sorted in different houses the three of them made a pact to always never be too far from each other.

Now the one time he’s apart from them his twin loses his ear and his future sister in law nearly lost her life.

*My POV*

My body was in excruciating agony.  My right arm felt prickly like thousands of needles were poking at my skin and muscles constantly.  Each breath I took was like getting hit with a bludger, and my head was pounding like a drum.  But the smell of cinnamon and apples at least eased the pain for a moment.

It hurt to try and open my eyes but I had to see for myself that I was there.  I saw the faint glimpse of sunrays peering through the wood, the faint scent of gunpowder still lingered in the air from the twin’s last ever test run on their fireworks before they moved out into the flat above the shop.

“Morning darling.” I slowly turned my head and there he was.

“George.” I reached up with my left hand and placed my hand to his cheek.  He nuzzled into my palm holding my hand with both of his.

“I know you were a Ravenclaw but maybe next time don’t take the name too seriously.” I went to laugh but it hurt my ribs.

“Don’t make me laugh George, it still hurts.”

“Since you’re in such agony, I’ll go easy on you.” He brushed my cheek with his thumb.  “You gave us quite the fright love. Had it not been for the bond we made, I wouldn’t have known you were still out there.”

“I…..don’t even remember getting here. All I remember was falling off my broom, then hitting the ground and then—nothing. You sure no one came and got me?”

“Fred said you were stuck mid-way through your animagus form last night when you arrived. Maybe the shock right now is forcing you to suppress your memory of coming here.”

“Maybe.” That’s when I took notice of his bandaged head.  I had him turn and I gasped softly.  “Is it…..”

“Cursed off completely. Snape did that.” I growled softly but had winced once again.  “Easy darling. Beyond that I’m fine all things considered, I don’t repulse you do I?”

“George Fabian Weasley. You could have a toad’s gullet or grown a second head and I’d still love you.”

“Not calling me the most handsomest wizard in the world anymore eh?”

“You already got a big ego, no need to stroke it any further.”

“I’m hurt darling.” We both smiled at each other before he leaned in and captured my lips with his.  The softest yet most yearning kiss he could muster sent tingles through my body.  “Never scare me like that again.”

“Promises, promises.” He chuckled as he nuzzled his nose against mine.

“You’re lucky your as injured as you are now. I’d be tickling you for your smart mouth.”

“Good thing eh?” I teased back.

“Just watch yourself love. You know I never forget to collect my debts.” He kissed me again and as he cupped the side of my face a voice spoke up.

“I put you both together hoping the snogging wouldn’t be as bad as it normally is with you two being injured.” We separated and there at the doorway was Fred.  He came over and gently brushed some of the hair out of my face.  “How you feeling sis?”

I smiled softly at that term.  I always did feel a brotherly-type of love with Fred and now to hear him verbalize and reciprocate that familial type of love I had for him, it made my dark world feel a bit more lighter.

“Everything hurts. Maybe George is right, I should retire from flying.”

“I only said to not take the name Ravenclaw literally.” George said pecking my shoulder.

“Mum’s called Madam Pomfrey to come have a look at you. She should be here soon. I just wanted to see if you had awaken yet. Georgie’s been up since the crack of dawn watching over you, it was creepy.”

“It’s called being a dutiful boyfriend. Maybe you could learn a thing or two for Angelina’s sake.” George argued.

“Boys please, no arguing in front of the injured witch.” I reprimanded softly.  “Are the others okay? Did they all make it?”

“Everyone accept for Mad-Eye.” He said solemnly.  I was hit with a flashback of seeing him take the Killing curse for me.

“He died for me. Voldemort was aiming for me. But Mad-Eye got in the way and fell. That was before…..” I was hit with another tingly pain in my arm.  I clenched onto it and George slowly backed up and sat up as Fred gently rubbed my shoulder.

“I’ll go tell mum you’re up and to get Madam Pomfrey here stat.” he ran out of the room while George brushed through my hair softly trying to ease my pain.

According to Madam Pomfrey I should be paralyzed from the waist down.  But I must’ve transformed halfway in my fall and that managed to save me but it didn’t mean I was unscathed.

My right arm was broken and not even she is able to fix it.  But the other scrapes, broken bones and bruises she was.  My healing at home would be to soak in a salt elixir bath for 30 minutes twice a day to help heal the bones and hopefully further mend my arm.  I was also condemned for at least the next few days to be either bed-ridden or had to use a wheelchair to assist me in getting around.

 Even though I hated having to be this injured when we’re so close to the War of the century starting, I took that time to practice magic with my left hand.  It was hard work not being a normal leftie but I’d imagine doing the wand movements with my right and that managed to make the spells easier to do.

When Bill and Fleur’s wedding came, I was in my wheelchair with George standing behind me as he’d wheel me around down the garden so that I could be part of the festivities.  I’d ask him if he were ashamed to have to pull a wheelchair-bound witch but he said to me.

“If you’re not ashamed to be seen with a one-eared wizard, then I’m not ashamed to wheel my beautiful wheel-chair bound girlfriend.” I really did choose the right man to spend the rest of my life with.  George was with me through all the healings I needed and eventually in no time, I was able to properly walk again and my right arm (though still slightly disfigured), I was able to use it to do minimal things.

I just hope that by the time this war truly begins, nothing will stop me from fighting to protect the ones I love.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 176 | id in alt

You said you were gonna lock in, so lock in buoy.

[helpimstuckinafandom]

JUSTICE FOR DAVINA CLAIRE I'M SO FUCKING SERIOUS FUCK OFF OH MY FUCKING GOD

[arlathen]

i see “your parents actually werent around much” and say “that isnt angsty enough and doesnt channel my personal trauma in a way i want”

[wanghedi]

idk if its just my algorithm on bilibili but the vicious bashing of wang hedi’s new drama is so fascinating bc like yeah it’s not clj its not The Cdrama Of The Year and ur not even going into it in the same circumstances (ie no expectations) but its also not HORRBLE like its just a normal cdrama but its so obvious which people were just WAITING to rip into him but couldnt during or immediately post-clj bc ppl unanimously loved it so much and now they have all this pent up vitriol. ive seen videos of other male cdrama actors get roasted but for didi there seems to be like a gleefulness to how hateful they can be but maybe its im just biased and when theyre bashing the other actors im like Deserved! and when its didi im like how could u do this to my special boy

[medlabmech]

He can tell me "those stripped of the grace of gold, shall all meet death, in the embrace of Messmer's flame" all day and I'll just be "cool! :D let's have another go:3"

i've never felt more understood by YouTube comments than by those of the Messmer cutscene

[hsslilly-blog]

just realised that as far as i recall it hwu mc doesn’t cry at any point in hunts date quests and i think this is the biggest evidence of them being weird. not that people who don’t cry are weird but hwu mc specifically is very weird for not crying

[evandore]

ok actually it is kind of fun to consider the weekdays like this. it plays into character and their culture and how they would interact. carmilla coming from a religious background starts the weeks on a sunday. vince being more work oriented starts on monday but ends it on the weekend as that sort of relaxation / celebration thing. with the opposite of danny where the week starts on saturday bc reward is prioritised and work comes as an afterthought. caroline starts on a thursday btw

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”