#anon so sorry for being terribly slow replying to this

[egrets-not-regrets]

Dandelions and Yarrow (5)

Yarrow, like the dandelion, is a tough hardy weed that can survive and grow in harsh conditions. 

Amelia goes to Steelix Fortress and finally sees Alcyon’s condition in person. She agrees to watch over her bonded Astartes as he recovers. Alcyon eventually wakes up and he is so normal about it.

**Dialogue in Gothic language is bolded and italicized. **

Previous Chapter <<< Chapter Five >>> Next Chapter

Author's Notes:

Alcyon is so so normal. TW: Masturbation

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy , @legionsofthehungry

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

“Alcyon’s in a coma and not responding.” Eric’s words played repeatedly in her head after their conversation. She stared at her phone gripped tightly in her hand. He said something about their bond breaking which caused this. Regret and shame plagued Amelia’s mind. Why did she lose her temper at him like that? She shouldn’t have said all those things to him. Now look at what happened. 

Amelia made her decision. She had to go back to Steelix River. She couldn’t lose Alcyon. Despite what happened between them, he was still her bonded… and… she… she still loved him. If there was some way to save him, she had to at least try. 

She turned to Mara, “Mom, I’m sorry to cut my visit short. I need to go back to Steelix River. Something’s wrong with Alcyon.”

“Oh dear! That’s too bad, but don’t let me stop you. Just remember to call me when you get home. Are you going to be alright?”

“I…” Amelia hesitated for a moment before breathing out, her tone resolute, “I will be, Mom. Thanks.” I have to be. She thinks to herself.

She was about to go upstairs to use the computer, Mara’s hand on her arm stopped her. Her mother looked at her worriedly, “If you ever feel like you need help, or you need to come home, just call… ok?”

Amelia hugged her mom reassuringly, “I will. I promise.”

*************

After she got home, Amelia went straight to Steelix Fortress to meet Osteron.

“Alcyon’s dying. He’s in an induced coma right now to slow the effects.” Osteron didn’t mince his words. 

Her breath caught in her throat. Alcyon was dying. Even though Eric told her about Alcyon’s condition, he didn’t mention that it was this bad. A spike of regret and fear stabbed through her heart. No. No. Not Alcyon… she might lose him too. What had she done?

The pair nodded to the Iron Warrior standing guard outside the room as they made their way to the bed where Alcyon laid. 

She had never seen him in such rough condition. Or this vulnerable, she thought uneasily. The chaos Iron Warrior laid on the bed, unconscious, connected to a machine that measured his vitals. His skin was cold to the touch, much to her worry. Alcyonr was usually very warm to the touch, like a furnace, like most space marines. This wasn’t right. His skin shouldn’t be feeling like this. 

Answering Amelia’s confused and worried look, Osteron explained, “The sorcerer said his bond with you is almost completely severed and is only hanging on by a few threads. Since he is intensely bonded to you, a fully broken bond is typically fatal.” 

Amelia’s fists tightened, “We had a terrible argument before I left to go home, but I didn’t know it could break a bond like this.” she replied softly. 

Picking up on the issue, Osteron inquired, “You said you went home. How far did you travel?” 

She mentally calculated, “My hometown is a three hour flight away, so about 2700 kms?”

“There are different ways to break a bond, distance is one of them. It makes sense why he fell ill like this, but it takes about two to three weeks for Astartes to end up in this state, for most cases anyways.” The apothecary hummed thoughtfully. 

“I didn’t know.”

She nearly killed Alcyon by being so far away. Amelia covered her mouth, feeling sick to her stomach. Yes, she was undoubtedly scared, angry and heartbroken from what he did and said, but she didn’t want to kill him! Her heart sank, her own ignorance hurt him so badly. 

Osteron eyed the scars on Amelia’s neck, “Outside of the argument, did he hurt you physically?” 

Ashamed, she looked away, her hand covering the marks Alcyon left. It would do her no good to try to hide it from Osteron, he could easily see through her lies. 

“Yes.” She reluctantly confirmed his observation, her voice small and quiet. 

Alcyon, you fool. Osteron cursed under his breath. It would explain why their bond was so severely frayed and how he deteriorated to his current state so rapidly. Alcyon was lucky that they had intervened as quickly as they did. Even more so that Amelia was willing to return after whatever harm he did to her. Though to be honest, he didn’t know why. Osteron supposed that strong emotions make baselines make strange decisions, but this will work to his advantage. There weren’t many Astartes around, so collaboratively, the decision was made to preserve as many of their fellow space marines as they could or those worth keeping alive, be they chaos or loyalist. 

“There are not many of us here on Ancient Terra and it would be ideal if we could save as many of our brothers as we could.” he explained to Amelia, “I would ask that you assist in Alcyon’s recovery as proximity to their bonded humans helps the Astartes recover at a faster rate in cases like this. if we can pull him out of this at all.”

Without giving time for her to answer, Osteron pulled up a nearby chair and gestured for Amelia to sit, “You need to spend the next two hours here with him so we can monitor his vitals for change. You don’t have to interact with him if you don’t wish to, I suspect your presence and proximity will be enough. We’ll be monitoring you both. If something happens or you don’t want to stay, Brother Erriox is here to pull you out. Once time is up, come see me and I will take a look at your injuries.” 

“I… I can do it.” Amelia replied nervously as she settled in the chair next to the unconscious Astartes. Satisfied, the apothecary left the couple to their privacy. 

She wasn’t sure what she was more hesitant about, Alcyon potentially waking up while she was there or that Osteron would be seeing the wounds and marks Alcyon left on her. She wasn’t sure how to face Alcyon if he woke up, or if she even wanted to. She wasn’t ready to confront all the things that happened between them. It was tempting to say “no” in all honesty, but guilt kept tugging at her heart to stay. And it was her fault that he ended up like this; it…was the least she could do. 

Plus Alcyon was chained to his bed, Erriox was just outside, and she could leave whenever she wanted to. That… gave her some peace of mind. 

Amelia stewed in her own anxiety, concluding that she would have to face both options eventually. She just hoped that Osteron wouldn't ask too many questions.  

A long while after Osteron left the room, Amelia got up to examine the chaos Iron Warrior for herself. For once, Alcyon looked like he had let his guard down, even though it was forced. His brows were less furrowed, his facial scars and muscles were relaxed. He looked softer, slightly younger, more at ease. She caressed his face, her hand tenderly tracing over the scars around his optics before running her fingers through his cropped grey hair. Amelia brushed over the base of what once was a horn that had grown out of his head like she had done before, feeling the hard texture, wondering what it would have looked like. 

She kissed his brow and then pressed her forehead gently against his, “I’m sorry Alcyon. I didn’t know that being so far away from you would hurt you like this…” she whispered. 

Her eyes roved over the familiar scars on Alcyon’s body. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the slow beating of his two hearts, frowning at the rhythm lacking its usual strength. 

Amelia sat back down, watching the clock and the displays on the machines, noting how his vital signs seemed a little stronger compared to when she first saw him. She waited as time wound down, every now and then getting up to checking on the unconscious Astartes.

Alcyon dreamt that Amelia was there with him. He didn’t know what she said, all he could focus on was her presence: her scent, her gentle touch, her kiss, her murmuring voice. His bonded was still here. It may be in his dreams, but she was still here. She hasn’t left him yet despite it all… their broken bond crooned out to him to reconnect as strands slowly started to grow. The soreness and pain in his body eased the more he dwelled on Amelia’s presence. It felt like it had been so long since he’s been in the presence of his bonded, that even this dream version of her was a comfort to his soul. Alcyon slept on, relaxed and unaware.  

Amelia felt so exhausted by the time she arrived at Alcyon’s room. She was glad that Osteron didn’t ask too many questions outside of the basic when and how, it was already embarrassing enough to show him the injuries that Alcyon left on her body. He checked her wounds, once satisfied, he suggested staying the next several nights at the base before returning home. It made sense, with Alcyon still in such critical condition. The door opened when she punched in the familiar code to Alcyon’s room, thankful that Osteron helped confirm that his code still worked. Amelia wandered in, took a shower, and curled into Alcyon’s bed, quickly falling asleep. 

The next day, Amelia went home after work and packed some clothes and toiletries before returning to the base to stay near Alcyon as Osteron requested. Despite Alcyon's state of unconsciousness, she was glad to see that his vital signs had improved somewhat from the day before. Osteron was right, her proximity might be helping in his recovery. Which was a good thing… but she was still apprehensive of Alcyon waking up while she’s there. 

The Iron Warrior was still unconscious when Amelia arrived. Her hand rested on his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief; although Alcyon’s body was still cold, the death-like chill she felt yesterday seemed to have dissipated. Amelia tenderly caressed his face, then moved down to his torso, tracing over the familiar scars on Alcyon’s chest. 

She loved him… he was her bonded Astartes still, but it was hard to forget his actions that night. Amelia shuddered. Her heart ached at the uncertainty. Would he hurt her in his anger again, like that night of their argument? She withdrew her hand and sat back down in the chair. 

Darkness surrounded him, but he was aware enough to tell that he was not at the base or anywhere he is familiar with. No. This was just his dream state; yet he could not sense an exit. Alcyon tried to get up, but his whole body felt weak and cold, as if something had been draining the energy from him. But now he could feel the warmth of his bond. It wasn’t strong, but it was there, persisting, and he grabbed onto it like a man drowning. 

The next day when Amelia visited again, Alcyon’s vitals looked to have stabilized, but he had yet to wake up. Amelia sighed, tenderly caressing Alcyon’s face, brushing off non-existent pieces of hair from him. Her hand drifted to his chest. His heartbeat was stronger than before. She wanted Alcyon to heal, to get better and wake up, but at the same time, Amelia hoped that he wouldn’t wake up while she was there. She shook her head and frowned. It was selfish of her to think that, but it’s just… she wasn’t ready to face him and everything that happened between them yet. She gently patted his chest, “I’m sorry, Alcyon.”

The warmth of the bond ebbed and flowed, Sometimes he could feel the warmth acutely, curling around him like a strong vine. Other times, the bond thins, like a vine drying out from the lack of water. In those moments, Alcyon wasn’t sure whether or not to hold it more tightly or loosely. What if it disintegrates if he was too rough with it? He was too rough with Amelia and look where that got him. He hurt her so badly, it felt like there was no coming back from that. Alcyon loosened his grip, but continued to follow it.

Amelia fell into a routine over the next few days: wake up, breakfast, work, spend time with Alcyon, have dinner, go back to Alcyon’s room to shower and sleep. There were minor improvements to the chaos Iron Warrior’s condition; he had yet to wake up, but some improvement, however small, was still progress. Despite the improvements, it still worried Amelia. Part of it was her guilt in being the cause of his condition, the other deeply rooted part was that she still loved him. How long would it take for Alcyon to wake up? Osteron only gave a range from a few days to several weeks which didn’t settle her uneasiness. 

She visited Alcyon again. He was still unconscious. She sighed, stroking his face, caressing old scars. Regret bubbled up in her heart, overriding her fear of him waking up when she was by his side. Amelia supposed that she would cross that bridge when that happened. She pressed her forehead against his, feeling his breath brush against her jaw. “I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I shouldn’t have left to go so far away.” she whispered mournfully.

Alcyon noticed the bond growing brighter and stronger. He could smell Amelia’s familiar scent.  He knew he was close. His steps grew faster until he broke into a run. He yearned to hold her. 

Amelia. Wait for me.

“I’m so sorry, Alcyon. Please wake up.” She pressed her lips to his and murmured, “I still love you.” 

Unaware that one of his optics had its recording feed turned on the entire time. 

**************************

Alcyon woke up. 

One of his optics was programmed to automatically start recording whatever was happening any time he went to sleep or became unconscious. Though sound wasn’t recorded, visual feed was usually good enough.

Alcyon played the recording. 

He replayed the feed. His hearts nearly stopped. 

Amelia had been there with him. He wasn’t dreaming. Alcyon touched his lips, he could tell from his optic feed that Amelia had kissed him. She returned. His bonded had returned! No wonder he could feel his bond’s warmth once again. Hope sparked within him, but it quickly fizzled out when the Iron Warrior looked around. Where was Amelia now? Why did she not stay?

“Welcome back.” a cheerful deep voice joked over the quiet buzzing in the background.

Alcyon focused on his Death Guard cousin standing beside his bed, “How long was I unconscious?”

Polistes answered, idly letting one of his wasps walk over his fingers, “About a week, give or take several hours…” he paused then added, “You are very lucky that Amelia returned to accompany you. Not many baselines would be willing to do that after what you did.”

“I realize that.” the Iron Warrior mumbled. He winced as he sat up and stretched. His body was strangely weak and stiff from disuse, not to mention his prosthetics were taken away. It’s been a long time since he felt this way. Now more clear-headed, Alcyon was disturbed at how easy it was for an intense bond to incapacitate an Astartes. He knew about it previously, but experiencing bond breakage firsthand brought a heightened awareness of a few things: how much his life was intertwined with the bond, how fragile the bond was and how fragile made him, and how important Amelia was to him…

“Where is Amelia?” 

“She’s at work.” Osteron’s stern voice replied as he entered with a Thousand Son sorcerer.

“Why didn’t she stay?” Alcyon asked while the apothecary checked the readings on the machines connected to him.

Osteron looked at him as if his bout with bond breakage dulled his mind, “Amelia is still afraid of you. It’s difficult for baselines to forget that type of violence against them… especially from their bonded.”

Of course, the apothecary wouldn’t let him forget it. The memory of his claw ripping through Amelia’s clothes flashed in his mind… had his claw gone any deeper… Alcyon closed his eye, trying to will that dark thought away. He questioned, “If she was so afraid, why did she return to save me?” 

Mythras the sorcerer, his eyes glowing with activated psyker powers, answered him, “Out of guilt mostly, and perhaps out of love. Emotions can make baselines do strange and hypocritical things.”

Guilt, love? Or rather out of pity?  It was clear from his recorded feed that Amelia still held some degree of affection for him. But what’s the point of bringing him back if only to never see him. Did she not plan to see him again? Only hover within his proximity so to keep this bond and him alive? Did he deserve her love even? Perhaps he deserved this kind of treatment from Amelia since he had gone against the very duty of being her bonded Astartes, his promise of always protecting her to the point of physically hurting her.

Alcyon was so mired in his thoughts of self-hatred and guilt that he nearly missed what Mythras said next. The sorcerer had a satisfied expression on his face after his analysis, “Your bond has recovered to 65% of what it once was. Further recovery will be up to the both of you.”

Osteron reattached his leg prosthetic, warning the chaos warrior, “You are under base arrest until we can be sure that you will not lose your mind nor arbitrarily harm others.”

Alcyon tested his legs; his eyes narrowed upon hearing that, “Then let me see Amelia.” he demanded. 

“That would be Amelia’s decision to make. Don’t forget the harm you did to her.” Osteron sneered, annoyed by Alcyon’s insistence. He checked the chaos warrior’s prosthetics and mobility again then dismissed him, “Behave and maybe you’ll see her. Polistes, accompany Alcyon back to his room.”

***************************

As soon as the door to his room closed behind him, Alcyon froze, alert yet confused. His room smelled like Amelia. His bed smelled like her. Had she been here? Slept here too? Alcyon smelled his bed again to confirm his suspicions. It was Amelia’s floral scent, there was no doubt about it. She had been there. 

Who’s sadistic prank was this? They needed to stop teasing him before he decided to lose the rest of his mental faculties. If Amelia had slept in his room why didn’t she stay? He wouldn’t have minded if she did. 

Alcyon laid in his bed trying and cursed. Her scent was everywhere: on his sheets, his pillow, his blanket. He tried to go to sleep, but his thoughts kept drifting, picturing Amelia sleeping there in his bed, wearing one of his shirts with no pants on, because she for some reason, did not bring her sleeping clothes. His shirt rode up her leg, exposing the expanse of her thigh. Alcyon swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth. He could still remember the softness of her skin under his hand…

Alcyon’s hand drifted down to palm himself. He wondered if Amelia would pleasure herself on his bed while waiting for his return? Her arousal staining his blanket? His pillow? A deep growl left his chest as he held the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply.  

Saliva gathered in his mouth. His cock twitched as his thumb rubbed over the sensitive tip. Vivid imagery played in his mind of Amelia naked, fondling herself, riding the edge of his pillow with his name falling from her lips in quiet gasps while she chased her orgasm. Her gasps turned into moans as she reached completion, her scent and arousal spilling and absorbing into the fabric on which his head laid. The chaos Iron Warrior groaned deeply and bit into his pillow, sucking on the fabric, tasting the fragments of Amelia’s scent left there. 

His abdominal muscles tightened and relaxed as Alcyon stroked and tugged on his cock. Precum leaked all over his hand, making his actions smoother. It’s been too long. Gods, he missed Amelia so much. His need for her was overwhelming. Alcyon let out a long breath and licked the drool from the corner of his lips, imagining her hand, her mouth caressing his cock as he stroked himself. 

The scene switched in his delirious mind; Amelia was riding him, the soft expanse of her body moving against his scarred torso, Alcyon’s hand squeezing the soft globe of her ass while he bucked into her from underneath. He adjusts his grip on his cock, remembering how her cunt squeezed around him each time he thrust into her. A part of him felt disappointed. It’s not the same. His hand could never replicate the same feeling as her tight, wet heat. 

“Alcyon! Please… I need you… Alcyon!” He heard her gasp as she rode him. 

“Amelia!” He grunted as he thrust through his fist. 

Amelia was his bonded. Amelia was his bonded whose body he claimed and left his marks on. Amelia was his bonded mate who he fucked and claimed over and over again. Amelia was his bond-mate who he memorized the taste and scent of and mapped out her body with his hand and tongue. Amelia was his mate who he vowed to keep and protect. Amelia was his bond-mate who had returned to him; to save him from the torment of their bond that he so carelessly broke. Amelia... Amelia… Amelia... Amelia…

Alcyon moaned her name as his hand gripped tightly,  his hips thrusting up, imagining himself spearing deep into her velvet heat; fully sheathed, his pelvis pressed against hers, spilling his seed deep inside. Hot milky cum splattered all over his hand and torso as he came. The Iron Warrior groaned, his hips falling back onto his bed, his spend quickly cooling. With his mind now clear, disappointment and yearning quickly took over again as he knew Amelia wasn’t there with him.

He wiped his hand on his chest, making his way to the shower to clean himself off. Hopefully he could wash away these lustful thoughts of Amelia from his mind so he can focus on sleep again. 

He needed his mate, his bonded, the other half to his soul.

Amelia, where are you?

[maxinemartinsdrill]

jackles on the other hand... i need u to speak on it! au michael was stellar until...

*sigh*

jackles is like... ugh. look he is actually a good actor it's just everyone was really lost on where the fuck this was going. I don't know if he just had terrible ideas about Michael or if he had bad directing but the whole thing was a mess. why. why is he dressed like a peaky blinders reject. when Jared did fun weird intonation for gadreel it was like cool! because he'd been imprisoned since the dawn of time, of course he's speaking in iambic pentameter. and it worked for him. why is like combat fatigues-wearing down to earth Michael suddenly doing all that... what's with the leather apron thing? and the cauldrons? AND WHY ON G-D'S GREEN EARTH DID DABB WRITE HIM TELLING A SYRIAN REFUGEE HE WAS A COWARD FOR NOT STAYING IN SYRIA?? it didn't even feel like commentary on the fact michael sucks and has no understanding of people it is literally just dabb being racist. also I can't help but cringe at the sister jo Michael meeting there's no need for it. we get it you want jackles wife to be awestruck at his wingspan or whatever. please leave me alone.

[orionremastered]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Orc! Husband who is a great warrior and leader, knows nothing but being used as a sword, a means to an end who's disillusioned and tired and accepts he's gonna die another pawn in another war, meeting a sweet human, a peasant from a local village who sees him as so much more. (The idea of some large war worn orc getting his scarred face caressed for the first time, being touched kindly for the first time having lived a lifetime of war)

i love this anon

warnings/tags- war mentions, i dont give the orc a name (i just call him orc/him) reader is gn (please dm me if their are any mistakes you see)

sorry this took so long for me to post

word count- 1667

The world was caught in a cycle of war. It was all you had ever known—villages burnt, homes lost, and people fleeing. The once fertile land surrounding your small village had been reduced to ash by decades of fighting. Your family had passed when you were young, victims of an earlier invasion. Now, you lived alone on the outskirts, tending to a humble garden, surviving day by day, hidden away from the larger conflicts that ravaged the region.

One day, word spread that another army was passing through. hims, they said. Great and terrible warriors, driven by bloodlust, used as weapons by those who wished to conquer the land. The mere mention of them sent shivers down your spine. You'd never seen an orc before, but the tales of their brutality haunted your nights.

But life had to go on. War was as much a part of your existence as the soil beneath your feet. You’d tended your small garden early in the morning, pulling weeds and harvesting what little grew in the rough soil, when you saw him.

He was massive—nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and green, scarred skin that glistened under the midday sun. He moved like a predator, every step deliberate and filled with the weight of someone who knew the battlefield like the back of his hand. His face was hard, worn from years of battle. His tusks jutted out from his lower jaw, and his eyes, dark and tired, scanned the landscape without emotion. His armor was dented and scratched, his war axe hanging loosely by his side.

You froze in place, heart pounding in your chest. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but his presence was enough to send a bolt of fear through your spine. Should you run? Hide? But as you hesitated, he turned his gaze in your direction, his sharp eyes locking with yours.

He didn’t move.

You held your breath, waiting for him to charge, to raise his axe, to shout in fury as the stories had always described. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at you. His posture was tense, but there was no hostility in his eyes. Just exhaustion, a deep weariness that went beyond the physical. 

Slowly, you stood, wiping your hands on your apron as you tried to gather your courage. “I-I’m not armed,” you stammered, not knowing what else to say. Your voice trembled, but you stood your ground, unable to look away from the giant in front of you.

He blinked slowly, as if processing your words. His brow furrowed, and for the first time, his lips parted to speak. His voice was gravelly, deep and tired. “I am… not here to fight.”

His words shocked you. Orcs were supposed to be mindless brutes, weren't they? Tools of war and destruction. But there was something in his voice—something that told you he was more than that. Something that hinted at a story far deeper than the legends you'd grown up with.

"I... I see," you replied, unsure of what to do with this information. "Why are you here, then?"

him seemed to consider this for a moment. His eyes drifted across the barren landscape, as if searching for an answer he didn’t have. Finally, he spoke again, his words slow and deliberate. “I was following orders. But the battle is done. And now, I am here.”

There was a sadness in his voice, a resignation that tugged at your heart. You hadn’t known kindness in a long time yourself, not since the war had taken everything from you. And here stood a creature—a warrior—who had clearly suffered more than most. It was a strange feeling, but you didn’t want to leave him there, lost in his own despair.

You took a tentative step forward. “Do you… do you need help?”

Heturned to face you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. “Help?” he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him.

You nodded, swallowing your fear as best as you could. “Yes. I… I don’t know much about orcs, but… if you’re lost, or need food, I can offer you what little I have.”

He seemed taken aback. His dark eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could see the wariness in him begin to waver. “Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “Why would you help me?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain it yourself. "Because... you seem like you’ve had enough pain. And I know what that’s like."

He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to decipher your words. Then, without a word, he sheathed his axe, the sound of metal scraping metal filling the silence between you.

"I am Orc," he said simply, as though it was the only name he had ever known.

You offered him a small, hesitant smile. "I'm... I'm Y/N. Come, if you're hungry, I have some food. It's not much, but it's something."

And so it began. He followed you back to your small home, his massive presence intimidating, yet strangely protective. Over the next few days, you learned more about him—not through stories, but through his actions. He wasn’t the mindless killer you’d feared. He was quiet, thoughtful even, though his words were few. He helped you in the garden, chopping wood with ease, fixing things around the house that had been neglected for too long. He never spoke of the war or the battles he had fought, but the scars on his body told enough of the story.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you sat together by a small fire. The crackling of the flames was the only sound between you for a while, until you finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at you for days.

“.. why did you stay?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. “I have known nothing but war. I was made for it. Used for it. There was always another battle, another fight. I thought that was all there was.”

You watched him carefully, noticing how his hands clenched and unclenched as he spoke.

“But when I met you…” His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure how to continue. “You did not look at me as a weapon. You did not fear me.”

Your heart ached for him. Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his arm. His skin was rough and scarred, but beneath it, you could feel the warmth of someone who had long been deprived of kindness. His entire body tensed under your touch, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked down at your hand, his brow furrowing in confusion, as if he couldn’t comprehend why someone would want to touch him in such a way. He had known nothing but pain and violence—his body bore the marks of countless battles, each one a reminder of what he was made to do.

Gently, you let your fingers brush against his face, tracing the deep scars that lined his jaw and cheek. His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in his eyes. He wasn’t just a warrior. He was someone who had been used and discarded, left to fight battles that weren’t his own.

"You’re more than just a weapon," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "You deserve more than this life of war."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if it was the first time someone had ever reached out to him with kindness. The tension in his body melted away, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders.

“I… don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted, his voice strained with vulnerability.

"Then let me show you," you said, your thumb gently brushing across his scarred cheek. "Let me show you that there's more to life than fighting."

In that moment, something shifted between you. The wall he had built around himself began to crumble, and him, the warrior who had known nothing but war, allowed himself to hope. Hope for something more, something better.

And in that hope, you both found solace.

---

As the days passed, he stayed. What had once been a strange and cautious arrangement became a companionship neither of you had expected. He helped you tend the garden, his strength turning the earth with ease. You taught him how to appreciate the small things—the sound of the wind in the trees, the feeling of warm sunlight on his skin, the simple joy of sharing a meal with someone who cared.

And slowly, he began to open up. He told you stories of his battles, not with pride, but with a sense of regret, of loss. He had been a tool, a weapon wielded by others, never given the chance to choose his own path.

But now, with you, he had found something different. Something worth fighting for—not with a sword, but with his heart.

You fell in love, slowly but surely. It was in the quiet moments, the shared glances, the way he protected you without ever needing to raise his weapon. And one night, as the stars twinkled overhead, you whispered the words that had been growing in your heart.

“I love you.”

He stared at you, his dark eyes filled with an emotion so raw, so powerful, that it nearly took your breath away. “I… love you too, Y/N.”

For the first time in his life, he let himself be vulnerable. He let himself feel something other than the cold steel of a weapon in his hand, something other than the rage of battle that had driven him for so long. He let himself feel love.

[shuaboo]

jealous sex with filo!haobin 💋

a/n: this was a request, thank you sm anon! i’m sorry this took so long. i had terrible writers block writing this, hence why it’s not the best! but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy. sorry for the rushed ending, going all the way would make it too long and i have 0 ideas:(

jealousy isn’t an uncommon feeling being with hanbin and hao. people always seem to assume that you’re all just a close group of friends.

that’s exactly what happened today. a guy approached the table during your dinner date, and asked for your number. obviously, you immediately turned down his offer but that didn’t stop your boyfriends from being jealous.

as you got home, they immediately have their hands and lips all over your body. your neck, collarbone, shoulders, tits, ass, everywhere. you’re sandwiched between your two jealous boyfriends, and there’s no other place you’d want to be in.

“should we leave our marks on her? para alam ng mga tao na sa atin lang siya? hm?” should we leave our marks on her? so people know she’s ours? hm?. says hao, who is now leading you to your shared bedroom. “maybe. that way wala nang lalapit na lalaki sa baby natin, isn’t that right?” maybe. that way guys won’t approach our baby anymore, isn’t that right? hanbin replies, now setting you down on the bed.

hao helps you out of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him and hanbin. “fuck, ang ganda mo, mahal. i can’t blame that guy from earlier for trying to ask you out, sobrang sarap mo tignan.” fuck, you’re so pretty, love. i can’t blame that guy from earlier for trying to ask you out, you’re eye-candy. he says as he stares at you, before attacking your upper body with kisses. he nips and sucks at your neck, leaving dark marks before moving down to your chest and tummy area.

hanbin on the other hand, has his eyes set on your center. he spreads your legs, revealing your wet, glistening pussy to him. “basang basa ka, i can’t wait to taste you.” you’re so wet, i can’t wait to taste you. finally, he goes down on you. he starts by kissing and lightly sucking your clit to stimulate pleasure, before licking a stripe up your slit. “we’re gonna make you cum so many times, you’ll go dumb and only remember us.” he skillfully uses his tongue, entering your hole. he knows how to make you feel good. using both his mouth and hands, he eats you out like you’re his last meal. “f-fuck! hanbin, i’m gonna cum—“ he smirks against your pussy, rubbing your clit harder and abusing your hole with his tongue faster. as you cum, he doesn’t stop. “w-wait! hanbin, tigil stop! sensitive pa ako! i’m still sensitive”

your words go unheard and hao decides to join you once again, stroking his cock in his hand. “shh, pretty. we told you, right? we’re going to fuck you and make you cum until its only our names that you scream and think of. now open up for me.” he slaps his tip on your lip, waiting for you to open up for him. as you open, he slowly pushes his cock in your mouth. he groans at the vibrations your muffled moans bring to his cock, as hanbin continues to lick up and make out with your pussy. “fuck.. i’ll go slow muna. then after, i’ll fuck this pretty throat of yours.”

you look up at him, eyes brimming with tears. he chuckles. “hah, you look like such a slut. hanbin is tongue deep in your pussy while you lay there and take my cock in your mouth.” he grabs a fistful of your hair, making you take more of him. hanbin pulls off your pussy for a second to speak. “but s’okay, because you’re our slut. our pretty doll molded for us to touch, love, and fuck. isn’t that right, hao?” hao smirks, speaking in between his own moans. “f-fuuuck, you- you’re taking my cock so well- of- of course, she’s our pretty girl. prettiest out there— even other dudes want her, but they never will, because she’s all ours. r-right angel?”

you pull of his cock, voice raspy. “y-yes! ‘m all yours… only want you two…” hanbin smiles against your clit, kissing it. and hao pulls your mouth back on his cock. “that’s right. this greedy little slut is only for us to claim.”

to summarize, the pleasure of being claimed by both of your boyfriends is… a lot. they’ll make sure you remember who you truly belong to, with no fail. but that’s fine. because sex is always better when they’re feelin’ particularly possessive and mean <3.

[hivemuthur]

Question: just how far are you willing to go with plots, kinkiness and freakiness? Lots of love <3

Hi Anon!

I honestly don't know, I guess I've been gross enough here for you guys to feel safe enough to not be judged.

From themes I've noticed I don't feel comfortable in: Viktor being heavily insecure without context (and I see a difference between just having an insecure yearning crush like all of us had at some point in life and those big doubts that make him throw away love -> I need a board with a lot of faces connected with red lines for that ok, it's called a slow burn), or dumbified. I think academic rivals is a tired theme. I'm not a fan of pregnancy kink (again, not because it irks me, I'm just at a point in my life where the topic brings me a lot of stress), professor kink (I had nasty professors, but ProfessorxProfessor I find cool), big glaring power imbalances. With age gap I'm not seeing it with Viktor but I would (probably will) write it for Silco for example, so here I'm flexible -> this is mainly because I love Viktor in his 30s and to incorporate big age gap here this would have to be slightly irky. And just a disclaimer, an age gap of 6-7 years is usually nothing to me, of course with the younger person being a fully fleshed adult. I'm also not a fan of JayvikxReader smut, fluff is ok! Not a fan of a specific Reader descriptions in terms of physicality, they are super vague as it is.

From plots: if I don't respond to something you guys sent it usually means I have no idea how to write it or it would have to be a multichapter work to make sense. I know I've done that in the past where I got a request and it got out of hand, so I'm not claiming it won't happen again, but right now I have two fics going with no end in sight and I want to write something for Silco after that :> If you send me an ask with a massive plot outline I probably won't write it though, I do like to come up with things.

Things I love: apparently marriage. Divorce is also hot (have you guys seen Kramer vs. Kramer? UGH). Obviously slow burns and AUs (Anon with princess!AU I love it, thank you for sending, it's gonna happen!), d/s dynamics, and I guess it's not a big come out and you guys can tell by now but blow jobs and when people are drooling :v

From purely sexual kinks? Look, I would've never come up with pegging on my own, but here we are, so just send me stuff and don't worry. I've done crazy things in my life, just keep it within legal bounds. A little hint: if you send me things off anon I can reply to you privately or drop you a dm if I have doubts. You can include it in the ask whether you want the request to be out in the open or if you want me to keep your identity secret when publishing a fic, I will respect it.

Omg sorry for an overly long and just terribly vague answer. All I'm saying is: I listen and I don't judge and if I get a chance I will let you know what doesn't sit right with me, which is totally okay because we are all different people. I'm sure rimming grossed some of you guys out. We have a saying in Poland: if something fits for everything it's shit :v So, follow your filthy heart's desires and let's see if we match freaks.

[madamejadex]

Hi, miss Jade. I’m an anon of yours but I’m here completely anonymously because you know who I am by emoji and I’m kind of ashamed with this.

I get this guilty, empty feeling in my chest when I don’t get praise/attention from others for a certain amount of time, and it makes me feel like a terrible person. I feel like I can’t love myself unless I’m validated by someone else.

It’s put me in some bad situations, where ill maybe enter a scene with a ‘domme’ on here and once it’s over I don’t get any aftercare or anything, which in turn just sets me back, but I don’t learn and I do it again and I feel like I’m so far in sub drop and it just keeps happening and I don’t know. I feel worthless and used but not in a good way.

I don’t want to be like this but I do not know how to change it, I just want to feel important and not only when I’m giving that part of myself away to someone. I just want to be loved.

I’m sorry to drop this, it’s okay for you to not reply.

Oh, sweetheart... Please don't feel like you have to apologize for bringing your heart here. There is nothing wrong with needing to be seen. Nothing wrong with wanting to feel important.

You’re not weak. You’re not selfish. You’re just hurting. And when we’re hurting, we sometimes reach for connection in ways that feel good in the moment but leave us empty after. I understand that, truly, I do. You’re not alone in this pattern, and you’re not damaged for falling into it. But my darling, what I need you to hear now is this:

You are not disposable. You are not just a scene. And you are not only lovable when you’re giving your submission away.

That hollow ache you feel when the attention fades? That isn’t neediness, it’s the ache of unmet care. Of your heart telling you, "I want to be held, not just played with." That ache is asking you to slow down, to listen, to stop giving pieces of yourself to people who haven't earned them.

You said something that stopped me:

“I just want to feel important and not only when I’m giving that part of myself away.”

And yes. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it? That’s the piece that matters most. And sweetheart, I’m telling you right now, you can’t wait for someone else to build that truth inside you. You have to start choosing yourself, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

If you’re not getting aftercare, if your scenes leave you feeling used in the wrong way, and if you're constantly crashing emotionally... that isn’t healthy. And that isn't how scene should feel like.

So I want you to start small. Start by choosing you even when you're aching to be chosen by someone else. Pause before you give your submission. Ask: – Do they know how to care for me? – Do they respect my need for aftercare? – Do they see me as a whole person, or just a fantasy?

And if the answer is no, then my darling… they do not deserve your submission. No matter how good the high feels at the start.

You are allowed to want care. You are allowed to need affection and reassurance and attention. But you also deserve to learn what it feels like to love yourself without having to be undone first.

And you don’t have to figure it all out today. You just have to want better for yourself. That’s the first step. And I already see you taking it.

I’m here. I see you. You’re not too much. You’re not a burden. You’re a soft, brave, beautifully open soul who’s trying to learn how to stop surviving and start being held.

Start with that. Start with you. 🤍

xo Miss Jade

[ryuichirou]

Ohh!!!! I'd love to know your thoughts on what each character's favorite kissing style is :) Long and slow, sloppy, clean, short and sweet, quick rapidfire kisses, teething at the lips, kissing as much and as often as possible, or only giving a kiss as a special reward.... Whatever comes to mind ^^ ❤️

Anon!! This is another ask that got us very excited even though it took this long to actually reply lol, but I really like this type of asks, because it makes us think about everyone.

One thing that I would like to note is that when I look at the cast, I feel like quite a lot of them don’t have much/any experience with kissing, and would probably be bad at it. With that in mind, I kind of ended up roasting a lot of the boys lol I’m sorry. I hope it’ll still be a fun read~

Without further ado, let’s talk about how bad these boys are at kissing, and what kind of kissing style they prefer, if any.

Riddle is one of the worst kissers in the entire cast. He has read tons of literature about the topic, a lot of articles and books, but as you can imagine, none of that translates into actual real life kissing. If I was to describe his kissing style, it would be “surprisingly eager, but also anxious at the same time”. But he tries his best!

Ace and Deuce are also both horrible kissers. One would assume that Ace would be alright at it because he actually used to have a girlfriend at some point, but he only kissed her like once and then decided that he just didn’t like kissing. The plot twist was that he didn’t like kissing girls. Regardless, he is still bad at it.

And Deuce is sliiiightly better because he has more experience because of his bad boy past, but these two kissing is painful… it looks painful for these two (are you guys kissing or fighting?) and it is painful for anyone who watches them. So their kissing style is somewhat aggressive, even though Deuce doesn’t mind soft kisses.

Trey is the type of person who would say that he is actually terrible at kissing because he has no experience, but suddenly ends up being an amazing kisser. He is also very nice to kiss because of his dental hygiene and attention to his lover’s gums and teeth. He is gentle and caressing. And annoying; what do you mean “I’m bad at it”?? Fuck you, Trey-

Cater is actually a good kisser. He has some experience, but his problem is that he never really feels anything when he gets to kiss someone. But he also doesn’t mind kissing anyone he finds attractive or fun to kiss, hence the experience: he’s going to be out of town soon anyway, so who cares. Cater’s entire thing is way too depressing I’m sorry… But technique-wise he is probably quite versatile and doesn’t have a favourite style.

Leona is also a good and experienced kisser. He seems aggressive, but he is usually provoking, as if poking a person he kisses to make them do all the work for him. I should also mention that all the Savanaclaw boys sometimes lick their lovers’ cheeks and lips, and this counts as kissing too.

Ruggie is an amazing kisser, because he used to take money for that.  Savanaclaw is full of horny virgins who want to get their first kiss or to get better at kissing, and Ruggie doesn’t mind smooching anyone for a good price. He also probably doesn’t have a favourite kissing style, but that’s because he ties kissing and business so closely together: he’s yet to meet anyone who he would genuinely want to kiss for free/without any type of gain.

Jack has never kissed before, so he doesn’t have a favourite kissing style… but if he did, it would probably be both animalistic and gentle; he would actually lick and bite his partner a lot.

Azul is very bad at kissing, he is actually quite similar to Riddle (he did his research too…), but sliiiiightly better. He isn’t all that interested in kissing, because he sees no point in it, but if there was some gain in it for him or if he was provoked, he could spend an entire week learning how to kiss just to prove a point. He doesn’t have a favourite kissing style, but whenever he kisses, it feels like his goal is to dominate his partner. Or to suck their tongue out of their mouth idk.

Jade has never been asked to kiss someone :( If you talked to him about it, he would make it seem like he is very upset and self-conscious about it. But in reality he doesn’t really care: just like Azul, he isn’t really interested in kissing. I think his kisses would be suffocating, I don’t know how to explain it though…

Floyd kisses a lot. Floyd kisses a lot and Floyd is one hell of a messy kisser. There is a lot of tongue, teeth and saliva (sometimes even fingers) involved whenever Floyd kisses a person. People usually assume that this is just how merpeople kiss, but if you ask another merperson, they would say “uhhhhhh no???”; no one knows why Floyd is the way he is… The plot twist is that Floyd is actually a very good kisser. He can kiss a person without biting their tongue off, he can even be pleasantly gentle. He just doesn’t want to, this is why his kissing style is uhhh UNIQUE I guess.

Also, Floyd probably has the biggest kiss-count when it comes to specifically kissing other NRC students: the boy is a kissing machine when he is in the mood.

Jamil is an amazing kisser. It’s a mystery why he is such an amazing kisser; does he have a lot of experience?? Who knows. He is passionate, hot, slow, but also teasing: Jamil clearly knows what he’s doing whenever he kisses a person.

Kalim is a horrible kisser with 0 experience, but he is very eager to learn. He’s going to ask Jamil to teach him, and after ~6 hours of kissing he would go “ah-ha-ha, I still don’t know how to kiss! Sorry, Jamil! But it felt really good!” with Jamil in agony because his mouth hurts after Kalim’s passionate attacks on his tongue and cheeks…

Vil is quite a good kisser, he has practiced a lot. He is affectionate and teasing when he is in the right mood, but he usually isn’t a fan of kissing. Mostly because a lot of times it doesn’t happen at the right time + ruins his makeup. He also isn’t a fan of kissing roles, because whenever he has to kiss someone on-screen or on-stage, everyone makes too big of a deal out of it and goes completely batshit crazy on twitter.

Rook is such a great kisser it’s actually scary. When they shared their first kiss, Vil was absolutely certain that Rook is going to be bad at it, act all barbarian-like and maybe bite his face off, but for some reason Rook has this stupidly amazing talent for kissing. I don’t know how exactly to describe his kissing style, but he just knows all the right spots to touch and all the right ways to angle his face to make the kiss deeper and more pleasant. This doesn’t mean that he can’t be aggressive or a little bit feral, mind you.

Epel is also one of the worst kissers out of the cast: he doesn’t have much experience being around other kids his age, so this whole kissing business is like another language for him. But if someone was to talk to him about it, he would flex so hard as if his life fucking depends on it lol He also tries to be as aggressive and passionate as possible whenever he kisses. For some reason, he gets into harder=better mentality, maybe out of his own insecurities. Epel has so much to learn…

Idia also has zero experience, obviously. But he also doesn’t really want to experience kissing, partially because he doesn’t see any reason to, partially because of his insecurities. If anyone was to try to kiss Idia, Idia would protest by rationalizing and naming all the reasons why it is a bad idea. He’ll name such reasons as “have you seen my teeth? Yes, exactly”, something of this sort. Stuff that doesn’t necessarily sound like “I am a loser and I am terrified of embarrassing myself”, but instead sounds like “this is a horrible idea; you aren’t really smart, I guess”. But if he was to kiss with someone, he would probably just freeze with his mouth open… he really needs someone to guide him, otherwise it won’t work.

Ortho is actually very good at kissing! You wouldn’t believe that this is his first kiss. He would get prepared for it by reading all the articles and books and watching all the movies, but his result would be much more impressive than Riddle’s and Azul’s. Maybe it’s because he analyzes the information and applies it to himself differently… but yeah, he’s downloading a library of kissing styles as we speak. And he is eager to try all of them!

Sebek is horrible at kissing… He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t understand how to make it pleasant or not wet, but if the person he’s kissing is Worthy (and if he is kissing them, they usually are, unless it’s Idia…), he’ll try his best. Like a very eager, but aggressive puppy. Similarly to Riddle, he is both eager and anxious, but more aggressive. He also bites a lot…

Silver is quite experienced and overall pretty good at kissing. He isn’t aggressive at all, he doesn’t drool too much, he knows that he’s doing even when he’s feeling sleepy; it’s like muscle memory. His kissing style is sweet, soft and nice. I would describe him as gentle and princely.

Lilia, however, pretty much assaults every mouth he kisses. He used to pretty bad at kissing, but at this point in his life has gotten amazingly good (I guess this is what sleeping around and being a war criminal does to a person). But he still prefers to get aggressive, overwhelming and greedy. It’s very weird, when you consider that his own mouth is small and cute, but I guess looks can be deceiving.

Malleus is, and I’m sorry for saying that, quite underwhelming. He is flirty, teasing and provoking, but after all this build-up, when a person actually gets to kiss him, it almost feels… lame? But it’s not like he is bad, it’s just that because of all the flirting the contrast hits harder, I guess. He never gets a chance to kiss, okay? He’ll get better after he gets more kisses. But similarly to Idia, I feel like he needs someone to guide him.

[jenniferhills]

I know what it’s like to wake up everyday and feel like you’ll never be loved and you’ll never belong anywhere. I serious have a lot of anxiety about it and I think I’m deeply ashamed and embarrassed to be alive and go outside. However, I just want you to remember sometimes we have to indulge and engage in the things that give us joy - so when you’re feeling down you should always do something you love. Like some kind of art, or watch a show or movie. I know it isn’t much but it does make being alive just a bit more bearable.

You seriously deserve the world <3

🥺🥺🥺 first of all this is incredibly sweet and when I saw this in my inbox I was like this

Ok I’m gonna actually read more this bc I kinda rambled in here and I get self conscious when I do that 🫣

I did end up taking a nice hot relaxing shower and I watched one of my comfort shows for a while and that never fails to cheer me up at least a little bit! And now I’m eating grapes my beloved and watching baseball (my favorite sport :’)) so my afternoon is definitely better than my morning was lol

I know exactly how you feel though bc it’s a very similar way to how I feel. And honestly it is a terrible way to feel, so I just wanna say that I’m sorry that you can unfortunately relate. Life really can be so fucking difficult. I wish there was a way to turn off our brains and get rid of this kind of thinking :( but you’re right!!! Sometimes just doing something nice for ourselves, or doing something to bring us even just a smidgen of joy, can be enough to shut those thoughts out even for a little bit. Kindness goes a long way and that includes self kindness too, and that’s something I definitely could work on remembering and practicing tbh.

But YOU deserve the world my dear anon!!!! I hope that you are having a wonderful day (or morning or night, whatever it is wherever you are!!) and I hope that you’re doing something that brings you happiness and joy and comfort too!! 💜💜 (and pls honestly feel free to message me at any time if you want to, I’m slow at replying lol but I’m still here <3)

[starfleetimagines]

Slow and Steady [C. Chapel]

Pairing: Christine x female reader

Word count: ~1k

Summary: Y/N and Christine are best friends. After spending the day together, Y/N admits to not only being bisexual but having feelings for Christine, too.

Notes: Requested by an anon. This is my first time writing for Christine and my first full Trek fic in a while, so I apologize at its quality. Still accepting queer prompts for Pride month!

Tag list: @agent-catfish-kenobi @space-helen @plaguedoctorsnake @shadyfirecollector

Yours and Christine’s laughs bounce of the walls of the corridor as you make your way through the ship.

“I can’t believe you almost let me buy that,” you say between laughs.

Christine grins at you. “I didn’t know what it was! If I had realized sooner I would have stopped you before the shopkeeper came over.”

You roll your eyes, but smile. While the Enterprise is docked at a space station for a few meetings, most of the crew has been granted some R&R time, either on the station or on the ship. You and Christine decided to have a friend date on the station and see what it had to offer. You went to a few restaurants and a bar, visited a Vulcan meditation garden, visited an old fashioned movie theatre, and walked around the shopping level where you almost bought a Klingon sex toy.

In your defense, the shop had been called Treasures of the Galaxy and boasted their collection of items from all different worlds. What you thought was a pretty vase had been sometime else entirely. Luckily no one other than Christine had witnessed that, so at least you wouldn’t be teased about it by anyone else.

“I would have bought it for you if I’d known you were so into that kind of thing,” she muses teasingly.

You shove her shoulder and scoff. “You’re terrible.”

“I know.” She flashes you a grin and you can’t help but smile.

When you reach your quarters, you tilt your head to the side. “Want to come in? It’s not too late.”

Christine smiles cheekily. “Why, Y/N, if I had known I would be invited over I would have at least paid for dinner.”

You smirk and open the door. “You can buy next time.”

“So my lack of date etiquette hasn’t put you off?” she asks as she walks backwards into your quarters.

You laugh, though you wish you were both being serious. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good. Because I need someone to explore places with me.” She walks to your couch and gestures for you to sit with her. “Spock will only do so much with me.”

You give her a look as you sit next to her. “I thought you were over that.”

“What? Over Spock?” She smiles and leans her elbow against the back of the couch, propping her cheek against her closed fist. “I am. Don’t get me wrong, he’s amazing to look at, and I like spending time with him, but that silly little crush is long gone.”

“Oh.” You hope she can’t see the relief on your features.

“But speaking of crushes,” she drawls, shifting to pull her knees up. “That guy at the bar was totally flirting with you.”

“What?” You scoff.

Christine raises an eyebrow and smiles. “He was cute. You should have asked him out.”

You shook your head and looked away. “I didn’t really notice.”

“Really?” She laughs quietly.

“I was distracted,” you reply simply and you lean your foot out to nudge her ankle.

“Oh come on, I’m not that distracting,” she defends with another laugh.

You shrug and smile at her softly. “You can be.”

Christine rolls her eyes playfully. “Well, I’m sorry for cockblocking you, then.”

You laugh at her choice of words. “You didn’t. I… Kind of have my eye on someone else, anyway.”

Christine leans forward, eager to learn more. “Oh? What’s his name?”

You shift and clear your throat. Christine doesn’t know that you’re bi. She’s only ever heard about your ex—a guy you dated at the academy—and your attraction to women never really came up. You didn’t want your coming out to her being you admitting your feelings for her, but… The way she looks at you, the way she touches you every chance she gets, the way she laughs with you… It gives you hope that maybe the feelings are mutual.

“Um. Her name,” you mumble.

“Oh,” Christine says, then shrugs a little and smiles. “Okay, what’s her name?”

You try to hide a grin. Of course, you knew she’d react fine. She herself isn’t straight, and you knew it wouldn’t really be a big thing. But sharing this part of yourself with her, no matter how she feels about you, feels freeing and comforting.

“Um,” you repeat. “Her name is Christine.”

You see her eyebrows furrow and her lips part slightly.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, and you try your best to ignore it as you move closer. “It’s you. I uh. Maybe kind of have a crush on you? And I know you’re not—not really big on commitment and relationships stress you out and we don’t have to do anything or—or be anything but um—I thought you should know—”

Christine leans forward and cups your cheek with her warm, soft hand. “Y/N,” she says softly.

Your tongue darts out between your lips and you meet her gaze. You see a tenderness in her eyes that makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N,” she repeats, quieter this time, barely a whisper. Then she closes the gap between the two of you and kisses you. You involuntarily sigh through your nose and lean closer. The kiss is short, only lasting a few moments, but you’re both smiling stupidly when it ends.

“Wow,” you whisper, and Christine giggles.

“You’re adorable,” she says, leaning up to feather a kiss to your forehead.

Blushing you smile. “So… Can we consider today our first official date?”

Christine smiles, too, but she leans back a little bit. “I… I want to. But… You said it yourself, relationships stress me out.” When your smile falls, she quickly continues, “I want to try it though! With you, I… you make me feel like I could do it. But I just. Can we go slow?”

You wrap your arms around her neck loosely and nod. “Of course. We can go at whatever pace makes you most comfortable. I get it, I really do. I’m not going anywhere.”

Christine visibly relaxes and she sighs. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” you reply with a smile.

Laughing quietly, Christine leans closer and kisses you again and this time, it lasts longer than just a few moments.

[fishedeyelenz]

*sniffles* the…..*sobbing* the gentle ask…..*wipes nose on sleeve* ugh with Billy I just…*cries into hands*

Hnnnng oh Billy….how I long to be gentle with him!! I’m a very meek person, I’m very slow and cautious….so, I’m very good at being gentle, not to mention I bloody love being gentle and soft! And there’s this thing I want to do with Billy SO SO SO SO BADLY!!! Okay so, growing up and stuff, my mama would hold us or my cousins and she would just gently ever so softly, run her fingers all over our faces to soothe us and to help us fall asleep, she rub her finger up our nose bridge and follow our eyebrows and then barely run her fingers down our face and it’s like a spell lol. And even now, I’m twenty four, but she still does that to me when I’m in the hospital and having a rough go of it (I’m in the hospital a lot lol) and it’s just….TERRIBLY nice.

I desperately long to do that to Billy!!! I just wanna…slowly, and quietly, and warmly, just get cozy in bed with him, I want to make him feel safe, and I would just happily run my fingers in his face, and I would hope it would just, make him melt, like a kitten when you start to pet them and they close their eyes and lean into it and start purring!! I think one of the reasons I would love to do that with him, is cause I love animals terribly, I love being very soft and slow, and winning their trust, and it’s so pure and sweet when they feel safe around you, and Billy reminds me of that, like a feral scared animal used to kids running after him and kicking him for fun, like he didn’t even know it was possibly a human could touch him without hurting him, let alone so sweetly and lovingly and now he’s purring and feels utterly at peace and follows you cause now he’s addicted!! I mean, isn’t that just the sweetest? Isn’t that the most gentle of things? A soul trusting you so, feeling at home with you, unashamed of affection? I mean…..*starts crying again* ooooooooooogghh

(sorry for replying so late, was revising and editing a fic of mine. thank you for your patience anon)

MY MOTHER DID THAT TO ME TOO WHEN I WAS VERY LITTLE, THE FUCK!!!! I think Billy would love having someone doing that to him, to get to be so vulnerable with someone. Of course, it would take a long time for the partner to get to that point, as you said, he never knew such kindness and fear of other people still takes over him frequently... but when he gets to that point, gets in those moods, as you perfectly put it, he would be addicted. He would want nothing more then your touch and your soothing and just augh!!! so soft! and ofc he would purr.... cat boy.

I imagine it would take months of you two knowing each other for you to do this, and in the comfort of your bedroom you would soothe him after a very hard day, his face illuminated by lamplight. And he would start breaking down after a few caresses, but if you tried to pull away, he would grab your hand and put it back to his face, whispering and mumbling and whimpering for more. And like that, till he falls asleep.

There isn't really that much more I can add, you put it perfectly in your ask, and it made me very soft when I read it <3 Sorry to hear about your stints at the hospital, I truly wish you all the luck and health. And truly, human connection as you described, is just what everyone needs, even fucked up attic men </3 I'm glad you have someone to comfort you <3

Thank you for sending in the ask, and good luck to you!!

[aquaburst3]

Hey same anon who asked for the RSA/heroic Yuu fics. Sorry for the late reply. Just wanna say thanks for the fics! I just enjoy more heroic Yuus or nice Yuus than the ones who just kinda seem tired overall and act like they want to die. I didnt know how else to describe these types of Yuus so I just went with sassy and annoyed by everyone. Even if the twst guys were mean to me I would be too nice to try and fight back because their backstories are just so sad. But I wouldnt let them step all over me thats a given. I have a strange attraction to heroic people ig.

Eh, it's cool. We all have different tastes in characters.

With me, it's whether or not I connect with the protagonist. I enjoy fics with "nicer" Yuus and ones with more cynical or sassy ones. It all depends on how well written the story and the protagonist is. Though, I admit I have a preference for more "realistic" ones where they react to the story like real people and have large flaws that they need to overcome as people. I think that's what should matter most at the end of the day, whether or not you connect with the MC.

Though, now that you broadened the definition a bit, I have some more. "Through The Glassy Lens" by iram0123, the "Twisted Memories" series by LeaderPinhead, "A Million and One Minutia" by GrayAthena and "Once Upon a Dream" by AvionVadion are also worth checking out. They all have realistic and fun female "Yuus". The second one is my favourite, even if I wouldn't call that Yuu "overly heroic".

As a heads up, only the second one has updated recently. AvionVadion said that they were taking a hiatus until the Diasomnia arc is completed on the JP server due to Malleus being a major character and wanting to have his lore be as canon accurate as possible. (I personally don't agree with that, and I'm coming up with my own shit for mine due to canon lore being terrible and making zero sense. But, whatever. Their fic, their choice.) Iram0123 is just a general slow updater. Granted, there's nothing wrong with this. Writing fics is for fun and in some cases is used to improve your writing skills to publish one day. People are allowed to update their shit at any pace they want. I just wanted to give a heads up, just in case.

[anto-pops]

To the Victor Go the Spoils - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Since Sebastian can't hold himself accountable and show up to Quidditch practice, Imelda takes matters into her own hands and bans him from being around you until the upcoming game is finished. It's something easier said than done.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sebastian having a terrible time in lieu of Imelda's no-sex-ban, but good things always come to those who wait.

Based on a request I received! Hope you like it anon :)

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit content

Full fic can be found here on Ao3! 

It’s not like you couldn’t tell Sebastian was overwhelmed. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, despite his efforts to always hide them. A boggart could mirror him in a flash and betray his fears and his thoughts, but even then you would know what to expect beforehand, because you knew him better than anyone. 

Between classes, the new Quidditch season, and his new goal of becoming an Auror, Sebastian felt like he was being pulled in a thousand different directions all at once. Realistically, it shouldn’t be so difficult for him to prioritize one task at a time. That’s how easy it would be to solve his problems; he only needed to slow down and take a breath before diving back into the bottomless workload. But it didn’t matter what he told himself or how he rationalized everything– he was still stressed and on the verge of tearing his hair out. 

You watched as Sebastian pushed around a sausage on his plate, his breakfast mostly untouched while he warred with the thoughts in his head. 

“You should eat,” chimed Ominis from across the table, tired of listening to the scrape of Sebastian’s fork on the platter. “Don’t you have Quidditch practice in an hour? You’ll need the energy.” 

“Not really hungry,” Sebastian replied monotonously, and you frowned. 

Popping your last piece of sliced fruit in your mouth, you jabbed at Sebastian’s sausage with your fork and held it up to his lips imploringly. “Eat. He’s right, you’ll be useless out there if you’re running on fumes.” 

Pressing the greasy meat to Sebastian’s freckled lips garnered a small smile from him, but that was it. He gingerly pushed your hand away and shook his head, letting his chin fall against his palm with a sigh. “Sorry darling, really though. I think I’ll throw up if I try at this point.” 

Grumbling something about ‘taking better care of himself’, your trio’s attention was then grabbed by the sound of the Great Hall doors being thrown open. The fact that Imelda had the strength to actually make the monstrous slabs of wood ricochet off the wall was terrifying, but the feeling paled in comparison to the fear you felt when your eyes landed on her furious expression. 

“Sallow!” she bellowed over the chatter in the dining room, and a hush seemed to fall over the crowd. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Sebastian’s back was to the doorway, but you watched as his eyes pinched shut at the sound of the Quidditch captain’s voice. Merlin’s beard– this was just what he didn’t need. Ominis fought a smile at the sound of Imelda stomping over to where you were seated, and when she came to stop behind you, you cast a pleading look over your shoulder at her. 

“Imelda, he’s not feeling great today–” 

“Bullshit,” she cut you off, and your mouth snapped shut with an audible crack. “He’s not feeling great but he still has time to run around school instead of coming to practice? I think not. Get your ass up, Sebastian, I’m not letting you miss a third day.” 

His dark eyes made a full circle in his skull, but he sighed, already resigned to his fate. There was no arguing with Imelda when she was in one of her moods, and he knew he’d already done enough to piss her off by blowing off Quidditch practice two days in a row. He wouldn’t put it past her to kick him off the team entirely if he started to grouse. 

Sebastian shot you a smile as he stood from his seat, although it kind of looked more like a grimace. Before he could move to head for the doors, he watched as Imelda snatched the fork you’d skewered his sausage with. She spun towards him, her free hand flying to his face in a split second, and when her fingers pinched his nose and jerked his head up, Sebastian’s mouth was left open long enough for his Captain to shove the food between his lips. 

“Mmph–” the sausage hung limp in Sebastian’s slack mouth, his eyes widening at the brazen action, but Imelda only nodded once, pleased with her handy work. 

“There. Eat that on the way. And you,” she pointed a crooked finger at you, making you pause. “Unless you’re going to drag Sallow’s lazy ass to the field every day this week, stay away from him. He’s useless to me if he can’t play right and something tells me you’re a bigger distraction than you are a help.” 

An indignant sound resonated from your throat, but before you could formulate a retort, Imelda had spun on her heel and was dragging Sebastian out of the Great Hall by the fabric of his cloak. He cast one last irritated glance at you over his shoulder, sausage link perched between his lips, before he disappeared completely from sight, and you scoffed. 

“Unbelievable. Who the hell does she think she is?” 

It was a mostly rhetorical question, but Ominis chuckled across from you and scraped his remaining breakfast into a pile before answering. “She is the Captain of the team. Honestly I’m surprised it took her this long to drag Sebastian back to the field. He has been rather… preoccupied, recently.” 

Exasperated, you exclaimed, “Yeah, with school! She can’t seriously think I’m to blame for him blowing off practice. Sebastian is going to do what he wants to do, we both know that.” 

Ominis shrugged before spooning his last bite into his mouth, choosing his words carefully as he chewed and swallowed. “True. However, you have to admit he has spent every waking minute of his free time this week with you. It’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong, but we also know Sebastian will always prioritize what he likes to do over what he should do.” 

It frustrated you to admit it, but Ominis had a point. Whatever, if Imelda wanted Sebastian to herself to focus on Quidditch, then so be it. The big game against Gryffindor was in three days. You could keep your distance from Sebastian for that long, for his sake and maybe for yours as well. It pained you to admit it, but you had been putting off studying for your exams, preferring to get tangled in the sheets with Sebastian late at night and canoodle like teenagers. 

Convinced the rest of the day would be boring and slow moving, you sighed and rose from your seat. “Come on, let’s head to the library. Might as well spend the next three days catching up on some reading.” 

Ominis neatly organized his cutlery on his plate before plucking his wand from the table and standing. “That’s the spirit. I wouldn’t worry too much, three days is nothing in the grand scheme of things.” 

For some reason, you didn’t believe him. 

—

Imelda made good on her word to keep Sebastian away from you in his free time. Every time you saw him around school he was wearing his Quidditch uniform, grass and dirt stains accumulating on his knees and elbows with each passing hour. He looked beyond haggard, but he seemed to be in good enough spirits when you finally sat beside him in charms class a day later. It was the first chance you’d been given to talk with him since the other morning, and Sebastian seemed as eager to be around you as you were to be beside him. 

“Hey stranger,” he whispered with a smile as Professor Ronan started on a tangent about responsible wand usage. 

Your grin was ear splitting, “Hey yourself. How has practice been going?” 

He shrugged nonchalantly, flipping through his textbook to give the appearance of following along in the lesson. “As good as it can be, I guess. Imelda’s new trials are brutal but effective. I like to think we’ll crush Gryffindor to dust come this weekend.” 

“That’s good. Is she still keeping you on a short leash?” 

At that, Sebastian’s face fell, his brows slamming down in disbelief. “You have no idea. Do you know what she told me after assaulting me with that sausage the other day? She said ‘no hanky-panky until we win the game’. Apparently my having sex is a distraction and she won’t have any of it.” 

Sebastian groaned under his breath when you lifted your hand to muffle your laughter. “Wow, she isn’t messing around this time. Did she put you in a chastity belt or something?” 

“Thank fucking Merlin she hasn’t, but I wouldn’t put it past her. It’s the most counter productive thing I’ve ever heard in my life. How is not having sex going to win us the game? If anything it’s detrimental to my performance– I’m all strung out and whiny.” 

“Honestly, I think it’s just her own unique form of punishment for skipping practice,” you murmured. “Better sort out your time management skills fast, who knows what she’ll do in the future if you start slacking off again.”

Before he could reply, Professor Ronan was instructing the class to pair up and practice a new spell. Free from Imelda’s piercing gaze for one blessed hour, Sebastian didn’t hesitate to place his hand on your shoulder, silently claiming you as his partner. 

The rest of class breezed by fairly quickly, and afterwards when everyone had been dismissed to head out to lunch, you found yourself being led down a corridor into a dark, dusty broom closet by Sebastian. You felt your boyfriend’s hands on your waist as he guided you backwards against the wall, and then his lips were on yours, chasing away the hollow feeling that had existed in your chest since he’d been kidnapped from the Great Hall the day prior. 

It was frantic and desperate, both of you trying in vain to taste as much of the other as possible. Your hands were everywhere; in his hair, scratching down his chest, then underneath the pressed fabric of his dress shirt as your fingers danced across his burning skin. Sebastian’s tongue delved deep in your mouth, swallowing the tiny mewls his kisses pulled from you with deep rooted pride. When his knee nestled itself in between your spread legs and pressed against your core, you couldn’t help but moan loudly at the sensation, wanting instantly to feel more of him after one mere day of trying not to be a distraction. 

As Sebastian’s hand came up to undo the top button of your blouse, light suddenly flooded the dirty closet, sending the two of you scurrying apart flushed and panting. 

“Well well, my little bird was right. You were being naughty. Tsk tsk, Sallow.” Imelda had her hands firmly planted on her hips, an utterly devilish smile playing on her lips. “Out you go, dear. Sebastian needs to eat lunch and then it’s straight to the Quidditch pitch for practice.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Reyes. Is nothing sacred anymore?” Sebastian’s hands raked through his disheveled hair, looking like the textbook definition of ‘frazzled’ and ‘horny’. 

“My rules are sacred, and you damn near broke the most important one. You seriously can’t keep it in your pants for two more days? It’s not like I’m asking you to cut off your manhood and leave it with her. It’s just pathetic at this point.” 

An elaborate string of profanities fell from Sebastian’s lips as he strode out of the closet past Imelda, his hands curled into fists at his side. He said nothing to you on his way out, but you already knew he was in for it now. His erection had been painfully obvious pressed against your thigh through his trousers. 

Imelda was still standing in the doorway, taking in your own unkempt appearance with a coy smirk. “You can have him back after the game, I promise. In the meantime, I would go clean up if I were you. You look like you’re in heat.” 

She turned to leave then, the closet door drifting shut in your face as you gaped at the empty space where she had disappeared from. 

That woman was unbelievable. You silently wished Sebastian luck with the brutal case of blue balls you knew he would be sporting for the rest of the day. 

— 

The game was unbelievably intense. 

Imelda had definitely put her team through the ringer in the days leading up to Saturday, but the same could be said for Gryffindor’s players. Every time Slytherin scored, Gryffindor seemed to bounce back almost instantaneously with a point of their own. Your eyes had been glued to Sebastian the entire time, watching in awe as he zipped around the field and evaded bludgers with a finesse you couldn’t help but cheer for. 

He scored the next point, psyching out Gryffindor’s keeper with a fake throw towards the left hoop before angling his arm at the right one. The quaffle soared through the ring, and the crowd around you roared in support. 

“Sebastian scored!” you exclaimed and grabbed Ominis by his forearm, shaking him wildly with enthusiasm. “It’s fifty to forty now– we might actually win this!” 

“Where is Slytherin’s seeker?” he asked, your excitement palpable enough to get his heart racing. 

You searched the field for the woman in question. Clarisse Brown was scanning the pitch below her from high above, her eyes narrowed in concentration. All the noise from the stands did little to deter her focus, and you watched with rapt interest as her gaze zero’d in on the Gryffindor seeker across the way. 

“She’s close to the goal post on her side– no hang on, she’s diving! She’s following Gryffindor’s seeker, I think they’ve spotted the snitch.” 

Everything else happened so quickly, you barely had time to commentate any of it to Ominis before you were watching the two seekers tumble against the grass after the tiny, golden ball. A hush fell over the crowd as the players untangled their limbs from the ground, but then it was Clarisse shooting upright, the snitch clasped victoriously in her hand. 

“She caught it– Slytherin got the snitch! They won!” 

The celebration started almost instantly. Throes of screaming students funneled down onto the field to hoist Clarisse high above their heads, whooping and cheering and chanting songs to praise the hard earned triumph. 

You and Ominis stayed in the safety of the emptying stands, but even from far away, you saw Sebastian’s head turn towards you. His gaze was one of thrilled success, and when he took in the sight of you beaming at him, a different sort of look passed over his features. 

One that you were eager to see up close. 

—

The Slytherin team certainly knew how to throw an after party. The common room was in a celebratory uproar, goblets of spiked pumpkin juice being passed around as chatter filled every nook and cranny of the otherwise dim, quiet room. Truly, you’d never seen it so packed. 

Sebastian didn’t give a shit though. He didn’t care about toasting to his team’s victory, nor did he care to even congratulate Clarisse on catching the snitch in the first place. 

No, all he cared about was getting you upstairs on his bed. 

You had no choice but to practically skip to keep up with Sebastian’s long-legged stride as he led you to his dorm. His grip on your wrist was like a vice, unrelenting as he weaved through the scattered groups of people you encountered on the way. A few of them looked as though they wanted to congratulate him– maybe even strike up an actual conversation– but the look on his face must have been downright primal, because everyone of them backed up with wide eyes and hushed whispers. 

You flushed under their knowing stares. Merlin.

When Sebastian tugged you through the threshold of the dorm, his lips were on yours in a heartbeat. He pressed you against the still closing door, and as it latched shut, you were jolted by the weight of Sebastian leaning against you. His hands were winding in your hair, tugging you against his mouth urgently in some desperate attempt to taste you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kicking your legs up to hook around his waist as you shamelessly rolled your hips against his, and the throaty growl he let loose had heat pooling in your gut instantly. 

“Worst fucking week of my life,” he groaned the statement against your lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. “I’m serious, I’m gonna kick Imelda’s ass if she ever tries to impose her rules on me again.” 

That wasn’t going to cut it. You hadn’t spent the last three days waiting to get your boyfriend back from Imelda for him to start talking about her with his cock rutting against you. “Can you not bring up Imelda and just fuck me already?” 

An animalistic sound came from Sebastian then, and he pulled away from your lips long enough to stare at you in a way that had you dizzy with arousal. “With pleasure, darling.” 

He was quick to throw you down on his bed, hastily muttering a locking charm on the door before he tossed his wand on the dresser and ripped his jersey over his shoulders. The dried sweat on his skin glimmered against the glow from the hearth in the center of the room, leaving your mouth watering, and you rushed to kick off your boots to speed things along. 

Sebastian was on you in an instant, kissing you senseless as one deft hand slid under your waistband and flicked the button open. He trailed his soft lips down the curve of your jaw, then lower along your neck, and he paused to suck at the skin there as he tugged your trousers down from your hips. You lifted your ass to assist, and once the restrictive material was gone, Sebastian straddled your waist so he could press his clothed member against the thin cotton of your undergarments firmly. 

You moaned at the contact, tilting your head back to grant him easier access to your fluttering pulse. He licked a broad stripe down the sensitive skin of your throat while his hands began undoing the clasps of your shirt. 

Sebastian’s gravelly voice vibrated against the wet skin of your neck, snapping you out of your pleasure induced daze. “Do you want me to bend you over or do you want to look at me while I fuck you?” 

Damn. “I-I want to see you. Feel like I haven’t had the chance to all week.” Your hands punctuated the statement by trailing up the delicious curve of his spine, drawing a shiver from him. “Is that okay? What do you want?” 

When he pulled away from your flushed neck, his eyes darkened immeasurably further, and the longer strands of his hair falling into his face gave him the appearance of some impassioned, sex-driven lunatic– but you weren’t about to start complaining. Not when he scooched down your prone form to start unbuttoning your shirt, and certainly not when he poked his tongue through his lips in thoughtful concentration. 

“I just want you, I don’t care about anything else. Fuck– not even jerking off helped– it’s like there was a mental block I couldn’t get past.” The last button fell open, and Sebastian slid the material off of your shoulders, his eyes hungrily roving over your naked body. His fingers trailed up your smooth stomach before kneading your breasts in his heated palms, drawing a strangled gasp from your throat. “Did you touch yourself at all this week or were you waiting for me?” 

You were embarrassed to admit that you had tried, but before you could tell him as much, Sebastian was pinching your nipples slightly and twisting, causing you to arch into his touch as a high-pitched moan sounded from your kiss swollen lips. “Mm, Sebastian–” 

The sound of your voice threatened to send him over the edge right then and there. “There is no wrong answer, I’m only curious…” 

He trailed off, lessening his ministrations against your breasts so you could reply. “Y-Yes. I tried, but it wasn’t the same. It never is.” 

That cocky smirk was taking up his entire face, and you knew then you should have just lied, because now his ego was bound to grow out of control. 

“It never is, hm? Then what do you want– what do you need to get off? Say the words, darling, and it’s yours.” 

Despite the delectable feeling of his hands working you into a frenzy, you wanted to smother him for taking so long. Was three days worth of stolen glances and a crippling case of blue balls not enough to push him into action? Of course not. Typical of him to still find a way to make you beg for what you knew he wanted more than anything. 

Your hands flew up to grip the belt loops on his painfully tight trousers, tugging his hips down so they were flush with the slick cloth separating your heat from him. “I need you– I need your cock inside of me, please Sebastian. My fingers just aren’t the same–” 

He silenced you with a particularly aggressive kiss, breathing heavily against your cheek as his teeth came to nibble at your bottom lip before he pulled away entirely to unfasten his belt. You’d never seen him move so quickly, his quidditch trousers coming to pool in a wrinkled heap against the stone floor, and then it was just his briefs in the way. They disappeared just as fast, his cock springing free and arching proud against the hair below his navel, and then Sebastian was scaling up the bed like a predator. 

When he kissed you again, he started to slide your soaked panties away, letting you kick them off when they got too low for him to follow. He placed his fingers against your overwhelmingly slick entrance, relishing in the needy gasp his featherlight touch pulled from you. 

You caved completely to Sebastian as he pushed a slender digit inside, working you open slowly as your spine curved off the mattress and you whined loud. Sebastian let himself bask in the sight of you for a moment despite his baser urges; you looked great spread for him like this, rocking down onto his finger as your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, and when you cracked open your half-hooded eyes to gaze up at him, the tenderness in your expression tugged at something in his chest. 

Tentatively, Sebastian added a second finger, slowly pushing inside you and pausing briefly to give you a chance to adjust to the intrusion, but you were already writhing under him, feebly searching for something more. 

“Something the matter?” he purred the question, feeling rather smug when you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“N-Not to be ungrateful, but your fingers aren’t cutting it– ah!”

Sebastian had pulled his hand back and plunged his digits back in, crooking the tips of his fingers up in search of that magical spot that always reduced you to a moaning mess, and it didn’t take him long to find it. He knew your body better than you did. “Not cutting it, huh?” 

You shivered as he proceeded to rub the long appendages along your pulsing walls, seemingly focused on hitting your sweet spot every time, and Merlin, was he succeeding. The pleasure was undeniable, your stomach tensing and twitching as warmth rapidly pooled in your gut, and when the pad of Sebastian’s thumb came to roughly press against your clit, there was no stopping the keening sob that ripped from your mouth. It was glorious– absolutely everything you had been dreaming about all week– and you frantically clawed at the tops of Sebastian’s rounded shoulders in a silent plea. 

“Fuck, please Sebastian– I want you– I wanna come on your cock, I’m not gonna last long, please–” 

He was pulling his fingers out of you in a flash, those strong hands coming to grab at your hips and haul you down the bed so you were flush with his leaking member. The feeling of your slick rubbing against his shaft had him seeing stars, and when he aligned himself and finally pressed into your welcoming heat, his head tipped back as a groan slipped through his clenched teeth. 

“Merlin, you’re so fucking perfect– fuck–” 

It wasn’t a slow descent by any means, but it wasn’t fast either, and you were grateful seeing as it gave you the chance to really feel Sebastian’s cock fill you up. The blunt head reached so deep, way deeper than his fingers or your own, and your nerves lit on fire when he pulled back and rammed into you, his skin slapping against the shapely curve of your ass. Every sensation amplified the fire that had nearly crashed through you minutes earlier, and once he set a steady rhythm, you were writhing in earnest underneath him. 

“Shit,” you gasped after one especially rough thrust. “Fuck, fuck, Sebastian–”

“F-Feel good, darling?” Sebastian whispered, adjusting his grip on you so he could lean closer, and the new angle allowed him to shamelessly rut against you after each plunge of his cock, his own orgasm building quickly after three days of torturing himself without you. 

“Yes, fuck yes, s-so good– right there–” 

The sight of you moving harder against him, panting and keening and trembling, pulled filthy praises and moans alike from Sebastian’s lips. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to cum so bad in his life– his pace had a mind of its own as he brainlessly thrusted into you, relishing in the feeling of you shaking and tightening around him before your nails were scraping deliciously down his back, and the sting had his cock twitching in a telling manner inside of you. 

“I’m gonna come darling, I’m– fuck–”

You beat him to it, his aggressive tempo sending you falling over the edge with a loud, drawn out cry of his name. Sebastian fucked you hard and fast through it, taking advantage of your pulsing heat to chase his own orgasm as he wound his fingers through your unruly hair and tugged hard enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

That did it.

Sebastian buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth biting at your collarbone as he whimpered your name over and over before his hips faltered and he was coming deep, and the sound of his moans coupled with the feeling of him filling you to the brim only served to push you higher. 

Completely spent, Sebastian let most of his weight fall on top of you as the ebbing waves of his orgasm coursed through him. 

“Holy fuck,” he heard you mutter from beneath him, and he cracked open a bleary eye to see you gazing contentedly at the ceiling. Removing his fingers from your hair to trail lightly over your cheek, you let him drag your face into a lazy, satisfied kiss, the lush scent of him filling your brain with mind numbing bliss. “Mm, missed you.” 

Sebastian’s voice was muffled against your lips when he spoke, “Never agreeing to something like that again. Quidditch can fuck right off– I don’t care.” 

Snickering quietly, you wrapped your arms around his sweaty back and tugged him sideways firmly so you could lay on top of him, careful of where the two of you were still connected. “And here I was going to say this was almost worth the wait.”

“Then you, my dear, are a sick and twisted masochist.” 

That got a real laugh out of you. “Hardly. When I think about it, it was nice seeing you in your uniform all sweaty for three days. Lots of dirty thoughts to fill in the gaps.” 

The awareness in his eyes came flooding back as he stared up at you wide-eyed, and you made a point to commit his gaping expression to memory. “You… wait, what?” 

You fought a smile as you shrugged nonchalantly, “You look good in a uniform. What else is there to say?” 

Following the bob of his throat as he swallowed, Sebastian’s voice sounded tight when he asked, “Do you want me to put it back on?” 

“Not now,” your fingers traced the sharp outline of his collarbones, gliding lower until they came to splay in the sparse collection of hair at the center of his hips. “I can think of a few other things I’d like to watch you do instead of strip all over again.” 

“Only a few?” 

“You’re incorrigible.” 

The rest of the night went by in a blur, with everyone celebrating Slytherin’s victory in the common room by drinking and dancing. All the while, you and Sebastian stayed sequestered in his dorm, intending on taking full advantage of the locked door before his roommates inevitably returned to soil the fun. You two would never need to know that Imelda stood guard at the bottom of the stairs, shooing away any meandering students to different wings of the foyer. It would be her own secret to keep. 

After all, she figured she kind of owed it to you for being such a good sport about the whole thing. 

[versadies]

Hello, I'm a new follower! ヾ(•ω•`)o Can I kindly request Scorpio for Scaramouche where he pretends to not care when the reader is about to die (fails terribly) but grows more anxious? And it's an angst drabble btw :D Also congrats on 1k followers! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o [Aah sorry if I used too many kaomojis]

until death (drabble)

penpal: thank you for the follow 💗💗 and no worries on the kaomojis, i LOVE them sm <<3 hope this is angsty enough for you anon!

prompt: scorpio the scorpion, near-death soulmate au

pairing/s: scaramouche x gn!reader

sypnosis: sometimes, scaramouche wished he followed his guts.

includes: harbinger!reader, ooc!scaramouche (?), character death, mentions of blood and violence, angst/no-comfort, this isn’t a fluffy fic. this story isn’t connected to the newest archon quest !

“i’ll be back, alright? just wait for a while and i’ll be back with the raiden shogun’s gnosis.” you said, stopping yourself from following your superior— la signora —to look back at your lover, who’s rather not pleased from the sudden order you were given by the said superior.

scaramouche rolled his eyes, looking away from your gaze. “yeah whatever. don’t keep me waiting for long, will you?”

you smile widely, happy that he’s willing to wait for you. “of course. see you later, scaramouche!” without letting him reply, you immediately ran off to find la signora.

as the doors closes behind you, scaramouche narrow his eyes, thinking about… a feeling that’s been bothering him for a while.

just what is it that’s bothering him so much?

“what am i even thinking? i’m pretty sure it’s nothing.” he muttered to himself.

.

an hour had long passed since you left— but to scaramouche? it felt more than just an hour. his subordinates watched as their lord harbinger walks around the room, his face says it all: irritation, impatience, and most of all, worried. he won’t admit it though. after all, it’s not like you’ll die right? it’s just a simple meeting with the raiden shogun.

“this is bad…” scaramouche halts his movements from the sudden comment of one of his subordinates, who was busy talking to a cicin mage. “everything’s getting worse back in the city and there’s no sign of one of the harbingers.” the fatui agent added as the cicin mage nods in agreement.

he then furrowed his eyebrows, slowly turning to where the two fatui members are. what do they mean there’s no sign of one of the harbingers?

it didn’t help how it had also started to rain harder than before, the loud sounds of the crashing thunders made scaramouche feel even more anxious and irritated of your absence.

“it’s probably just la signora being missing. i’m sure y/n is on their way back.” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head off before walking back to one of the rooms in the hideout, hoping to make his thoughts of you go away.

to this hour, the feeling still didn’t go away.

.

la signora came back instead of you.

“…why are you back?” scaramouche says in a dark tone, eyes narrowing at the sight of the 8th harbinger walking inside the room with a smirk on her face. “whatever do you mean, balladeer?” she asked.

“where’s y/n?”

la signora stays silent, although her smirk didn’t fade away, scaramouche could see how it slightly twitched downward.

she lets out a fake sad sigh, looking away from the man’s angered gaze. from that look alone, scaramouche knew something had happened to you, yet that didn’t stop a part of him from hoping that you’re actually alright.

until la signora starts talking again.

“it’s disappointing how the raiden shogun was merciful for giving them a quick death. i would’ve enjoyed it if that archon had done a slow agonizing death.”

his heart drops, eyes going wide from la signora’s comment.

the woman didn’t fail to notice, pleased to see the man’s facade beginning to fade away. “i must say… they’re very bold for challenging the raiden shogun a duel in exchange for her gnosis. it’s such a shame that they’ve fallen.”

scaramouche’s hands turned into fists, trying not to listen to the fair lady’s words. “leave.”

without another comment, la signora heads out from the room, leaving the other harbinger alone with his dark thoughts.

why did you die?

“i’ll be back soon, alright?” he should’ve went out with you instead. why did you leave him alone in this ridiculous hideout while you’re out there dying?

he would’ve stopped you from going to death’s doorstep had he followed his stupid gut feeling.

if anyone were to enter the room he’s in, they would’ve felt suffocated from the purple energy seeping through the furious harbinger. despite so, the man could care less if anyone got injured because of what he’s going through.

scaramouche then removes his hat, staring down at a certain picture of you and him together when you first took him out to inazuma’s fireworks show.

“my wish is to love you and not leave you forever.” you whispered to him, watching as the fireworks have been set off to the skies for you to see. “what about you?”

he simply rolled his eyes in response, staring at the fireworks as well with an unexplainable look on his face. “i’m not interested in those kinds of things.”

you then pouted, disappointed with your lover’s answer. “aw no fair! you have to at least have one wish at some point in your life!”

“i promise you scaramouche,” you suddenly declared, standing up from the ground with competitive eyes. “i won’t leave you forever until you tell me your wish!”

“my wish was for you to be with me forever.” scaramouche mumbled, closing his eyes as he looks up at the ceiling. “i told you wishes never worked, look at where we are now.”

you promised that you wouldn’t leave him forever. he didn’t think that you meant your kind of forever.

“i’d like to see you try loser!” he exclaims, his competitiveness showing off to you as the fireworks are now ignored.

scaramouche suddenly opens his eyes, glaring daggers at his door as a new motive began— a motive that will perhaps please the tsaritsa if it ended successfully.

he looks up at where la signora left, his expression had a hint of murderous intentions as he puts his hat on top of his head and walks out from the room.

“guards, has the raiden shogun left her residence?”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Dirty Ori! 😏 nori and dori be shooketh! I'm the anon that requested legolas anyways. So is "finding the one" avail for legolas? Maybe a prequel to the reader meeting Thranduil? - 🌙

Hello anon...

yes, the dirty Ori story has been posted (as promised)

So, here goes your Legolas story (that is more pre-One than actually 'one'...I realise that I will have to write the missing pieces sooner or later to make sense of everything haha)

Confessions

Words: 1,8 k

Characters: Legolas x Reader

You barely remembered how you had ended up in this god-forsaken place, everything was a blur in your mind.

One second, you had been at home, getting ready for an awful work dinner, pleading with whatever Gods your ancestors had left to you like dusty and – ultimately – utterly useless knickknacks to help you find a destiny that would not involve sucking up to people you had to listen to but couldn’t respect.

The next memory in your mind was the otherworldly face of a person you had never seen before, actually, you were certain that you had never even seen anyone remotely like him; he was tall and impossibly slender as if he had been wrought of thin air and blessed dreams.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” this stranger asked in a voice that was ominously reminiscent of the sound of rustling leaves on a starry summer night.

“I do not know. Who are you?” You replied, confused and a little afraid – for the stranger was heavily armed and his face bore the expression of the focused single-mindedness of a skilled hunter – but his hand stretching out to pluck an errant twig out of your hair had a calming effect on your fluttering nerves that you had never experienced beforehand.

“I’m Legolas, son of Thranduil and – whoever you may be – you are in danger,” he said in a tone so light that it took a second for you to realise just how threatening his words had been.

“Sorry, what?”

“My dear friend, the darkness might be vanquished – or at least, that’s what we want to believe once more – but these are still not the lands a woman is supposed to roam on her own, an unarmed woman at that,” he explained, looking slightly uncomfortable when you cocked one eyebrow at the word ‘woman’.

In the end, Legolas took you with him, deciding that it was safest for you – as you had visibly no idea where you were and how you had come to be there in the first place – to stay with him.

“I am on my way home to see my father,” he explained but didn’t say anything more about the reasons why or about that person in question.

In your mind, you harboured ideas about that father of his; you wondered if they had fallen out or if his father had committed some terrible crime. What other reason would a man have not to want to talk about his father? Or to look this sour whenever he talked about him?

Despite this sore subject, Legolas turned out to be a marvellous travelling companion; he was – as you had instinctively surmised - a skilled but compassionate hunter and it was entirely thanks to him that you didn’t die of hunger, accidental poisoning, or exposure within your first days of trying to survive in a world that was just similar enough to your own that it seduced you into being recklessly thoughtless.

At night, he would keep watch while you slept and – after a few days – you offered to share the watch.

“You don’t know what to look out for and I am the better fighter,” he had smiled warmly without a hint of dismissal or mockery, “I truly don’t need a whole lot of sleep. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf.”

“I’d like to be of use though,” you had protested; it vexed you to know that not only were you entirely dependent on him, but you were also an unnecessary and dangerous burden that was slowing him down and making him vulnerable.

“You worry too much,” Legolas had laughed and begged you to just go back to sleep; sometimes you wondered if he kept you like a wondrous pet that he had found – alone and helpless – in the wilderness, but all his interactions with you were deeply respectful and kind.

What you didn’t know at that time was that – just before finding you – Legolas had wished upon his beloved stars that they may show him the way to a brighter future.

After the war, the losses, and the terrible devastation left in its wake, he had struggled to find the motivation to go see his father. He loved and respected Thranduil and he was afraid not to have anything to show this king of kings other than hands dipped in blood and a few new cracks in his ever-lasting heart.

“Give me a sign; let me see that wonder and hope are not dead,” he had pleaded to the night sky, “give me something I might show to my father and my people that truly makes them believe that miracles are possible.”

The very next thing that had happened was finding you at the end of his aimless steps and – to Legolas – that was sign enough.

It didn’t hurt either that your beauty, as otherworldly and bewitching to him as his was to you, had struck him like an arrow straight to the heart.

Sweet, caring, and exceptionally brave, you had proven to be a good companion and a worthy friend since.

While you slept on the hard ground, just outside of Thranduil’s lands, Legolas watched you as much as he surveyed the darkness dancing with shadows galore.

By that time, there was not a single shred of doubt left in his mind; he had been meant to find you and you would bring relief and new prosperity to his realm. You had been destined to be his, which – unfortunately – did not mean that he would not have to win you over; Legolas was aware that he was tragically unprepared for that battle to which he felt that he was showing up unarmed in the face of an unfathomable and dreadful opponent.

These were traditions that were usual and almost expected in the world he had grown up in but – he knew much too well – that you were a natural cynic, often laughing good-humouredly when he explained his views and beliefs to you.

Of course, you never ridiculed or belittled him, but he understood that – in the world you called your own – these kinds of thoughts were considered naïve. He was not even sure that you believed in fate or true love.

Little did he know how taken you had been – from the very first moment – with not only his appearance and voice, but also with the boundless kindness and honour he had displayed while protecting and defending a woman – of another race – entirely unknown to him.

For all he knew, you could be the very embodiment of evil and destruction and yet, until he would witness proof of that being so, he seemed decided to treat you with gentle regard. He was the incarnation of a level of ‘goodness’ you had almost stopped believing in; your world had made it sound like a fairy tale only the dim-witted would have any faith in.

Hence, on that night, Legolas decided that he would not yet tell you how he felt about you, afraid of chasing you away and losing the miracle he had been praying for so fervently.

“Legolas?” you awoke in the darkness, watching his unmoving silhouette outlined against the pale blue sky of the nascent sunrise.

“Friend,” he turned his head to look at you, “you should be asleep.”

“I…I am not. Tell me, why do you not speak of your father. Do you not love him well?” You knew that it was an indecent, nosy, and disrespectful question but – in the middle of the night and cloaked in darkness – you felt braver than you usually were.

“Thranduil?” he chuckled – honest glee in his voice – as he turned around fully to face you, “No, dear, I love Thranduil very well, but I was afraid to scare you off with tales about my father who sits on a throne of wood and wears a living crown of boughs and berries.”

Seeing your eyes widen, he nodded slowly.

“You were a sign given to me,” he went on quietly, “and I would introduce you to the secrets – strange and manifold as they are – of my homeland and my family progressively.”

Your curiosity was stoked and so you crawled closer to him, finding solace in his calm but steady warmth.

“Tell me about him now,” you asked politely, allowing yourself to lean against him and smiling when he wrapped his arm around your shivering shoulders, pulling tight the cloak he had given you to shield you from the night chill.

As he talked about his father, your eyes drifted shut slowly and you slipped into pleasant dreams about Elves, trees, and critters venerating their ruler in the way you had seen in animated movies on TV.

As you walked across the realm under his father’s rule, Legolas would look at you more often than before – his eyes full of quiet worry and burgeoning hope – and you wondered what that was about.

One night, after a sparse dinner, you waited for the drowsiness of sleep to wash over you when he took your hand and just held it for a few seconds.

You were startled – as friendly as he was, he had never tried to touch you beyond keeping you from tumbling off narrow ledges or steering you carefully, so you didn’t get lost – but you didn’t object to his soft touch.

“Come to see my father with me,” he pleaded in a low, humming voice that seemed to be echoed by the woods around him as if the trees were eavesdropping on this quiet moment.

“Sure, why not?” you replied, you didn’t have anywhere else to be or to go, and you had grown fond of Legolas. The mere thought of having to part ways with him awoke a small prickling sense of pain in your soul.

Ever since that night when you had caught him looking wistfully out into the night, you suspected that something was weighing on his tender heart; as you knew that it was not his father, you had to wonder if it was you that troubled him.

“Did I do something to upset you, Legolas? You seem quiet and distant lately,” you brought it up, terrified that he’d confirm your darkest and most abject fears.

“You? No, my friend, you have done nothing wrong. I…my father is the king of this realm,” he replied, kneading your cold, stiff fingers aptly, “and I wonder how I will introduce you to him.”

“I am unworthy of him, is that what you are saying?” you asked tonelessly, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“No, that is not at all what I mean. I wish…I wish I could introduce you as what I know you to be,” he replied, leaning closer, “but I am much afraid that you would not take me seriously.”

“What am I then?” Your eyes snapped up and were immediately ensnared in the pulsating intensity of his gaze.

“You are my miracle,” he replied, “my ‘One’.”

“One?” you cocked your head to the side inquisitively, mindful not to seem dismissive as that was his fear apparently.

“The one I was meant to find, the one I was meant to…love,” he murmured softly, never averting his eyes even when yours widened in joyous surprise.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this and my askbox is always open!

Lots of love and kisses to you! Happy Vday!

[cheesyficwriter]

I love your writing so much!! 💖 Could you please do "Don't you ever do that again!" for romione (ofc)? I would love if it was placed at hogwarts (like year 5-6) but you don’t need to :)

Hi there, anon! Happy Saturday! Hope you enjoy this bit of fluff with some slight angst 💜

Unless We Go Together

Ever since Ron was a young tot, he always wanted to learn how to fly. He watched his older brothers soar through the clouds, and marveled at how they managed to maintain control of their brooms despite the intimidating nature of the high speeds at which they could travel.

He always thought it was so wicked how brooms responded to simple commands, the way they were enchanted to fly, and took on a personality of their own.

Ron’s eldest brother, Bill, advised him that remaining focused when flying was of the utmost importance.

The key to using a broom is balance; if you shift your weight too far forward, you’ll likely nosedive straight to the ground. Keeping a broom steady requires both speed and agility.

Ron is lost in his thoughts as he meanders down the staircase in the Gryffindor common room on a Saturday afternoon, debating on taking his new broom out for a fly when a declaration stops him in his tracks.

"Did you hear? Hermione Granger is flying on the Quidditch pitch!"

Ron turns slowly to face Seamus. "I'm sorry. I must be going mental. Did you just say Hermione?"

"Yeah! On a Cleansweep Eleven!” Seamus replies with enthusiasm, pointing out the window where Ron just barely sees a flash of brown curly hair go by on a broom. “Say, Ron. You just got a Cleansweep, didn't ya?"

Oh bloody fucking hell.

"Excuse me," Ron says through gritted teeth as he stomps out of the portrait hole with only one destination in mind.

The first person he finds on the grassy pitch is none other than his best friend with jet black hair. "Potter!"

Harry swivels around, and winces at the flash of anger on Ron's face as he approaches. "I'm sorry, mate. She seemed pretty adamant, and, honestly, I was curious-"

"So you helped her nick my fucking broom? Why not let her use yours?"

Harry shrugs. "She specifically requested yours. Besides, I-"

Ron waves a dismissive hand. "Nevermind that. She has no business being up that high by herself. She doesn't even like flying."

Harry shoots Ron a sympathetic look. "I think what Malfoy said to her in class yesterday really struck a nerve."

Ron feels as if the weight of a bludger lands in the pit of his stomach. Fucking Malfoy. It boils his blood everytime Draco opens his mouth and vile words come out.

Yesterday, he decided to antagonize Hermione because she answered a question in class. “Think you’re perfect, Granger? Just because you can answer a question? I bet there is something you’re terrible at.”

“O’course it did,” Ron mumbles. Hermione excels at most things, but one thing she is not perfect at, nor typically cares for? Flying.

Ron squints his eyes up towards the blaring sun, anxiety pooling in his belly as he searches for Hermione. By now, her escapade has gathered the attention of several professors arriving on the pitch.

Ron blows out a frustrated breath, forcefully raking his fingers through his hair. “Hermione!” He calls up to her, and he vaguely spots her head snap down towards the direction of his voice.

He should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve talked her down before she did something…

Just then, a scream was heard off into the clouds. Ron internally chides himself for even averting her attention, if only a moment. Even the slightest distraction and she could-

Fuck. She’s sliding off the broom!

“NO!”

"Arresto Momentum!"

Ron watches in horror as Hermione's body — although it slows in response to the spell — crashes into the solid ground, his own broom landing next to her.

"HERMIONE!"

He propels his body forward to get to her, running faster than he knew his feet were capable, with Harry hot on his trail.

She has to be okay.

--

Hermione

She opens her eyes to a blinding white light. Her head is pounding, and her body feels numb all over. Hermione's vision is blurry as she attempts to orient herself to her surroundings.

Where am I? What happened to me?

The last thing she remembers is...oh no. Flying on a broom — a broom!

The vibrant red hair that enters her vision, the silhouette of a body hovering over her, reminds her of exactly whose broom she was flying on.

Hermione lets out a regretful groan, fully unprepared for the slew of questions she knows she is about to face.

"Hermione? Can you hear us?"

Ron's voice sounds distant, but as she awakens, her vision clears and she finds her two best friends perched on either side of her bed in the hospital wing.

"Blimey, you're awake!" Harry exclaims with a wide smile. He gives her a gentle pat on her arm. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit like I've been run over by a hippogriff." Hermione lets out a nervous laugh, and is grateful that Harry joins in.

However, Ron is not laughing. He's not even smiling.

Harry's eyes shift back and forth between his two best friends, seemingly catching on to the mutual tension. "I'm just going to get you some water and let Madame Pomfrey know you're awake." With that, Harry sets off, leaving the two alone in an awkward bout of silence.

Ron is looking down at his hands, and Hermione can see the muscles in his jaw twitch.

Her stomach does a backflip. She knows it was wrong to take his broom without asking permission, but she had hoped that she would’ve gone for a short fly and be back on the ground before he even realized she was gone.

She opens her mouth to fill the silence, but Ron is faster. His voice is low, eyes growing dark. "Don't you ever do that again."

Hermione lowers her head, ashamed to even look at him. He's so angry with me, with good reason. "I'm sorry I stole your broom."

Ron lets out a loud exhale, leaning forward to perch his elbows on his knees. "I don't care about the bloody broom, Hermione. I care about-"

When Ron hesitates, Hermione's head lifts back up, finding an obvious blush on his cheeks. Was he going to say you?

He clears his throat, switching topics. "Harry told me he thought this was about what Malfoy said to you in class."

Her voice is barely audible as she responds. "It's possible."

"To hell with him!" Ron's immediate retort is blazoned with a fierceness that makes Hermione jump. "You're the most brilliant person I know. It's okay not to be the best at everything, especially if it's something I know you don't particularly enjoy doing in the first place."

Hermione clucks her tongue prepared to provide a rebuttal, although caves and can't resist giggling. "You're right. I really hate flying."

A small smile tugs up the corner of Ron's mouth, making Hermione's heart pound in her chest. "Then it's settled? No more spontaneous rides up through the clouds? Unless we go together, of course."

Her mouth goes dry. "You-you'd want to do that?"

It's only then that Hermione realizes how close their hands are on her bed, pinky fingers almost touching. When she glances back up, Ron's grin is wide.

"Of course."