#singing starter because why not

[enhaflixer]

hogwarts time travel au! traveling to the future and waking up MARRIED PART 2

slytherin!riki x gryffindor!reader PART ONE HERE

warnings: time travel, sex, kissing, lots of kissing, kinda angsty, they have two kids, there are pranks and rivalry and its just real cute im ngl

-

The night before the department dinner, after the children were asleep, Riki found you in the study reviewing your class notes—a habit you'd developed to avoid embarrassing yourself in front of your students.

"We should probably practice," he said from the doorway, startling you.

"Practice what?"

"Dancing." He shifted his weight, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "If this is a formal department thing, there will probably be dancing."

You set aside your notes reluctantly. "Is that really necessary?"

"These people know us—know our future selves," he pointed out. "If we're awkward or stepping on each other's toes, they'll notice."

You sighed. "Fine. But just a quick run-through."

He nodded, then flicked his wand at the wireless in the corner. Soft, melodic music filled the room. With another wave, he pushed the furniture against the walls, creating a small dance floor in the center of the study.

"Shall we?" He extended his hand formally, a hint of his usual confidence returning.

You rolled your eyes but placed your hand in his, allowing him to draw you to the center of the room. His right hand settled at your waist while his left held yours aloft. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, careful to maintain a respectable distance between your bodies.

"I'm not going to hex you," he said with a slight smile. "You can stand a bit closer."

"This is fine," you insisted, though you knew real couples wouldn't dance with a foot of space between them.

He shrugged and began to lead, moving with surprising grace. After a few moments of stiff movement, you found your rhythm, matching his steps as you circled the makeshift dance floor.

"You're not terrible at this," you admitted grudgingly.

"Pure-blood family," he reminded you. "Dance lessons from age six. Mother's orders."

"That explains why you didn't completely embarrass yourself at the Yule Ball," you said, remembering how he'd danced with Olivia Greengrass for most of the evening.

Something flickered in his eyes. "You noticed me at the Yule Ball?"

"Hard not to notice when someone transfigures the punch bowl into a singing toad halfway through the evening," you countered, deflecting the implied question.

He laughed. "McGonagall's face was priceless."

The music shifted to something slower, more intimate. Riki's hand at your waist exerted the slightest pressure, drawing you incrementally closer.

"People will expect us to dance like we've done it a hundred times before," he said softly. "Like we know each other's movements by heart."

"And how do we do that?" Your voice came out quieter than intended.

"For starters, not like we're afraid of each other." Before you could protest, he eliminated the space between you, bringing your bodies together from chest to knee.

Your breath caught as he adjusted his hold, his arm now encircling your waist completely. Your joined hands moved to rest against his chest, while your other hand slid from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. The new position was undeniably intimate—you could feel his heartbeat against your fingers, the warmth of his skin beneath your palm.

"This is how married people dance," he murmured, his breath stirring your hair.

You couldn't formulate a response as he began moving again, the steps simpler now—less formal waltz and more just swaying together to the music. Your bodies moved in sync, with none of the awkwardness you'd expected.

"See?" he said after a few moments. "Not so difficult."

You made a noncommittal sound, not trusting your voice. Because it wasn't difficult—that was the problem. It felt easy. Natural. As if your body remembered dancing with him like this before, even if your mind didn't.

The music swelled, and Riki spontaneously spun you out and back into his arms. You returned smoothly, your back now pressed against his chest, his arms crossed over your waist, holding you securely. The move had been unexpected but you'd followed his lead instinctively.

"Perfect," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a shiver down your spine. "You see? Muscle memory."

You turned in his arms to face him again, intending to create some distance, but found yourself caught in his gaze. There was something new there—a heat that hadn't been present in your previous interactions.

"Riki..." you began, not sure what you intended to say.

His eyes dropped to your lips, lingering just long enough to send your pulse racing, before he stepped back, releasing you as the music ended.

"That should be sufficient practice," he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual. "For tomorrow."

"Right," you agreed, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the sudden chill of his absence. "For tomorrow."

-

The next evening found you in the bedroom, putting the finishing touches on your appearance while Riki took the girls to The Burrow. You'd opted for the green gown after all—silk that flowed like water, with a modest neckline but a back that dipped daringly low. Your hair was arranged in an elegant updo, and you'd applied makeup with more care than you'd ever bothered with at seventeen.

The effect, you had to admit, was striking. You hardly recognized yourself in the mirror—this poised, elegant woman seemed worlds away from the student who'd spent most of her time in the library with ink-stained fingers.

The sound of the Floo activating announced Riki's return. You took a steadying breath and descended the stairs, feeling oddly nervous.

Riki stood in the living room, adjusting the silver cuffs of his midnight-blue dress robes. The tailoring was impeccable, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean frame—clearly, these robes had been made specifically for him. He looked up as you entered, and the expression that crossed his face made your stomach flutter unexpectedly.

"Wow," was all he managed at first, his eyes traveling slowly from your face to your feet and back again. His gaze lingered on the way the deep emerald and black silk draped across your body, the Grecian-inspired cut accentuating your figure while the open back added an unexpected touch of allure.

"Just 'wow'?" you supplied when he didn't continue, turning slightly to show the full effect of the gown.

"Devastating," he finally said, his voice rough. "You look absolutely devastating."

He swallowed visibly, and you noticed with satisfaction that his usual quick wit seemed to have abandoned him entirely. The thought flashed through his mind, surprising even himself—did he have a previously undiscovered kink for seeing you in Slytherin green? The rich emerald color that had once represented rivalry now stirred something entirely different in him.

"You clean up decently yourself," you offered, aiming for casual despite the charged atmosphere.

"The robes that make my ass look fantastic," he confirmed with a flash of his usual humor, though his eyes never left yours. "Ready to convince a room full of Aurors we're madly in love?"

"As I'll ever be," you replied, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach.

-

Theodesia's turned out to be an elegant restaurant with crystal chandeliers and goblin-wrought silver place settings. You were greeted effusively by the maître d' who clearly recognized you both and led you upstairs to a private dining room already buzzing with conversation.

"Riki! Professor!" A man detached himself from a group near the bar—Jake, from the Floo call yesterday. He approached with a broad smile, a striking woman with dark skin and elaborate braids at his side. "About time you two showed up. Cutting it close as usual."

"Some things never change," Riki replied with surprising ease, clasping Jake's hand. "Traffic in the Floo network was awful."

"You look gorgeous," the woman—presumably Seera—said, embracing you warmly. "That color is perfect on you. I've been telling you to wear more green for ages."

"I decided to take your advice," you improvised, returning her hug.

"Where are the little menaces tonight?" Jake asked. "With Molly?"

"Yes, we dropped them off earlier," Riki confirmed. "Sara was already eyeing the cookie jar when we left."

His effortless lying impressed you—he sounded completely natural discussing children he'd only known for two weeks.

"Smart move using your anniversary as an excuse for a night off," Seera said with a knowing smile. "Though I still can't believe it's been five years since your wedding. I remember it like yesterday—you two dancing under those enchanted cherry blossoms, looking disgustingly in love."

"Time flies," you managed, leaning into Riki's side as his arm slipped around your waist.

"Speaking of which," Jake said, checking his watch, "we should find our seats. Kingsley will be starting the presentations soon."

The next hour passed in a blur of introductions, small talk, and desperately trying not to reveal your ignorance of people who clearly knew you well. Riki proved surprisingly adept at navigating conversations, deflecting personal questions with humor and redirecting topics when things veered into dangerous territory.

His hand remained a constant presence at the small of your back, his thumb occasionally brushing bare skin through the open back of your gown, sending little jolts of electricity up your spine each time.

Dinner was served—an elegant multi-course affair with wine pairings—as various department heads delivered speeches and presented awards. You were relieved to discover that Riki wasn't receiving any special recognition, though he was mentioned several times for his team's recent successful operations.

"Your husband's quite the rising star," whispered the witch seated on your other side—a senior Auror named Claudia. "Youngest division head in thirty years. Though I suspect he'd give it all up if you decided to have another baby."

You nearly choked on your wine. "Another—"

"Oh, I know, I know," she said hurriedly. "You've said two is your limit. But the way he dotes on those girls... Well, just saying. Never seen a man more besotted with fatherhood."

You glanced at Riki, deep in conversation with an older wizard across the table. The idea of him as a doting father had seemed absurd two weeks ago, but now... You'd seen how he was with Suki and Sara. How natural he seemed with them, how his entire demeanor softened around the children.

Your contemplation was interrupted as Jake stood, tapping his glass for attention.

"If I could have everyone's attention for a moment," he called over the chatter. "As is tradition at our annual dinner, we take a moment to celebrate not just professional achievements, but personal ones as well. And tonight, we have a very special milestone to recognize."

He turned toward your table, raising his glass. "Riki and Y/N Nishimura are celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary this month. Five years of proving that even when you start as sworn enemies, love finds a way."

A ripple of laughter and applause moved through the room.

"For those who don't know their story," Jake continued, "these two spent seven years at Hogwarts hexing each other at every opportunity. Their legendary prank war culminated in what we now affectionately call 'The Great Time-Turner Incident' where they accidentally sent themselves ten years into the future."

Your blood ran cold. Riki's hand found yours under the table, squeezing tightly.

"When they finally managed to return to their time," Jake went on, oblivious to your shock, "something had fundamentally changed. As Riki tells it, 'Seeing a future where we were happy together made me realize I'd been fighting my feelings all along.' Three years later, they were exchanging vows with half the faculty of Hogwarts in attendance."

The room awwwed appreciatively.

"So please raise your glasses," Jake concluded, "to Riki and [Your Name]—proof that sometimes the person who drives you absolutely crazy is exactly the person you're meant to be with."

"To Riki and Y/N !" the room echoed, glasses raised.

You managed a smile, lifting your glass automatically as your mind raced. The Great Time-Turner Incident? Your future selves had experienced something similar—had, in fact, ended up together because of it.

Riki's hand was still clutching yours beneath the table, his knuckles white. He'd clearly reached the same conclusion.

"And now," Seera announced, standing beside her husband, "as is tradition, a few words from our anniversary couple!"

The room erupted in applause and expectant looks.

Riki recovered first, rising to his feet and pulling you gently up beside him. His arm went around your waist, steadying you.

"Thank you all," he began, his voice remarkably steady given the bombshell that had just been dropped. "Five years doesn't seem possible, does it, love?" He looked down at you with such convincing affection that your breath caught.

"Sometimes it feels like yesterday," you managed, finding your voice. "Other times, like we've always been together."

The room sighed appreciatively at your response.

"I won't subject you all to the story of how this brilliant, beautiful woman finally agreed to go out with me after years of turning my hair various colors," Riki continued, drawing laughs from the audience. "But I will say this—Jake's right. Sometimes the person who challenges you most is exactly who you need."

He turned to face you fully, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made the rest of the room fade away. "Every day with you is an adventure, even when it's just making pancakes with the girls or grading papers by the fire. I wouldn't trade our life for anything."

The raw sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. This wasn't just a performance for the crowd—there was something real beneath his words.

"Neither would I," you said softly, surprising yourself with the truth of it. "Even when you drive me crazy."

The room laughed again, but Riki's smile was just for you—small, private, and achingly genuine.

"Thank you all," he said, turning back to the audience. "For celebrating with us tonight."

As you both sat down, the room burst into a chant: "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Riki looked at you, a question in his eyes. A public kiss hadn't been part of your planning, but refusing would seem odd for a celebrating couple.

"We should," you whispered. "Just a quick one."

He nodded, then leaned in slowly, giving you time to prepare. You expected a brief peck—the bare minimum to satisfy the crowd.

What you got instead was a revelation.

His lips touched yours gently at first, a whisper of contact that sent a shock wave through your system. Then, as if unable to help himself, he deepened the kiss, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw. Your eyes fluttered closed as you responded instinctively, your lips parting slightly beneath his.

The kiss lasted only seconds, but it felt like an eternity—an eternity where nothing existed but the warmth of his mouth on yours and the dizzying sense that something fundamental had shifted between you.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, pupils dilated. You could read the same stunned recognition in his face that you felt coursing through your veins.

The room erupted in cheers and whistles, breaking the spell. Riki's thumb brushed your cheekbone once before he withdrew his hand, turning to acknowledge the crowd with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Under the table, your fingers touched your lips, still tingling from the contact. That hadn't been a performance. That had been... something else entirely.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. People stopped by your table to share anecdotes about your relationship, each one a piece of a puzzle you were desperately trying to assemble. You learned that you'd started dating in your final year at Hogwarts, after returning from your accidental time travel. That you'd worked as a curse-breaker before taking the teaching position at Hogwarts. That your wedding had featured cherry blossoms and fairy lights, with Hagrid sobbing so loudly during the vows that no one could hear them.

When the orchestra began playing a slow, haunting melody, Riki stood and offered his hand. "Dance with me?" he asked softly, all pretense stripped away in that moment.

You took his hand without hesitation, letting him lead you to the dance floor. His arm slid around your waist with practiced ease, drawing you close as you began to move together. All your awkward practice from the night before had vanished—your bodies knew this dance, knew each other, moving in perfect synchrony as if you'd done this a thousand times before.

"Everyone's watching us," you murmured, noticing the fond glances directed your way.

"Let them," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "They're seeing what they expect to see—the department's most disgustingly perfect couple."

"Is that what we are?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Something shifted in his gaze, a vulnerability you'd glimpsed only in rare moments. "Maybe not yet. But..."

He didn't finish the thought, didn't need to. As the music swelled around you, he guided you into a graceful turn that made your dress billow around your ankles. When you returned to his arms, you were both smiling, caught in a bubble of shared connection that felt startlingly genuine.

"Happy anniversary," you whispered, so quietly that only he could hear, surprising yourself with the sincerity behind the words.

His eyes widened slightly, genuine shock flashing across his features before his expression softened into something warm and unguarded. For a moment—one perfect, suspended moment—you both forgot that this wasn't really your life, that you hadn't actually been married for five years, that the memories everyone was celebrating weren't truly yours.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered back, his eyes never leaving yours, meaning it in ways neither of you could fully understand.

As you continued to dance, you noticed a small group of witches watching you from the edge of the dance floor, smiling affectionately at what they clearly considered a romantic moment between longtime lovers. Without overthinking it, you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to Riki's jaw—ostensibly for your audience, though the flutter in your stomach suggested other motives.

You felt his sharp intake of breath, his arm tightening almost imperceptibly around your waist. When you pulled back slightly to gauge his reaction, the heat in his eyes made your pulse skip.

The song ended too soon, breaking the spell as applause rippled through the room. But as Riki led you back to your table, his hand resting lightly on the bare skin of your back, something had changed between you—something that couldn't be dismissed as merely playing a part.

Through the rest of the evening, Riki remained close—his arm around your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing yours, his body angled toward you in the unconscious way of couples accustomed to each other's presence. You found yourself responding in kind, leaning into his touch, laughing at his jokes, exchanging glances that somehow conveyed entire conversations.

It was frighteningly easy to play the role of his wife, you realized. Too easy.

And that kiss... that hadn't been playing at all.

By the time you said your goodbyes and stepped into the cool night air outside Theodesia's, you were both quieter than usual, lost in your own thoughts.

"Well," Riki finally broke the silence as you walked toward the apparition point. "That was... informative."

"The Time-Turner Incident," you said, focusing on the practical rather than the confusing emotional aftermath of the evening. "Our future selves experienced something similar."

"And it changed everything for them," he added. "Or us. Time travel pronouns are confusing."

You laughed despite yourself. "That's your takeaway?"

"No," he admitted, stopping beneath a street lamp. The warm glow illuminated his features as he turned to you. "My takeaway is that we need to talk about what happened in there."

"The toast? The revelations about our apparent history?"

"The kiss," he said simply.

Your heartbeat quickened. "It was just for show."

"Was it?" His voice was soft, his eyes searching yours. "Because it didn't feel like just for show."

"Riki..."

"I know we're supposed to be finding a way back," he continued. "I know this isn't our real life. But—" He paused, seeming to struggle with his words. "What if Jake was right? What if the person who's been driving me crazy for seven years is actually..."

"Don't," you whispered, not ready to hear the end of that sentence. Not ready to confront the growing realization that your feelings for Riki had become far more complicated than simple animosity.

He studied your face for a long moment, then nodded once. "We should get back. Check on the girls."

"Yes," you agreed, relieved by the return to practicality. "Molly's probably wondering where we are."

He offered his arm for side-along apparition. As your fingers curled around the rich fabric of his sleeve, you couldn't help remembering how it had felt when those same fingers had tangled in your hair as he kissed you—how perfect it had felt, how right.

And how terrifying the implications of that rightness might be.

-

The days following the department dinner passed in an increasingly elaborate dance of avoidance.

You began waking up earlier than necessary, slipping out of bed before Riki stirred and volunteering for morning duties with the girls. He, in turn, started staying up later, buried in case files at the kitchen table long after you'd retired to bed. The bedroom became a transition space—a place you occupied in shifts rather than together, despite the fact that you still technically shared it.

At breakfast, you'd focus intensely on helping Suki with her cereal or wiping Sara's sticky hands, using the children as buffers. Riki would read the Daily Prophet with unusual thoroughness, suddenly fascinated by Ministry policy updates and Quidditch standings he'd normally disregard. If your fingers accidentally brushed while passing the tea, you'd both flinch away as if burned, murmuring awkward apologies before finding new reasons to be elsewhere.

The kiss—that unexpectedly genuine, heart-stopping moment at the department dinner—hovered between you like an unacknowledged presence, impossible to address yet impossible to forget.

Neither of you mentioned the way you'd whispered "happy anniversary" and meant it, or how his hand had lingered on your bare back during the dance, or how natural it had felt to lean into his touch throughout the evening. Those moments contradicted the narrative you'd both silently agreed upon: that this was all temporary, that your real lives waited elsewhere, that the growing comfort and connection between you was simply muscle memory from bodies accustomed to each other.

In the evenings, you'd grade papers in the study while Riki handled bedtime stories with elaborate sound effects that made the girls squeal with delight. You found yourself lingering outside the nursery door sometimes, listening to his patient voice as he answered Suki's endless questions or soothed Sara with a gentle lullaby. These glimpses of tenderness made avoiding him both more necessary and more difficult.

When you did occupy the same space, conversation remained strictly practical, delivered with exaggerated casualness.

"Suki's daycare is closed on Friday," you'd mention, focused intently on stirring your tea. "Teacher training day."

"I can work from home," he'd offer, eyes fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. "No problem."

"Great. Thanks," you'd reply, already moving toward the door. "I should prepare for tomorrow's lessons."

You weren't hostile—quite the opposite. There was a new carefulness between you, a politeness almost painful in its restraint. You both said "please" and "thank you" with formal precision. You complimented his cooking; he praised your patience with the children. But beneath the courtesy lay a current of tension neither of you was willing to acknowledge.

Sometimes you'd catch him watching you when he thought you wouldn't notice—a speculative look in his eyes that made your stomach flutter. Other times, you'd find yourself staring at his hands as he helped Suki with a puzzle, remembering how those same hands had felt on your waist during the dance, and you'd have to excuse yourself to another room until your heartbeat steadied.

The weekend arrived with blessed relief. Riki announced he had paperwork to complete for an ongoing smuggling investigation—a transparent excuse, but one you gratefully accepted. You responded with equal transparency about needing to revise lesson plans. The mutual agreement to separation was welcome, even as the strained atmosphere grew increasingly unbearable.

By Saturday afternoon, the house felt too small despite its magical extensions. You found yourself wandering into the study, ostensibly searching for reference materials but really just seeking a space Riki wasn't occupying. That's when you discovered a cabinet tucked in the corner that you hadn't fully explored.

Inside were rows of small crystal orbs—magical recordings, similar to Pensieve memories but viewable without immersion. You'd seen similar devices in the Hogwarts archives, used to preserve important lectures and ceremonies.

Curious, and perhaps a bit desperate for distraction, you selected one labeled "Suki's First Steps." Perhaps watching family memories would help you better understand the life you were temporarily inhabiting—or at least provide a reprieve from the uncomfortable tension that had settled over the household.

You placed the orb in the viewing stand on the desk and tapped it with your wand. Light bloomed from the crystal, expanding into a three-dimensional projection. There was your future self, sitting on the living room floor, arms outstretched toward a wobbly Suki who couldn't have been more than a year old.

"Come on, sweet girl," your voice encouraged. "Come to Mama!"

Behind the camera, Riki's voice: "She's going to do it this time, I can feel it."

Sure enough, Suki took one hesitant step, then another, her little face a mask of concentration before breaking into a delighted giggle as she tumbled into your waiting arms.

"She did it!" the recorded you exclaimed, scooping her up and spinning her around. "Riki, did you get that?"

"Every second," came his proud reply. The camera moved closer, capturing your radiant smile and Suki's chubby hands patting your cheeks. "Our little prodigy, walking at ten months."

The projection faded, leaving the study quiet again. You sat back, a strange melancholy washing over you. These were your memories—would be your memories—yet they felt like glimpses into a stranger's life.

"What are you doing?"

You startled, turning to find Riki in the doorway, a mug of tea in his hand.

"I found these recordings," you explained, gesturing to the cabinet. "I was just... curious."

He hesitated, then entered the study, setting his tea down. "Anything interesting?"

"Suki's first steps." You smiled faintly. "She was early, apparently."

"Not surprising," he said, the first hint of normal conversation between you in days. "She's rather determined about everything."

You nodded, relieved by the break in tension. "Want to see another?"

It was an olive branch of sorts. He recognized it for what it was, settling into the chair beside yours. "Sure. You choose."

You returned to the cabinet, scanning labels. "Baby's First Quidditch Match," "Sara's Naming Ceremony," "Holiday in Greece." One caught your eye, labeled simply "The Surprise." Intrigued, you selected it.

The projection revealed your future self in the kitchen, setting up what appeared to be a camera. You wore casual clothes, hair pulled back, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you adjusted the angle.

"Is this recording?" On-screen you leaned close to the lens, then stepped back, satisfied. "Perfect. Operation 'Prank the Prankster' is a go."

You quickly arranged several items on the counter—a potion vial with a mysterious pink liquid, a book titled "So You're Expecting: A Magical Guide," and what looked like a sonogram image, though you carefully hid these under a dish towel. Your recorded self was practically vibrating with suppressed excitement.

The kitchen door opened, and Riki entered, setting down a grocery bag. "Got everything, including those weird pickled radishes you suddenly can't live without."

"My hero," recorded-you smiled, reaching up to kiss him with easy affection. "Hey, can you help me with something? I brewed a potion and I need a second opinion."

"Is it for those bizarre cravings? Because the clerk at the apothecary already thinks I'm running some kind of illegal lab with all the ingredients you've been sending me for." He began unpacking groceries, oblivious to your barely contained grin.

"No, it's for a special project." You casually removed the dish towel, revealing the blue potion. "It's supposed to change color based on certain... conditions."

Riki looked up, intrigued but suspicious. "What kind of conditions? This isn't like the time you made me test that 'harmless' potion that turned my eyebrows purple for a week, is it?"

"Would I do that to you?" you asked with exaggerated innocence. "I just need you to verify the color. What shade of pink would you call this?"

He approached reluctantly, peering at the vial. "I don't know... fuchsia? Why does it matter?"

"Because," you said, sliding the book into view, "according to page 94 of this particular guide, cerulean fuchsia means it's a girl."

For a moment, Riki just stared at the book, his brain not quite making the connection. Then his eyes darted to the sonogram image you'd nudged forward, back to the potion, then finally to your face.

"Wait..." he said slowly, realization dawning. "Are you... is this... are you pranking me right now?"

You bit your lip, torn between laughter and tears. "Well, yes, I'm pranking you. But also no, because..." You reached into a drawer and withdrew a pair of tiny Slytherin green booties. "I'm actually twelve weeks pregnant."

The sequence of expressions that crossed his face was extraordinary—confusion, shock, disbelief, and then pure, unadulterated joy. He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"You—" he started, shaking his head in amazement. "You used a prank to tell me we're having a baby? That's—"

"Fitting?" you suggested, eyes dancing with mirth. "Given our history?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he closed the distance between you in two strides, lifting you off your feet in a spinning embrace that made you laugh and protest simultaneously.

"Careful! Morning sickness is still a thing!"

He set you down immediately, but his hands remained on your waist, his eyes searching yours with wonder. "We're actually having a baby? You're not just pranking the prankster?"

You took his hand and placed it gently on your still-flat stomach. "We're having a baby," you confirmed, tears spilling down your cheeks now. "Suki's going to be a big sister."

The look of pure joy that transformed his face made your throat tighten just watching. He dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against your stomach.

"A baby," he whispered, voice choked with emotion. "Our baby."

Then he looked up at you, eyes shining with tears and laughter. "I can't believe you out-pranked me for something this important."

"Had to make it memorable," you replied with a watery smile. "Got you good, didn't I?"

He rose to his feet, cradling your face in his hands with such tenderness it was almost painful to witness. "You got me good," he agreed softly. "Best prank ever."

The kiss he bestowed upon you was reverent, his hand drifting down to rest protectively over your still-flat stomach.

"I love you," he murmured against your lips. "I love you so much."

The recording faded, leaving you and present-day Riki sitting in stunned silence. The intimacy of the moment you'd witnessed felt almost invasive, like you'd eavesdropped on something sacred.

"That was..." Riki began, then cleared his throat. "That must have been when you—they—found out about Sara."

"Yes." Your voice sounded strange to your own ears.

Neither of you seemed to know what to say next. After a moment, Riki reached for the cabinet. "Mind if I choose one?"

You nodded, grateful for the distraction.

He selected an orb labeled "Wedding Night Promises." Before you could suggest something less potentially intimate, he'd placed it on the stand and activated it.

The scene that materialized made you both inhale sharply. A hotel room, clearly luxurious, with rose petals scattered across a massive bed. Riki lay on his back, dress shirt unbuttoned, hair disheveled, and his face adorned with lipstick marks in the same shade you'd been wearing in earlier wedding photos you'd seen. The camera appeared to be held by him at arm's length, capturing both his face and you as you leaned over him, adding another kiss to his jawline.

"You missed a spot," recorded-Riki said, pointing to his left cheekbone. "Can't have an incomplete masterpiece."

Your future self laughed but obliged, pressing your lips to the indicated spot and leaving a perfect imprint. "Better?"

"Much," he said with a satisfied grin. "But this area is still tragically unmarked." He tapped the corner of his mouth.

"You're ridiculous," you told him, but leaned in to place another kiss where he'd pointed.

"And here," he continued, touching his other cheek. "Symmetry is important in art."

You were laughing now as you worked your way across his face. "Are you planning to have me cover every inch?"

"That's the general idea, yes," he confirmed without a trace of shame. "I want everyone at breakfast tomorrow to know exactly what my wife thinks of me."

"Your wife thinks you're insufferable," you teased, but contradicted your words by pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"You know," he said, his free hand playing with a strand of your hair, "you were so beautiful today. When you walked down the aisle, I forgot to breathe."

You paused in your kisses, visibly touched by his sincerity.

"Who told you to stop?" he protested immediately.

"I thought you were being serious for a moment," you said, shaking your head with fond exasperation.

"I am being serious," he insisted. "Deadly serious about how stunning you looked. That dress..." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "And your hair with those little flowers woven through it. I've never seen anything more perfect."

You rewarded him with another kiss, this time at the corner of his eye.

"And when you started crying during your vows," he continued, his voice softening, "it took everything I had not to just drop to my knees right there."

"Stop," you murmured, clearly embarrassed. "I was a mess."

"A beautiful mess," he corrected. "My beautiful mess. Forever, as of today."

You leaned in to kiss him properly on the lips this time, but he turned his head slightly. "Not yet. I still have unmarked territory here." He pointed to his chin.

You rolled your eyes but complied, adding another lipstick mark.

"What are you doing with the camera, anyway?" you finally asked, looking up with mock exasperation as you pulled back.

"Documenting," he replied, voice warm with affection and something deeper. "So you can never deny how utterly irresistible you find me."

"As if your ego needs more inflation," you teased, but your expression was impossibly tender.

"Actually," Riki's voice grew serious, "I wanted to record a promise."

Your future self settled beside him, head propped on one hand. "A promise?"

"I know we did vows today," he said, camera steady on both your faces. "But there are things I wanted to say just to you. Not for an audience."

The raw emotion in his voice must have affected your future self as it did you now, because her playful expression softened into something solemn and attentive.

"I promise," he began, "that no matter how busy we get, how many cases I take, how many students you teach, I will never go a day without making sure you know how much I love you."

He shifted slightly, making sure the camera still captured both of you. "I promise that every morning when I wake up next to you, I'll remember how lucky I am that you saw past the idiot who turned your hair pink and found whatever was worth loving beneath."

Your future self's eyes had filled with tears, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

"I promise that when we fight—and we will fight, because we're both stubborn and opinionated and that's part of why I love you—I will always fight fair. I will never go to bed angry. I will never use your vulnerabilities against you."

His voice had grown husky. "I promise that when we have children, I will be the father I wish I'd had, and I will cherish every moment of creating a family with you."

Your recorded self was crying openly now, tears sliding silently down your cheeks.

"And I promise," he finished, his own eyes suspiciously bright, "that fifty years from now, I'll still look at you the way I'm looking at you right now—like you're the greatest adventure of my life, and I'd fight a hundred time-turner accidents to end up right here with you."

The recording ended as your future self leaned down to kiss him, the camera tumbling forgotten to the side.

In the study, you became aware of wetness on your cheeks. You were crying, you realized with distant surprise. Beside you, Riki's breathing had gone shallow, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the desk.

Neither of you spoke, the weight of what you'd witnessed pressing the air from the room.

Without discussion, you reached for one more orb—this one labeled "Baby Talks with Papa, Night 213."

The projection revealed a darkened bedroom—your bedroom in this house. Your future self lay on your side in bed, clearly pregnant, with Suki fast asleep beside you. Riki knelt on the floor, his face level with your rounded belly, his mouth close enough that his lips occasionally brushed the thin fabric of your nightgown.

"—and that's why Mama's wrong about the Holyhead Harpies' chances this season," he was saying softly. "But don't tell her I said that. She's very sensitive about quidditch, especially now that she can't play."

Your sleeping form shifted slightly, and Riki froze, waiting until you settled before continuing his one-sided conversation.

"Anyway, little one," he murmured, one hand spread reverently across your stomach, "your big sister finally learned to say 'dada' properly today, which is excellent timing since I was starting to worry she'd call me 'baba' forever."

He paused, smiling as something—presumably the baby—moved beneath his palm.

"That's right, kick for your dada." His voice dropped even lower. "You know, when your mama told me she was pregnant with you, I cried like a baby myself. Don't tell anyone that part. Aurors have a reputation to maintain."

The tenderness in his expression was almost painful to witness.

"I hope you have her eyes," he whispered. "And her courage. And her laugh that makes everything better even on the worst days." His thumb traced small circles on your belly. "I hope you don't have my impatience or my tendency to act before thinking. But maybe a little of my charm wouldn't hurt."

A barely audible chuckle escaped you. "Are you corrupting our unborn child again?" your drowsy voice asked, one hand reaching down to touch his hair.

"Never," he protested with mock innocence. "Just telling her about quidditch."

"Him," you corrected sleepily. "It's definitely a boy."

"We'll see," he replied, pressing a kiss to your stomach before rising to slide into bed beside you. The camera, apparently charmed to follow him, captured how he gathered both you and sleeping Suki into his arms, creating a protective circle. "Either way, they're going to be as perfect as their mother."

"And as humble as their father," you murmured, already drifting back to sleep.

The recording faded to darkness, leaving the study in crushing silence.

You realized you were still crying, tears flowing unchecked down your face. You couldn't look at Riki—couldn't bear to see if he was affected as deeply as you were by these glimpses into a life that felt both impossible and inescapably real.

When his hand found yours, you nearly jumped. His fingers twined with yours, grip almost painfully tight, as if he needed an anchor in the emotional storm these recordings had unleashed.

"I wouldn't have thought..." he began, his voice hoarse. "I never imagined I could be that person."

Summoning your courage, you turned to face him. The raw vulnerability in his expression broke something loose inside you—some final defense against the truth that had been building since you first woke in this timeline.

"I never imagined you could be either," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you are. With the girls. Every day, I see glimpses of him—that man in the recordings."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "And I see her in you. The way you know exactly what Suki needs before she asks. How you sing Sara back to sleep after nightmares."

"This isn't real," you said, but the protest sounded hollow even to your own ears. "We're just... playing parts."

"Are we?" His dark eyes searched yours, more serious than you'd ever seen him. "Because it doesn't feel like playing anymore."

You couldn't answer—couldn't find words for the confusion swirling inside you. This was Nishimura Riki, your nemesis, the bane of your Hogwarts existence. Except... he wasn't. Not entirely. Not anymore.

"I don't know what's happening to us," you finally managed. "I don't know who we're becoming."

"I think," he said slowly, "we might be becoming the people in those recordings. The people we're apparently meant to be."

The thought should have terrified you. A week ago, it would have. Now, it filled you with a complicated mix of fear and something dangerously close to hope.

"What if we get sent back?" you asked, giving voice to the question that had been haunting you. "What happens to... this? To them?" You gestured toward the orbs, the tangible evidence of a future built on love rather than animosity.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm starting to think McGonagall might have been right."

"About what?"

"About this being an educational opportunity." His smile was rueful. "I'm definitely learning things about myself I never knew."

You found yourself returning his smile, fragile though it was. "Like the fact that you apparently cry at pregnancy announcements?"

"Like the fact that I can make pancakes with faces and that I apparently give excellent pep talks to unborn children," he corrected, a hint of his usual humor returning. "The crying is clearly fake news."

The tension broke, a small laugh escaping you. Riki's expression softened, his hand still holding yours.

"I don't know what happens next," he said quietly. "McGonagall said we only have fourteen more days before we get sent back. Two weeks to reconcile the person I was with the person I apparently become." His eyes met yours, something vulnerable and urgent in his gaze. "But I do know one thing."

"What's that?"

His eyes met yours, steady and certain. "I don't hate this life. I don't hate it at all."

The simple admission hung between you, weighted with implications neither of you was quite ready to explore fully.

"Neither do I," you confessed, the words both frightening and freeing. "And that scares me more than anything."

From upstairs came the sound of Suki's voice, calling for her father to come see the tower she'd built. The moment broke, reality reasserting itself.

Riki released your hand reluctantly. "Duty calls," he said, rising from his chair. At the doorway, he paused, looking back at you. "For what it's worth... I think we could do worse than becoming those people."

He left you sitting among the scattered orbs, each one a window into a future that felt less impossible with every passing day. The wedding night promise echoed in your mind: I'd fight a hundred time-turner accidents to end up right here with you.

Maybe, you thought as you carefully returned the recordings to their cabinet, that wasn't such an outlandish sentiment after all.

-

That night, after the emotional revelation of the memory orbs, neither of you mentioned the pillow barrier that had separated your sides of the bed for the past three weeks. When you emerged from the bathroom in your pajamas, Riki was already in bed, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Are the girls asleep?" you asked, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the mattress.

He nodded. "Suki made me read 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune' twice. Said Grandma Molly does all the proper voices."

You smiled despite yourself. "And do you?"

"I try," he admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. "My Amata is apparently 'too growly.'"

The shared moment of normalcy eased some of the tension between you. You slipped under the covers, careful to maintain a respectful distance, and turned off the bedside lamp with a wave of your wand.

For several minutes, you both lay in silence, the events of the day—the memories you'd witnessed, the glimpses of a shared future—swirling through your mind. You were acutely aware of Riki's presence beside you, his breathing, the faint scent of his soap.

"Do you think they're happy?" you asked suddenly, your voice sounding loud in the darkness. "Our future selves, I mean."

Riki was quiet for a moment. "They look happy," he finally said. "In those memories... they seem genuinely happy."

"It's strange," you murmured. "A month ago, I would have said there was no possible future where you and I could..."

"Be anything but enemies?" he finished when you trailed off.

"Yes."

"And now?"

You turned onto your side, facing him though you could barely make out his profile in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "Now I'm not so sure."

He turned to face you, and you could feel his gaze even if you couldn't clearly see his expression. "Me neither."

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence had changed quality—no longer awkward, but contemplative, almost comfortable. You weren't sure who moved first, or if perhaps you both did, but somehow the space between you shrank until your head was resting against his shoulder, his arm curled around you.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

"Yes," you replied, relaxing into his embrace. It should have felt strange, being held by Riki, but instead it felt... safe. Right. As if your body remembered this comfort even if your mind didn't.

You fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's warmth, the barriers between past and present, enmity and affection, blurring with each shared breath.

The sound of crying woke you sometime in the deepest part of the night. Sara's distressed wails coming through the baby monitor. Before you could fully register what was happening, Riki was already sitting up.

"I've got her," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. "Go back to sleep."

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he padded from the room, the gentle concern in his movements so different from the arrogant boy you'd known at Hogwarts. Your body felt cold where his warmth had been, and you found yourself missing his presence with unexpected intensity.

Unable to fall back asleep immediately, you listened to the monitor as Riki entered the nursery.

"Hey, little star," his voice came softly through the speaker. "Bad dream?"

Sara's cries subsided to hiccupping sobs.

"Shh, it's okay. Daddy's here." The creaking of the rocking chair told you he'd settled in with her. "Let's not wake up the whole house, hmm? Your mama needs her sleep. She works so hard, you know."

The tenderness in his voice made your throat tighten. This wasn't for show—he didn't know you were listening. This was just Riki, caring for his daughter, speaking about you with genuine affection.

"Should we sing our special song?" he continued. "The one that always makes you sleepy?"

And then, to your astonishment, Riki began to sing—a gentle lullaby in Japanese, his voice low and surprisingly melodic. You'd never heard him sing before, never imagined he could sound so... vulnerable.

When the song ended, Sara had quieted completely.

"That's my girl," Riki murmured. "You know, you have your mother's smile. All sunshine, even at midnight."

He fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had changed—softer, more introspective, as if he were confessing something even to himself.

"I never thought I could feel this way about anyone," he said quietly. "Your mama... she was always special, even when we were kids. I used to drive her crazy just to see the fire in her eyes when she'd yell at me. Stupid, right? But I didn't know how else to get her attention."

Sara made a small cooing sound, as if encouraging him to continue.

"And now... now I see how amazing she is. How strong and brilliant and kind. The way she takes care of you and Suki, the way she teaches her students..." He sighed. "I'm not sure I deserve any of this, little star. But I think... I think I want to try to be worthy of it."

Your heart raced as you absorbed his words. This wasn't the Riki who'd turned your hair pink during exams or charmed your quills to write love poems about himself. This was a man—one who'd grown from that boy, who'd learned to love and care and put others before himself.

"Time to sleep now," he whispered to Sara. "Dreams of chocolate frogs and flying carpets for you."

You quickly sat up as you heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. Some tide had turned inside you, some barrier broken by his unguarded words. You'd spent years pushing him away, and now all you wanted was to draw him closer.

When he entered the room, his silhouette outlined in the dim hallway light, you didn't hesitate. You crossed the bed in two movements and met him at the doorway, your hands finding his face in the darkness.

"You're awake—" he began, but you silenced him by pressing your lips to his.

For a heartbeat, he froze in surprise. Then his arms encircled you, pulling you against him as he responded with a fervor that stole your breath. This wasn't like the careful, public kiss at the dinner—this was something raw and honest, years of tension dissolving into something entirely new.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, his forehead rested against yours.

"What was that for?" he whispered, his voice unsteady.

"I heard you," you admitted. "With Sara. What you said."

His body tensed slightly. "Ah."

"Did you mean it?" you asked, your hands still framing his face, thumbs tracing the line of his jaw. "About wanting to be worthy of this? Of us?"

In the darkness, you felt rather than saw him nod. "Every word."

"I think..." you began, then gathered your courage. "I think maybe you already are."

For a split second, Riki went utterly still—like the admission physically struck him. Then, his exhale came out ragged. That was the only warning before he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all pent-up longing, confusion, and overwhelming hope released at once.

You melted into him, letting go of everything you’d clung to since you woke in this impossible timeline: your rivalry, your assumptions, your fear. Because beneath your fingertips, you felt Riki tremble. He was as affected by this as you were.

His mouth slid over yours, hot and searching, stealing your breath. His hands dropped from your waist to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you flush against him. The moment your body pressed to his, he made a low, desperate sound at the back of his throat—like he’d been starving for this touch.

“God, you drive me insane,” he muttered between kisses, voice muffled by your lips. There was no space left between you—no air, no doubt, just heat and him.

When you whispered his name—Riki—he groaned, deep and guttural, a hand sliding under your shirt, up the curve of your spine. His palm was hot and possessive on your skin. It felt scandalous and necessary all at once.

Your kiss turned filthy, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, a push and pull of half-formed moans. Riki lifted you without warning, guiding your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was, the pressure against your core dizzying.

You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, sucking on your bottom lip until a bolt of sensation sparked through your entire body. Your fingers twisted into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging, and he growled—a low, feral noise that spurred you both into something deeper.

He backed you against the wall, one arm braced beside your head for support while the other stayed locked around your hips. You rolled your hips to meet his, eliciting another ragged groan from him.

“Careful,” he murmured, breaking the kiss for a desperate breath. His forehead rested against yours, eyes heavy-lidded, blown wide with desire. “I don’t have much self-control left.”

You swallowed hard. “Then don’t.”

It was all he needed to hear. Riki claimed your lips again, this time slower, deeper. The slide of his mouth was hot and wet, an intimate dance that sent tingles down your spine. You curled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, never close enough.

When he finally carried you to the bed, it felt like the world had narrowed to just heartbeats and frantic breathing. He lowered you onto the mattress, crawling over you with that same mixture of filth and reverence, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to worship you or ruin you. Possibly both.

You watched, chest heaving, as he peeled off his shirt, exposing the lean lines of his torso. A slight flush stained his cheeks, but his gaze never left yours. You fumbled with your own top, but your fingers trembled too much. Riki’s hands caught yours, guiding them aside, then took over—slowly, carefully lifting the fabric away. His eyes traveled down your newly exposed skin, and he exhaled shakily.

“You’re--” he started, then stopped, swallowing back words he couldn’t say. Instead, he leaned in to kiss a path down your throat, teeth scraping lightly, tongue soothing the small bites he left.

Goosebumps flared over your entire body at the quiet, open-mouthed kisses he pressed to your shoulder, your collarbone, the swell of your chest. The friction was maddening, each press of your bodies a reminder of the tension building below your stomach.

He slid his hand under the waistband of your pants, and your breath hitched. The filthy edge returned, overshadowing any last trace of caution. A ragged moan escaped your throat when his fingers brushed lower, teasing. Even fully clothed, the sensation threatened to snap whatever fragile composure remained.

“Riki,” you whispered, voice choking on raw need. The sound of his name seemed to unravel him.

His eyes lifted to yours, dark with want, but also swirling with something dangerously close to tenderness. You pushed a shaky hand through his hair, pulling him in for another deep, sloppy kiss. Tongue, teeth, shared breath—you both devoured it all.

Suddenly, he groaned, half-cursing. “We shouldn’t—”

“We should,” you interrupted, barely able to think straight. Because if you stopped now, if you allowed sense to creep back in, you might never let yourself have this again.

He pressed his forehead to yours, each pant of air mingling. “You’re… you’re all I can think about.”

A desperate laugh bubbled from your lips. “Same.”

His mouth captured yours once more, thoroughly, like he needed to memorize every corner of you. With a growl, he moved against you, and you felt everything—every ridge, every hard line straining through his pants, pressing right into your hips. An electric jolt shot through you, drawing a high-pitched gasp from the back of your throat.

You felt him smile against your lips, a grin that was half cocky, half wrecked, before he nipped your lower lip again. He guided your hand down, letting you feel just how hard he was—a silent confession of how far gone he’d become. A dizzy wave of heat flooded you in response.

Then, all at once, the kiss slowed, shifting from ravenous to agonizingly tender. His movements became deliberate. His tongue slid over your lips, gentler now, coaxing you to let go of tension you didn’t know you were holding. You shuddered, letting your eyes drift shut, melted by the softness that peeked through the lust.

When he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead to yours, voice trembling. “You don’t hate me at all, do you?”

A smile trembled on your lips. “Not anymore.”

He made a sound halfway between relief and longing, then carefully laid you back against the pillows. You felt him settle against you, one leg between yours, the rhythmic press of his hips leaving you dizzy and clinging. He kissed you again—soft, consuming—like he planned to stay there forever, tasting your every breath.

Your heart pounded at the realization that you had two weeks left in this timeline. Two weeks before you’d return to being seventeen, to the version of yourself that loathed Nishimura Riki. But in that moment, with his body heavy and warm over yours, with his tongue gently lapping at your bruised lips, none of it mattered.

All that mattered was that, for now, he was yours—and you were his—and the dark weight of your previous hatred had turned into something far more potent: raw, desperate desire, laced with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

So you let him kiss you until you were lightheaded. Let him press you deeper into the mattress, let your bodies align in a flush of friction, let the sweet, filthy moans echo between your parted mouths. Because if time was running out, you’d take every second you could get.

Two weeks left. Two weeks before you returned to the rivalry, the misunderstandings, the wide chasm you once thought separated you. Maybe you’d lose these memories. Maybe he would too. But for now, you poured yourself into him, letting the lines between past and present blur, letting the possibility of something more overshadow every bitter word you’d ever exchanged.

And when you finally made your way back to bed, tangled in each other’s arms, the question of hatred or love no longer loomed so large. In the hush of that moment, with your lips still buzzing from his, the only thing that mattered was him—Nishimura Riki, the man who had once been your enemy, but who now kissed you like you were his only future.

But now you knew what could be. What might be, if you chose a different path.

And for the first time since waking in this strange future, you weren't sure you wanted to go back at all.

-

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bed where you lay entwined with Riki. For a moment after waking, you felt only contentment—the warm weight of his arm across your waist, his steady breathing against your neck, the comfortable fit of your bodies together.

Then memory rushed back—the memory orbs, his confession to Sara, the kiss that had changed everything—and your eyes flew open.

Riki was already awake, watching you with an expression you'd never seen before. Gone was the cocky smirk of your school nemesis, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable, yet somehow more intense.

"Good morning," he said quietly, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," you replied, suddenly self-conscious. In the light of day, the boldness that had propelled you into his arms last night seemed both distant and startlingly real.

You made to move away, to create some space to collect your thoughts, but his arm tightened around your waist.

"Don't," he murmured. "Please."

You stilled, acutely aware of everywhere your bodies touched—his legs tangled with yours, his chest pressed against your side, his fingers splayed across your hip.

"About last night," you began, not entirely sure what you wanted to say.

"I meant every word," he interrupted, his eyes never leaving yours. "Everything I said to Sara, everything I... showed you afterward." A faint flush colored his cheeks at the memory of your kisses, but his gaze remained steady. "The question is, did you?"

You took a breath, searching for the right words. "I think I've been fighting this—whatever this is between us—since we arrived. Maybe longer."

"Me too," he admitted. "It seemed easier to hold onto who we were than to acknowledge who we might be becoming."

His fingers traced idle patterns on your hip, the casual intimacy of the gesture making your pulse quicken.

"I've been holding back," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Trying to maintain some distance, some semblance of our old rivalry, because it felt safer than admitting how much I've come to..." He paused, seemingly unwilling to name the emotion. "Care about you. About this life."

You understood completely. You'd been doing the same thing—clinging to old animosities as a shield against these new, terrifying feelings.

"But I don't want to hold back anymore," he said, his expression growing determined. "We have two weeks left in this timeline, and I don't want to waste another day pretending that I'm not falling for you."

Your breath caught at his directness. "Riki—"

"No, let me finish." His hand moved from your hip to cradle your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I know this isn't how either of us expected things to go. I know we're supposed to hate each other. But I can't keep acting like a reluctant houseguest in what's supposed to be our life together."

The intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"From now on, I'm going to be the husband you deserve—the one you see in those memory orbs. The one who looks at you like you're the most extraordinary thing he's ever seen. Because right now, you are."

You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by his declaration. "What exactly are you saying?"

His smile was slow, confident, yet tinged with a vulnerability that made it utterly disarming. "I'm saying that with your permission, I'm done holding back. I'm going to court you properly, the way a man should court his wife—with everything I have."

The old Riki—the boy you'd known at Hogwarts—had never looked at you this way, had never spoken with such sincerity. This was the man from the memory orbs, the one who promised forever on your wedding night, the one who spoke to his unborn child with such tenderness.

"Are you sure?" you asked, needing to know this wasn't just the influence of your surroundings, of playing house in borrowed lives.

"I've never been more sure of anything," he said. "The only question is... will you let me?"

The vulnerability beneath his confident words touched something deep inside you. This wasn't just about physical attraction or the strange circumstances that had thrown you together. This was Riki—proud, stubborn, brilliant Riki—offering his heart with no guarantee you wouldn't break it.

"Yes," you whispered, the word feeling like a leap from a great height. "Yes."

The smile that illuminated his face was like sunshine breaking through clouds—radiant and transformative. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You won't regret it," he promised. "I'm going to make these next two weeks so incredible that when we go back, you won't be able to look at me without remembering."

Before you could respond, the patter of small feet in the hallway announced Suki's approach. With a rueful smile, Riki pressed a quick kiss to your lips before rolling away just as the bedroom door flew open.

"Mama! Daddy! It's pancake day!" Suki announced, launching herself onto the bed. "You promised!"

"Did I?" Riki asked, catching her mid-bounce and tickling her until she shrieked with laughter.

"Yes!" she insisted between giggles. "With chocolate chips and strawberries!"

"Well, if I promised, then I better deliver," he said, setting her down and ruffling her hair. "Why don't you go pick out your clothes while Mama and I get ready?"

"Okay!" She darted from the room as quickly as she'd arrived, leaving a whirlwind of energy in her wake.

Riki turned back to you, his expression soft. "This is what I want," he said quietly. "Not just now, in this borrowed time, but someday. For real. With you."

The simple sincerity of his words stole your breath. This wasn't a declaration of undying love—it was something more grounded, more honest. A recognition of possibility, of potential.

"We should probably get up," you said, not quite ready to examine the way his words made your heart swell. "Before Hurricane Suki returns."

He nodded, but before you could move, he caught your hand. "Just one more thing."

"What's that?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners, a hint of his old mischief returning. "I hope you realize that as your properly devoted husband, I now have full license to be utterly, embarrassingly romantic at every opportunity."

You groaned, but couldn't suppress your smile. "I'm already regretting this arrangement."

"No, you're not," he said confidently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before releasing your hand. "But you might when I start serenading you at breakfast."

"You wouldn't dare."

His answering grin was pure Nishimura—challenge accepted.

As you headed to the bathroom, you couldn't help but marvel at the strange path that had led you here—from bitter rivals to reluctant co-parents to... whatever you were becoming now. Something new, something unexpected, but something that felt increasingly right.

Two weeks left in this timeline. Two weeks to explore what might have been—what might still be, if you were brave enough to reach for it when you returned.

For now, though, there were pancakes to make, children to wrangle, and a husband who had apparently decided that making you blush was his new favorite pastime.

And for the first time since arriving in this future, you found yourself looking forward to whatever came next.

-

The days after your mutual decision to embrace this borrowed life took on a bittersweet urgency. Each morning, the calendar on the kitchen wall served as a silent reminder—crossing off another day meant one fewer remaining before your inevitable return.

At first, Riki stayed true to his word about courting you properly—leaving wildflowers on your pillow, preparing your favorite meals, stealing sweet kisses when the children weren't looking. It was charming, thoughtful, and absolutely maddening in its restraint.

By the fifth day, your patience had worn dangerously thin.

You found yourself hyperaware of his presence—the way his shoulder brushed yours when you passed in the hallway, how his fingers lingered when handing you a cup of tea, the sound of his voice reading bedtime stories to the girls. Each small interaction sparked something within you, a slow-burning heat that grew more difficult to ignore.

At night, you'd fall asleep in his arms, your bodies pressed together in increasingly intimate arrangements, only to wake tangled even more closely. Yet he maintained a gentlemanly distance that made you want to scream.

On the sixth day, you both clung to Sara a few seconds longer during morning goodbyes. On the seventh, Riki spent an hour teaching Suki a charm to make paper butterflies, carefully recording her delighted laughter with a memory orb. Neither of you acknowledged the reason for this sudden preservation of moments—the looming reality that soon these children wouldn't be yours anymore.

At Hogwarts, you found yourself distracted during lessons, your mind drifting to Riki—wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, how his hands would feel on your skin if he ever abandoned his infuriating self-control.

The breaking point came on the eighth day.

You'd returned from work to find Riki in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he prepared dinner, humming a tune you recognized from one of the memory orbs. The simple domesticity of the scene—this man who had once been your greatest rival now cooking in your shared home—hit you with unexpected force.

"Where are the girls?" you asked, setting down your teaching bag.

"With your parents for the evening," he replied, turning to offer you a warm smile. "I thought we could use a night to ourselves. Maybe stargaze in the garden after dinner? The Cassiopeia constellation is particularly clear this time of year."

Stargazing. Another sweet, thoughtful, perfectly restrained activity.

Something inside you snapped.

"No," you said firmly, approaching him with determined steps.

His smile faltered. "No? I thought you liked astronomy—"

"I don't want to stargaze, Riki." You reached him and took the wooden spoon from his hand, setting it aside. "I don't want to be courted anymore."

Hurt flashed across his face. "I don't understand. I thought—"

"We have six days left," you interrupted, your voice steady despite your racing heart. "Six days before we go back to being seventeen and all of this disappears. I don't want to spend them pretending we have all the time in the world."

Understanding began to dawn in his eyes, but you needed to be absolutely clear.

"You keep treating me like we're starting from the beginning, but we're not. We're already married. We already have children. We already love each other in this timeline." You stepped closer, eliminating the space between you. "I don't need courtship. I need you to be present with me—right here, right now—while we still can be."

His breath caught audibly. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying fuck the courting," you replied bluntly, satisfaction coursing through you at his shocked expression. "Everything you do—every look, every touch, every sound you make—lights a fire in me, and I'm tired of pretending otherwise."

For a heartbeat, he remained perfectly still, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your skin tingle. Then, with a muttered curse, he closed the distance between you, one hand tangling in your hair while the other pulled you flush against him.

The kiss was nothing like the careful ones you'd shared before—this was raw, desperate, years of tension finally finding release. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers digging into his shoulders as if afraid he might pull away.

He backed you against the kitchen counter, his body pressed against yours in a way that left no doubt about how much he wanted this too. When you finally broke apart for air, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough. "Because if you are, I won't be able to go back to just holding your hand."

In answer, you reached for your wand and cast a quick charm toward the stove, extinguishing the flames beneath the pots.

"Dinner can wait," you said, taking his hand and leading him toward the stairs. "We can't."

Your heart was still hammering from the last kiss, your mind spinning with the realization that you didn’t truly hate him—Nishimura Riki, your longtime rival, the one person you were supposed to despise. But after waking in this future and discovering your lives entwined? All that bitterness had morphed into a pulse-pounding tension you could no longer deny.

Riki’s sharp intake of breath was the only warning before he crashed his mouth into yours, claiming your lips with a force that stole every coherent thought from your head. He gripped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer until your chests were flush. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sucking it between his own, making you gasp into his mouth. You tasted something raw and electric on his tongue—years of pent-up rivalry fueling a desperate kind of need.

When you finally broke apart, panting, he pinned you with a dark, unwavering stare. His cheeks were flushed, eyes dilated with hunger you never imagined seeing from him.

“If we do this—” he started, words low and ragged, “there’s no coming back. I can’t go back to just ignoring you, or acting like we’re not…”

You swallowed, heart thudding. “I don’t want to ignore it anymore,” you whispered, the confession surprising even you.

He let out a sound—somewhere between a curse and a prayer—and grabbed your wrist, leading you to the bed. Each step felt like a collision of hearts, the air heavy with unspoken promises. The second your back hit the mattress, he hovered over you, breath coming in harsh pants. His body pressed you down, hips snug between your thighs, letting you feel just how achingly hard he was through his clothes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his mouth along the line of your jaw, the curve of your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that had you shivering. “You feel so good… can’t believe we waited this long.”

You barely got a chance to respond before he slid down your body, fingers deftly working to peel away the barriers between you. Clothes were tugged off with clumsy urgency—your shirt up over your head, his hoodie tossed aside. His mouth followed a path down your torso, teeth scraping lightly, tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

By the time he settled between your legs, you were trembling with anticipation, your head spinning from the low, filthy groan he let out at the sight of you. He pushed your knees apart, lips skimming the inside of your thigh, sending jolts of pleasure right through your core.

“Riki…” you moaned, voice cracking.

His name seemed to snap something in him. With a growl that bordered on feral, he lowered his head, pressing his mouth to your center with no hesitation. The first stroke of his tongue was slow but deliberate, an experimental lap that had your toes curling. He moaned softly against you, the vibration making you gasp, and you dug your heels into the bed, hips bucking upward in a silent plea for more.

He gave you more.

Open-mouthed kisses replaced gentler licks, each one wetter, louder, dangerously addictive. Your breath caught when he focused on just the right spot, swirling his tongue, then flattening it in a heavy, dragging motion that left you whimpering his name. His hands crept up your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin as if to anchor you—as if to keep you from floating away under the intensity of his mouth.

“You taste… so fucking good,” he murmured, half to himself. Heat coiled low in your belly at the filthy timbre of his voice.

He licked, sucked, nipped lightly—alternating between decadent slowness and feral bursts of pressure—making your mind go blank. Every moan or sob of pleasure you gave him, he seemed to swallow greedily, redoubling his efforts. Your fingers knotted in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, urging him closer.

When you rolled your hips against his face, desperate for friction, he groaned, a shamelessly erotic sound that sent sparks through your entire body. He pressed his hand against your stomach, keeping you pinned as he focused his tongue with maddening precision. Your vision blurred; your only tether to reality was the slick, relentless glide of his mouth and the thunder of your heart.

“Oh God,” you gasped, head thrashing on the pillow. “Riki—”

He hummed in response—a rumble that made your thighs shake. The sensation built, rising to a point you were sure you couldn’t handle. Your breath hitched, eyes squeezing shut. You were so close, the tension in your muscles near bursting.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, momentarily pulling back to suck a bruising kiss along your inner thigh, before returning to lave his tongue exactly where you needed.

That was all it took.

The coil snapped. Your body arched off the bed, a ragged cry tearing from your lips as the orgasm crashed over you—long, pulsating waves of ecstasy that left you gasping for air. Riki held you through it, unrelenting until the last aftershocks made you shiver, your mind wholly surrendered to sensation.

By the time the world drifted back into focus, you realized he had kissed his way up your trembling body, peppering lazy kisses on your skin. His face hovered over yours, eyes half-lidded, mouth glistening with proof of what he’d done. A flush colored his cheeks, and his breathing was ragged, as though he’d been lost in it as deeply as you were.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning down to brush his lips over yours in a sloppy, hungry kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue, a heady reminder of how intimate you’d just been. You let out a weak moan, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close.

Your heart pounded, and for a moment, you just breathed each other in—sweat, sweetness, the faint tang of desperation still clinging to every shared breath.

“You okay?” he murmured, running a hand gently down your side. There was a tenderness in his tone that caught you off guard, considering how filthy the moment had been just seconds ago.

“More than okay,” you managed, voice cracked with leftover tremors. You shifted, still dizzy with pleasure, arms and legs like jelly.

A soft, relieved laugh escaped him. He nuzzled your cheek, pressing another lingering kiss to your jaw. “I’m not done with you yet,” he teased, though his voice held a trace of nervous sincerity.

You swallowed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. “Then don’t be,” you replied softly.

And just like that, the tension began to build again, a quiet, throbbing promise of more. Because if there was one thing this impossible future had shown you, it was that Nishimura Riki was no longer just your rival—he was the man who could unravel you with a single stroke of his tongue, and you never wanted him to stop.

-

Later that night, lying tangled together in the sheets of your shared bed, you traced idle patterns on his chest while he played with your hair. The desperate urgency had given way to a peaceful contentment that felt all the more precious for its transience.

"I've been an idiot, haven't I?" Riki murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Wasting time with flowers and stargazing when we could have been doing that."

You laughed softly. "To be fair, the flowers were lovely."

"Not as lovely as you," he replied, his expression growing more serious. "I just... I didn't want to push. Didn't want you to think I was only interested in the physical aspect of... us."

"I know," you assured him, propping yourself up on one elbow to meet his gaze. "But we don't have the luxury of a normal courtship timeline. We're doing everything backwards and on an accelerated schedule."

He nodded, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of your hair. "Speaking of backwards—is it strange that I feel like I'm falling in love with my own wife? Like I'm both meeting you for the first time and rediscovering someone I've known forever?"

The casual mention of love should have frightened you. Instead, it felt right—inevitable, even.

"Not strange at all," you said softly. "I feel the same way."

For a moment, you both lay in comfortable silence, absorbing the weight of the admission.

"What happens when we go back?" he finally asked, voicing the question that had been hovering between you for days.

You sighed, settling your head against his shoulder. "I don't know. Will we even remember this? Or will it feel like a dream we can't quite recall?"

"I'll remember," he said with fierce certainty. "I refuse not to. Even if I have to brew a memory potion or create my own pensieve."

"And then what? We go from this—" you gestured between your entwined bodies, "—to being seventh-year students again? From parents to teenagers?"

"We find each other again," he said simply. "Maybe not right away. Maybe we need time to grow into the people who can truly appreciate each other. But we find our way back."

The conviction in his voice made your throat tighten with emotion. "How can you be so sure?"

His answer was immediate and unwavering. "Because now I know what's possible. And I'm not willing to live in a timeline where we don't end up together."

-

The remaining days passed in a blur of intense emotions. By unspoken agreement, you both devoted your days to Suki and Sara—memorizing their laughs, recording their milestones, storing away every precious moment with the girls who had somehow become your children in every way that mattered.

But the nights—the nights were for each other.

On those nights, once Suki and Sara were sound asleep, you and Riki would quietly slip away to your bedroom, hearts pounding with an almost desperate urgency. Each evening blurred into the next, infused with a need to capture every last second of this borrowed future.

It began the moment you closed the bedroom door. He crowded you against it, mouth searching for yours, a low, heated groan rising from his chest. You gasped at the contact—your bodies pressed tight, as if you had to make up for all the time lost in the past.

Clothes were peeled away in hurried, clumsy motions. The bed beckoned, but neither of you reached it immediately; you made it halfway across the room before Riki’s hands gripped your hips and he lowered you to the soft rug, the raw ache of your kiss fueling every frantic thrust. It was urgent and wild, a crash of breathless moans echoing in the dim light.

After you unraveled beneath him, panting, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, eyes reflecting a jumble of relief and longing.

The second night, you found each other in the very early hours, awoken by Sara’s soft cries—but once she was fed and settled, you and Riki lingered in the bed, half-lidded with sleep.

He coaxed you onto his lap slowly, fingertips tracing lazy patterns along your spine. The way he kissed you—soft, indulgent—made your entire body tingle. This time, the pace was slower, sweeter, each roll of your hips drawn out, every shared breath reverent. When you let go, he followed seconds later, whispering your name like a vow.

A random pillow fight after Suki fell asleep turned into a tangle of sheets on the living room floor, laughter morphing into sharp gasps when you straddled his lap, feeling him already half-hard against you.

He murmured something about you being the most infuriating person he’d ever loved, and you answered by kissing him with a grin. Before long, your back hit the cushions, his lips traveling down your neck, your chest, leaving you breathless. You tried to keep quiet—worried about waking the girls—but the desperate friction of your bodies made you moan louder than intended. Riki chuckled, pressing a finger to your mouth, but his own voice shook with suppressed groans.

The release was quick and intense, your nails leaving faint crescents in his shoulders, both of you dizzy from the risk and thrill.

The next day, once Sara and Suki were tucked in, you coaxed Riki into a late-night shower, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. The steamy, cramped space made every movement more intimate.

He pressed you to the tile, nipping along your jaw, water drenching your hair as he lifted your leg around his waist. Each slick slide of his hips was both filthy and tender, the warm rush of water muffling your shared gasps.

You bit your lip, fighting to stay balanced, but Riki pinned you gently, murmuring soft curses at how good you felt. By the time you both tumbled out, the bathroom mirror fogged beyond recognition, your limbs trembled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

On the final night, you could almost feel the looming separation weighing on you both. That awareness fed a fierce, almost frantic edge to your lovemaking—hands clutching, mouths hungry, as if you wanted to burn the memory of each other into your very souls.

Riki rolled you onto your stomach, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your spine, his breath hot against damp skin. You whimpered his name, already aching for the inevitable end that lurked in tomorrow’s sunrise.

When he finally slid inside you, the cry you let out felt like a broken confession, the tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. Every thrust reverberated with the ache of goodbye. When you came apart, you clung to him like a lifeline, and he followed with a ragged moan, arms wrapping around you, holding tight as though he could shield you both from time itself.

Every touch, every whispered confession, every moment of connection was infused with an almost desperate intensity, as if you could somehow store enough memories to sustain you through the separation that loomed ahead.

On your final night, you lay awake long after Riki had fallen asleep, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. In just a few hours, you would return to your original timeline—to being seventeen and full of misunderstandings and rivalry, with the entire story of your lives together yet to be written.

Would you remember this? The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you across the breakfast table? How his hands felt, strong and sure, when he pulled you against him? The sound of his voice singing lullabies to Sara or patiently answering Suki’s endless questions?

You traced the lines of his face with gentle fingers, committing each detail to memory. Whatever happened tomorrow, you wouldn’t regret a single moment of the time you’d spent in this borrowed future—this glimpse of what could be, if you were brave enough to reach for it.

As dawn approached, you finally closed your eyes, your body curved protectively around his, as if you could somehow shield him—shield both of you—from the inevitable separation that morning would bring.

Six days had become five, then four, then three, until finally you’d arrived at the last day of your borrowed time together. Tomorrow you would return to being students, to being rivals, to being separate.

But tonight—tonight you were still husband and wife, still partners, still two people who had found each other across time and circumstance.

And that, you decided as sleep finally claimed you, was something worth fighting to remember.

-

Your heart pounded as reality settled over you. You were back at Hogwarts—in the Room of Requirement, specifically, which had transformed itself into a bedroom much smaller than the one you'd shared for the past month. Morning sunlight streamed through unfamiliar windows, illuminating your school uniforms draped over nearby chairs.

School uniforms. Not adult robes. Not your teaching clothes or his Auror gear.

"We're back," you whispered, the words barely audible.

"The girls," Riki said, his voice cracking. "Suki. Sara."

The names hung in the air between you, impossible weights on your hearts. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold despite the warm room. "They're not... they don't..."

"They don't exist yet," he finished, his face ashen. He looked younger, you realized with a jolt. The subtle maturity that had marked his adult face was gone, replaced by the smoother features of a seventeen-year-old. Still handsome, but less... weathered.

You touched your own face, feeling the slight differences. No fine lines around your eyes. Fuller cheeks. You looked down at your hands—no faint scar from where you'd burned yourself making potions with Suki. No wedding ring.

"It's like it never happened," you said hollowly.

Riki stood abruptly, pacing the small room. "No. It happened. It was real. I remember everything." He turned to you, eyes wild. "You remember too, right? Please tell me you remember."

"I remember," you assured him, your voice steadier than you felt. "Every moment."

The relief on his face was palpable. "McGonagall said we would. She said the displacement would resolve itself naturally, but our memories would remain intact."

"McGonagall," you repeated. "We should talk to her. She'll know—"

The door burst open before you could finish. Professor McGonagall herself stood in the entrance, her stern expression softening slightly at the sight of you both.

"Ah, good. You're awake," she said crisply. "I see the temporal spell has resolved itself as expected."

"Professor," you began, a thousand questions crowding your mind. "The future we saw—"

"Is one possibility, Miss [Last Name]," she interrupted gently. "One of many possible futures that may come to pass."

"But it felt so real," Riki said, his fists clenching at his sides. "Those people—our children—"

"They may still come to be, Mr. Nishimura," McGonagall said. "Or they may not. Time is not fixed. The future you glimpsed was formed by choices neither of you has made yet." Her gaze sharpened. "The question is whether your experience has taught you anything about the consequences of your actions."

You exchanged a glance with Riki, a silent understanding passing between you that would have been impossible a month ago.

"I believe it has, Professor," you said quietly.

"Good." She nodded briskly. "Then perhaps this entire ordeal was not without value." She checked her watch. "You've missed breakfast, but there's still time to change for your first classes. I suggest you both make haste."

With that, she turned to leave, then paused at the doorway. "Oh, and ten points from both your houses for the reckless spellcasting that caused this mess. Try to remember that magic is not a toy, even when provoked by..." she glanced between you, "...strong emotions."

The door closed behind her, leaving you alone with Riki once more.

An awkward silence descended. He looked so different in his rumpled school uniform, his prefect badge slightly askew. Yet his eyes were the same—the eyes that had gazed at you with tenderness as you fell asleep in his arms just last night.

Except it wasn't last night. That version of him—that version of you—was more than a decade away.

"So," he finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "What happens now?"

It was the question neither of you had fully answered even during your last night together. What would you do when you returned? How could you possibly navigate the strangeness of being seventeen again, with all the memories of an adult life together?

"I don't know," you admitted. "Everything's different. But also the same."

He took a half-step toward you, then stopped himself. "Is it... are we...?" He couldn't seem to complete the thought.

You understood his hesitation. In the future, you had been equals—partners in every sense. Here, now, you were just teenagers again. The depth of feeling, the intimacy you'd shared, felt both precious and impossible in your current bodies.

"I think," you said slowly, choosing your words with care, "that we can't just pick up where we left off. We're not those people yet."

Pain flashed across his face, but he nodded. "You're right. We're not."

"But," you continued, needing him to understand, "I don't want to go back to hating you either."

Hope bloomed in his eyes. "I never really hated you," he confessed. "Even before all this."

"I know." You managed a small smile. "You were just trying to get my attention."

He laughed, a sound that made your heart ache with its familiarity. "It worked, didn't it?"

"A bit too well." You gestured around the room. "Got us thrown ten years into the future."

"Best mistake I ever made," he said softly.

The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch. This was still Riki—your Riki—just younger, less certain, with all the growing up yet to do.

"We should get to class," you said, not because you wanted to leave, but because staying felt dangerous—like you might forget all the reasons why jumping back into your relationship was a bad idea.

He nodded, reaching for his school robes. "Right. Wouldn't want to lose more house points."

You gathered your own robes, hyperaware of him just a few feet away. "Riki?"

He looked up, a flash of vulnerability crossing his features. "Yes?"

"Maybe we could..." you hesitated, then pushed forward. "Maybe we could talk later? After classes?"

The smile that lit his face was so reminiscent of his older self that your chest ached. "I'd like that."

As you both prepared to face the day—the first day of your new, old lives—you couldn't help feeling that this wasn't an ending at all. It was a beginning. A chance to build the future you'd glimpsed, but this time with your eyes wide open.

Suki and Sara might not exist yet. The house with the magical extensions, the teaching career, the shared breakfasts and bedtime stories—all of it lay in a potential future, one you might or might not reach.

But as you caught Riki's eye one more time before leaving the Room of Requirement, you felt something settle in your heart. A certainty that hadn't been there before your temporal displacement.

Some paths were meant to be walked together, even if the journey began again.

-

The day passed in a blur of familiar yet suddenly strange routines. Sitting in classes you'd once taught, surrounded by peers who had no idea the person beside them was mentally a decade older—it was disorienting to say the least.

You caught glimpses of Riki throughout the day—across the Great Hall during lunch, passing in the corridor between Charms and Transfiguration, in the library during your free period. Each time, your eyes would meet briefly, a world of understanding passing between you before someone would interrupt or you'd have to move on.

News of your overnight disappearance and return had spread, of course, but the details remained vague. Most assumed it was just another chapter in your long-standing rivalry—a prank gone wrong, perhaps, or a duel that had sent you both to the hospital wing. No one could have guessed that you'd spent the missing hours living an entire month in your future.

By the time classes ended, anxiety had settled in your stomach like a lead weight. You'd told Riki you'd meet him by the lake, away from the curious eyes and gossip of your housemates. As you walked down the sloping lawn toward the water's edge, you spotted him already waiting, skipping stones across the still surface.

He looked impossibly young in his school robes, his tie loosened and hair slightly tousled by the breeze. Yet when he turned at the sound of your approach, the look in his eyes was anything but childish. It was Riki—your Riki—the one who had held you through the night and promised to find you across time.

"Hi," you said, stopping a few feet away, suddenly shy.

"Hi," he replied, letting the stone in his hand drop back to the ground. "You came."

"I said I would."

An awkward silence fell, the weight of everything you'd experienced together—everything you'd lost—hovering between you. The easy intimacy you'd developed over the past month seemed both immediate and impossibly distant.

"This is weird," he finally said, running a hand through his hair.

You laughed, the tension breaking slightly. "So weird. I keep wanting to check on the girls, and then remembering..."

"That they don't exist," he finished, pain flashing across his features. "Yet."

That single word—yet—contained so much hope, so much uncertainty.

"I went to Defense Against the Dark Arts and kept wanting to correct Professor Mays," you admitted. "I almost offered to demonstrate the Shield Charm variation I'd been teaching my fifth years."

"I sat in Potions thinking about a case I worked on last week—will work on in a decade, I guess." He shook his head. "Time travel pronouns are still confusing."

Another silence, less awkward but weighted with things unsaid.

"So," you ventured, "what happens now?"

Riki took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether it was all just the circumstances," he said, his voice low and intense. "Whether what happened between us was just because we were thrust into those roles, or if it was something real. Something that could exist here, now."

Your heart began to race. "What do you think?"

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I think I've been falling for you since fifth year, but I was too stubborn and immature to admit it. I think aggravating you was the only way I knew to get your attention. And I think seeing who we could become together—who we are together—just brought to the surface feelings that were already there."

His raw honesty stole your breath.

"What about you?" he asked, vulnerability evident in every line of his body. "Was it real for you?"

You thought about the last month—the confusion, the gradual understanding, the growing affection that had blossomed into something deeper. Had it all been circumstantial? Just two people playing the roles they were thrust into?

"At first, I thought it was just the situation," you admitted. "That we were just adapting to the reality we found ourselves in."

His face fell slightly, but he nodded, accepting your words.

"But then," you continued, needing him to understand, "somewhere along the way, it changed. It became about you—not future you, not my supposed husband—just you, Riki. The way you were with the girls. The way you looked at me. The person I saw beneath all the bravado and pranks."

Hope bloomed in his eyes, cautious but undeniable.

"I want to be your boyfriend," he blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in his haste. "Not in ten years. Now. Here." He stepped forward and took your hands in his, his grip almost painfully tight. "I don't want to be anyone else's, and I don't want you to be anyone else's either."

The intensity in his gaze nearly buckled your knees. This was Riki stripped of all pretense—raw, vulnerable, offering his heart with no guarantee you wouldn't break it.

"Kiss me," he whispered, his voice dropping to a plea. "Kiss me, kiss me, please. I've been thinking about it all day—wondering if it would feel the same, if you'd taste the same—"

You silenced him the only way you could, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to his. The kiss was different from those you'd shared in the future—more hesitant, less practiced—but the spark was the same, the connection immediate and electric.

His hands released yours to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he kissed you with increasing certainty. You curled your fingers into the front of his robes, anchoring yourself to him.

When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you go completely.

"So," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips, "is that a yes?"

"Yes," you confirmed, your own smile breaking free. "But on one condition."

"Anything."

"No more turning my hair pink during exams."

He laughed, the sound lightening something in your chest. "I make no such promises. Besides, you looked good with pink hair."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't maintain your stern expression. "We're going to have to tell people, you know. Our friends. Our families eventually."

"Let them talk," he said, unconcerned. "They'll get used to it. Might even win a few bets—I'm pretty sure half the school has money on when we'd finally figure things out."

The casual way he spoke of your relationship—as if it was inevitable, as if you were always meant to find each other—settled something inside you. The future you'd glimpsed might not happen exactly as you'd seen it, but the essential truth remained: you and Riki belonged together, in any timeline.

"So," he said, taking your hand as you began to walk back toward the castle, "think we'll name our first daughter Suki when the time comes?"

"Don't push your luck, Nishimura," you warned, but you squeezed his hand all the same.

He grinned, unrepentant. "Just planning ahead. I've got a lot of memories to make real."

His eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. "Speaking of memories... are you planning to keep me 'thoroughly fucked' in this timeline too? Or was that just a future perk?"

"Riki!" You glanced around, mortified though no one was within earshot.

"What?" he asked with exaggerated innocence. "It's a legitimate question about our relationship parameters."

You elbowed him, but couldn't completely hide your smile. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're dating me now." His grin widened. "Just wondering if I need to earn certain... privileges again, or if there's a temporal grandfather clause."

"You're definitely earning everything from scratch," you informed him primly.

"Challenge accepted," he replied without missing a beat. "Though I do hope you'll give me hints. Like whether you're wearing the same slytherin green underwear from our future, or if I need to charm them off you to find out?"

"You wouldn't dare."

His laugh was warm and intimate, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the evening chill. "No, I wouldn't. Not without your permission." His voice softened. "I remember what you like. What we like together. And I'm looking forward to rediscovering every bit of it—properly this time."

As the castle rose before you, warm light spilling from its windows into the gathering dusk, you felt a curious mixture of loss and hope. You had lost a life, but gained a future—one that you would build together, step by step, choice by choice, with all the patience and passion that your journey had taught you.

fin.

-

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims

[munsonsmixtapes]

I'm Still Your Boy

Ex=boyfriend!Eddie x fem!reader

After your boyfriend cheats on you at your birthday party, your ex Eddie reminds you that he'll always be your shoulder to cry on.

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of cheating

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Maybe it’s because of something you did in a past life. Some sort of karma, perhaps? Whatever the reason, you don’t think you actually deserve to be cheated on by your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who told you that he wanted to save himself for you and you alone, which seemed to be a fucking lie just to get in your pants considering you caught him with the very girl he told you not to worry about. 

They were fucking and to make it even more sad, they were fucking in your bed at your birthday party. Well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of the shit sundae? And they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you slam the door. 

Before anyone could see you cry, you hurry to the bathroom, thankful that you’re upstairs and that no one else was around. What’s supposed to be a fun celebration has turned into something you’ll remember forever for all the wrong reasons. 

As soon as you’re alone, you sit on the toilet and begin to cry. Maybe you feel a bit pathetic but you can’t help it. Sure, it’s not like you actually loved the man, but it still hurts like hell. Especially when Josh told you time and time again that Chelsea would never be a problem. 

And now you find yourself wondering how long they’ve been doing it behind your back. And why you feel so hurt. It’s not like you even liked him that much. And now this is the excuse to break up with him that you’ve been looking for. 

You’re full on sobbing now and it’s not like you’re surprised, you were expecting it to happen with the way they’re always looking at each other, but you’d think your boyfriend would at least have some decency to not cheat on you at your birthday party. But apparently that was too much to ask. 

You grab some toilet paper from the roll next to you and blow your nose, absolutely positive that you look terrible with mascara tears streaming down your cheeks, but you can’t get yourself to look. That would just make you feel even worse. You spent hours on your makeup and now you let some stupid boy ruin it in a matter of minutes. 

Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s doing at this party. He wants to be here, but he’s not even sure why he was invited. The two of you broke up years ago and even though it was mutual and there was no bad blood, you just drifted apart. 

He feels so weird being here in this house. There are so many memories that the two of you have created here, a time capsule of your relationship. He wants to be there to celebrate you, but being there with all of the little moments the two of you shared throughout your relationship is far too painful to relive. He misses you so much more than he’d ever care to admit. 

He wants to be your friend again, but seeing the way your new boyfriend was glaring daggers at him when everyone was singing “Happy Birthday”, he’s not so sure that’s a good idea. He’s only known he guy a couple of hours and he’s already convinced with a few drinks in his system, he’d knock him the fuck out. 

His name is Josh for starters. Fucking Josh. That should be a red flag on its own. He also somehow got you the wrong cake which was clearly mostly for him since he seemed so excited about it. That seemed to be a common theme considering the same went for your gift. He got you a video game for a system that you don’t even have and it was the second one in a series. 

And Eddie swore he wasn’t going to leave the party alive when you opened your gift from him. It was a special edition of your favorite book as a child and if looks could have killed, he would have been dead. You seemed so grateful for the gift, even going as far as hugging Eddie, nothing but happy tears pricking your eyes. 

He didn’t realize just how much he missed holding you until you were in his arms again. You just fit so perfectly. Before he could reminisce too much, you pulled away, moving back to sit in Josh’s lap, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Out of all of your friends who were there, Eddie seemed to be the only one who could tell just how little fun you were having. How was it that you seemed to be invisible at your own birthday party? Why was he the only one who seemed to care? The two of you weren’t even friends anymore. Maybe after tonight, that’ll change.He really wants to reconnect. Maybe he can invite you out for coffee and the two of you can catch up. 

It’s almost midnight. Most of the guests have already left or they’re so drunk that they’ve passed out on the various pieces of furniture around the first level of the house. You’ve disappeared and that’s all Eddie cares about. He wants to find you so he can say goodnight and get the fuck out of there before he does something he’ll regret. 

He heads up the stairs on the hunt for you, but he realizes that he needs to go to the bathroom first. He knows he should anyway before he hits the road. He sees the bathroom door is cracked and heads for it, opening it expecting to see it empty, but he finds you sitting on the toilet sobbing your eyes out. 

“Eddie, hey,” you grin at him, trying your best to look normal even though your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear stained. 

“Hey.” He waves awkwardly in a way that you’ve always found so adorable. “Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I’ll give you some privacy. He turns to leave, but you grab hold of his wrist before he can get too far. 

“Will you stay with me?” You ask with a sniff. He would stay with you even if you weren’t crying, but he especially will because you are. 

He shuts the door all the way then sits on his knees in front of you, forcing himself to look at you even though seeing you cry always broke his heart. He doesn’t know why you’re crying but he has a guess. He doesn’t ask even though he really wants to. He wants to wait for you to speak, not wanting to pry, but just keep you company as you go through a hard time. 

He takes the toilet paper from you and wipes away your tears, gently dabbing to preserve what little makeup is left. He knows how important that kind of thing is to you. Well, he’s actually not so sure you feel that way still. He forgets that he doesn’t actually know you anymore. 

“I look terrible, don’t I?” You look up at him, lips trembling and he really doesn't think he can take seeing you cry anymore. It’ll just make his heart break even more than it already has.

“You look beautiful as always.” It’s his go-to response but it always worked like a charm. He wonders if his flirting still has the same effect on you. He used to love seeing the way you’d get all giggly when he would compliment you. 

“But you have to say that, you’re my-” you cut yourself off, remember that Eddie isn’t your boyfriend anymore. Your boyfriend is the reason why you’re crying. “Sorry, habit.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head. “You do look beautiful, though. That dress is great, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. You always did have good style, y/n.” 

“Is this all just your clever way of getting into my pants?” The words are dripping with venom and Eddie wonders what he said that made everything shift. He was just paying a compliment, nothing more, nothing less. 

His eyes widen and he stammers, trying his best to save himself quickly as he’s drowning fast. Your eyes widen as well so clearly you’re just as surprised by your sudden outburst. You have no idea where it came from especially since Eddie has never been that kind of guy and he especially wouldn’t be now knowing that you have a boyfriend.

“No,” he finally says as he’s able to find the words. “I was just paying you a compliment and you know that.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” You’re shaking your head, hating how you’ve spoken to him, accusing him  of something that he clearly wasn’t even doing. “I just caught Josh cheating on me and I guess I’m taking it out on you.” 

“He what?” Oh now he’s livid. He’s got to kick this guy’s ass now that he finally has an excuse. 

“It’s my fault,” you shake your head again. “I wasn’t giving him enough attention-” your words are cut off by Eddie taking your face in his hands, staring you down. 

“It’s not your fault. Stop making excuses for him y/n. That guy is a fucking loser and he doesn’t deserve you. He deserves to end up broke and alone.” You know he’s right but just want to pass the blame onto yourself because then there would actually be a reason for Josh’s cheating other than the fact that he just doesn’t seem to care about you. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He does in your eyes. ever since the two of you started hanging out, he had a knack for telling you exactly what you needed to hear even if it was a little too blunt for your liking. You appreciated that he never failed to tell you the truth no matter how much it may have hurt.

“I try.” It seems like all of your feelings for each other that have been bottled up are pouring out, now almost palpable because of how strong they are.

“I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” Eddie replies, moving his thumbs back and forth across your cheeks just like he used to do. “I’ll be kicking myself for letting you slip through my fingers for the rest of my life.”

“What if we gave it another try? The friendship part?” Your face lights up at his suggestion and you decide that this is the best birthday present you’ve ever received. 

“I’d really like that. Hey, I think Benny’s is still open. Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“I’d love nothing more.” Eddie helps you up from the toilet and leads you out the front door where you head to his van to head to the diner. 

The two of you find yourselves in your favorite booth, eating and laughing like no time has passed. You stay there into the early morning as the sun comes up, finishing off your meal with a milkshake that the two of you share for old time’s sake and right then and there, Eddie realizes that he’s still is very much your boy, still wrapped around your goddamn finger just the way he likes and there’s no other place he’d rather be.

[gachagon]

I think this new update is about Julie becoming the new "face" for Welcome Home (the TV-show and possible merchandising) For starters, this is the first time ever that Wally is not the main one on the website.

Aside from the fact that he's missing in two separate art pieces featuring "everyone", this is the first time that a different character has been on the front cover. That, and in all of the extra material we found even when Wally is there, he takes on a much more passive and observant role in the story. Normally, the story revolves around the Neighbors putting on a show of some sort, or Wally going around the Neighborhood to gather people for the next activity of the day.

However, here, Wally is not the one who finds the solution to any sort of problem and is only really mentioned once or twice. There is the cool radio show, but again Wally isn't the most proactive host. Most of the speaking time is taken up by Frank and Julie.

Another thing I noticed is that because Wally isn't really in the spotlight this time around, We the reader (and subsequent viewer of this non-existent show) are not included in the activities at all. Nobody, not even the narrator, talks to US about what they're all doing that day.

Which is a bit strange when you really think about it, because all of the Looky-Loo story books are told with the context that it's a play being put on by the others, and the show is much more inline with something like Sesame Street or the Electric Company where the viewer is sometimes an active participant at home.

This says to me that Wally truly is the only puppet who can see "us" both canonically within the shows universe, and in the context of the Restoration Project. Julie, even though she is the "star" this time around, does not seem to have the same level of control or even awareness that Wally had. So being the "star" of the show doesn't grant you the ability to interact with the viewer (you).

Another thing about this update is that it seems we're trying, but failing, to really define what Julie Joyful is. Like, we know Julie is a Rainbow blush monster and that she makes flowers bloom, however I am of the opinion that this update reveals that Julie actually doesn't know what she's doing or how to make flowers bloom on her own.

I said earlier in a different post that Julie doesn't want to join her families band as the drummer, and we know from this Looky-Loo storybook that singing is the key to making a flower bloom in the first place. So it stands to reason that all Julie would have to do is just sing to make the flowers bloom. So why doesn't she just do that?

I think it's because the narrative wants Julie to join the band with her siblings and has been nudging her in that direction. But Julie doesn't want to for whatever reason unknown to us, my personal theory that has no basis is that I think Julie used to be a character that appeared in the background but who got popular with kids so the company brought her to the forefront eventually.

And now in this update she seems to be the main attraction of the whole show, and is even on the front page. But I think she's desperately afraid of having to return as the drummer for the family band because then she won't have a place in the neighborhood anymore.

There's also items like the soda that was advertised here that seems to be strictly Julie themed. Alongside this Storybook featuring Wally:

There's a distinct theme of "joy" being this mystery element that can't really be defined as easily as one wants. The soda is so vague about what Joy is, and Wally's painting is so abstract that it's hard to understand what he meant when he painted it. All of this says to me that Julie tried to be the new face of Welcome Home, but that it was incredibly difficult either for the writers or herself, because she wasn't sure deep down what her own purpose was.

All of the characters on the show have a defined purpose or job or skill, but Julie's only purpose seems to just be "happy". She reminds me of a lot of girl characters in childrens shows who happen to only exist to fill a market for young girls, but who are so shallowlly written that they don't really have much use narratively like the other characters.

The way she's paired with Frank it is clear that she has a two-man comedy type of routine with him where he's straightforward, blunt, and frowny and she's the super happy go lucky type, so maybe eventually the writing team for Welcome Home paired them together all the time because they couldn't exactly figure out what to do with Julie by herself.

[bettystonewell]

What Happened Last Night? - Part 1

Dean Winchester x Reader

After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. MDNI 18+ only 3.3k words

Tags: friends to lovers language, Pining, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two

A/N: Hey 👋 This is my first time posting a fanfic on Tumblr. The names’s Beth (Aussie/Dean-girl/tired mum). I’ve been on AO3 (and Wattpad) for over a year now and thought it was about time I put my big girl pants on and join the community here because it looks fun (though the social media side of this scares my close-to-midlife-crisis-ass). So, yeah, newbie in terms of everything here - please be kind. If you recognise me from the other sites, please say hi 😊 This is a cross post - there are two chapters total. Let’s see how this goes!

Part 2 || Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

in vino, veritas

in wine, there is truth

Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill. 

You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.

"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed. 

Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.

It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.

In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference. 

Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.

Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching. 

He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.

You knew better.

Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text. 

You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.

Past you was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it. 

Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.

A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.  

And she was almost there. 

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable. 

Well, more uncomfortable than normal.

“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”

“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.

But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation. 

Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.

“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.

Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.

Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.

Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand. 

While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”

And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.

Fuck. Your head was pounding.

Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked. 

Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.

They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.

‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.

You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.

At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.

The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.

Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.

You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.

Odd. You didn’t own white sheets. 

You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space. 

Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there. 

You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor. 

Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?

Fuck.

Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.

This was Dean’s room? 

This was Dean’s room. 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. 

What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.

Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower... 

You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.

The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…

Oh… Oh…

Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.

You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes. 

And that was before you’d gotten to know him.

Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate. 

Not that he’d done it so much lately. 

Except, maybe now.

You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.

You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you. 

Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.

You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.

Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?

Yeah right. 

You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.

Go you... That was something to be proud of, not. 

You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on. 

While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did. 

You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side. 

Hmm.

There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.

Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game. 

“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?” 

In other words - Where’s Dean?

Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge. 

Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.

Coffee. You needed some of that.

“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”

Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.

“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”

Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor. 

You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.

“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.

There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.

Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.

“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”

“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”

“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across. 

“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times. 

Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”

“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.

“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.

Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.

“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”

Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.

You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.

“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?” 

Fuck.

You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.

As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world. 

Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.

You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.

Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”

Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.

“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.

Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you. 

Not for his ego, but for yours.

You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that. 

“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”

Wait. He was? “You were?” 

“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.

He thought. Thought what?

You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.  

The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.

“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.

There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body. 

You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.

Had you gotten into those jeans last night?

“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”

What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him. 

All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours. 

He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.

“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away. 

“Dean. Did we…” 

He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something. 

Something that led you to his room and into his bed. 

There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter. 

And now, he was disappointed.

Could it be that he felt the same way you did? 

Part 2 || Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Up next in part 2:

Rather than answering, Dean walked around to the nightstand on the back wall next to his bed and picked up something small enough to fit in his hand. It crinkled under his touch, sounding more like the soft plastic of a candy bar than anything else.

Your suspicions told you otherwise though, and when he came back around and took your hand to place the object in your palm, you didn’t need to look at it to recognise the feel and shape of a condom still inside its wrapper.

There was the definite answer to your question about protection.

Thank you for reading! I’ll try posting part two same time next week - or you can read it now on AO3 here. In the meantime, I’ll be trying to work this site out (and finishing my WIPs whose updates are overdue… 🙃

[rpmusingsnmore]

THINGS  MY  PARTNER  SAID  AT  2AM  ;  starter pack.

feel  free  to  change  any  pronouns  or  subjects  (or  reverse).  these are real sentences spoken to me in one night from my very sleepy girlfriend,  han.

❛  do whatever you want,  i don’t believe in god.  ❜

❛  i have to like it ironically because i don’t know what it is.  ❜

❛  what would you do if you found out you were jesus?  ❜

❛  why isn't radioactivity yummy?  ❜

❛  you're depressed,  and you're high.  that's what we've figured out today.  ❜

❛  this is no time for that man.  ❜

❛  is that steve?  ❜

❛  CVS stands for Child Vacation School,  because they're all children.  ❜

❛  testicle!  ❜

❛  what the fuck am i?  a bitch?  ❜

❛  i don't have a leg in this horse.  ❜

❛  who's banana?  ❜

❛  i'm not banana,  bitch.  ❜

❛  no more air.  ❜

❛  who are you to play god?  ❜

❛  i almost said arthur;  who's arthur?  ❜

❛  i'm gonna lock me and [ name ] in a room and see who happens.  ❜

❛  i'll be like their beloved grandmother,  sitting in my rocking chair.  spouting wisdom.  ❜

❛  i want pancakes.  ❜

❛  banana thigh.  you know,  like a chicken.  ❜

❛  i could have been a bitching shoe - man.  ❜

❛  you learn me how to make some shoes.  ❜

❛  i had to be in an era with choices and rights.  ❜

❛  what am i,  your cow?  that you milk?  ❜

❛  those are bees!  duuude.  ❜

❛  i should make a rug.  ❜

❛  do you think griffin mcelroy would be proud of me?  ❜

❛  why are we playing with corn?  stop that.  ❜

❛  good,  then you can't exploit me.  ❜

❛  there was a dog in the store and it was just a dog.  ❜

❛  the dog was drifting around her.  ❜

❛  the lady the dog came with asked me questions.  ❜

❛  you're profiting off of my exhaustion.  ❜

❛  i don't say that many funny things!  ❜

[ SINGS ]  for my muse to aggressively sing Kokomo by The Beach Boys at yours.

[ LAUGHS ]  for my muse to laugh at something unprompted at all.

[ MEOW ]  for my muse to meow like a cat at random to yours.

[hawkinsbnbg]

sweet tooth

prompt: stuff | word count: 483 | rated: M | tags: established relationship, bad innuendos, fluff | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

“Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie glanced up from his sketchbook. “I thought everyone already knew about that?”

“I didn't, obviously,” Dustin let out a self-righteous huff. “I just found out recently because you keep running late to Hellfire's meeting.”

Eddie was confused at first, but then he remembered those bad innuendos he had told Dustin as a joke.

“Were those cakes that good?” The kid asked curiously.

“What cakes were good?” Steve returned from the kitchen with a tray of snacks.

Eager to be helpful, Dustin launched into telling Steve the tale about Eddie’s tardiness and the reason behind it.

Poor Steve was bright red by the time Dustin finished.

“Yup, those cakes were tasty, man,” he nodded sagely and winked at Steve’s not-so-subtle glare. “They were soft, sweet, and stuffed with cream cheese. Needed to take my time ‘cause high-quality goodness like that deserved to be appreciated.”

“And where did you find them?” Dustin squinted suspiciously. “If they're as good as you said, then I must've heard about them before. But I haven't,” a finger wiggled at Eddie, “ergo, you're either lying to me, or just talking out of your ass.”

Aha, what a nosy little shit. No wonder he was Eddie's favorite.

Ignoring Steve’s Don't you dare look, he grinned slyly.

“Why don't you go ask your mother, Dusty Bun? ‘Cause he made all of ‘em for me.”

And watched on in amusement as Dustin whirled around to pester a mortified Steve.

Once the kid left for the Wheeler house, Steve immediately rounded on him.

“Creampied cakes? Seriously, Eds?” Steve scowled, adorably flustered and irritated with Eddie's antics.

“My bad,” he chuckled and coaxed a pouting Steve into his lap. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“How?” Steve arched a brow at him.

“For starter, I can help you stuff your cake with my–”

“–dick?”

“I was gonna say ‘with my love’–”

“Try again when you're not having a boner, babe,” Steve snorted in mirth.

“To be fair, I’m always horny for you, baby boy,” Eddie pecked his boyfriend’s chin with an impish grin. “Emotionally and physically.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, “You're such a dork.”

“But I’m yourrrr dork,” Eddie sing-songed, and smiled in triumphant when he was silenced by those pretty lips.

Once they eventually parted, Steve traced Eddie's cheekbones and jawline with gentle fingers as if cherishing something precious, something worthy of love and tenderness.

“Yeah, you're mine,” Steve said softly.

God, Eddie was so in love that it hurt.

“And you're mine,” he gazed at his sweetheart and felt his chest swell with adoration. “What d’you want, my darling boy?”

And like a dream, Steve smiled at him sweetly. “Wanna be stuffed with your love, Chief.”

As their lips melted together—like cotton candies and marshmallows—Eddie knew he would burn down the whole world if it meant he could keep his baby forever.

[taylormarieee]

~Entranced~ sam winchester

Summary: You were a belly dancer and a singer, when Sam and Dean had to investigate you because your sister had gone missing, he couldn’t help but be entranced by you. In other words, he couldn’t help but want to get into your pants…

Word Count: 3.4k (wowzers)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x WOC!bellydancer

Warnings: porn with plot, long ass story line, obsessed sam, wingman dean, enticing reader, mentions of death and demons, typical supernatural tingz, smut, sexual tension, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, pretty lady, etc.) pussy whipped sam, sam drunk off readers love, reader is in love with sam, creampie, oral (male and fem receiving), cowgirl, use of 18+ language, MDNI!!!! enjoy cuz he's been on my mind for a long time.

A/N: ok hey guyyssss! I’ve been fantasizing about Sam ALOT lately like specifically season 2 Sammy so enjoy this smutty whoretastic slutty ass fic because I was indeed ovulating🙏🏽😭😁

*thump thump thump*

you smile as your body and hips move to the rhythm of the song. you were dancing and singing your heart out. mostly getting hollered at and whistled at along with a string of cheers. you laugh and smile as you move to the beat.

all of a sudden you feel yourself being watched. yes, that sounded stupid as there were hundreds of people watching you but these certain pair of eyes were burning. you could feel it.

you look around and walk all over the stage and that's when you see him. a man in a black suit along with another hot guy staring the same lust full daggers your way as everyone else.

but the other one, his hair was long and such a luscious brown. his eyes held one of admiration, as if you were admiring the mona lisa at an art gallery.

you liked him. he was cute, sexy even and that you certainly couldn't deny. when you got done with your performance you asked one of the security guards if they could kindly bring the two boys over to you backstage.

"hello boys, anything I can help you with?" you ask as you wipe off some sweat from your face.

"how'd you know we needed help?" the shorter one asked with a smirk on his face as he steps closer to you.

"well for starters, your both dressed in suits, sat in the back of the club all mysteriously, staring daggers right at me and shall I go on?" you list with a smile on your face.

you shift your weight from one foot to the other as you glance between the two of them.

the both of them look at each other and then chuckle. "guess you got us there" the taller one states with his charming smile.

"what are your names again? and who do you work for?" you asked as you sat down gesturing them to sit as well.

"oh I'm detective roadkill and this is detective showers." dean speaks out with a smirk.

"were FBI." he says as your face scrunches up into one of concern and confusion.

"why would FBI agents show up at our little club, no ones done anything wrong I hope, one of the main reasons we have security." you say with a dry chuckle.

"no no, not at all, uhm were looking in to the disappearance of your sister melisa?" sam asks.

"I-I don't feel like talking about it. she's not gone, she's dead." you say with tears prickling in your eyes.

"how would you possibly know that? police never found a body." dean says.

"exactly, main reason why I don't believe she disappeared or it was some freak kidnapping. even if she was kidnapped, she's been gone for 3 weeks, what are the possible chances she is alive? hm?" you say pacing and throwing your hands about.

"I know she's dead. I can feel it. It's a sibling thing, you two wouldn't understand." you explain.

"oh trust me, I get it. see I have this brother. means the world to me and yea he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." he says with a chuckle which causes you to giggle too.

"I love him regardless because no matter how much we argue, I know he means well and just wants to protect me." sam finishes.

dean looks at him and you hum. they really thought you were stupid. you knew who they were, you just hated how these hotties could lie to you.

"sam, dean. this was a really fun talk but I don't know where my sister is." you say smirking at them with their confused faces facing you in return.

"H-How did you-"

"how did I know? oh it's pretty obvious, see word gets around that some fbi agents are asking around for my sister and then I find out you two are hunters? yea I am one of the ones that knows what's going on around here. what really goes bump in the night. what really lurks in the shadows when your not paying attention. my dad was a hunter, just like you guys. just like your dad." you say circling them as you go to pour them a drink.

"wow, that was-" sam starts.

"smart? impressive? amazingly cool?" you ask handing them the drinks.

"I was going to say hot. That was really hot but you know, those words work too." he says chuckling.

"aww thanks sam, I really appreciate it." you respond as you take a sip of your whiskey.

"ok seriously, we wanna help you. If you really know what's going on then maybe we can still save other people including your sister." sam states.

"now did you smell any sulfur in her house or maybe saw black smoke or maybe she was acting aggressive and erratically before her disappearance?" dean asks scooting up in his seat more.

"uhm not that I can recall. she was normal. my sister was a kind soul, she would never even hurt a damn fly. I mean the first week of her disappearance I thought it was her douchebag of a boyfriend. ex-boyfriend i should say, that ungrateful son of a bitch." you say with spite.

"oh so was he a suspect?" dean asks.

"ofc he was! He was the main suspect, but it was also stupid for the cops to think I would kill my own sister, like that's insanity." you argue.

"alright so, if it's not ghost or demonic possession..." dean starts.

"then what the hell is it?" sam asks. all of you shrug and sit in silence for a second.

"hey I got a question for you." dean asks you. you look up at him and nod with a hum.

"you think sammy could stay with you tonight?" dean asks. your eyes widen and sam turns to dean with a incredulous look.

"no it's fine." he turns to you and says. "I don't understand why I can't just stay at the motel dean, what the hell are you doing?" he whisper-yells to dean.

"you've been making googly eyes all freakin' night, just stop stressin' and get laid. trust me you need it. your veins popping out." he says as he clears his throat.

"so, can he? It would be really appreciated, see I have stuff to do and I don't want him to be in there alone, so maybe he can keep you company? plus we have no clue if whatever this thing is an M.O. and might come after you too." dean convincingly explains which persuades you to say...

"yea sure dean, sam it's ok. I'm cool with it, you can stay with me, i've got a cozy house." you say with a smile.

"plus I gotta get up outta here anyway, shall we?" you ask swaying your hips as you walk towards the door and walk out leading sam and dean out the back.

they watch your ass and hips sway and that beautiful little outfit you belly dancers always wore. sam couldn't keep it in anymore, he was entranced. obsessed. lured in like a moth drawn to a flame.

"here take m-my jacket. you must be cold." sam offers. you smile and accept it with a thank you, after all you were wearing a bra like top that covered little.

your hand brushed his for a mere second and it felt like electricity surged through you both.

you slide your arms through the sleeves of his jacket as you walk towards your car. your keys jingling in the process as they dangle from your hip.

you unlock the car and prop yourself in the drivers seat as same props himself in the passengers seat.

"oooo it really is cold out, thanks again for the jacket sam, don't know what I would do without you." you seductively say, without the intention of trying to be seductive but thankful instead.

"yea n-no problem. just me being me." he says as you start the engine turning up the A/C and backing out the parking lot.

sam looks out the window and notices dean in the impala with two thumbs up and a smirk on his face to which he rolls his eyes at and begs to god you don't see deans childish acts.

~ TRENTON, NEW JERSEY, 2007, 10:26PM @ YOUR HOUSE~

"get cozy, looks like your going to be here for a while." you say with a smile, shrugging off his jacket to place on the coat rack.

he takes off his shoes and makes his way immediately towards your fireplace and your couch.

you watch him trudge over there and sit down his tall lean figure finally shrinking just a bit but when he sits back up his broad shoulders are back on display.

‘god what was wrong with you.’ you thought, you just couldn’t get him out of your head.

but luckily the same goes for him because you racked his brain since the moment his eyes laid a glance at your face.

you were so enticing and enchanting, of course a guy like sam couldn’t resist, he was whipped for you so badly and you didn’t even know it.

“are you hungry sammy? can i even call you sammy or is that a you and dean thing?” you ask bringing over a bowl of grapes and some wine for you and a beer for him.

“you can call me whatever you want- i-i mean yea! you can call me sammy i don’t mind.” he stutters out nervously

you him again and take a sip of the wine straight from the bottle. sam watched as your plump and glossy lips wrap around the top of the bottle wishing it was his dick instead.

he gulps as he watches your throat bob up and down as you swallow the wine.

he quickly takes a swig of his beer and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. you watched as he wraps his lips around the beer bottles top wishing it was your clit.

the tension in the room was clearly escalating just a tiny bit. 'was it just you or is it hot in here.' you thought.

you take another sip of the wine and tuck your legs under one another as if in a criss-cross motion.

"so, what do you wanna do now? dean said he won't be back for a couple of hours." sam asks.

"honestly I usually shower and go right to bed after long nights like these, but I wasn't exactly expecting company so i'm stumped here." you say with a slight chuckle.

"yea sorry to be such a burden." sam says with a playful roll of his eyes. you scoff not seeing his eye roll and take his statement the wrong way.

"look i never said you were a burden, i'm just confused on how to entertain a fucking hunter sam." you speak with slight aggression in your tone.

"look, i was just joking with you. If you took my statement the wrong way i'm sorry. I'll totally leave." he says getting up to go grab his jacket.

'n-no sammy wait. I-fuck. I didn't mean that, i'm sorry. It's just been a really long day and I'm just stumped ok, please stay?" you apologize.

"ok, if you want to go take a shower and rest that's fine by me, i'll stay.' he says standing quite dangerously close to you.

you inhale his scent for a second, his scent bringing you comfort and warmth. you don't even realized you closed a few inches in the gap between you two.

"w-what are you doing?" sam asks. his hands stuck at his side just itching to touch you. you take note of it.

"do you wanna touch me sammy?" you asks seductively. you glide your hand up and down his chest as you stare up at him with your seductive eyes.

"w-what?" he stutters out nervously. he gulps as your hand goes lower and lower.

"I said, do you want to touch me sam." you repeat your previous question. "I know you want to, your hands are twitching." you say smugly.

"fuck, uhm yea. I do, very badly." he says as he moves his hands to grab your waist. you moan at the warmth of his hands on your body.

"I know you wanna kiss me." you whisper in his ear. your on your tiptoes as sam is much taller than you.

you grab his belt to pull him closer and that was his breaking point. his lips are immediately on yours in a feverish and desperate pent up kiss.

you both fumble with his belt and trip over each others feet. you both eventually fall to the floor letting out a fit of giggles and laughs at your clumsy shenanigans.

"fuck, your so gorgeous you know that?" sam compliments. you smile and kiss him again.

"and your so handsome, thank god your parents got together." you say with a grin as you unclip your bra.

he unbuttoned his nicely pressed shirt and unbuttoned and unzipped his dress pants.

your both crawling towards the couch now, sam ripping off the cushions and you taking off the rest of your outfit leaving you in your underwear only.

pretty black laced panties to match your outfit. his eyes bulged out of his head at the sight of you. your body was gorgeous. everything about you was gorgeous, your personality as well.

"god damn your beautiful." he whispers as he sinks into the couch and you climb on top of him.

"thank you sammy. can you please fuck me now." you ask.

with a primal like growl, sam rolls you over so he's now on top of you. "oh sweetheart, gotta prep you first. don't think you can take big ole me by yourself now can you?" he teases as he kissed down your body.

after an agonizingly long trip downwards, his lips finally coming in contact with the place you've been wanting him most all night.

his warm breath hits your soaking entrance and his skilfully long tongue teases your clit.

"f-fuck sammy, pleasee-ngh- please just fuck me I'll be a good girl for you p-please." you beg as you feel one finger slot itself inside of you.

you moan out at the feeling. the feeling of pain and pleasure combined as he stretches you out. 'fuck you haven't felt this good since your last boyfriend.' you thought.

your brain was soonly erased by the feeling of sam's second finger entering your dripping hole. his lips whispering dirty things into your cunt as he licks and slurps your cunt.

you tug on his hair and cry out his name, how can someone fingers and tongue work so skillfully together at the same time.

"yes sam! right fucking there, fuck fuck fuck-ngh-ugh! yea yea, holy shit daddy!" you scream out.

he moans into your cunt at hearing you call him daddy. you were a lot younger than him, he was 5 years older than you. he loved this dominance he had over you, but he became feral whenever you tugged his hair.

desperate to get off as he ruts himself against the couch. a feeling of ecstacy washing over you and determination washing over sam. he was going to make you cum and then he was gonna rearrange your guts like never before.

your walla clench and tighten around him and he groans at how rough your tugging on his lucious brown locks. your crying his name out like a prayer over and over again.

you moan one last time before silently letting out a scream as you convulse and shake as your orgasm floods your entire body.

"oohhhh fuckkk!" you moan out as your orgasmic feeling washes away intensely.

"was I good baby?'" sam asks curiously. his lips stained with your arousal and essence. you grab his face pulling him closer to you as you kiss him sloppily getting a taste of yourself off of his tongue.

"you did amazing baby, now lemme help you. looks painful." you suggest staring at his rock hard boner through his boxers.

a wet patch on the front from his precum and getting himself all worked up.

you let him sit on the couch normally and tug his boxers down slowly. he whines when the refreshing air hits his tip.

his tip is a pretty color, a nice hue of pink. ready... waiting to be sucked and fucked on.

you lick the precum around his tip and on his shaft. you engulf his tip in your mouth wanting to get more of a taste and he moans. he watches your pretty lips engulf him and swallow him whole.

he holds the back of your head pushing you down further and getting lost in the haze of lust. he moans out your name a little louder each time you gag around him.

your throat was so wet and so warm. your saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth. you mascara surrounding the under parts of your eyes as tears stream down your face in slow motion.

your head bobs faster and faster, you gagging each time but you didn't care you wanted to taste his cum inside your mouth, you wanted it so deep down your throat that you wouldn't stop until he was crying.

you wanted sam winchester and sam winchester wanted you.

he pushes you off him quickly when he feels his release approaching.

"no no wait i'm gonna cum! I don't wanna cum like this, I want it inside you. wanna creampie you and give y-you babies." he whines out.

you smirk and kiss him softly, "ok sam. gimme all your babies, come inside me like a good little boy hmm?" you asks seductively as you push sweaty strands of hair out of his pretty face.

you climb back on top of him and sink slowly down on to him. you cry out a bit at the pain of the stretch, he really was a big boy.

"he whines and the grip on your waist tightens. you moan and feel his cock slowly piercing you more and more and the feeling of pain easily subsides once he's in you all the way.

"I'm going to start moving now ok sam?" you confirm and he nods with a hazy smile.

he's drunk of you. eyes and mind entranced by you. filled with you. he's literally inside you. he's encompassed by you, your smell, your words. everything.

sam winchester is a simp for you and there's nothing that could change his mind.

your bounces start off slow and then they rapidly speed up in pace. your both moaning and groaning, incapable of holding them in any longer.

you needed to hear him as he needed to hear you. he honeslt ydidn't think hearing you moan could get him any more harder but it did.

you were both close now, on to your second orgasm of the night while trying to get him off on his first.

"sammy I-fuck-ngh. I love you so much sam, please give me your babies please!" you scream out as you gush all over his cock. "come on cum in me please!" you scream out.

sam groans as his climax hits him like a wave, he explodes. loads and loads of semen just squirting inside you. you sigh a sigh of happiness and content.

he was filled to the brim with cum and it was just never ending. he stays inside you for a bit, slowly but weakly thrusting up into you to keep his cum inside you.

your both panting and out of breath. he smiles and you do to giving him a long and passionate kiss.

"hey." you say with a giggle

"hey beautiful." he says chuckling.

"wanna go upstairs with me to you know, rinse the night off?" you asks with a smile as you slowly slip off his cock, hissing as you do so.

before sam can even respond your losing your balance causing you to fall over. you grab onto the fireplace mantle for stability as sam gets up to help you.

he grabs on to your waist and holds you there before smirking and picking you up bridal style.

"let's go get that shower huh? and then you are going to bed pretty lady." he says with a smirk.

your face is flushed even more than before and your flustered before wrapping your arms around his neck and snuggling into his embrace.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a + anyone else who wants to join

©TaylorMarieee| All rights reserved. Do not repost, re-upload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own without permission.

A/N: Sorry to all the people who were in my taglist box and i never tagged you in my latest works, i'm so sorry i forgot to check it, I hope you all and others enjoy this one!

[thewalrusespublicist]

SO as mentioned I went for a gander about Paul's political leanings and found this fantastic interview with Paul and an old friend.

It's full of good info but I'll put some of the greatest hits here:

The interviewer (Jonathan Power) met Paul when they were at school together at the Liverpool institute and became distant friends when Paul made him feel welcome as a new starter. He apparently never forgot Paul's kindness

Didn't realise just how academic the Liverpool institute was (according to this, one alumni has won the nobel prize).

Jim McCartney was partially deaf which made him unfit for WW2 service

Aforementioned Paul attacking a ram for butting one of his children due to his 'animal instinct', but nominally he's a pacifist

Was in New York at 9/11 and was on a plane that morning but was grounded due to the towers being on fire

His version of promoting political views at school was reaching people through music. He tells this adorable anecdote of Paul standing on the desk in history class singing Long Tall Sally and George bringing his guitar :). (Jonathan remembers the day Paul did that!)

Power shutting down Paul's normal-bloke-didnt-know-what-I-was doing routine to say that Paul was one of the brightest boys in the class

Anti-colonial baby Paul arguing with the coloniser guest speaker in class you love to see

The interviewer is kinda like 'why didnt you solve all of Britians problems?!?' and like ... I love the Beatles and they were super important but they also were just four guys

The Beatles not advocating for gay rights as it 'didn't come up'. Sure.

Paul wrote to the Dalai Lama to tell him off for eating meat and the Dalai Lama said it was okay because you shouldn't get too attached to anything lmaoo

At the time of this (2009) Paul was definetely pro Palestine and was touring to try to work for better unity between the Palestinians and the Israelis

He's very secretive about what he donates but he assures the interviewer its more than people accuse him of

He kept in touch with his old English teacher Alan Durband and credits Eleanor Rigby on him teaching him structure.

Near the end he gives this really nice anecdote about hearing people play his music in America

Let me tell you a little story to finish with. I was on a holiday recently in Long Island where I have a little sailboat and this nice lady lets me keep it on her beach. I just sail out very quietly on my own in the boat—me, the wind and the sail; it is a great balance to my high visibility life. As I was setting the boat up there was a group of guys just down the beach and I heard them singing. It was a quiet beach; there was nobody on it except me and them. I was just there staying with my girlfriend. I listened and it sounded so tuneful that I approached, and as I got closer I realised it was my song "Eleanor Rigby" they were singing. I just stood there until they finished and it was great, it was a beautiful arrangement—they turned out to be the Princeton Glee club. And when they finished I applauded them and said, "Can you imagine me as a kid in Liverpool, someone telling me that there would be an a cappella group of young men singing one of my songs on a beach in Long Island in America? It's uncanny.

Paul talking to Jonathan Power, 2009

[heartavenue]

₊˚ ⋆ Just Like Magic! ‧₊˚.

Okay, so this post was requested by @madebynarii, and it is based on Ariana Grande's song, "Just Like Magic."

For starters, I am completely and utterly obsessed with Ariana Grande and I am over the moon that I get to do a post inspired by a song off her BEST album, Positions!

Positions may you always be famous!

If you didn't know, Ariana Grande is thee GODDESS of manifestation. She went from being a little girl singing the songs from Wicked to playing her dream role in the movie.

So, if there is anyone who knows about manifesting, it's her! She practically manifested her entire life, and she helps me manifest, too.

So if you haven't heard the song before (which is a crime against humanity, by the way),

Today, we will go over some of the lyrics and learn how to manifest just like magic!

Wake up in my bed I just wanna have a good day Think it in my head Then it happens how it should, ayy

So in these lines, Ariana is saying how she wants to have a good day, and to have that good day, all she has to do is THINK about it!

Now, let's replace think with assume just to involve the law of assumption. Here Ariana shows how easy the law is, if you ASSUME something to be true then it WILL be true.

Good karma, my aesthetic (aesthetic) Keep my conscience clear, that's why I'm so magnetic Manifest it (yeah), I finessed it (I finessed it) Take my pen and write some love letters to heaven

Now, look at the pre-chorus; she keeps her conscience clear, and that's why she's so magnetic. I interpret this as more of a law of attraction line but I'm going to make do regardless.

Here, I'm going to get more nondualistic, everything is pure consciousness. YOU are pure consciousness, I like to think of that line as keeping the physical things at bay; so your thoughts.

And by keeping the physical at bay that will allow you to "manifest" anything that you want.

Manifest it, I finnessed it! That line is pretty self-explanatory; by letting go of the physical and assuming, she essentially manifested her desires.

Now the next line about her using her pen to write some love letters to heaven is also just a way of her saying that she manifested something!

However, let's say that she is scripting; not only is scripting something that shifters do. Scripting is also a loa method, by writing down your desires and assuming that you have already received them, that is a way of manifesting your desires.

So Ariana is scripting her desires!

Just like magic (baby) Just like magic (oh, yeah) Middle finger to my thumb and then I snap it Just like magic (yeah) I'm attractive (oh, yeah) I get everything I want 'cause I attract it (oh)

This is the chorus; it's pretty simple. She is saying her manifestation skills are easy. Just like a snap, it's fast and easy!

And take it from Ariana: the way you manifest is just like magic!

Ariana says that she is attractive and she gets everything that she wants because of that!

Now, let's change "I get everything I want cause I attract it." To I get everything I want because I ASSUME it.

Okay, the next and final line I want to discuss is, "Redesign your brain, we gon' make some new habits."

Now let me tell y'all something: I HAD to redesign my brain. The nonsense I filled my brain up with over the years is just plain ridiculous. I

want you guys to take a break, stop overconsuming, and trust yourselves. You do not need to listen to forty different people a day telling you what you already know.

What helped me "redesign my brain," as Ariana would say, is to STOP! You already know how to manifest!

Assume you have it! Boom, that's it! I don't care what no one else has to say!

That is the basis of the law, I don't do any methods; I don't do any of that. I assume, and I BE!

But then again, that is what I DID! What worked for me may not work for you! If you need to reprogram your mind, so be it; if you need to take a break, take a break!

DO whatever you need to and WANT to do! Yes, I am here to help others along with document my own experiences but I am NOT a template.

You think I followed every piece of loa/shifting advice that I seen? No! I took what resonated with ME!

[gallaghercest]

Lyric Analysis - It's a Crime

Ok, this reunion really messed with my head. It feels like a dream come true. I never imagined to experience this. I've been listening to Oasis non-stop since the 27th. I've been obsessing with these two fuckers in such a way that I haven't done since I was 16.

My current obsession has been It's A Crime. It's a demo from 1999, SOTSOG era. A few years later it was released as a single during the Don't Believe The Truth era as "Let There Be Love". Mind you that LTBL is the second song Liam and Noel sing together, the first being Acquiesce - yes, that one where Noel sings they need and believe in each other.

I always knew these lyrics were a huge piece of evidence, but for some reason, I never managed to understand what it meant. It was sort of an enigma to me.

Well, let's get into it. It won't be anything groundbreaking, just my thoughts on the lyrics as I need to vent with someone.

Disclaimer: I don't ship Liam and Noel, these are only thoughts and theories about their relationship, and this is all merely for entertainment purposes. Noel/Liam, if you're reading this, please don't sue me. I'm cool.

Before we start, I'd like to remind you of My version/timeline of Liam and Noel's relationship as this will help you understand my analysis:

Their thingy started around 1992, as Liam and Noel got closer to each other because of Oasis;

I firmly believe Noel was the starter, hence Lock All The Doors (1992) lyrics. Why did Liam agree with that? Fuck knows. I'd die to know that;

Noel was the one who showed more affection/was head over heels in love during 1992-1995. He was always writing about Liam and treating him like a God. Liam loved Noel too but I just think he had more important things to care about, he didn't really see how important Noel's love and public displays of affection were. He was too immature to realize that and value Noel's love. We know Noel is a cold person by nature so showing his vulnerable side to Liam was something important to him, but Liam couldn't understand that;

Then we have 1996. Boom. That was the first time their ""relationship"" was in crisis. I don't know if it was because of their wives or if a single episode we're unaware of led to a crisis. I sadly don't have that info. I also believe Noel went to Mustique Island as a way to cope with/escape this crisis. He recorded nearly all the demos for Be Here Now there, including If We Shadows and Untitled. Haha. The boy was depressed as hell;

Things seemed to get a lot better in 1997-1998;

1999-2001 is a strange period, it seems off - they seemed more distant, but at the same time, there are some hints Noel was still willing to give themselves one more try. I don't have many thoughts on that period;

2002: they seemed to be on pretty good terms, but guess what: from this year onwards, their roles switched - Liam started to be the one who's most affectionate, and more passionate and needy, while Noel was more distant, and cold. That was their dynamics until 2007-2008;

2009 was a terrible year for them so I won't even bother to comment on that.

Well, you can say what you want But you won't get a thing from me And if you don't understand That's it's not in your hands you need Let there be love

You'll notice that, throughout the song, Noel uses the words "want" and "feel"/"mean" in the first line of each verse, because there's a difference between what Liam wants to say and what Liam needs to say. We'll get into that later on.

I think this verse supports what I said about Noel being emotionally unavailable during the SOTSOG era and post-2002. I don't know what happened in 1996 but he seemed to be extremely bitter ever since (1997 being an exception). No matter how many times Liam told him he loved Noel, no matter how Liam showed his affection or begged for Noel's attention, he wouldn't get it. The old Noel was dead.

The last three lines, in my opinion, show that what Liam needs is Noel's love, something that's irreplaceable in his life: there's nothing Liam can do on his own that would replace what they have, and no one else on Earth could give Liam the same love - so it's really not in his hands. This also accentuates how Noel likes to be in charge/have power.

"Let there be love". Noel is telling Liam that he should let love take over him, and thus be more expressive. Noel always says how Liam is an angry man, etc, so this is just a message to remind him that he's still able to love.

But you can say what you feel And it might never steal from me And then you must understand That it's all in your hands what you need Let there be love

English is not my first language so I have no idea if the "steal from me" is an idiom that means anything other than the regular meaning of it. The first line shows that all Noel wanted was Liam to be more verbal about them i.e. show more affection.

Third and fourth lines show that Noel's way of loving solely depends on Liam's actions - if Liam shows his love, Noel's happy and will express his love too. By saying that, we must think: does that mean Noel's love is not unconditional? Does it mean a huge part of Noel's obsession with Liam was a need to feel approved and needed by Liam, which is (plot twist) basically the exact same way Liam felt about Noel during… his entire life? In the end, both wished for the same thing from each other but were poor communicators.

Again, Noel thinks his love is all Liam needs, but Liam is unaware of it.

And I never knew But all the things that you've done Are coming right back to you But everybody knows that it's no crime

1994 Noel would never have imagined that their relationship would be in shambles in 1996, or that they would go through such emotionally-distant periods, ever.

My understanding of this whole verse is that Noel was aware that Liam was getting his karma, not only regarding their relationship but with life in general, and Noel never imagined that would ever happen, as Liam always seemed to get away with absolutely everything when they were younger.

Although Liam and Patsy had Lennon in 1999, they got divorced in 2000, so we can suppose things were not very nice when this demo was recorded. Although Liam was sober around the SOTSOG recordings in 1999, he was Drunk™️ as hell on the second Wembley night in 2000. Liam didn't value Noel's love in the early years, and now he's paying for that "mistake". In Noel's mind, that's no crime. People reap what they sow, whether that's good or bad.

But does it make you feel ashamed? You never said what you've done And there's no need to blame But everybody knows Yeah, everybody knows Everybody knows that it's no crime It's no crime

These lines are sort of a mystery to me. "You never said what you've done". What does Noel mean by that? Is he talking about the 1ncest? Or is Liam not able to admit he failed to meet Noel's emotional needs? I believe it is the latter. In Noel's mind, that would be a reason for Liam to be ashamed, but at the same time, he can't blame him, since Noel was the one who started all of this.

For a second, while I was reading the lyrics, I realised the first three lines were kind of familiar to me. Then I had an epiphany and noticed that Noel has written something similar in Stay Young, released in 1997: They're making you feel so ashamed/Making you taking the blame. As I always say, guilt, blame, shame, being a sinner, and wanting to escape from people are recurrent themes in Noel's lyrics. I wonder why…………..

So you can say what you want But you'll not get a thought from me But if you say what you mean Then you might get a thing from me Let there be love

This just reflects what I said above: if Liam says whatever he pleases - or, in this case, if he's not verbal with Noel -, Noel will shut down. However, if Liam says what he really feels deep inside, Noel might be cool to him. That line shows me that despite Liam being immature and not valuing Noel in the past/present, he still knew Liam genuinely loved him the same way he did. Noel just had this (ego-guided?) desire to hear that. Clearly, Noel's language of love is words of affirmation (he's such a Gemini!!!), and Liam's is acts of service (he's such a Virgo!!!). That's it.

While I was writing the above paragraph, I thought, "Am I going nuts? What if everything I'm writing is pure bullshit?". So I refreshed my Tumblr timeline and saw THIS:

It's a Liam quote from 2006. It's literally what I've been saying throughout this whole analysis. Liam thinks words are not necessary. But Noel does. Do I think Noel complained about Liam's lack of communication with Liam himself? Probably not. Noel'd probably think that'd be humiliating. I think there's a high chance that Noel just vented about it in his lyrics and when he was face-to-face with Liam, they'd simply fight with each other as a way to express the frustration they felt inside caused by each of them not being able to act the way they expected, love-wise.

If I ever knew That all the things I've thought Are coming right back to you But everybody thinks that it's a crime

First things first: I love Noel's delivery of the word "Crime" in this verse. It's so agonizing, you can really feel his guilt/desperation.

To me, this verse shows how Noel knows the 1ncest and his own actions/way of treating Liam impacts Liam's life and way of being, and also their relationship in general. It all started with a thought in Noel's mind back in 1992. An intrusive one, most likely. But Noel wasn't able to brush it off and eventually gave in to his forbidden wishes. If he ever knew how that would affect them forever, he'd have never done that (no shit, Sherlock).

Obviously, everybody would think what they have is a crime. Because, luckily, people are sane. Alternatively, Noel might meant that even when Liam does something wrong or gets what he deserves, people still think it's a crime for him to be held accountable for his actions. As I mentioned above, Noel is convinced that Liam is the world's protegé, a kind of invincible human being who is never blamed by anyone.

It never makes you feel ashamed You sit around and you sold And you're passing the blame But everybody knows Yeah everybody knows Everybody knows that it's a crime It's a crime

Now, Noel is kind of blaming Liam for not doing anything to change his behaviour, being convinced that Noel's the reason why everything is shite and blaming him for it. Or maybe blaming other people/situations to justify his behaviour/lack of expression of feelings.

Either way, unless Noel would address his desires directly to Liam, it doesn't make a lot of sense in my head to be a bitch about it. I mean, get a grip. Stop writing songs about it and do something!!! Cry in public!!! Make a press conference to expose how Liam is non-verbal with you!!!

Last lines conclude that, in the end, 1ncest is still a crime. Who would've thought?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- That's it - hope you missed me and enjoyed this. Kiss Kiss JM

[ilovealonelystar]

10 reasons that made me BJYXSZD

Each video/scene I refer to is linked. Not necessarily in order of importance.

This WYB lovely eyes. OMG HE'S SUCH A CUTIE PIE! I obviously haven't watched ALL videos of WYB interacting with other people, but in the ones I watched, I've never seen, to this day, this look again.

2. This soft WYB "yeah". And this one too. Why was Yibo so cute and lovely that day?

3. XZ jealousy on Happy Camp hahaha SCARY GG.

4. They not moving or looking uncomfortable when they touch each other (excluding some specific times like that one interview when they accidentally brush their fingers and get so shy hahaha)

5. Obviously (almost) every turtle will say that WYB talking non-stop with XZ while everybody else in the world says he doesn't talk. But, besides that, on the behind-the-scenes footage you see that WYB talks a lot with the other cast members, the staff, etc, so this is even more important to me because I believe XZ helped WYB to feel validated and comfortable enough to step out of his shell around him and everybody else that summer.

6. This silly tiny little tidbit when WYB is (super excitedly) saying bye-bye to XZ and saying he'll see him tomorrow and the director makes that suspicious "hummmm....... uhuhuh" pointing his finger to him like when you're talking to your crush and your friend keeps teasing you.

7. I know they stare into each other eyes A LOT but there are some special scenes, like this one on the day of WYB bday when XZ sings Kepler (and WYB sings a tiny bit of Nan Hai)... the way they look at each other sends a shiver down my spine.

8. XZ gifting WYB a helmet on his bday. They are always hitting each other, screaming, poking, cursing, etc etc etc the whoooole time during the behind-the-scenes footage but the way GG talks here is so so so lovely. And WYB being a tiny lil' baby so excited and happy with his gift.

9. !!SKIP THIS ONE IF YOU'RE A "DEVIL'S TIMELINE" BELIEVER!! (maybe I'll skip it myself) Based on what they say, they never talked to each other before the script reading and WYB is always claiming he's a slow starter with strangers but... even at the script reading DD is already making jokes, laughing like a gremlin, GG touching DD's back... (is this slow? 😏) so I think they really hit if off with each other since day 01.

10. WYB never said (that I'm aware of) he thinks of XZ as a brother to him, always refers as a "good friend". I don't know if this one is a bit of a stretch, but I think it's ~at least~ odd how he never ever said XZ is like a brother to him due to their age gap, or the way they are so silly together, or even because XZ helped him a lot with his acting during TU shooting.

**Bonus: based on my own life experience (I met my husband 19 years ago due to our shared love for a specific hard rock band), I think it's so cute this ~kinda early~ behind-the-scenes part, when they are still a bit shy and awkward around each other, and WYB starts singing Hello Kitty by Avril Lavigne and XZ is like "wow! do you know this too?" and then they spend the rest of that shooting singing/humming some Avril's songs 🥺 I think their shared love for Avril Lavigne, Blackpink?, k-pop, and music in general, helped them bond a lot.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

People talk a lot about how Fit didn't want a kid when the Egg event happened, but I'm watching his Egg Event Day stream for the first time and picking up a few interesting things that both confirm and contradict what a lot of people say about Fit's perspective of the Egg event, So here are some notes from his VOD:

Fit immediately went over to Ramon when he saw him and cooed at his cute little mustache.

Fit repeatedly said to himself "I'm not a dad I'm not a dad I'm not a dad" while the informational videos were playing. HOWEVER--

When Ramon flashes the "Egg" sign repeatedly to them, Fit says he has eggs at his base and tells Ramon to wait with Spreen. Ramon chases after him, and Fit insists that he stays with Spreen, saying: "I will be right back, Ramon. Don't worry, I will return. I promise." ~ 1h 17m

Moments later when he's on his own, Fit says "Spreen better keep that Egg alive. I'm not emotionally attached to the Egg with the mustache, ok? I'm not emotionally attached." (Mirroring the things he often says these days about not having separation anxiety. Which is a lie). ~1h 18m

Fit says even though Ramon has a mustache, he doesn't know if Ramon is a boy, girl, or enby. (This isn't really relevant lore-wise, but I thought that was sweet). ~1h 20m

Foolish and Vegetta introduce Leonarda to Ramon, and Vegetta says "Look look, it's a friend, it's a friend! 😊" and then two seconds later says "Now fight to the death! 😊" ~1h 25m

(The QSMP admins also make a whoopsies here and call Fit "Feet" in chat LMAO)

Despite joking that he's going to build Ramon a dog house near his place, when Spreen asks if they should build a simple house or something nicer for Ramon, Fit says, "Well he is our kid, so he deserves only the best, right? Maybe we should make a big mansion." ~1h 31m

Ramon makes a beeline to Fit's starter house (which the admins poked fun at) and excitedly jumps on the bed

Spreen accidentally hits Ramon (again) and Ramon runs off, and Spreen apologizes while he and Fit chase him down. Fit says "He didn't mean to do that, he loves you very much!" ~1h 36m

Fit gifts Ramon a seashell. ~1h 42m

Fit jokes that there's no doubt he's the father because Ramon looks just like him -- bald as an egg

They put Ramon to bed, but Spreen and Fit introduce Roier, Jaiden, and Bobby to Ramon while he's asleep. ~2h 10m

Spreen says he left food for Ramon in case he gets hungry at night. They get worried about Ramon because he's been sleeping for a long time and check to make sure he's still breathing. ~ 2h 14m

Spreen says they'll be a really good team, and Fit says, "We will be very good parents together, I can feel it." (oof) ~ 2h 15m

Fit and Spreen say goodbye to each other, and Fit says "Being a father is not easy, that's why I've put off fatherhood for so long, I don't know if I'm ready." He says it doesn't seem so bad, but Ramon's sleeping a lot and he's kinda lazy, so he doesn't know how he feels about this child, but "We'll make it work." Right after he says this, he suddenly finds Ramon climbing up the hill towards him, and they go fishing together. ~2h 16m

Fit calls Ramon "Mi huevito." ~2h 19m

"I dunno how I got roped into this fatherhood thing" he says while waiting for Ramon to finish using the bathroom. Then he teaches Ramon how to cook the fish they caught (classic Dad behavior) ~2h 21m

Spreen tells Fit he's going out and to take care of Ramon. Fit teases him and says it's a shared responsibility, and Spreen says he has to go to work. ~2h 26m

IMAGES THAT AGED VERY VERY BADLY

The subtitles don't show it, but Spreen is saying "Don't worry, Ramon. You'll see me tomorrow." Fit says he'll teach Ramon how to grow crops, and Spreen says, "That's right Ramon, I want to hear all about how to grow crops when I get back."

Fit tells Ramon "You are my huevito" and sings him a lullaby. 2h 30m

"Spreen going out for cigarettes my ass! I'm not gonna see him for months now. See - someone's gotta step up and be a parent, and be there, and take the responsibility! That's me. That's me. It's weird though, I mean, I'm not used to this whole "fatherhood" thing, keeping a living thing alive. It's weird." ~ 2h 31m

Fit says he thinks he and Spreen will be a good parenting pair if Spreen comes back. But he's glad the child is doing well right now. ~ 2h 36m

Not related to Fit and Ramon, but these are some other funny moments:

Fit gets kicked for "flying" (he was jumping off a tall tower, but manages to clutch it) ~ 2h 43m

Fit meets JuanaFlippa! ~3h 12m

Slimecicle gives JuanaFlippa a landmine. ~ 3h 21m

[writers-requiem]

Title: A Father's Love

Genre: Marvel, Platonic, Headcannons, X-Men

Pairing: Hank McCoy x child/teen!Reader

TW: None

Parents and their children is a complex relationship that everyone experiences or witnesses to some extent. And Hank is no exception.

Yes, his parents loved him and wanted the best for him, but as shown in the early days of the comics, for all his introspective nature, he isn't immune to wallowing in self pity to the point of ignoring others' pain.

But this time, we're talking about Hank as a father himself, and on Earth 41001, he is a great dad. But here on Earth 8096, we have no relevant information on that. But I will try my best with these headcannons.

For starters, he would be a bit nervous about being a parent. Okay, very nervous.

Given the life he lives, it makes sense. He doesn't want to put you in harm's way just because he himself is a mutant and superhero.

He often stresses over your safety and often makes frequent check-ins even in the heat of battle to make sure you're okay.

He also makes it a habit to give you weekly check ups to make sure your health is in good condition, you're eating your fruits and veggies, the works.

When he isn't worried about your safety, which is when you two are in the same place and you're in his line of sight, he makes it a point to let you have some room to breathe so you don't feel like he's overbearing.

He'd be the one to bring you warm soup, blankets, water and medicine when you're sick.

He enjoys it when you pay him a visit to his lab. Especially when you take an interest in what he's doing and even mentors you in science.

If he found you as a baby, he would sleep on the couch with you cradled in his arms.

If you have trouble sleeping, he'll try giving you melatonin, sleepytime tea and a weighted blanket. And if that doesn't work, he'll ask if you want him to sleep with you.

Gives the best hugs and loves getting hugs himself. Man's a giant teddy bear.

If you were interested, he'd teach you how to train your feet to be prehensile and allow you to hang from the rafters like he does.

If you're really young, he'll do a bunch of tricks that he can do with no issue for your amusement and astonishment.

Does inventory checks to make sure you have what you need.

Regardless if you do or don't have powers of your own, he'll do everything in his power to make extra sure that you feel safe with him and the other X-Men.

If you end up saving his and the team's lives on a mission, he'll be genuinely surprised and utterly proud of you. And if you take the battle from that point, he'll be cheering you on along with the others.

When he introduces you to his parents, they'll love you just as much as they love him.

If you had a run-in with his dark doppelganger, he is livid. Nobody manipulates or harms his child and gets away with it!

If you have a lot on your mind, he's right there to help you decompress and sort out your thoughts one at a time.

If someone insults you for having a mutant father, and you react by using your power to humiliate them, he's not amused but is understanding of why you did what you did.

Will be willing to share stories from his childhood and early adult life. Some of them are informative, others are just for laughs.

You show at an early age that you have a similar knack for science and tech like he does and he is proud to tutor you on everything he knows.

Likes to take you for little trips through the country side or on camping getaways.

The instant you say a swear word in front of him, he knows that Logan had some hand in that development.

Likes to sing you sweet little melodies to lull you to sleep. And he would do it all the time if you were really young.

He's basically your blanket at home during fall and winter. He doesn't want you catching a cold now.

He tried using Gen Z slang, much to your and the other's collective dismay. But you all found out it annoyed Logan especially, so you two use it only when Logan is around to annoy him.

If you asked him how to dance for prom, homecoming, a ball, he would set aside whatever it was he was doing to teach you.

If you had a hard time calling him anything along the lines of "dad" he won't hold it against you. But the moment you call him dad, it takes both of you off guard. But all he can do in that moment is take a deep breath and hug you.

Would definitely take you out for little picnics every once in awhile.

Been a long time since I had done some headcannons like this! Thanks for taking the time to read!

[sootmemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS: LYRICS THAT HIT ME IN THE FEELS [PT. 2] change words as needed ! ctrl + shift + v to paste into the inbox on desktop.

❝ vengeance is the only drug, and I can't get enough. ❞

❝ I don't know euphoria; would like to meet her someday. ❞

❝ now I'm just covered in the dirty blood of man. ❞

❝ I'd talk myself down if I knew what to say. ❞

❝ nobody tells you 'til you go up in flames that you can't live like a devil and die like a saint. ❞

❝ well, the trick of the trouble is avoiding the blame. ❞

❝ I'm alive, I'm revived, I survived, you surprised ? ❞

❝ if this was meant for me, why does it hurt so much ? ❞

❝ let me tell you from a dead mans point of view: live your life, because when its done you don't get another one. when they sing for you don't let them sing the blues. ❞

❝ what they don't understand, they condemn. what they can't comprehend must meet its end. ❞

❝ sometimes I feel like I'm a mockingbird, mimicking the songs that I've already heard. ❞

❝ nurse, sinner, virgin, bitch... I am the vengeful child of the witch. ❞

❝ you played my game. hell, now you're a piece in it. ❞

❝ but then if you're so smart tell me, why are you still so afraid ? ❞

❝ slow down, you're doing fine. you can't be everything you want to be before your time. ❞

❝ though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right. ❞

❝ you got your passion, you got your pride, but don't you know that only fools are satisfied ?❞

❝ crazy is, I believe, the medical term for when we want to recover but don't want to learn. ❞

❝ if we want to wake up, why are we still singing these lullabies ? ❞

❝ its so convenient to lose the truth when its laughing in your face ❞

❝ I'm still living in a knife fight, living like a bad guy ❞

❝ no point in stressing, we're not impressing them anymore ❞

❝ cardboard is boring, look how it burns ❞

❝ I keep lighting little fires to feel something, to get burned ❞

❝ life cuts deep; let me help pick up the pieces ❞

❝ you know I hate to say it, but, "I told you so" ❞

❝ if you were easy to kill, I would have done it already. ❞

❝ if I was easy to kill, you would have done it already. ❞

❝ I used to dread the thought of falling quickly. ❞

❝ there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat. ❞

❝ nights were mainly made for sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day. ❞

❝ I'm a scholar and gentleman, and I usually don't fall when I try to stand. ❞

❝ all the daises that you picked are dead; you're better off just picking fights instead. ❞

❝ turn the page, look back at what you wrote; do you still feel the same ? I bet your mind has changed. ❞

❝ we're all gonna die we just don't know when; lets make the most of the time that we got left. ❞

❝ worlds on fire, lets toast the end. ❞

❝ I wanna scream into the night: I'm alive, I'm alive ! ❞

❝ it shouldn't be surprising how we're living like we're dying. ❞

part two to this meme. also here is a playlist based on these prompts ♡

[etfrin]

ꜱʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ʙᴏʏ! ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʙᴏʏ — ʟᴜᴄʏ ɢʀᴀʏ ʙᴀɪʀᴅ ♡

☆　ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: SFW | mentions of canon typical death

☆　ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Lucy Gray x fem! Capitol! Reader

☆　ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you confess your feelings to Lucy Gray by a song and the aftermath of it

☆　ᴀ/ɴ: this was inspired by She Likes A Boy by nxdia! Give the song some love! And i used the lyrics from that song!

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You were a Capitol citizen too. But when you heard Sejanus Plinth, your best friend was volunteering to be a medic, you didn't hesitate to do the same. You didn't know the actual reason why he had done so, but things got clearer when you saw Coriolanus Snow on the same train.

Then came Lucy Gray Baird in District 12. She with her mockingjays and snakes. The victor of the annual Hunger Games. She was different from what you saw on TV. Prettier for starters, her voice softer, her accent thicker when she talks to you. She explained the beauty of twelve so simply that the Capitol seemed boring to you.

It didn't take much for you to fall in love with her. It wasn't just her songs, but everything about her. Her knowledge about nature, the way she cares about the Covey. Everything about her made you devote yourself every day.

Even though you volunteered to be a medic, Lucy Gray was healing you.

You also knew that Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow were together. You don't regard Coriolanus as a good man. His eyes are too hard and sharp, unlike the boy you knew in the Academy. This is a man, a demon in the flesh. You avoided him as much as possible, but sometimes it's impossible too because he was always near the songbird. Keeping an eye on her, being jealous of any man near her. You were lucky you were a woman otherwise you probably would have been shot by now.

It was a day when Coriolanus Snow wasn't present in the hob that you decided to spill your heart to the songbird. In the morning, no one was present, you and Lucy Gray had volunteered to clean the space for some quick change after a party. You take time cleaning mopping the floor, wondering if you should walk up the stage and sing the pathetic song you wrote about her.

You knew you couldn't outright confess to her, that you would get rejected on the spot. So, music was the only way because you can lie about its origins. You walk up to the stage and Lucy Gray doesn't notice. The mic was on and you swallowed your palm sweating. You were so, so nervous.

And then you begin singing,

“She likes a boy!

She likes a boy!

and I'm not a boy!

and I'm not a boy!”

Your voice is awkward, but it gets her attention so you continue,

“she’s covey with a pretty face

strawberry lips, oh it’s wasted

on this dumb boy who likes the chase”

You meet her eyes and she knows this song is for her despite the fact your singing isn't very good and your eyes are watering because you want her, you want her, you love her. She doesn't feel the same.

“Fuck that guy!” You finished screaming, in a similar manner Lucy Gray had when her name was spoken in the reaping. You wipe the tears that had fallen and you want to run, not wanting to face the inevitable fallout of your actions.

She walks up to the stage and turns you around so you can look at her. She holds both of your hands. And you begin to speak, being ready to lie straight from your teeth that the song is not about her.

“Lucy-”

“Shush,” she whispered, her doe-brown eyes looking into yours. “Let me…” she whispered before she leaned in to kiss the tears still falling from your eyes. She does it with a few teardrops, with each kiss her lips are closer to yours. You stopped crying, your heart beating out of its ribcage out of anticipation.

She doesn't kiss you, much to your disappointment. She pulls back and doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to, the silence is her answer. You run out of the hob, ignoring her yell for you. The next day, Sejanus Plinth is dead. Your best friend is dead because he was a traitor. The mayor's daughter is missing. Everything is a mess. And you find comfort in nobody, your heart sure that Coriolanus Snow had something to do with it.

Early in the morning, Lucy Gray comes to you whispering about the North. And you agree without even thinking (anything for you, my love). You asked if Coryo was coming and the beautiful songbird shook her head. And, oh, that just cemented your promise even further to go with her.

Within the hours, you travel and travel along with your love who doesn't quite love you back yet to the North, hoping to find paradise.

Years later when you sing the song again. It's sung with joy and a past bitterness. It doesn't matter whether you're a boy or not. Love doesn't work that way. She loves you all the same. The way Lucy Gray smiles at you, she would never do the same with that snake.

You have your North and it's Lucy Gray ♡

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Drunk: Bonus Scene - Part 1

"Maybe you should slow down with the drinking," Geralt suggested as he watched Jaskier from across their campfire.

The bard responded to this bit of unwelcome wisdom with an irritable snort. He was trying to get some work done on a song, but it was hard to hear the lyrics in his head when Geralt kept talking!

The ar**hole had been b*tching at him about him drinking every time they stopped in a town!

Jaskier shot Geralt an angry glare and snapped, "Ye aren't gettin' f***ed, so stop wiggling yer a**!"

Geralt blinked as his brain took a few seconds to tanslate the phrase from "Jaskier", to "Geralt".

"Mind your own f***ing business!"

Geralt frowned at the reaction. It wasn't like Jaskier at all. In fact, the bard had not been acting like himself for the past two weeks or so.

For starters, he seemed to be perpetually slightly drunk. Jaskier had been celebrating a little too liberally with his fans after his sets. He was doing round after round of drinks, and Geralt was having to carry him to their room.

When the subject was brought up, Jaskier brushed it off. "I'm just mingling with the people, Geralt! They love it! And besides, why can't I enjoy some of the finer, more fun things in life? Good booze is good booze!

Geralt had rumbled, "It's not fun when you drink so much you can't walk! Or when you're not even over the previous hangover before you're drinking again!"

"Oh, hush! You're making something out of nothing!"

"Yeah, nothing," Geralt responded sarcastically, "'Nothing' like when you almost got killed by Nekkers because you were 'just a LiTtLe BiT dRuNk!'?. Or how you almost got us arrested for public indecency at the inn in the last town because you started a fight with a man twice your size?"

"Oh, stop exaggerating! Bar fights aren't grounds for being charged with public indecency!"

"You were hanging bare a** naked off the guy's back, swearing like a sailor, while punching him in the back of the head AND trying to f**k him in the a** AT THE SAME TIME!"

Jaskier had the audacity to laugh. "That's utter bullsh*t!"

Geralt had growled, but held his tongue. He was going to have to try a different tactic.

He tried some good, old-fashioned Natural Consequences to get Jaskier to cut back on his binge drinking.

Dragging him out of bed at the a**crack of dawn.

Loud noises.

Dumping him in the water trough.

Bugs in his bed.

Slapping him awake.

Pranks

Having Valdo Marx sing him awake.

It only resulted in Geralt having to deal with Jaskier's irritating whining, and annoyingly p*ssy mood until they reached the next town.

Geralt swore that even three days after leaving the last town, the lingering stink of alcohol still clung to Jaskier.

When they reached Aldersberg, Geralt left Jaskier to negotiate their stay, and went to look for contracts, returning to the inn after finding only a few minor errands. The work had been easy, and the pay reasonable. It wasn't much, but it was more than what he'd expected.

By the time Geralt returned to the inn, it was late, and Jaskier had finished his set long ago. And the bard was drunk off his a**.

Geralt had unceremoniously dragged him off to their room. He was mildly surprised that the man didn't protest or struggle. Geralt began to feel a little uneasy. Jaskier wasn't humming, or singing, or even cussing at him. He was oddly quiet.

Geralt kicked their room door closed and dropped his armload of bard on the bed with a frown. He was about to say "Jaskier, we need to talk.", but he never got the chance.

His uneasiness turned to worry when he noticed that Jaskier appeared confused, but not in the normal way drunks were. This was different. He genuinely didn't look like he knew where he was. Geralt lit a few candles for better lighting, and brought Jaskier to the small table by the fireplace.

Hmm.

He could hear an irregularity in his heartbeat. It was too slow, even for a drunk.

Geralt leaned closer and pressed his nose to Jaskier's neck. His skin had an odd, sickly smell to it that Geralt recognized as the smell of a body metabolizing alcohol. But it also smelled off. There was something wrong with the scent.

Pushing up the sleeve of Jaskier's shirt, Geralt licked the skin of his forearm. He could definitely taste the alcohol and the 'wrongness'.

A sinking feeling settled in Geralt's gut. He'd seen this before.

F**K!

He grabbed his water skin from his pack. Geralt spent a long night of forcing water into Jaskier every half hour. There was a point where he thought he was going to lose him, and he did the only thing he could think of. He heavily diluted a bit of Golden Oriole and prayed to every god he knew that it wouldn't kill Jaskier....